#stripped his team from him one by one and then it finally hit him and he just. yeah. yeah. i would have fallen apart too honest to God

[theinfinitedivides]

Seok Jin 🤝🏼 me losing our sh*t after that absolutely nervewracking Five Pieces game

[ghosts-to-reid]

Slip and Fall

Request: Spencer x reader is staying in a hotel whilst on a case together, she has to go to his room (the reason up to you, like her shower has broken or something). They both finally subcome to their feeling for each other, he pulls her on his lap, maybe some smut? @starstruckllamatriumph

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Implied msut at the end. Nudity

It was already half 10 when the team wrapped up at the police station for the day.They had been called to a case in Utah, and had been arduously working all day trying to make any sense of the case, so far with no luck. Each one of you felt dejected as you trudged to your respective rooms. Spencer’s was located beside yours, he had said a small ‘goodnight’ to you before you parted ways for the night.

Spencer Reid has been your crush since… well since your first day at the BAU. The moment you walked in, he had caught your eye. He had clumsily spilt his cup of coffee across his desk as you approached, you felt horrible, but couldn’t help but notice how cute he was when flustered. Since then, you have grown close. He was still just as clumsy around you, but you thought that was just his demeanor. Besides, he wasn’t interested in you like that.

Looking around your room, dropping your go bag on the bed, you walked towards the bathroom. A shower and sleep would be the best thing for you right now, and then, in the morning, you’ll be refreshed and ready to focus on the case.

Walking through to the shower, you flip the faucet on and wait.

And wait

Wand wait

No water was coming out. 

You scowled, hitting the head of the shower as if it was simply hiding the water, only to be met with a pathetic sprinkle that dribbled out for a moment before stopping completely. Fiddling with the handle for a few more moments, you frustratedly sigh and head towards the phone on the desk. Dialing reception, they tell you they’ll have maintenance come to fix it in the morning. Not ideal, but you’d have to suffer with it for a moment.

Defeated, you sat on the edge of the hotel bed, your attention caught by a mirror across from you. You begin to unpick your appearance, your hair could use a wash, and you feel a bit grimy… Sitting in your growing discomfort you finally decide to grab what you needed from your go bag, a hotel robe, and finally leave your room where you walked the 4 steps to Spencer’s room, tapping on the door softly.

It only takes a moment for him to answer, he is hidden slightly behind the door, hair wet. He looks surprised to see you, as much as you are him. His damp hair, the shining of his skin, they all told you he had just got out of his own shower. Jealousy hit you, and before he could greet you you rushed out

“Can I use your shower?” He cocked a brow in surprise but nodded, moving aside to let you. He was wearing a robe identical to the one you were holding. There was steam still floating out of the bathroom as you walked in

“What’s wrong with your shower?” He asked as he shut the door, you spun around to face him quickly

“Oh, it’s broken. I called the front desk, and it's getting fixed tomorrow but I just felt… gross.” You chuckled out, shifting the objects in your arms.

It felt awkward to be in a room with Spencer like this, he was standing in front of you, damp and glistening, and barely dressed. You were desperate not to let your mind wonder, to keep things professional. 

“I’ll just-” You pointed towards the bathroom and he quickly nodded

“Yeah! Yeah of course, there’s still a clean towel on the rack” He smiled

“Thanks, Spence. I’ll be quick”

“Take your time” He made his way over to his go bag whilst you entered the bathroom. Quickly stripping, you hopped into the warmth of the water, washing your hair and yourself speedily so as not to take up too much of Spencer’s time. As you rushed to step out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around you, your foot landed in a puddle of water which caused you to slip and fall onto the ground. A loud thump and scream followed.

Spencer came running into the bathroom, now he was half dressed, wearing only his pajama pants. Even if you wanted to oggle him, the small throbbing pain in your side distracted you from that. Spencer rushed to your side, checking for injuries, and gently guiding you to sit up as you groaned

“I heard you scream, are you okay?” He asked softly, gently rubbing the arm you landed on. Gruffly nodding, you move to stand but Spencer keeps you still. “Don’t move yet, it sounded like quite the fall.” He chuckled, making you smile. After a moment, you see his eyes wander down slightly, before quickly dodging to look at anything other than you- A blush creeping up on his cheeks. Confused, you look down, only now noticing your towel had slipped, exposing your chest to him. Nerves took over as you wrapped yourself up, before quickly moving to your feet with Spencer. He guides you to sit on his bed after he has composed himself

“Can I see your side?” He asked softly, standing in front of you. You cocked brow in confusion

“Why?”

“So I can assess how bad your fall was, you know how you fall can affect your body in ways you might not know, internal bleeding, fractures, they can all go unnoticed easily.” 

“I didn’t think you were a medical doctor?” 

“I’m not, but I read.” He smiled to you, almost proud of himself. You chuckled lightly, and stood up, moving your towel so you were still covered (not that that mattered since minutes before, he saw your boobs), and showed him where you had hit yourself. He knelt down before lightly placing a hand along your thigh, tracing his fingertips lightly up, reaching your hip bone, and finally your waist. His touch, though light, felt electric. It took a lot of self restraint not to sigh in bliss, or shudder in pleasure. His brows were furrowed as he intently studied your skin, eventually though, he was happy. He straightened himself once more, and smiled once he met your eyes.

“I think you’re all good…” He breathed out. It seemed that the situation you had put yourselves in had become more apparent to the pair of you. The proximity between you both was a lot smaller than usual, if you took too deep a breath, your chests would be touching. He towered over you, looking deeply into your eyes. “Strange day, huh?” You nodded

“It’s almost fate… Our rooms are next to each other… Your shower was broken… me seeing you so… vulnerable” His voice trailed off as his face inched closer to yours, your breath hitched as he drew in “It’s almost like I needed to see you. See you so…” He placed a hand on your good hip, squeezing softly. He smirked at the surprised whine you let out, biting your lip in embarrassment. 

The pair of you were standing in the middle of his room, you were now the one whose hair was sopping wet, dangling in tendrils around you, and completely vulnerable in just a towel. His chest was rising heavily, skinny but well toned from all his work on the field over the years. 

“Y/n?” He whispered, you manage to mumble a small response

“Im going to kiss you, okay?” But he didn’t wait for a reply before softly landing his lips to yours. Hand moving to caress your cheek, his lips were full of eagerness as they moved with yours. Snaking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. 

His tongue penetrates your lips, deepening the kiss. So many unsaid words littering the kisses between you. In a moment, Spencer is pulling you on top of him, straddling him on the end of the bed. You eagerly accept your new position, finding better purchase on his lips. 

The moment you unintentionally grinded down on his thigh, you knew you weren’t going to be going back to your room tonight…

[blondedmuse]

SUMMER DAYS

synopsis. ꩜ what it’s like to spend your summer days at Saltburn.

author’s note. ∿ this was supposed to be a drabble/headcannon but i can’t write anything short it seems; allusions to smut, fluff.

at breakfast

you sat next in between Venetia and Farleigh, across from your lover, Felix. Sir James would ask you if you slept well and had a good night, a kind and common courtesy for any guest he’s hosting at his home. Everyone turned to you as you nodded, recalling the night before. It was spent in Felix’s room, his hand over your mouth as you moaned, careful not to wake anyone up.

“Yes, I slept well,” You answered. Everyone probably noted that your hair indicated other wise, just slightly messier and unkempt than it’s usually been in the morning. But you wondered if everyone could see the cheeky smile on the boy across from you at the table.

in the pool

You swam after breakfast with Venetia while the boys sat in the lounge chairs. You’d asked Felix to swim with you but he insisted he'd finish the book he was reading. While Farleigh got into the pool after a few splashes from Venetia, it seemed as though Felix needed more convincing.

"Don't you wanna get in the pool?" You asked Felix, crawling up his body on the chair. "The water's nice, it'll cool you down-" he started tickling you before you could finish your argument, trying to get your wet body away from his.

"Christ, you're cold!" He laughed as you attempted to fight back, pushing away his arms with yours.

"Fine, you want me to go in?" He caved, picking your body up from on top of him and walking over to the ledge of the pool. "You first."

You screamed as Felix threw you from his arms into the hair, hitting the water with a splash. Felix followed suit, diving in right after.

"Is this what you wanted, darling?" He said swimming over to you and you wrapped your legs around his frame underwater, bringing him closer to you.

"Exactly." You answered, locking your lips with him only for your kiss to be interrupted by Farleigh's fake gags.

"Get a room!"

on the court

you were invited for a match of tennis. You changed from your bathing suit attire into a silk dress, a pair of sunglasses and heels, which is not necessarily ideal for the sport but you wanted to follow formalities. You and Felix were paired together for the doubles game against Farleigh and Venetia.

It was nonchalant the way you all played, slightly lethargic from the champagne you’d been drinking. Still, Felix managed to keep the score and in the final game of the second set you scored the winning point for your team. And to celebrate Felix lifted you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Fantastic job, love!” He laughed, spinning you around.

“Felix, put me down!” You exclaimed, slapping his back playfully in between giggles.

“Did you guys see that?” He taunted the other team. “We have a new Wimbledon star over here,” He beamed jokingly and Farleigh was quick to flash him the finger, watching Felix pop another bottle of Champagne.

in the field

You laid bare on your stomach, a cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth as you read one of the few books you packed with you.

"There you are," Felix said, stripping off his suit from earlier's tennis match. "You like what you see?" He asked as he watched you stare intently and he shot you a coy wink.

"You know it, baby," You replied, lifting the sunglasses to rest on your head so you could see Felix in all his glory.

"They say it's rude to stare," he declared, walking over to you and sitting down on the ground next to you.

"Then I guess I'm the meanest bitch alive," You smiled and he plucked the cigarette from your mouth. You gasped, (jokingly) jaw dropped.

"They also say it's rude to take things that aren't yours."

He raised his eyebrow playfully as he took a drag, teasing you. You rolled your eyes and he laid down next to you.

"They also say sharing is caring," He exhaled.

You scoffed with a chuckle. "Shut up. Who is 'they’ anyway?" You questioned and he shrugged, offering you your own smoke back. Nonetheless you accepted it as he kept it steady while you took a drag. Your head rested on his shoulder as you puffed out the grey odor, and he watched in admiration. He observed how the sunlight pooled in your eyes and the way your lips curved as you breathed out the stench in clouds. Sure, Saltburn was his house, but the weight of your head on his shoulder made you feel like home, and he appreciated every moment of it.

at dinner

you felt intimated by the sophisticated customs at Saltburn and dinner was no different. You sat at the large dining table next to Felix, his hand on your thigh.

"You look beautiful, my love," He told you as he passed you a bottle of wine, which you gladly accepted. You were dressed in an evening gown to match the black tie attire everyone else had shown up in, yet you still felt out of place like a sore thumb. You poured a glass of wine, hoping it would ease your anxiety.

"Not too much, darling," Felix warned, giving a slight squeeze to your leg. He could sense your nervousness, having been watching you toy with your jewelry for the past five minutes. But, he didn't want you falling over yourself by the end of the night either. You looked around and everybody seemed to be occupied with conversation of the company around them so it seemed like you were in clear to have a side conversation with your lover.

"I know, I just feel like I don't belong here."

Felix grabbed the hand that was fidgeting with your necklace and brought it to his mouth, his lips leaving a delicate kiss on your skin.

"You of all people deserve to be here. There's nothing to worry about." You didn't say anything, only huffed as you bit your lip. "And if you don't believe me and you still feel nervous, just squeeze my hand alright?"

You nodded, accepting his offer and holding his hand in yours as the woman next to him dragged him into another conversation. Still, when you squeezed his hand, it was always reciprocated, Felix unable to ignore you.

at the lake

you and Felix giggled, arms linked together as you headed towards the body of water. You excused yourselves from dinner early—dragging on with meaningless conversation you began to zone out from, and Felix was just as bored as you. Dinner wasn't usually like this but the additive guests, the Henry's, seemed to dull the excitement with their own stories solely for the purpose of one-upping the Cattons it seemed. So, Felix came up with an excuse for the both of you, something along the lines of 'you weren't feeling well' and he 'needed to take care of you' which wasn't entirely untrue. Boredom is an uncomfortable feeling which Felix needed to take care of by something more fun.

"Thank you for that but why did you have to make me the damsel in distress? They're going to think I'm a snob," You whined.

"They would never. But me on the other hand? Yeah I think you're a snob. Making me carry your heels is outrageous," He teased with your shoes in his hand and you shook your head unable to hide your soft giggles.

"But they do love you y'know."

"Whatever," You mumbled and you felt your feet lift off the ground as Felix threw you over his shoulder. You watched him put your heels down and the ground started to move below you.

"Felix! Put me down! Where are you-" You saw the edge of the lake and it clicked. "You are not throwing me in without a bathing suit! Felix, please!" You screamed, resorting to slapping his back.

"Quiet, love, you're gonna get us in trouble."

"I don't have another dress, put me down!" You demanded.

"You can borrow one, its fine." With that he threw you into the lake, your body sinking into the cold water.

"Felix!" You cried as you resurfaced, watching him stand at the lake's edge completely dressed and completely dry. "It's cold!" What am I supposed to wear after this?"

"You can take my jacket," He reassured you after he stripped himself of his suit, jumping into the lake after you, only clad in boxers.

He swam towards you. "You poor baby."

"It's cold."

"How 'bout I warm you up then?" His hands were at your sides, pulling up your dress under water, his mouth hot against your neck as he began to mark his territory. You knew now that the night would end with you in his bed like it had for the past week, and you would be asked about it all over again at breakfast—but there's no other way you'd want to spend your nights and summer days.

[hoshifighting]

lyla … what are your thoughts on performance team giving you a strip tease 👁️👄👁️

hoshi with him, it’s a show. always. the lights are low, and the music's blaring through the speakers, something with a heavy beat that matches the rhythm of your heart as he moves. he's got this cocky smirk on his face, his eyes locked on you the entire time. he starts slow, teasing, rolling his hips to the music, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “like what you see?” he purrs, his hands slipping under his shirt, lifting it just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned abs before he pulls it back down, making you groan in frustration.

then, he laughs—god, that laugh drives you insane—and yanks the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side like he’s been waiting to do this all night. his body is glistening under the soft light, every muscle defined as he moves closer to you, hips still swaying, like he’s about to devour you whole. he pops the button on his jeans, slowly sliding them down his thighs, and you’re practically drooling at this point. “you’re not even ready for the rest of this,” he teases.

when the jeans hit the floor, he's left in nothing but his boxers, and it takes everything in you not to jump him right then and there. he comes closer, sitting on your lap with a grin, his hands trailing down your tits before pulling back. “nah, not yet,” he whispers, standing up again, giving you one last show before he finally lets you have him.

jun’s strip tease is a full seduction—smooth, slow. the second the music starts, you’re hooked. he moves like liquid, hips swaying in time with the beat, his eyes locked on yours. he knows he’s got your attention, and he’s going to make you beg for it. he starts with the jacket, sliding it off his shoulders with a slow, tantalizing roll, letting it drop to the floor as his fingers trail down his chest. “i can tell you’re enjoying this,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile when you nod, practically glued to your seat.

he makes every little movement count, unbuttoning his shirt one agonizingly slow button at a time, revealing inch after inch of flawless skin. his muscles flex with each movement, and by the time he slips the shirt off completely, you’re practically melting. his hands drift down to his pants, unzipping them at a pace that’s way too slow for your liking, but he’s doing it on purpose—he loves seeing you squirm. “impatient?” he teases, his voice a low rumble as he lets the pants pool at his feet, stepping out of them gracefully.

he’s left in nothing but a pair of snug boxers, and he knows exactly how to show off what he’s got. his fingers toy with the waistband, but he doesn’t pull them down just yet. instead, he walks over to you, his hands on either side of the chair, leaning in close. “maybe you should help me with the rest.”

minghao’s got this quiet, sensual confidence that pulls you in without even trying. when he starts his strip tease, it’s like you’re the only person in the world—his movements are fluid, his eyes never leaving yours. the music is slow, sultry, and he moves with it effortlessly, swaying his hips just enough to make you bite your lip. he starts by unbuttoning his shirt, each pop of a button feeling like a slow build-up of tension between you two. his fingers are graceful, teasing, slipping the fabric off his shoulders in a way that makes your pulse race.

he lets the shirt fall to the ground, his bare chest illuminated by the soft light, and god, the way his muscles shift under his skin as he moves is mesmerizing. he doesn’t rush, never once breaking eye contact as he undoes his belt, sliding it out of the loops with a sharp snap that makes your breath hitch. he smirks at that, clearly pleased with your reaction, before unzipping his pants and letting them fall, revealing the toned lines of his legs and the big bulge of his cock inside his boxers.

he steps closer, his hands brushing your thighs as he leans in, his lips just inches from yours. “enjoying the view?” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin before he pulls away again, standing back to give you the full show. he rolls his hips, fingers teasing the waistband of his underwear, but never quite pulling them down, leaving you hanging on the edge of your seat, wanting so much more.

chan’s playful, fun, but also just the right amount of cocky. the music is something upbeat, and he’s moving his hips to the rhythm, already grinning like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “you ready for this?” he asks with a wink, before he starts unbuttoning his shirt, moving his body in time with the beat. he’s not one to draw it out too long—he’s all about giving you a show, but also driving you wild in the process.

the shirt comes off, and he tosses it to the side, showing off his toned abs as he rolls his shoulders, making sure you get a good look at every inch of him. he’s dancing now, moving his hips in circles, grinding to the beat on your lap, grinding his cock on your glowr belly on the process, and you can’t tear your eyes away. the way he moves is hypnotic, and it’s clear he’s having fun with it—his smile never fades as he het up to work his pants down, wiggling his hips to slide them off in the most teasing way possible.

he’s left in just his boxers, and he gives you a little show, rolling his hips, flexing his muscles, and giving you that cocky grin that drives you crazy. “how do i look?” he asks, knowing full well what your answer is going to be. he steps closer, hands on your knees as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “let’s see if you can handle the rest,” he whispers before pulling back, letting you savor the moment just a little longer.

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[lilreidgirl]

My boy

Summary: You have an affair with a married man and get the consequences and they are not exactly bad

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fingering, unprotected sex (don´t), cheating (Spencer is married to Maeve), religious talk kinda??, swearing, praise, storyline is a bit rushed!, NOT PROOFREAD, SORRY

WC: ~1.8k

A/N: ---

You knew it was wrong. Very wrong. Sleeping with a married man was something you swore you would never do. Every time it happened on TV you’d turn to your mother and say, “How could they ever do that?”, and shed answer with “Love is complicated. You´ll understand one day.” And you did, the fateful day you met Spencer was the day you understood. Although not really, more so that it was multiple weeks where you little by little realized that yes, love was complicated.

You had met Maeve a few times, team dinners and get-togethers that she attended, she was pretty, kind, smart, everything Spencer could ever even dream of having. Almost right out of the bat you started crushing on him, noticing how damn attractive he was and how kind hearted his personality shown on the people around him.

It wasn’t until he showed up at your hotel one night, tears staining his cheeks and manifesting in his eyes, that you saw a more vulnerable, honest side of him. He had had a fight with Maeve, again he had said. You sat crisscross on the end of your bed, facing his body that was slumped onto your mattress, legs hanging off the edge.

He expressed his feelings about how hard it’s been and how she can’t seem to even try to understand what he’s going through, your heart shattered at his confessions. As he lay there, in your hotel bed, staring at you in silence like you had the answer to all his problems, you couldn’t stop yourself from moving a hand to his solemn face, brushing a messy loose strand of his hair off of his forehead.

When you heard the way his inhales and exhales quickened and deepened, your hand stilled any movements. A silence took over the room, one where the world stood still, your eyes trained on each other’s. Then before you knew it and could truly processes the horrible moral sin of an action that it was, you leaned down and kissed him.

At first, it was only your lips moving but after a small moment where you were just about to pull away because your thoughts finally took in how wrong it was, he kissed you back. Large hands gripped the sides of your face, fingers dug into the strands of your hair as his plump lips skillfully lapped over your own. His tongue had made its way into your mouth as you moved to straddle his hips, holding yourself up on his chest with your hands.

And in the back of your mind, you knew: this was wrong. But for that fleeting, shattering moment, it didn’t feel wrong at all.

It was wrong when you both stripped all your clothes and left each other bare, it was wrong when he sank his length into you; making you moan out his name in pleasure, it was wrong when he pumped his cock in and out of you at a perfectly paced rhythm, hitting all of the right spots, it was wrong when you both came at the same time; muttering “ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod” as you did, it was wrong when the last thing you whispered to each other before you drifted off to sleep was “I love you”.

It was wrong, but it sure as hell didn’t feel wrong, it felt perfect. And every time you guys slept together after that also felt perfect. Of course, you both knew how horrible it was, you tried talking about it but it never really played out to even be considered a full conversation.

You pushed the door open, peeking through the crack you had created. Spencer sat on his couch, elbows held on his knees as he persistently ran his hands through his already unruly hair. “Everything okay?” You asked, not missing the irony of asking that question while you slipped out of the shared bedroom of him and his wife that was currently away on a business trip, and into their living room.

He looked up, eyes travelling over you as his brain lagged and took in the fact that you had spoken. “Oh uh- yeah…”

With a face that very clearly told him you didn’t believe him, you made your way towards him, crawling onto his lap, feet resting on the couch as you leaned the side of your upper body onto his chest and your head onto his shoulder. “Really?” You asked.

A sigh left him and a moment of silence followed before he spoke up. “I… I um…” You traced a line down his chest with your finger hoping to give him some comfort with the action and your words, “Don’t worry, you can tell me,” you tried to reassure. “Maeve and I…” Your skin prickled at the mention of her name, fear ensuing you that maybe he had decided to finally end things with you for her, “We´re getting a divorce. I told her.”

The shock you felt for a moment after his words was quickly flushed out by the excitement and joy you felt. You knew though that your happiness over his impending divorce probably isn’t what he needed right now so you forced back the smile that threatened to present itself on your face. “Oh, I’m… sorry?”

Honestly, you were very unsure of how you were supposed to react to that. He chuckled as he lifted you up enough to make sure your legs were straddling his own. “No being sorry, baby, you’re allowed to be happy.” As you settled on his thighs you smiled, leaning in to peck his lips repeatedly.

“So does this mean we´ll be like officially together now?” Your voice was filled with glee and hope. “Yes. I’m all yours.” Both of you grinned as you kissed him again, this kiss was longer, more meaning full.

His hands found their way to your hips like they had countless times before, moving you against him as you breathed heavily into his mouth. When your relentless grinding on his hardening length didn’t seem to be enough anymore, he encircled your waist with his arm and spun you both around, laying you on the soft material of his couch.

Your legs moved to wrap around his waist but he gently pushed them down, instead grasping the hem of the shirt of his you wore and pulling it over your head and onto the floor. “So gorgeous. You are so incredibly gorgeous, princess,” he breathed out as he took you in, only clad in a flimsy pair of underpants.

He ducked his head down, kissing all the way from your neck to your abdomen, the kisses weren’t to mark you as his or to prove anything, they were an expression of the absolute love and affection he felt for you. He came face to face with your covered core, pressing a teasingly soft kiss on where he was sure your clit was; eliciting a giggle and a squirm from you.

Soon enough, you found yourself staring up at him again, but that quickly died down when he claimed your lips in yet another passion filled kiss. His fingers trailed down your stomach, fiddling with the material of your panties for a moment before pulling it down your legs, leaving them to rest at the apex of your now bent knees.

Without any warning he plunged two fingers into your entrance, immediately curling them just right to hit that perfect spot inside of you. He moved his fingers as he stared in awe as you withered away from the kiss to release an epiphany of moans.

Once he was satisfied and sure that you were wet and ready, he extracted his digits, licking them clean before he pulled down your panties the entire way down your legs and his boxers along with them.

Your head, that was already thrown back, lulled into the couch even harder as he slowly and carefully sunk into your inviting hole and warmth. “I love you, I love you so much, such a pretty girl, my pretty girl,” he praised as he drew his hips back and snapped them forward, peppering kisses all over your collarbone.

Your head reeled as you spewed out whimpers and moans in return. This time felt different, different than any time before. It was the first time it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t a distraction from Spencer´s shitty marriage and it wasn’t some comfort for you after a bad day, it was a profound, unfiltered declaration of your love for each other.

One of his hands founds its way between your bodies during the hazy love making, starting to gently rub circles upon your sensitive clit. “Oh! Oh god! Fuck, Spencer, I’m close! I’m close,” you squeaked, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he quickened his hips and his finger.

“I know, angel, I know.” Spencer wasn’t a religious man, under no means, but he was pretty sure that you were the closest thing to divinity he´ll ever be able to understand.

“Come for me,” he ordered in a soft tone. Just a few seconds after his words, you did as he said, your orgasms washing over you in a way that felt like both a small calm beautiful stream and a wild strong breathtaking ocean. Spencer followed quickly, the sensation of you clenching around him being as heavenly as he would image heaven.

After he had fucked you both through your intense highs, pulled out and carried you to the bathroom to pee and take a shower, you found yourselves resting on the terrace, dressed in comfy clothes and wrapped up in a warm blanket.

“Are you going to have to move out? Cause I only have a one bedroom. But I do want to move in with you. Or is it too soon? Do you think she told the team? They’re gonna hate us-!” You rambled nervously, leaving the hot chocolate Spencer had made you unattended in your hands.

“Hey, hey, calm down, honey, it’ll be fine. We´ll talk about this later, alright? Right now you have an extremely beautiful sunset In front you, an unbelievably attractive man beside you and a really tasty hot chocolate said unbelievably attractive man made you,” he reassured, grinning proudly as he spoke his last sentence.

“Oh, unbelievably attractive, huh?” you teased.

“Yes, incredibly, unbelievably attractive.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, I can get on board with that but my hot chocolate is 1000 times better than this.” You shrugged and gave him a smile before turning to take in the sunset before you.

“Honestly? You’re completely right.”

@emma-e-a

[probablyintensemuses]

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.

[fastandcarlos]

Paddock Surprises : ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

summary: all prepared to race alone, logan is unaware of a surprise waiting for him back in the garage

The noise grew louder in the garage as Alex and Logan returned after the race, applause coming from all around. In the background of the team, your smile was wide as Logan walked through, unable to hide his happiness after achieving his first points of the season. 

Several engineers walked over and patted Logan on the back, congratulating him on his race. Your heart was racing as you watched, full of pride, knowing exactly how hard Logan had worked to get to this point, despite how many people assured you that it would never happen. 

The closer that Logan got to you, the more excited you got, feeling nerves course through your body. He placed his helmet down and began to strip down, tying his race suit around his race. Logan grabbed a drink from his bottle before spinning around, walking through the garage. 

As he did so, he noticed a few sceptical eyes looking around the place, with everyone exchanging glances. Logan looked between the two of them, his brows furrowing as he tried his best to figure out what was going on, following one of their gazes to figure things out. 

The first time Logan looked at you, he didn’t even notice it was you, offering a weak smile. However, as his eyes moved past you, you could see the moment the realisation hit him, his eyes turning back again to realise that it was you sat there, waiting for him with open arms to congratulate him. 

Logan dropped everything as he ran through the garage, scooping you up off of the worktop that you were sat on. Your head buried into the crook of Logan’s neck, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your cheek, knowing just how wide his smile was too. 

“When did you get here?” Logan laughed in disbelief, “you’re supposed to be working, not all the way out here.” 

“I managed to finish up early,” you explained, pulling back and cupping your hands against his cheek. “I thought I’d come out here and support you, and I’m so glad that I did.” 

“I got my first points...can you believe it?” 

You leant forwards and pressed a kiss to Logan’s lips, full of adrenaline. You knew how much it meant to Logan, to prove so many people wrong and show them that he could do it, no matter what anyone else thought. It was the race that he had dreamt of for so long, as the pieces finally came together to fit to make the perfect race. 

“You’re amazing,” you smiled, brushing Logan’s sweaty locks back and out of his face. “I’m so glad I could be here to see it in person. Those overtakes were amazing, you just had everything nailed today.” 

Logan nodded in agreement with you, unable to quite believe what he had just done. “You know, when I crossed the line the first thing, I thought about was you, and how gutted I was that you weren’t here to see it in person. Yet here you were all along, and I had no idea.” 

Your plan had worked perfectly, all thanks to Alex and Lily, helping you to arrange everything whilst making sure to keep Logan away from every spot that you hid in the paddock. There were a couple of near misses as you tried to avoid him, but luckily in the end it all worked out. 

“I must’ve known something amazing was going to happen today,” you grinned, allowing Logan to place your feet back on the ground. “I’m so proud of you, I always knew that you’d get those points and show everyone just how incredible of a driver you are.” 

“Thank you,” Logan whispered, pecking against your lips once again. “I never would have got to this point today if it wasn’t for you and all the support you give me.” 

“I didn’t do a thing,” you laughed, “this is all on you and the hard work that you’ve been putting in for so long.” 

Logan’s head shook as his arm wrapped around your frame and pulled you into his side. He wished more than anything that you knew just how big of a role you played in his career, the one to encourage him even when no one else did. Even without you there he knew exactly what you’d be saying to him, using it as motivation to get him over the line. 

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked Logan, smiling across at some of the engineers who passed you by. “There’s got to be a party, or something. Heading out into the city perhaps?” 

Logan’s head shook in reply to your question, “that was going to be my plan, but not anymore. Turns out I’ve got a better offer of being able to spend my evening celebrating with my best friend.” 

Logan pulled you in tighter to his frame once again, squeezing onto you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was still overwhelmed, in a state of shock, not just from the result of the race, but the fact that you were there to celebrate it by his side too. 

After sorting himself out, Logan slipped his hand into yours and began to lead you in the direction of his driver’s room. “I was thinking we could head back to the hotel and just hang out. You’ve not got your own room, have you? Because obviously you’re spending the night with me tonight.” 

“I only booked for last night, I was kind of hoping that my handsome boyfriend would want to spend the night with me, so that’s a relief.” 

Logan chuckled back at you as he opened up the door. “And there I was thinking that I’d have to sleep in that big, cold bed all by myself tonight.” 

“Not anymore,” you grinned, throwing yourself down into one of the chairs in the room. “You can’t be in here anyway, haven’t you got media to do? I’m sure they all want to talk to the man of the moment and congratulate you.” 

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Logan whispered, taking a seat down beside you. “Do you think they’ll notice if I just don’t show up?” 

Your head shook as Logan tried to pull you into another hug again, only for you to squirm away and push yourself away from him, shooting a glare in his direction. 

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re done,” you promised, pointing to the door. “Go and speak to them all, it’s about time you got to do interviews for a good reason.” 

“Don’t move a muscle,” Logan warned you as he reluctantly stood up, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’m going to be as quick as I can so that we can hurry up and get out of here.” 

Your smile turned up as Logan fixed his race suit back up again, grabbing a hat and placing it on top of his head. “Enjoy it,” you told him as Logan opened up the door, “you deserve this more than anyone else I know.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Logan grinned, “try not to miss me too much, won’t you!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll miss you terribly.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Jealousy

Christian Yu / Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, hurt/comfort, sweet af, Christian being a great boyfriend

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

You sat on your couch watching the TikTok Live that showed the airport Christian was supposed to be arriving at. Finally he emerged from the gate, and was immediately swarmed with fans, his security doing everything they could to get him to the van waiting for him outside. You smiled seeing him, knowing he would be home soon. You had been dating for over a year but his team still said you needed to be kept a secret. Neither of you liked it, but you did it to support his career the best you could. You watched Christian smile and wave while walking before one fan slipped through security, coming face to face with him. She pulled him into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Your stomach dropped; Christian’s security dragged the girl away before practically shoving Christian into the van. You turned off your phone, throwing it on the seat next to you. You were jealous and you knew it was a stupid, unfair jealousy. He had no control over it, yet you couldn’t help but feel jealous that some rando got to kiss him in public but you couldn’t? His long time girlfriend couldn’t even be seen with him, let alone kiss him in public. You picked up your phone as it buzzed repeatedly. Opening Twitter you saw an endless amount of comments and tweets about the mystery girl who kissed Christian. People were actually shipping them. You huffed throwing your phone back on the couch before marching yourself to the bedroom. You stripped down, thinking a hot shower might wash it all away. As the beads of warm water danced over your skin you almost felt calmer. Almost. You saw the comments replay in your head.

“She’s so thin and pretty!!”

“Awwww meet cute for the win!”

“Future couple?!”

“I just know this man is gonna marry her!”

You don’t know when it happened but you felt something hotter than the shower run down your cheeks. Sniffles and sobs followed quickly. You sat in the bathtub, letting the water hit your back as you sobbed into your hands. 

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

Christian was confused at the silence he heard when he opened the front door. He took his shoes off and left his luggage by the front door, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in you after being on tour for 6 months. When he heard the shower running as he got closer to your shared bedroom he smiled. He slipped his shirt off, closing the bathroom door softly. Then he heard sniffles and a small sob. 

“Baby?” Christian said, pulling the shower door open just to see you sitting on the stone floor. 

You didn’t even move to greet him, feeling angry with yourself that this is what he had to come home to all because you were jealous over something stupid. 

“Get out.” you mumbled.

“Baby what’s wrong?” he said, starting to lean into the shower, water cascading down half of him.

“I said get out!” you said, harsher than you intended. 

Christian backed up. He knew when you asked for space to give it to you. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt when your first instinct to seeing him was wanting him to go. He left the bathroom, changing his clothes and sitting on the bed patiently for you to come out.

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

You sat for another few minutes before sighing and getting up. You finished showering and got dressed in the bathroom, not wanting Christian to so much as look at your body right now. You took a breath before walking out, seeing him sitting on the bed. When you looked in his eyes you could tell it was Mito and you knew exactly where his mind went when you told him to leave. He stood up, his eyes not meeting yours with a solemn look on his face. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, letting your head rest on his broad chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, leaning his cheek on the top of your head as he hugged you back.

“No, I’m just being stupid.” you sighed, hiding your face in his chest.

“Wanna tell me about it?” he asked.

You paused for a moment; you knew he’d be understanding but you felt so shitty for even wanting to bring it up. “The girl at the airport…” you started.

He pulled back slightly, panic swarming his face. “She kissed me - I didn’t want to, you have to believe me.” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

You held his face in your hands, “No baby, I know. I’m just… jealous.” you said begrudgingly. 

His eyebrows furrowed, “Jealous?” he said questioningly. 

You let go of him, flopping onto the bed. You stared at the ceiling, “I just… wish I could kiss you in public. Hold your hand. Go on dates. Hell - just be with you in public. I don’t want to put your career in jeopardy, it's the last thing I want. But it's… hard sometimes. Being a secret. I love you, you love me. What do we have to be ashamed of?” you babbled on, finally letting your emotions spill forth. 

Mito climbed on top of you, “You’re right.” he said simply. He kissed over your face gently, moving down your neck and chest slowly.

You hummed at the contact, your body finally remembering how much you missed him. 

Mito held your face in his hands, thumbing away the last few tears that slipped from your eyes. “I love you and I have missed you terribly… let me show you?” he asked slipping his hands under your shirt to rub circles into your hips. 

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him. You nodded and watched as he descended you body, shimmying your underwear off.

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

Christian watched you as you slept on his chest, his fingers tracing over your shoulder absentmindedly. He opened Instagram, posting a picture of you two from a few weeks ago. You had built a blanket fort in the living room and were snuggled up against him, both of you wearing hoodies with animal ears on them. You two looked so incredibly happy and nobody could deny that. He looked at it for a while, then at you. He wanted you forever, he just hoped you wanted him too. He wrote a short caption before posting it. Turning his phone off he wrapped his arm around you, kissing your forehead before falling asleep himself.

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

You shook Christian awake, “Christian Yu why do I have over 40,000 notifications?” you asked.

Christian smiled, "Do you wanna go out to dinner tonight?” he asked in return.

“What? You know we can’t go out together.” you said, looking at him confused.

“We can do whatever we want now.” he said, handing you his phone and showing you the post. 

You looked down with shock before throwing yourself on him, “I love you, but respectfully, were not leaving this bed…” you said as you tugged at the waistband of his underwear down.

Christian laughed, pulling you into a kiss as he let his hands roam your body.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hey all :) I hope this is a good one, it is based off a request. Sorry fics have been slow to roll out, work is insane and I'm on call this week so next week will probably be better for fics because I get off early and can actually do whatever (i'm going to smoke so much weed it would make Willy Nelson jealous). I hope to get some more request soon, love y'all! XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!

[micahwrites16]

Not Even the Force - Anakin Skywalker

TW: smut!

3.3k words

One thing about Anakin Skywalker is that he is possibly the most protective person you will ever meet.

If there were even the slightest bit of danger, he would lock you up if he could.

It's not necessarily out of possessiveness or over-protectiveness, but more fear of losing someone he loves. After his mother died, a part of him broke and no matter how hard you can try to love it better, you can't, and that's something you have had to come to terms with for a while now.

Just like his unwavering defensiveness, the wish that you could take all his worries away doesn't leave. All you can do is love him, and hope that it is enough.

Although you are just about as good with a gun as Anakin is with a lightsaber, you somehow end up stuck inside his ship every time he goes off on a mission. And of course that isn't enough, he has to leave Artoo with you just in case. So, you spend hours on end rambling to Artoo and listening to his sassy robotic replies, trying not to think about what Anakin is doing.

If either of you have one thing in common, it's worrying about the other.

As the only person out of you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka who knows the slightest bit about medicine, you're pretty much always dragged along. You really wouldn't mind if they would allow you to do something, anything, but no. You're not a Jedi, so apparently the only thing you can do is wrap injuries and check bruises.

Even if you couldn't fight or use the force like them, you were still part of their team and they treated you like it.

Currently, you're on Hoth, a planet of complete coldness and ice. You don't know the complete specifics of the mission yet, you just came to be with Anakin like always. It made you feel better that if he were to ever be hurt you could help him, even if you had to go through up to hours of boredom to do it.

You spin around as you hear the ship's door open, Artoo beeping and moving in front of you. You slowly back up and pull out your gun. Your finger moves to the trigger, ready to fire at whatever creature or droid or sith that might pop out. The door to the cockpit opens and right as you are about to fire, the gun is propelled out of your hands, hitting the wall of the ship with a loud clunk.

"Just me, my love," a deep voice calls, a shaky breath finally leaving your lips as you realize who it is. You relax as you see familiar waves of dark honey and the Jedi robe that you have stripped him of countless times before.

"Maker, Anakin!" Your breaths come out as soft pants as your heart calms down. "You can't just scare Artoo like that! Look at him, practically shaking." Both of you look at Artoo, and if a droid could roll its eyes that's what he would be doing right now. He beeps quietly, the sound almost annoyed as he rolls away from us. Anakin chuckles, closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring Artoo, that was very inconsiderate of me."

"Yes, very," you mumble quietly as you melt against his lips. Damn him and his perfectness. He brushes hair behind your ear as you pull away, the soft gesture warming your heart. As you finally get a clear view of his face, you gasp when you see a large gash stretch from his hairline to the middle of his cheek, mirroring the scar on the other side of his face. The skin around the cut is irritated and red, blood dripping from the laceration.

Anakin sees the intense worry in your eyes and quickly says, "It's okay, just a small cut. I can clean it up after we get off this dreadful planet." He kisses your forehead as he sits down in the pilot seat, turning the ship on.

"Wait- Anakin, it might need stitches," you follow him, him brushing off your concern as he lifts the ship off the ground. You let out a noise of protest, but quickly sit in the seat next to him, not wanting to be standing as he takes off.

"It can wait a few minutes, y/n."

You roll your eyes at his negligence, Anakin buckling you in with the force and blasting into space.

Once he sets the ship into autopilot you unbuckle and grab supplies to clean his wound, along with bandages and a needle and thread. You walk back to Anakin and straddle his hips, facing him so you can get a good look at his injury. He automatically rests his hands on your hips, shifting you closer to his chest.

"What happened?" You ask as you start cleaning the blood with a damp towel, being cautious not to hurt him further.

"Wampa. It got lucky. I was distracted," His eyebrows furrow slightly and you smile softly, the expression on his face almost looking like a pout. Sometimes you have no idea how this man is the most powerful Jedi in existence.

"Hm, okay. Well, it doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but it might leave a scar for a little while." He nods slightly and you grab something to clean his cut, pouring it on the cloth. "This might sting a bit," you warn as you press along his cheek. The only signs of his pain are his hands squeezing just the slightest bit harder on your hips.

As you continue cleaning his gash, you feel his eyes burn into your skin. His hard gaze used to make you uncomfortable, the intensity of it making you itch and want to crawl inside yourself. It was always like he was staring into your soul, taking every mark on your face to memory. Over time you got used to it, though, and learned to let him do what he wanted. You used to always hide from him, digging your face into the crook of his neck so he couldn't see. He would always pull you back and kiss your jaw, reassuring you with whispers of how beautiful you were. How he would stare at you all day if you would let him, just because he was so mesmerized by you. Then he would make love to you, once again taking every inch of your skin to memory and showing how much he appreciated you with every kiss and caress of his fingers.

Through your concentration, you don’t notice the sudden shift in Anakin, how his eyes gloss over and his hands tighten on your hips even further. You don’t notice how he seemed to have gotten lost in his mind, something in his head swirling darkly.

You finish and bandage his cut, giving it a soft kiss and putting your supplies back in your med kit. "All better," you smile and move to get off his lap, but instead you get pulled back into his chest, Anakin's face digging into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapping around your waist.

His hold is tight, almost desperate. A different kind of worry and surprise hits you at his sudden movement, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Ani?" Your eyebrows furrow, your fingers holding onto the ends of his hair. "Hey, talk to me," you say softly, his arms securing you tighter against him. You feel a shaky breath hit your shoulder, dread curling in your gut as the possibilities of what could've happened swirl in your mind.

"Y/n..." Anakin murmurs against you, his eyelashes fluttering softly against your skin and his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You can practically see dark swirls twisting around his body, emanating the emotion pouring through him. You always felt like you could understand and feel him on a level that's deeper than you should, especially in times when something is bothering him. And when something's truly bothering Anakin, it's deep and dark and it's almost as if you can feel it infecting his mind and blood. You have absolutely no idea what happened or what changed in the past five minutes, but you can almost feel him sinking into darkness.

It's so unbelievably scary.

"Anakin. Look at me, please," you plead in the gentlest voice you can manage. You tilt his head up, your eyes finding his.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Anakin murmurs, avoiding your gaze.

"Nothing's wrong with you." You search for words that could get him to open up to you, but you come up empty. Instead, you kiss his jaw and keep your gaze locked on him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I..." His eyebrows furrow again, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. He shakes his head like he's forcing something out of it. "I felt something."

"Felt what?"

"I don't know," Anakin murmurs, almost like he's lost in his head. "It felt so real. It felt like a memory, but I didn't see anything. I just... you..." You notice his eyes start shimmering and you rub your thumb back and forth on his cheek, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. "It was like grief. Like I was feeling grief for something that hadn't happened yet. Like the nightmares I had of my mother, except a feeling."

"Grief?"

"Yes. I just knew not to let you leave. Not... not now," Anakin mumbles, his face falling back into the crook of your neck. You feel a wetness hit your skin, a piece of your heart cracking for him. If Anakin's really getting a premonition like what he got with his mother, then it's definitely not good.

"I'm not leaving. I never will," you whisper, hugging him even tighter than before. "I'm right here." You feel him sigh and his lips against your shoulder, his teeth nipping and sucking softly at the sensitive skin as his tears continue to drop onto you.

"Need... need to feel you," Anakin pleads quietly, his hands roaming up and down your back, along your hips, and up to cup your neck as he places kisses on your throat. "Need to know you're here."

"Ani..." You sigh as his lips find the sensitive spot under your ear. And although you want him just as he wants you right now, you're not sure this is the best idea. You can tell something serious just bothered him, and brushing it off with sex might not be the right thing.

"Please, y/n." His hips roll up to yours gently, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel his growing hardness against your softness. "Need to feel all of you."

You can feel the lust radiating off of him with every brush of his lips and dominating grab of his hands, but more than that you feel his yearning and desperation for not specifically intimacy, but closeness. You decide you'd do whatever it takes to make him feel better.

You try not to dwell on the fact that it seems like it was you who he was grieving.

You pull his lips to yours, rolling your hips against his and pulling moans out of both of you. His lips are conquering and the swipe of his tongue against yours is needy, begging silently for something that you would give him over and over again if that's what he needed. His hips rut up into yours, causing your fingers in his hair to tighten and the boiling lava in your stomach to burn brighter.

Anakin's hands pull up the fabric of your shirt, his metal hand causing you to gasp at the coldness as it roams across your uncovered skin. "Now. Need to fuck you now, y/n," he begs against your lips, his fingers hooking on your pants, quickly lifting you up and pulling them down.

His dirty words stopped surprising you long ago. Now, all they do is fill you with an indescribable heat.

You quickly find the belt on his Jedi robe and take it off, throwing it on the floor beside where he carelessly threw your pants. His flesh hand presses against your clit through your panties, causing you to moan and buck your hips into his hand.

"Already so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect," he mumbles as he sucks on your jaw and pulls his boxers down, his aching cock springing up and hitting his abdomen. You slam your lips against his again, him grunting sharply as you swipe your thumb over his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum leaking desperately from him.

"So pretty," you murmur absentmindedly as you take in the sight of his rock-solid cock standing proudly, the tip slightly flushed and begging to be touched. You watch as his cheeks bloom into a dark red, his head falling onto your shoulder once again.

"Baby..." He sighs as his dick twitches, desire and the need to be connected to you overwhelming every one of his thoughts. He presses his thumb against your clit again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your veins. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and brushing his cock against your naked core, causing both of you to shudder. "Are you going to ride me, my love? Going to take me like the good girl I know you are?"

"Mhm," you whimper, your voice filled with lust as you position yourself above his cock, sinking down just so his tip is inside of you. Anakin grunts, his head head falling back against the seat. You slowly slide down, taking him in inch by inch until he's buried all the way inside of you, your walls stretching pleasurably at the intrusion.

"Oh fuck," he groans loudly, holding on to your hips tightly, no doubt leaving marks. "Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Taking me so well."

You moan, rocking your hips against his and reuniting your lips. Your walls clench at his words, causing another grumble to fall from his lips and in turn make your arousal grow at the sound. He guides you up and down his cock slowly, your pussy squeezing around him like a vice as he fucks into you, hitting that spot that only he knows.

Even after the many, many times before that you have been connected like this, you never get used to the size of him. Of being absolutely full, almost feeling like you could explode because of pleasure and completeness. And even though lust is overwhelming both of you, the thing both of you are enjoying the most is being so close to each other. Loving someone so deeply sometimes isn't enough, you have to be one with the other to achieve the level of intimacy you both long for.

"Anakin," you cry out, your fingers desperately gripping onto the ends of his hair as he fucks abandonedly into you.

"I know, I know, y/n. Doing so- so well for me," he praises softly, placing encouraging and loving kisses on any part of your skin he can reach. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, neck. He would devour you whole if he could. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he puts all his energy into making you feel good, wanting nothing more than to replace every one of your senses with pleasure. With him.

You latch your mouth onto his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob beneath your lips. Fire burns beneath your skin, every pulse of your heart meeting his. His groans and your whimpers bounce off the walls of the cockpit, the dirty, wet sound of you connecting causing a deeper flush to paint your skin.

"Look at you, so unbelievably beautiful on top of me," Anakin mumbles as his cock slams into that deliciously pleasurable spot inside of you over and over again. He reaches his thumb in between you, rubbing in small circles over your clit and making you cry out sharply. Your insides tighten and tighten, your toes beginning to curl as the stars are no longer just in space but behind your eyelids. He speeds up to a bruising pace, your legs faltering as you no longer have the strength to continue rocking your hips. Sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead, your throat going raw with the amount of strangled noises that he's pulling out of you.

Anakin could get drunk off the sound of you lost in pleasure. Every noise and slap of his skin against yours causes his heart to beat frantically and desire to flare inside of him painfully. You could stab him in the heart and he would thank you just for even touching him at all, and the fact that he gets to have you in this way never fully seems real. The way your perfect pussy sucks him in like it's trying to swallow him whole, how it seems like you burn for him just as much as he burns for you, makes everything in him roar with love and lust and every feeling you could ever feel for someone. Every thrust of his hips into yours makes him feel alive, almost like he's finally whole after a lifetime of missing something. Of missing you.

Your head falls forward onto Anakin's shoulder, his hand cradling your head and rubbing your scalp soothingly, holding you through the intense waves of pleasure the both of you are experiencing. His hips stutter as you whimper, your release coming closer and closer.

"Gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna let me feel you?"

"Yes," you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. His head rolls back again, his mouth opening and letting out the most beautiful groan as his cock swells inside of you. His hips twitch again, letting you know he's exactly where you are. "Wanna- wanna come with you, Ani."

"I know, baby. I'm right- right there with you," Anakin gasps, bucking upwards into you, his breathing ragged and his face flushed as he staggers towards blissful oblivion. You cry out Anakin's name loudly, your walls fluttering around him as your core throbs painfully.

And all it takes is one more unsteady, forceful thrust of Anakin's hips for both of you to fly off the edge.

Both of your bodies tremble and quiver with the intense force of your release, your noises mixing into a song of ecstasy and desire. Anakin spills himself inside of you, filling you to the point where thinking is no longer possible. The only thing you can feel is Anakin. Pleasure floods through your veins, every limb in your body going still as you ride out your release.

"F-fuck, y/n. There you go baby," he praises encouragingly as you continue to cry out. You hold onto Anakin tightly until your senses start returning and the white light fades from behind your eyes. You press your lips to his again, this time softly and as an act of complete love. He murmurs gentle "I love you's," into your ear as you both come down, both of your hearts swelling as you clutch onto each other for dear life.

"Thank you," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs.

"For what?

"I just... needed to have you. To know you're here, with me." Anakin's eyes fall shut like he's trying to rid something from his mind, and you press your puffy lips against his again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Don't think about it, okay?" You search his eyes as they open again, pulling his hand to rest over your heart. "Do you feel that? I'm here. Right here, with you. I'm not leaving. I won't let anything take me from you, Anakin. You know that, right?"

His eyes lock on to where his hand is feeling your heartbeat, his eyebrows pulling together softly. His eyes meet yours again, the worry in his face fading.

And at that moment Anakin knew that nothing could take you from him, not fate, not force. You wouldn't let it, and Anakin would die a thousand deaths before he let it. You were his, and he was yours, and if the force was going to take you from him, they would rip it from his cold, dead, "chosen” hands.

"I know."

[wlwprker]

please don’t leave s.r. x gn! reader [1]

a/n: im a sucker for hurt/comfort i fear; wrote this with s3-4 & migraine reid in mind but you can choose whichever one you prefer! (this got super long so i’m going to make this into parts!)

warnings: minimal proofreading, some swearing, brief descriptions of basic criminal minds violence (cases and whatnot), mentions of blood

wc: 1,374

you and the team were tirelessly hunting down an unsub before he hurt any more women. the unsub was going after single women in their mid-30s or 40s who were in higher-stakes jobs such as congresswoman, lawyer, doctor, etc.

the unsub felt these women should stay at home and be housewives instead of being out in authority like jobs. the unsub’s mother was the same way, and he never had a proper childhood. he longed for a better relationship with his mother, so he stripped children’s mothers away from them.

time was running out, and everybody was running on little to no sleep, working on every detail to not miss a single thing. after many hours of looking into every victim, every connection, and every location, you finally found him. everyone raced against the clock, finally got his location, and were able to rescue three girls. you felt a tiny sense of relief at this fact; it helps to know you could still save people.

you knew this unsub’s type, and while you knew that you didn’t meet the criteria, there was no telling what he’d do to get his way.

“stay with me, okay?” spencer ordered in a soft tone. he was just being a good team member, and while you both knew that you could hold your own,.

this killer. he was erratic and aggressive.

you knew that spencer would give you a lecture if he knew that you ignored his orders, but that was the least of your worries.

you rounded a corner with your gun held out in front of you, and you took in every corner on high alert. you peeked inside a room, checking your surroundings before entering. the lights were off, and of course the light switch was not working.

you turned your flashlight on, and you had your back turned for not even half a second.

as soon as you turned around, the unsub attempted to throw you across the room, but you caught his wrist in a forceful grip.

“you don’t need to do this. this ends now," you said in a firm voice, but the unsub did not listen. you tried to get him to back down, but he wasn’t listening. you kept your gun raised, but you could not see where he went.

“you’re not my type, but I’ll take my chances, the unsub said, and you started to turn around, but before you could react, he had raised a crowbar and hit you in the head, and you had collapsed to the floor. you were dizzy, and your vision was blurry as you attempted to stand up.

the sound of a thud had alerted the entire team, and everyone was on extra-high alert, thoroughly checking every corner of the house and looking for the source.

“spencer, where did they go?” emily whispered, noticing they were down an agent. spencer’s heart dropped to the floor; he must have turned around when you slipped away from him.

“son of a bitch! i told them to stay with me,” spencer mumbled to himself.

spencer took a deep breath to calm himself down as the two of them searched the house. spencer froze in place when he walked into a pitch-black room and saw you lying on the floor. he was internally panicking.

“can you hear me?” spencer asked, and you were slipping in and out; everything around you was blurring, and everyone talking to you sounded like they were millions of miles away.

after a while, you could no longer hear or see anything; you were knocked out. spencer took a shaky breath as he placed two fingers on the side of your neck and sighed in relief when he found a pulse.

“we need a medic!” emily yelled into her walkie-talkie. spencer was freaking out, wondering what he could have done to prevent this.

“hey, it’s not your fault; you know that, right?” jj said as she watched spencer internally cursing himself.

“i turned around for barely a second, and they just...” spencer trailed off, and jj led him out of the house as they had successfully located the unsub and arrested him.

after a painful silence, the medics arrived and took you out on a gurney. the side of your head was bleeding, and you were not waking up.

“go, I’ll tell hotch; he’ll understand, emily said as she watched spencer look at you with a pained look on his face. he silently nodded and stayed with the medics as they took you to the hospital.

the ride to the hospital was a deadly silence; he longed for your voice, even one of your silly jokes, anything.

once you got to the hospital, despite his best efforts, spencer was sent to the waiting room. as he waited for the verdict, he was bouncing his knees constantly, his mind racing with millions of possibilities.

he hated waiting. not knowing if you were okay drove him crazy; he wanted to scream.

the doctor came out, and spencer stood up fast. he listened intently, and a sigh of relief washed over him as the doctor told him that you were going to be okay.

“am I able to see them?” spencer asked anxiously, and the doctor nodded. “yes, they need lots of rest, but you can go visit.” the doctor smiled as they walked to your room.

his heart ached when he saw you lying on a bed with a bandage on the side of your head and hooked up to a machine, peacefully sleeping.

he was so glad you’re okay.

spencer took a seat and watched you cautiously; he didn’t want to disturb you.

you slowly opened your eyes, saw spencer, and smiled lightly.

“hey spence, did you guys catch him?” you asked faintly. spencer’s heart twisted in agony at the sound of your voice.

“we did, but you need your rest. i just wanted to see how you were doing.”

you smiled and tried to sit up, but spencer stopped you with a warning look in his eyes.

“don’t move; you need to rest.”

“i’m fine; it was just a scratch.” you attempted to joke, but it came out weakly.

“you got hit in the head with a crowbar, and you passed out—more than scratch there,” spencer said, sighing.

“the doctor said i could go home within the next few days, maybe sooner,” you said, and spencer didn’t respond; he just held your hand with a sad look on his face.

“hey, i’m okay.”

he cut you off with a deep sigh.

“why did you ignore my orders? i told you to stay with me. damn it, why didn’t you stay? i don’t know what I would have done if” spencer trailed off.

“i’m fine, spencer.”

“no, you’re not; you got hurt!” spencer was frustrated. how could you not see this was killing him?

“but I’m here; i’m going to be...”

“stop talking.”

you looked at him strangely, confused as to why he was so on edge.

“spencer, i’m fine; i don’t know what has you so worked up, but...”

“please stop talking,” he said, rubbing his forehead as he finally looked you in the eyes.

“do you know that 258 people in 100,000 enter a coma each year due to acute brain injury?” spencer stated, frustration evident in his voice. you stared at him, confused.

“what does that have to do with anything?"

“you are lucky that you don’t have a brain injury; you could have been at risk of going into a fucking coma for who knows how long! what i’m saying is, i wish you didn’t go off by yourself because i would never forgive myself if i lost you. do you understand me?” spencer said it in a stern voice, which caught you off guard.

“spencer, i can handle myself just fine, and i’m okay, aren’t I?”

spencer shook his head furiously.

“you’re not listening to me.”

the silence filled the room; it was the loudest silence you’ve ever witnessed.

you tried to speak, but spencer just sighed. “you need rest; i’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

you just nodded, the conversation still on your mind. why was he so upset? you didn’t have the energy to dwell on it.

“spencer,” you called out.

he turned around with a curious look in his eyes.

“can you stay a little longer?” you asked quietly.

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[mountsgirl]

Captain-Dominik Szoboszlai

Pairings: Dominik Szoboszlai x fem!reader

Warnings: +18 content(smut), explicit language

Summary: Attending the game in which your boyfriend captains his national team takes an interesting turn

Note: I just couldn’t get this idea of him out of my head🫣

Even if this was just a friendly game against Türkiye, Dominik still wanted his girlfriend to attend. He wanted to make her proud. They have been dating for a couple of months, the relationship still fresh, but the chemistry was something none of them had ever experienced. That’s how Y/n found herself at Puskás Arena on a Friday night with Dominik’s jersey on.

It was moments before the Hungarian players needed to be on the pitch to warm up for the game, as you were seated with the other wives and girlfriends attending the game. They were discussing about clothes, jewellery and how excited they were for the game to start before you receive a text from your boyfriend.

Dominik: come in the locker room, I need you!

You wonder if everything is okay with him as you excused yourself from the group and went on to look around the stadium for Dominik. Reaching the locker room, you push the big doors, surprised to find him all alone. His kit was on, together with the captain’s armband, which made him even hotter.

“Shouldn’t you be warming up?”you approach him, settling yourself between his legs while his arms embrace your hips.

“I should” he smirks, checking you out. The skirt you’re wearing come right before your knees and the black leather boots embracing your legs, made you look like a goddess. Looking up to see his jersey hugging your body so perfectly, his smile widened even more “but I had to see you before”.

“You’re so handsome” you mutter, while arranging a string of hair which fell on his forehead.

“My captain” those words awake something in him and he hooks his big hands around your thighs drawing you closer to him, until you’re sitting onto his lap. His and your lips are now mere inches apart, Dominik finally closing that distance, with a passionate kiss, moaning softly. Both of you get even more excited, one kiss turning into a heated make out session. Dominik’s hands traveled all over your silky smooth skin, from your waist, down to your thighs caressing it gently but firmly.

“Strip” he tells you without any hesitation. All flustered and turned on by his actions you look deeply at him with doe eyes “What?”.

“You heard me, strip!”

“Dominik, the game is about to start and someone could come…” he interrupts you with a sloppy kiss, gently pulling on your lower lip to which you can only let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is not like that stopped you before”

“But” you try to argue with his but also very tempting idea but he doesn’t buy any of it.

“Be a good girl and listen to your captain, otherwise I’ll have to bend you over that table and make sure you behave baby” his words hit you like a bus. Dominik seems very calm about the whole situation meanwhile you’re barely holding on.

The shirt and skirt you’re wearing are long forgotten on the floor, while Dominik tries to unclasp the bright red, lacy bra “You’re going to kill me with his baba” he starts planting kisses on your neck, going lower and lower, to the valley of your breasts, not forgetting to nibble and mark every inch of skin on your chest. “Dominik, Domi please” you whimpers in his ear, getting even louder than before.

“What do you want?” He asks straight away, his lips barely leaving your body.

“I want you baby, please”

“And where do you want me?” He asks with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I want you inside me”

Hearing your words, Dominik lifts you up just like a feather and places you on the table in the centre of the locker room.

“All you had to do was ask szívem(my heart)”

Dominik rips up the lacy red panties you had on which were matching the bra.

“Dominik, I liked those!”

“Don’t worry baby I’m going to buy you more” he says thrusting into you.

“Domi!”you leave out a sigh of pleasure which sounded more like a scream, as your walls were drawing him in more and more, squeezing his already hard cock.

“Arch your back for me pretty girl” you do as you’re asked, feeling him go deeper and rougher.

“Can you feel me here baby?” Dominik asks, tracing your lower stomach, feeling the tip of his cock pushing harder into you. You were getting lost in the pleasure that your beloved boyfriend was giving to you while he was just as fascinated by your body and the sounds youmade as you were by him.

“Yes baby, yes!” You let out broken sobs as Dominik was brushing wet kisses over your body. He grabs your chin and he smashes his lips with yours whilst thrusting roughly into your aching core. Dominik was nibbling on your skin while your walls were clenching around him drawing you closer and closer to your climax.

“Dominik I’m close baby please”

“I know baby, I got you, I’m close too”

With every move inside you, he was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm untill you both reach your high, your uneven breaths echoing trough the empty room.

“Fuck that was good” you smile, kissing him.

“Never disobey your captain’s order” he smirks, kissing you again. Dominik helps you get off the table and as you both get dressed you pick what’s left of your underwear off the ground

“How am I supposed to go without these now?”

“Just as you came here, plus it’s easy access for my reward after I score tonight” he winks and you roll over your eyes.

He laughs as he takes the pair of tore up panties from your hands and puts it in his locker.

Hope you enjoyed it!🫶🏻

[allurilove]

Yandere Husband, Yan!Prodigy, Yandere Classmate and Yandere Stalker x fem!reader who has large breasts and tries to hide them under several layers of clothing. Despite her attempts to hide them, the yanderes persist and end up convincing her to let them worship her breasts.

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

You said yandere classmate so I’m gonna guess you wanted yearbook guy?, if not, ill just add both yearbook and boyfriend too!

Yandere Husband:

“I’ve seen everything before,” your husband approached you slowly, his eyes looking you up and down before he licked his lips. “Why do you feel like you have to hide yourself from me?”

He grabbed the bottom of your sweater, and you felt him slowly lift it up as he bent down to kiss your stomach. You could feel the vibrations from his voice on your skin. “I love every part of you.”

He stood back up and pushed you down onto the bed. Your yandere husband straddled you and tilted his head. “Are you going to strip for me, or do I have to make you?”

You give him a little pout, really trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to see your chest, but really… it’s one of the best qualities about you. He likes fondling them when he reads, when he goes to sleep, or even when he’s bored. Your husband just likes to have a hand on you at all times.

When you finally give in, slipping off all the layers and your chest was free from your bra, he let out a low whistle at the sight. “…so perfect.” he mumbled and he leaned down to suck on your nipples.

Yandere Prodigy:

He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but overhear how badly you felt about your body. You were just talking to another girl in your section, and you were packing your instrument away. Yandere prodigy did notice how you wore thick layers, and tried your damn hardest to cover any cleavage. He did wish you would flash him every once in a while.

He cleared his throat and looked away shamefully. He felt like a pervert for always staring at your chest, just trying to imagine how it would look like.

His ears tingles as you continue to complain about your back pain and how sensitive your chest could get. “I can give you a massage.” he blurts out and he had to look confident as you turned around to look at him incredulously.

He thought that you would turn him down. He never once thought that he would be backstage touching you. He cleared his throat. “Tell me if anything hurts…” he had no idea what he was doing, and he definitely realized how bad this looked it anyone saw you two. He continued to massage your body, his hand slowly trailing upwards towards your chest.

He did an experimental touch, gently pressing one finger right on your breast, and he looked at your face to see your reaction. Your eyes are closed and a single sigh left your lips. He then took his other hand and placed it right on your tit and he squeezed it. He took a step forward to trap you against the wall and his knee found its way in between your legs. “Is this okay?”

Yandere Classmate:

You came to one of his swim meets. You were hit with a wave of humidity as you opened the doors to the pool area. He was already in the pool, swimming cap on, and he was warming up. You saw his strong arms and legs propel him through the waters, and occasionally his face would pop out to breathe.

You set your stuff by the bleachers and watched the coach usher the team out of the pool. The meet was about to start. Yandere classmate pulled his body out of the pool, he’s wearing one of those tight speedos, and you can see the tan on his legs. His back is wide and strong, the water dripping down his muscled body, and he meets up with the rest of the team.

As the swim meet went on, you were sweating underneath your sweater, your face bright red and you couldn’t help but pull at the collar of your shirt for some air to cool you down.

Towards the end he finally approached you. “You look hot. Quite literally and figuratively.”

“Follow me, I’ll give you one of my shirts to wear.” he pulled your hand and he dragged you towards the locker rooms. He smiled as you instinctively covered your eyes. “Relax, it’s just you and me in here.”

He handed you one of his shirts, it’s bigger than you thought, and you sigh in relief as you realized it could cover your chest. He stood there, ready to stare at you as you changed. When your chest was out he immediately put his hand to feel them without a second thought. “Woah…” his thumb circled your nipple on top of your bra. “Can I take a pic?”

He got down on his knees, pulling out one of your tits, and his mouth opened. He gently bit down onto the flesh and raised his phone higher to take a picture.

Yandere boyfriend:

Your boyfriend gripped onto your hips as he thrusted upwards. You were on top of him and kept riding him to meet your release. He noticed how you always wore a shirt when you two were intimate, and if he wanted to see your tits he would only get to feel them instead.

He gasped as he felt your pussy clench around him. His nails digs into the fat of your hips. “I wanna see you… please?”

“Ah~” his back arched as you grind on top of him. When you see the euphoric expression on his face you finally gave in. You took off your shirt and bra, you tossed them to the side and his eyes widen.

It drove him crazy to think that you hid your glorious breasts from him, his eyes followed the way they moved around as you hopped on his dick. He sat up onto his elbows and he kissed your chest, his hands then moving to sandwich his face in between them.

Yandere Stalker:

Your stalker bought binoculars to look into your window. You stepped out of your shower, your towel wrapped around your body, and he prayed that you would drop it.

You’re quite bold, you know? You have huge windows and yet you get changed in front of them. It gives creeps like him be able to see you. He felt his cock strain in his pants and he bit his bottom lip.

Your hips swayed as you walked over to your lotion bottle. Oh I get to see you rub yourself with white cream? Lucky me.

The moment you flashed the world with your body he quickly pulled took a picture of your form. He got back into his car and drove home.

He was now sitting in his bed, his arm furiously jerking himself off, and his eyes were glued to the zoomed in pic of your tits. His tongue stuck out to lick the screen, and he swirled his tongue. He would pay you a generous amount just to be able to fondle them, to feel the heavy weight, and to keep one of your bras. “…you’re so pretty-“ he whined as his eyes rolled back and he came all over his hand.

[amagialp]

After the storm (short COD fic)

!!!NSFW!!!

MY REQUEST ARE OPEN!

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The quiet hum of the base was a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind in the field. You’d barely made it back to the safety of your quarters, but all you could think about was him. Ghost.

He’d been quiet during the debriefing, his usual stoic expression not giving anything away. But you knew him. The way his eyes flickered when he looked at you, the tension in his jaw, the slight roughness in his movements, all of it told you the same thing.

He wanted you. And you were done pretending you didn’t want him too.

You sat on the edge of the cot, peeling off your gear, trying to ignore the buzzing heat between your legs. But when the door opened without a knock, your heart skipped a beat. Ghost stood there, cloaked in the shadows, his mask still on, but his eyes burning with a fire that left you breathless.

“You’ve been waiting for me,” he stated, voice thick with intent. There was no question, no hesitation. He knew exactly what was happening.

You didn’t bother to reply. You just stood up, letting your boots hit the floor with a dull thud. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and suffocating.

Before you could even blink, he was there, pulling you into him with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands were everywhere, strong, urgent, like he couldn’t get enough of you. His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, demanding, devouring.

The kiss was all teeth and desperation, his gloved hands sliding under your shirt, lifting it off in one swift motion. You didn’t care about the noise, it was just you and him now. The mission, the team...none of it mattered in this moment.

"Fuck, I’ve been wanting this all damn day," Ghost muttered, his voice rough and deep, sending shivers down your spine as his hands worked to strip you of your gear.

"Then take it," you gasped, your hands pulling at his tactical vest, desperate to feel his skin against yours. His mask remained on, but his eyes were dark, filled with an unspoken hunger.

In one fluid motion, he had you against the wall, your hands pinned above your head, his body pressing you into the cold concrete. The hard lines of his body felt like a brand against your own, the heat of his chest burning through your uniform.

"Say it," he growled, lips brushing against your neck, teeth scraping just enough to leave a mark. “Tell me you want me.”

You tilted your head, a low moan escaping as his lips traveled lower, tracing the line of your collarbone. “I want you,” you breathed, and that was all it took.

His hands found their way to your hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. His lips were on you again, faster now, more frantic, as if time wasn’t on your side. Every touch, every kiss, sent a rush of heat straight to your core. You could barely keep up with him as he undid his belt, the sound of his zipper sending your pulse into overdrive.

When he finally thrust into you, the groan that escaped his chest was a mixture of relief and satisfaction. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as his pace quickened, raw and relentless.

“Damn, you feel perfect,” Ghost muttered, his movements steady but punishing. You couldn’t focus on anything but him, the overwhelming sensation of him inside you, the perfect rhythm he set, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

When the climax hit, it was a wave of intensity that took you both by surprise. You gasped as he buried his face in your neck, a low growl escaping him as he came with you, both of you trembling against each other.

The silence that followed was heavy, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. He didn’t let you go right away, still holding you close, his chest pressed against yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

Finally, Ghost pulled back, his eyes still dark but with a hint of something softer now. "Next time," he said quietly, his lips brushing against your forehead, "I won’t be so gentle."

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[i-heart-slashers]

Chance Encounters

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Dwayne x gender neutral!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A chance encounter cheers you up while on the boardwalk but was it really a chance encounter?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.7 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | n/a

The salty breeze swept through the boardwalk, carrying with it the laughter of children, the sizzle of fried food, and the distant melody of carnival music.

Among the crowds of people strolling along the wooden planks, you walked with purpose, eyes fixed on the colorful array of games lining the bustling strip.

You had always been drawn to the challenge of carnival games, the promise of winning a coveted prize lighting a spark of determination within you.

Today was no different. Pockets jingling with coins and a heart full of optimism, you made your way to one of the many game booths adorned with oversized stuffed animals dangling tantalizingly from above.

The game was simple enough—toss rings onto bottles, and if one landed just right, victory and a plush reward awaited.

With practiced precision, you flicked your wrist, sending ring after ring spiraling through the air. But each attempt fell short, missing the mark by mere inches or bouncing off the bottles with frustrating defiance.

Undeterred, you persisted, your determination growing with each failed toss. Time seemed to blur as you continue your quest, coins slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Yet, despite your best efforts, the elusive victory remained just out of reach.

As the sun descended towards the horizon, casting an amber glow over the boardwalk before blossoming into purple-blue, you finally admitted defeat.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back from the game booth, hands empty and spirits deflated.

Despite your best efforts and a considerable dent in your wallet, the teddy bear remained firmly perched atop its pedestal, mocking you with its unattainable allure.

Once so tempting, the lure of the prize now felt like a distant dream.

With a sad sigh, you pulled yourself together, and just as you turned to leave, a voice broke through the din of the crowd. "Hey there, having trouble?"

You turned to see a figure standing beside you, walking from the shadows of a nearby alley, with a warm but mysterious smile on his lips. "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is all you need," he offered, gesturing towards the game with a playful grin. "I'm Dwayne"

Blinking, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity as he gestured toward the game booth with a casual tilt of his head. "Mind if I give it a shot?"

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. But something about Dwayne's easy charm and genuine kindness put you at ease, and you found yourself nodding in agreement.

Giving him a small smile, you stepped aside, watching with a mix of anticipation and skepticism as Dwayne approached the booth. In one fluid motion, he picked up a ring, his movements confident and precise.

With a flick of his wrist, the ring sailed through the air, spinning gracefully before landing with a satisfying clink on the neck of a bottle. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Dwayne repeated the feat not once but twice more, each toss hitting its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

You could scarcely believe your eyes as Dwayne turned back to you, a triumphant grin lighting up his face. "Looks like we've got a winner," he said as if there was no doubt he'd win.

At that moment, as the carnival lights flickered overhead and the sounds of jubilation filled the air, you felt a spark ignite within you. It wasn't just the thrill of victory or the allure of the prize that captivated you, but something deeper.

"Looks like we make a pretty good team," he remarked, holding out the plush prize for you to take.

You accepted the oversized stuffed animal from Dwayne with a mix of gratitude and awe. As you reached out to accept the bear, your hands brushed together, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

"Wow. This is exactly what I wanted," you said with a shocked laugh.

Dwayne offers to carry the oversized plush as he leads you down the boardwalk, seemingly taking the initiative to hang out with you without stating it as you follow his lead wordlessly.

For some reason, your hand itched to reach out and take his— but for obvious reasons, you don't.

As you walked along the boardwalk again, the plush prize tucked securely under his arm, you knew that this chance encounter had sparked something that would stay with you long after the carnival lights had dimmed.

You couldn't help but feel the weight of the evening's events settle into a gentle warmth. Dwayne walked beside you, his presence both comforting and protective. Now tinged with twilight's soft hues, the carnival's atmosphere seemed to pulse with an enchanting rhythm.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincere gratitude. "I was about to give up."

Dwayne's smile broadened, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Sometimes, it just takes a fresh perspective," he replied. "Or a bit of luck." His voice teases something more knowing, but that was lost on you.

Nodding, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this man you had just met, who was clearly comfortable walking around shirtless under that jacket.

You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths had crossed for a reason. "Do you come here often?" you asked, trying to prolong the conversation but grimacing at the question you uttered.

"Every night," Dwayne said, his gaze drifting over the bustling boardwalk. "I have a lot of brothers, and chaos on the boardwalk is a nightly routine for us. Plus, I enjoy the energy— people-watching is sort of my thing."

"Your thing?" you found yourself eager to learn more about him.

"I'm a… free spirit, you could say," Dwayne explained. "Having a lot of time gives me the freedom to come here when I want. And you? What brings you to the boardwalk?"

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to share. "I just moved here, and I guess the boardwalk attracted me. Something about the carnival games, the lights, it all feels so nostalgic."

Dwayne nodded in understanding. "I get that. There's a certain magic here, isn't there?"

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of your footsteps blending with the ambient noise of the carnival. You glanced at the stuffed animal tucked under his arm—a giant, fluffy bear with a cheerful expression.

It was a stark contrast to the earlier frustration you had felt.

"Want to grab a bite?" Dwayne suggested, breaking the silence as his eyes roam over you with a deeper meaning before he grins. "I know a place that does amazing food."

You feel something warm inside you at his question, whether it was him caring for your hunger or just wanting to spend more time with you. Either way, you were eager to follow his lead.

With a shared smile, you made your way to a nearby food stand, the tantalizing aroma of fried dough and powdered sugar guiding your steps.

As you waited in line, Dwayne's easygoing nature made the conversation flow effortlessly; he asked questions and then listened. You talked about favorite memories, childhood dreams, and the small joys of life.

When your order was ready, you found a quiet place to sit, the stuffed bear occupying its own place near you. The first bite of the warm, sugary treat was blissful, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.

"Delicious, right?" Dwayne said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as his eyes roamed your face almost as if trying to savor that instead of the food.

"Absolutely," you agreed, taking another bite. "You weren't kidding."

You continued to chat, the evening unfolding around you both like a storybook. The lights of the carnival rides twinkled in the background, casting a soft glow over their conversation. You found yourselves laughing more than you had in a long time, the stress and disappointment of the earlier game wholly forgotten.

As the night wore on, you wandered through the boardwalk, enjoying the various sights and sounds. You played a few more games, and your competitive spirits were ignited by friendly banter.

Dwayne proved to be skilled at more than just ring toss, winning a couple of smaller prizes, which he generously handed over to you.

"You're really good at these," you remarked, both impressed and envious.

Dwayne shrugged modestly. "Years of practice. As I said, my brothers and I have lived here for a long time. Plus, it's all about having fun, right?"

You couldn't argue with that. You were having fun, more than you had initially anticipated. As you reached the end of the boardwalk, the ocean stretched out before you, the waves illuminated by the moonlight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dwayne said, his voice soft as he looked out at the water.

"It is," you agreed, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over them. "Thanks for tonight, Dwayne. It was… unexpected, but in the best way." being with him somehow felt natural, like he was always supposed to be there.

Dwayne turned to face you; his expression was sincere. "I'm glad I could make your night better. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones we don't see coming."

You smiled, feeling a flutter of something akin to hope. "So, do you think I'll see you again?"

Dwayne's smile was warm and reassuring, but it also reflected a knowing look, like you were a new part of his life now. "I'll make sure of it." He grinned as he said your name smoothly as he bid you farewell.

As you said your goodbyes, you couldn't help but feel this was just the beginning of something special. Your stomach tightened in an excited expression akin to a schoolgirl crush.

You can see him walk towards a group dressed similarly, like him on a bike. A wild blonde patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin, and a smaller guy waggled his fingers at you in a wave.

Turning away as a blush heated up your skin, you started to make your way back home. You grinned, walking past the final few stands on the way out.

With its lights and laughter, the boardwalk will always hold a special place in your heart. But tonight, it had given them something more—a chance encounter that felt like destiny.

Meeting someone who turned a moment of disappointment into a night of unforgettable memories.

As you carried your prizes home, it suddenly struck you that you had not introduced yourself in the flurry of frustration at the game.

So, how did Dwayne know your name?