#then maybe I'll hear you out. but until then go do something useful with your time

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 7)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

Part 7 -

The rain was beating down on the building in fat, heavy droplets making it harder to pick out other sounds. I peered into the room and could see J sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world. Suddenly my eye was drawn to a movement at the window, as it began to slide up. I shrank back, still watching but trying to stay hidden as the figure of a police officer slipped into the room. Followed by three others. As they fanned out into the room with guns drawn, my heart swelled with a little bit of hope that my freedom was near. They would ship my jailer off to Arkham and this would all be over. I felt my shoulders drop as I began to soak up the relief.

They had him surrounded where he lay, oblivious and looking strangely peaceful. Suddenly one of them fired a shot in the air. Startled I ducked back out of view and I thought I could hear a struggle between him and one of the men. By the time I returned to the position where I could see, J was being lifted up by two of them and thrown down onto the glass coffee table. His upper body went straight through it and he lay there winded in a halo of glass as they all gathered around to kick him. So much for due process, I thought. They began to taunt him as he writhed in pain, and laughing at them with bloody teeth.

"One of your men told us where we'd find you. We didn't call this in, figured we'd make sure you're not going back to the nuthouse again," said the tallest one.

"Last time you broke out, you killed four cops. We brought a body bag for you this time, you sick fuck," spat the middle aged one who looked the most worn down by a career in the GCPD.

I stashed the knife in my pocket and stepped out with my hands raised.

"Excuse me,"

They all turned to look at me, startled.

"Who the fuck are you?" Asked one, immediately pointing his weapon at me.

"His hostage," I muttered, less than thrilled by being held at gunpoint.

They all stared at me blankly.

"The girl he took in the purple dress," I urged.

"Oh my god, she's alive," murmured the one with ginger hair, he seemed a little younger and softer than the rest.

The tall one still had his gun trained on me as I slowly approached.

"God, what do you think he's been doing to her for all this time," said the short one, as though I wasn't stood right there.

"Ah fuck this complicates things," muttered the old one, who seemed to be the leader of the pack.

The tall one had a mean look about him as he scrutinised me, gun still drawn.

"Jesus, look at her fucking face. Maybe that's why he didn't kill her..." he grimaced.

"Hey," the ginger one said, chastising him and approaching me, "did he do that to you?" He asked, unable to really look me in the eye.

I remembered I probably had the remains of the black paint smeared on my face.

"He painted them but the scars... are old," I said, my voice cracking as the familiar feelings of hurt at this kind of response flooded over me, threatening to wash me away.

Ginger finally gave me a few fleeting moments of eye contact before he caught sight of something that drew his attention. He gently reached out a hand and swept my hair aside to get a better look at my neck.

"Jesus -"

I wasn't sure what he meant until I realised I probably had a visible bruise from the earlier fight.

"Looks like he's been having a little fun," muttered the tall one flatly, finally letting the gun drop. He clearly did not give a shit about me.

The older guy kicked J in the throat, grinning with satisfaction as he crumpled up and choked.

"Something doesn't add up. Why hasn't he killed you?" Said the lean one, frowning.

"Maybe you are working with him," said the short one, who had stayed mostly quiet throughout.

They all looked me over, suspicion rising, even the ginger one.

"You know, when he was incarcerated, some people still wrote him? He got fan mail. He had post coming in with marriage proposals, and photographs from crazy bitches desperate to meet him," said the old one, approaching me.

He stopped in front of me, wiping his thumb against my cheek and inspecting the black paint.

"How do we know you're not one of those whores?"

"With a face like that, I'll bet you don't get a lot of interest..." said the tall one, the obviously barbed subtext being that I was desperate and deranged, and would have happily clambered aboard the clown currently still writhing in pain on the floor.

"W-what?" I stuttered out in disbelief.

They had been so quick to turn on me.

"Maybe you think he's like you. Damaged? Did you think you could fix him?" He pressed further.

"No, I don't think he's like me... and you would be surprised about the attention, men still find a way to be vile, if anything the scars have made it worse," I hissed, unable to hide the anger in my voice.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," warned the younger one, looking uncomfortable.

"Okay fine, take the girl outside, she won't want to see this any way," muttered the older one, waving us off dismissively as the ginger one began to herd me to the window.

Suddenly, I felt a pang of worry about what they were going to do. As I stood on the metal fire escape with him I could hear them continuing to beat him to a pulp. They were really going to kill him, but they seemed intent on torturing him first. I could hear everything, from his cries of pain and strained laughter, to their taunting words.

"Did he hurt you, I mean other than that?" asked the young one as he stood beside me on the fire escape.

"No, well, not like that..." I mumbled, head swimming in confusion.

He frowned, looking at me with so much pity it strangely angered me.

"I think. I need water and I want to get this crap off my face," I murmured stepping back inside before the cop could stop me.

He grabbed for my hoodie.

"Hey, wait..." he hesitated.

"I just want to get this off of me," I said, really pushing the narrative he'd clearly started to put together.

"Uh, sure."

He let me go and I crossed over to the kitchen area. My head was reeling. I didn't know what the fuck to do, as i started to wash my face off and drink from the tap so as not to arouse suspicion. The others were so busy railing on their target that they hadn't noticed my reappearance.

"You and your little girlfriend are quite the pair. With faces like that no wonder you found each other. You're like frankenstein and his bride," laughed the tall one as he stomped on J's fingers.

"Still, if you put a bag on her head, she's got quite the hot body... guess that's why you're keeping her hostage" said his short companion.

The words hit me like a brick. Who the fuck did they think they were? Was there any justice in these crooked cops beating a criminal to death? It was self-serving, not some kind of karmic justice. They were propping up the rotten system - just because they weren't dragging women into a back alley somewhere, they considered themselves in the clear. But what about the women they pressured into drinking with them at the bar? The ex-wife they threatened, the domestic abuse accusations they helped to shake for their colleague, because 'he's a nice guy really, she's trying to ruin his career He's a good cop.'? What about the teenage girl they didn't believe when she came to them seeking help, what about the dead prostitutes they cracked sick jokes about over cups of coffee in the break room?

They weren't good men. Even the one on the fire escape was complicit, he'd come here to do the same thing - to give himself over to violence and killing. If anything he was in some ways worse than the others, wearing the mask of someone who cared. He probably genuinely thought of himself as a good man. I wondered how many times he had weakly turned a blind eye to the actions of the men around him. I felt sick as I watched on, unseen, in despair as they continued to kick the crumpled form of my previous captor.

Suddenly, an idea began to form in my mind, like the spark of a match. I took the full overproof vodka bottle and stuffed a nearby rag down the neck. Slipping my hand into the familiar heavy purple coat, remembering which pocket he had put the lighter into, I advanced on them. They didn't see me approach; I wasn't important enough for that.

"That's enough!" I shouted, with surprising command.

They turned to see what was going on.

"What the hell? Watkins, why'd you let her back in here?" Said the lean one looking to his friend on the fire escape.

"Get this stupid bitch out of here," added the eldest, as Watkins began scrambling back through the window.

They weren't listening to me at all. J wasn't even laughing anymore, and one of his eyes was already puffed up as he looked up at me from the floor. As the lean one turned again to stomp on him some more, I snapped.

"Are you guys hard of hearing? I said, leave him the fuck alone. That's enough!"

I was shaking with anger. They barely even looked at me. I had given them enough warning. The quiet one moved to draw his pistol, looking like he was about to point it my way. I didn't give him the chance.

I flicked open the lighter and struck the wheel. The rag caught with a flicker and I launched the bottle squarely at the tall one, who was by now a little off to the left.

It sailed through the air and smashed against the wall, scattering glass and vodka all over him and the ringleader beside him. Instantly the flame ignited the fuel and a flash of orange bloomed like a flower. It was so bright that I had to shield my eyes for a second.

In the panic that quickly erupted I grabbed the gun from the holster of the cop I hadn't hit. Watkins had made it in through the window and was rushing over. As the two cops on fire were screaming and their colleagues were trying to put them out, I grabbed J by the wrist and dragged him far enough out of the way that he wasn't at risk of catching on fire with them.

"You stupid bitch! My face, she burnt my fucking face!" The tall one was screaming his head off as Watkins had put him out with his jacket.

I smiled as I managed to get J somewhat to his feet with an arm over my shoulders. As I encouraged him out to the balcony, I turned to look back at them. They had just snuffed out the older man too and were ducking away from the rapidly growing wall of fire beside them.

"What the fuck! I told you she was a goddamn rat!" screamed the short one, reaching for the gun I'd taken from his holster already and coming up empty.

"You burnt my fucking face!" Shouted the tall one again, clearly still in shock as he looked my way.

"You better hope it doesn't leave a nasty scar then, although, for the record your personality will still be the main reason nobody wants to sleep with you," I spat in his direction as I posted the heavy purple coat through the sash window. The others were reaching for their guns by now so I fired a shot between them and into the kitchen cabinets. They flinched as glass came down in a waterfall behind them.

"Keep your hands above your head!" I yelled.

Reluctantly they complied, and I shot another round into the old boiler unit, which immediately began spraying water and steam all over the place. There they stood in the middle, water on the left side and fire on the right. It had a kind of poetry to it which I appreciated for a second before quickly slipping out of the window.

"You - you made a molotov cocktail," J managed in amusement, spitting blood as coughed out the words.

I clumsily stuffed my arms into his coat and shurgged it over my shoulders, made it to the ladder and frantically began to clamber down.

"They're going to start trying to shoot us, can we talk about this later?" I shouted after him in exasperation.

"If you'd shot them first, we wouldn't have to worry about that," he grumbled, making a start on the ladder.

He was in a bad way, and clearly very much struggling to make his way down but I didn't slow my own pace. As soon as my feet hit the bottom rung, I dropped into the puddles below, slightly jarring my ankle as I did. I stumbled, cursing under my breath before straightening up and scrambling across the alley. Ducking behind a dumpster, I aimed at the balcony above us. The rain was still pouring down into the dark all around us and J still had about a third of the ladder to go when I spotted movement up above. I fired a shot up at the window, shattering it. I hoped this would cause them enough hesitation, while they tried to work out which direction it had come from, that he could get his feet back on solid ground.

I fired another couple of shots upward for good measure as he slipped into the street, collapsing onto his hands and knees for a moment. Cursing my own stupidity for not just calling it a day and running off, I instead darted over to help him to his feet.

"Do you have anything useful in this coat?" I urged.

He reached a hand inside one of the inside pockets and withdrew some kind of cannister. I snatched it from his grasp.

"Tell me what to do."

"Pull the pin, throw it away from us, and run, unless you want to choke."

I did as he said, absolutely terrfied the entire time. The cannister rolled to a stop at the foot of the ladder. I grasped his hand in my own and sprinted ahead of him, dragging him forwards as he stumbled on unsteady legs. I was struck very suddenly by the strange reversal of things, my mind replaying flashes of him dragging me by the hands out into the street on the fateful day our paths had crossed in the dress shop. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the alleyway was filling with grey smoke. As we burst out onto the street, I looked around frantically. We were still in a dead neighbourhood.

"Left." He managed to say.

I tried to prop him upright as we struggled to put as much distance inbetween us and the disgruntled cops as possible. After travelling down a couple of different streets in an erratic pattern, we hit the first signs of life. Flickering neon signs for a thai massage parlour, a pizza joint, and an ancient looking laundromat in between other boarded up and burned out stores.

"In here," I said, shoving him sideways through the laundromat door.

He didn't even seem to have it in him to protest and simply followed my rough guidance. The front desk was empty with a piece of card which read.

'Back in half hour. Need anything ask Raj in corner store'

We slipped behind the first row of machines, out of the line of sight through the glass front of the store. The rumble of the dryers and hum of the overhead fluorescent lights created a kind of static white noise around us which felt oddly comforting to me. Everything was awash with a kind of yellow hue, due to the tiles and the lights above, and the aged yellow plastic of the machines.

"Sit," I said, motioning to the wooden bench in front of us.

His eyes met mine.

"Like... a dog..." was all he managed to respond.

I sighed.

"Yes, like a dog that's been hit by a car. Just sit down already."

He relented, collapsing down onto it.

Link below for the other chapters:

[irimarzz]

tiktok is the most insufferable app and every day I consider uninstalling it but I never do

[mahgyu]

──── In the beginning of your relationship, you learned that Satoru was the type who liked to sleep cuddling. Before meeting you, Satoru used to sleep hugging a pillow, even. It wasn't exactly a necessity for him, but just something he liked and that made him fall asleep faster. You, on the other hand, weren't exactly that type.

Hugs before sleeping? Perfect. Having someone on top of you while trying to sleep? Not so perfect. Fortunately, the two of you reached an agreement about that.

But sometimes, like today, Satoru was extremely clingy. He was sleeping deeply, with his body completely on top of yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck, and a leg trapped between yours.

You loved holding him that way, having the strongest man you had ever known so vulnerable curled up in your arms and sleeping peacefully. Satoru slept heavily when he felt that comfortable, and the deeper he slept, the heavier he became on you. As mentioned, your boyfriend is a strong guy, so now it was almost uncomfortable for you.

You feel this pressure against your chest as he rests on you, completely at ease. You thought that maybe, if you tried hard enough, you could fall asleep, but no, it’s not possible.

"Baby..." You whisper, hoping it will be enough to wake him, but he just keeps snoring, each snore reverberating through your body.

"Toru...?" You try again, a little louder.

"SATORU!" Still nothing. He barely moves a bit in his sleep, letting out a particularly loud snore.

OK. Plan B. If you can't get him off, it's time to slide down. Only after two unsuccessful attempts, you somehow manage to do it, taking a big breath as you escape. You haven't even fully turned to the side when Satoru wakes up, confused and abandoned, with the source of warmth under him gone. He moves his hand aimlessly over the sheets until he feels you.

"Where are you going?" He murmurs sleepily, moving closer to you. "No..." A heavy arm wraps around you, pulling you back to him with ease. There’s a soft hum as he feels your body fit into his.

"Toru?" You call him sweetly. "You know I can't sleep like this, hmm? Come on." You pat his arm, signaling for him to let you go.

Satoru doesn't move. Instead, he just makes some whiny sounds before rubbing his face in your hair.

"Come on, let me go, please?" More pleading.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to." He whines. "Hug me." He pouts, looking so needy and neglected.

"Love, you're acting like a baby" You complain.

"Because I am. I'm your baby!" He says defiantly. "So, you should treat me like one."

At this point, you know it won't help to try to convince him when he's in this mood. You sigh, deciding to give up and give in.

About five minutes pass in complete silence and then Satoru quietly asks: "You really can't sleep?" The thought of this now bothers him. How could he relax knowing that you're not even comfortable?

"Mhm" You respond as he pulls separates from you.

"OK, I'll give up the hug time for you!" He sighs, rolling away from you dramatically. A few minutes later, he sighs again, a bit louder.

This is his cue to tell you that you should give in and cuddle with him. But you can't, having finally found a position that relaxes all the right places in your body, perfect for falling asleep.

"Are you really going to leave me abandoned?" His voice is so stupidly captivating that it makes you melt. You can't say no to that.

Satoru smiles when he hears the rustling of the sheets, your body moving toward him.

With open arms, he welcomes you back as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I can sleep like this..." You admit as he smiles, making sure you're comfortable but still wrapped up in him.

Hiii, long time no see, uh? 👀This time I brought something cute, a thought I had because I've been feeling so needy and missing our Gojo😞

(It is not well corrected, please ignore any possible mistakes.)

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

⠀

[yourfavoritepillowprincess]

"c'mon bunny, you have to relax for me. can't move with you so tight like this."

you buried your face into the crook of abby's neck, hiding your sobs of embarrassment. this wasn't your first time doing anything sexual per say, but it was your first time taking the strap. you'd always strayed away from dildos or any forms of intense penetration throughout your masturbation years, the potential pain never failing to scare you off.

that was, until you met abby.

abby, who was a well-renowned strap-slinging god, with damn near every girl on campus singing her praises left and right. her dick was so good it gave her a cult following. you'd known this before starting up your….arrangement and figured you were in good enough hands, but there was still this inner sense of dread that you couldn't quite shake.

said dread was now preventing abby from fucking the lights out of you. shit.

you felt large hands sliding up and down your ribcage, attempting to soothe you. she left searing kisses on the pulse point of your neck, pleasurably irritating the preexisting bruise that was painted there. you were growing wetter and wetter by the second, but still not enough to let her all the way in.

"'it's not gonna fit abby, maybe we should just-"

abby roughly slapped her hand down on the side of your ass, startling you and making you lose your train of thought. it stung immensely, but shit, that was hot. being the sneaky little bastard she is, she used the distraction to gently push another inch in you, the newfound arousal making it easier.

"well would you look at that? you see sweetheart? just need to turn off that pesky little brain of yours". she adjusted your legs that were already wrapped around her waist, pulling them slightly higher and deepening the angle. your jaw was completely slacked, eyes rolling back into your skull because fuck….that actually felt kind of good? she pushed in again and again and again, each thrust forcing cries of immense pleasure from your throat. her dick only had a little bit left to go before she was fully bottom out inside your pussy, but you felt like you could cum from this alone. this is what all the songs are about, what all the movies are about, what the media is so damn obsessed with. this was sex. and you could see yourself becoming very easily addicted.

"almost there. i'll go on three, okay?"

she had the cockiest little grin on her face, with her right hand coming over to massage your clit. you eyes were completely crossed, barely breathing as you allowed yourself to get stuffed so damn full.

"one.....two-",

and with that, her hips snapped into yours so abruptly that it made you cum right then and there, the tip of her dick touching that sweet, sweet spot inside you just right. you were so wet that you were forming a puddle underneath you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. in fact, you couldn't bring yourself to do much of anything as abby began to fuck you senseless. your cervix was being lightly grazed at every turn, nothing but white coating her every time she pulled out.

your chest was flush against hers as she leaned forward, pinning you to the bed completely. all you could hear was abby, all you could see was abby, all you could feel was abby.

she cooed at you, her strokes unforgiving and her voice taunting "y'know, something tells me this pussy is going to be my favorite."

[hypnagogics]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

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[stoopidpigeonxx]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑶 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑴𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏. ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

CAPTAIN CURLY SMUT HEADCANNONS !! NSFW under the cut. MDNI.

(These are all completely random, not tied to any prompt. I just want more stuff about this guy cuz I love him) Fandom/characters: Mouthwashing, Captain Curly, other characters briefly mentioned.

Content warning: Smut (obviously), p in v, curlys packing, title kink, thigh-riding, face-sitting, size difference, manhandling, reader is AFAB, creampie, multiple rounds, riding, cursing, J*mmy.

-He's a grower, not a shower.

I firmly believe Curly is a distinguished gentleman, unlike J*mmy who would most likely brag about how big he is and end up only being like, 5 or 6 inches. Curly, however, will not mention his size until you see it for yourself. And when he sees your face, he panics. "Oh-shit, uh- i-is it gonna be too big for you? It's okay if it is, I should've warned you.."

He's four inches soft, uncut. I think he keeps himself decently groomed. He's not completely bare, but it isn't a forest. He's got a little v-line that's only visible when he wears sweatpants that you go absolutely feral over. When he gets hard, whoo boy. 9 inches, throbbing. He's got a cute little vein near his tip that you like to attack when you're sucking him off because it makes his thighs shake. He's got a little bit of a mushroom tip, maybe more rounded. Perfect for hitting all those good spots inside you. In short, he's big. (he tucks it, that's why he doesn't have a bulge in his sprites. Also I'm sorry trans-Curly headcannon people ;-;)

-"Need a seat? I'll volunteer."

VEEEEEERRRYYY into face-sitting. Very. Like, the first thing he wants when you guys get freaky is for you to sit on his face. He's not exactly sure why he likes it, to be honest, he just loves the feeling of you absolutely lose yourself on his tongue. He isn't worried about suffocating or anything, since he's a lot bigger than you, so don't be afraid to ride his face! he can handle it! But seriously, use this guy as a seat. He'd give you a few licks up your slit at first to warm you up (again, gentleman) before going for your clit. And when he gets it, he sucks. Hard. He'd also probably sneak a finger or two inside you to add extra stimulation, because he really wants you to come on his face. He desperately yearns for the sound of you screaming his name as your juices cover his face and tongue, letting you ride your orgasm out before lifting you off his face and setting you down. "Alright, sweet-stuff, my turn. On your knees, please."

-Save a Polle, ride his big ass thighs.

So... we've all seen his sprite. He's thick as fuck. He's got a booty and bigger tits than me. But he also has deliciously large thighs.. so use that to your advantage, because he's totally down with it. He likes using it as foreplay to get you wet enough to take him, and he just likes the feeling. He'll probably give himself a hand while you're doing it, or he'll just watch and leave the touching to you.

He isn't much for public sex, but if you're really horny, he'll let you get high on his thigh over his uniform and gently praise you when you come. It gives him a little buzz to be doing something like that in a risky situation, like while he's in the cockpit sitting at the control panel, or even in the commons of the ship with Daisuke in a few rooms away. When you do come, which isn't that long after, he'll kiss you all over your face and head and twirl your hair in his fingers, using his other hand to rub your ass or back.

"There you go, sweetheart, that's a good girl. Good job."

-Sir yes sir.

I know, I know. He gets called 'Captain' and 'Sir' for his job. But if its coming from you when he's balls deep in you.. It's an entirely different reaction.

"D-did.. you just call me- mgh..- Captain?"

It makes him ferociously horny to hear that title slip from your lips, so pray you'll still walk tomorrow. "Ooh, fuck, yeahhh. Call me that again, baby. Call me that again.. Uh-huh. Captain takin' care of this pretty lil' pussy, huh.."

He doesn't dirty talk that explicitly, but you calling him captain gets his creative juices flowing. Oh, also his come. Yeah..

Its also perfect teasing material. You two couldn't even be getting it on, you'd just sneak up behind him and kiss him on the cheek and say "Morning, Captain!" In that tone you know drives him wild. Boom, hard. Poor guy.

-Yeehaw!

favorite position? Cowgirl. For many reasons. One, he loves looking at your face while you ride his cock. The noises, the facial expressions you make, the way your tits bounce up and down with your hips.. He wishes it was a renaissance painting to look at every morning. He also just likes being able to hold you easily. When you're on his lap, its easier for him to snake a hand up and hold your hair out of your face, or to give your ass gentle love taps (he would never spank you, unless asked to). He's a very hands-on guy and wants to touch you, everywhere he can.

Of course, he doesn't mind the occasional doggy, or missionary, or hell, even a Full Nelson, because you KNOW he's able to hold you like that. Manhandling comes naturally with Curly. Gently, of course. He would never hurt you.

-Gets a little messy.

Curly's no one pump chump. He'll go for hours. Even if he's came inside you at least five times, he'll keep going. He's got hella impressive stamina. His motivation? Seeing your cunt leaking his seed when he pulls out. He wants you to still find it in your underwear 3 days later. No hole goes unfilled. He's not exactly a breeder, per-say, though he definitely wouldn't complain about getting you pregnant, he just likes seeing you in a state. He thinks of it as artwork, leaving you so stuffed to the brim. The next day, he'd pull you aside and give you a quick finger-orgasm, just to see if his come's still in there. When it leaks onto his fingers along with your own, he's a very happy man. "Ahh, look at that. Still got it in ya. Should fill you up even more later, hm?"

oof. my hands hurt. ;-;

[simpjaes]

Wrong brother ― P.JS & P.SH

anonymous requested: jayhoon with “fucking the wrong brother” trope 😵‍💫

wc: 1.8k

tags: sunghoon is a fuckboy on campus but you don't know it. you accidentally send your nudes to jay instead of his brother sunghoon and well....WELL, sexting, actual fucking but it's alluded to, second-hand embarrassment. NOT PROOF READ.

"Just friends" only goes so far when you've been pining something fierce for the past three semesters for a very specific kind of dicking down.

By specific, you mean Sunghoon. You want Sunghoon to dick you down so fucking bad by this point that you think you're going crazy.

The thing is, you've been friends with him and his brother, Jay, since you started college. The three of you kind of clinged to each other because you at least recognized one another (from your hometown) on this vast campus that is filled with strangers and people already within respective groups.

The three of you made your own respective friend group.

Over the semesters, you never really thought about either of them in a sexual light until Sunghoon did something one day that ignited a little bit of something in you. Maybe it's the way he looked at you that night, all drunken and woozy with drooping eyes and your image melting you into his surroundings. Or maybe it's the way he didn't seem to mind that you walked in on that, witnessing him literally choke a girl out on his cock mid-party in an unlocked bathroom.

It's the way all three of you were gonna blow off this party and just hang out together again. It's the way all three of you ended up admitting that you low-key wanted to experience a college party every now and then. It's the way he refuses to talk about what you saw, but knows damn well you want to mock him for it.

Mocking him in a way that would make him talk about it. If only so you can ask why he looked at you like that, with his half-smirk and quick raise of the brows as if to fucking invite you to join.

You made a point not to tell Jay about this because you knew he'd never let Sunghoon live it down, and quite frankly, you want him to live it down. With you, specifically.

This leads to today. So long after you witnessed Sunghoon mid-sexual light, it was hard to see him the way you used to. The way he held her head down even when someone walked in...the way you saw a glimpse of him moaning, half-talking to her when you opened the door.

Is it so wrong that you feel Sunghoon, the shy, beloved, and sweet Sunghoon, has a bit of a mean streak if his dick is hard? Is it really, so fucking horrible for you to kinda, be like, you know, turned the fuck on by it?

It's gotten to the point that the few friends you do have outside of your little circle has gotten fucking sick of hearing about him.

"Just fucking send him a nude, god." One of your friends gripes with a roll of her eyes. "We're in college, he's probably down to fuck if you are!"

You roll your eyes right back at her, snarling a bit as you lean in closer, whispering now.

"He's like, my best friend. Don't you think it's weird that I can't stop thinking about the way he like...basically treated some girl's face like a pocket pussy?"

"No. The dude is hot, anyone would wanna partake in-"

"I can't just fucking roll up like 'Hey hoonie, nice cock, i think. I don't know, i couldn't see it because you had it buried into some girl and I really want to see what it looks like and also i really want you to do that to me just to see what it's like maybe hahahahha"

"You can literally do that." You friend says, fed up. "Again, just snap a nude to him and send it. Just immediately apologize and beg him not to look at it. Pretend it's an accident."

You stare at her, feeling your phone burn in your pocket at the idea.

"I'll text you and tell you what happens." You say suddenly, wiping your hands clean from the crumbs of your snack and walking away without another word.

You don't hear her, but your friend cheers you on with another roll of her eyes. She doesn't actually care because, well, it's Sunghoon. She's actually a little bit shocked that word hasn't gotten around to you. The dude is actually very, very well known with the ladies on campus.

Any lady.

All ladies.

Except you, apparently.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Mortified.

You are fucking mortified. Here you were, dressed in your best (absolutely nothing) with your fingers still grazing your clit as you stare in horror at your phone.

You really did that. You sent the fucking newly taken photo and immediately apologized. Hell, you even closed your phone for a minute out of anxiety that approaching Sunghoon this way was a bad idea...

You phone went off just a few seconds after you turned it off. Just a text from Jay, no biggie, probably just wondering what you're up to.

You were literally still playing with your clit when you opened his text without much care. He shouldn't find out you're making a move on Sunghoon anyway, right?

Well, yeah. He'll never find out because that fucking move you made wasn't on Sunghoon at all. The way your stomach flips upon opening his texts only to find that fucking picture of your open, wet, fingered pussy right there above your quick apology... and then right below that is Jay's texts reading:

Jay: was that really an accident?

Jay: figured you'd have called to tell me to not look at it if you actually were sorry

Jay: i'd know if you had someone to send something like that to anyway

Fuckkkkk why'd you have to be so bold to send something so graphic?! It's so out of character for you, even if you did send it to the right person to begin with. You really are going fucking crazy.

You: um...it was an accident, really...

Jay: you don't seem too apologetic for sending it to me

Jay: "sorry, that wasnt for you. pls delete lol"

Jay:....you sure it wasn't for me?

Jay: sounds like you meant to send that...

This is...embarrassing. Jay, fucking Jay of all people is stroking his fucking ego right now. Thinking this is for him, that you want him. Which, i mean, that's surprising because he acts so uninterested in sex when you're around him. Like you've never even seen him stare at a girl for too long or admit to you, or his brother, that he wants to start dating. Yet here he is??? Talking to you like this?

You don't even know how to respond to him when you get another text. A fucking image.

Of his cock.

That's Jay's cock on your phone. Right there. Jesus.

Jay: oops, lol, didn't mean to send that.

You pause, barely able to tear your eyes away from how fat that thing is before you respond in an annoyed, text-tone.

You: are you fucking mocking me?

Jay: depends, are you into that kind of thing?

What the fuck is happening right now? Is this really Jay? Is this how he acts? What is with you and your best friends ending up acting...so interesting when a pussy is around?

You: what's it to you?

Jay: you literally just showed me how deep your fingers can go in your pussy, it's everything to me right now

Why...did you just tingle? Why did your fucking clit throb at that? This is Jay. Then again, you had the same shock when you witnessed Sunghoon that night. Still, should you really play into this? Should you really lead Jay on out of pure arousal and curiosity and forget about your plan with Sunghoon?

You'd look so bad if Jay found out now that you plan to do the same shit to Sunghoon. Ugh, you feel like a total slut.

You: jay, it was an accident.

Jay: fuck off with that, no it wasnt. besides, i liked it. send more

You sigh, slapping yourself on the forehead out of pure embarrassment but god. Are you really about to do this? Are you really snapping more pictures right now?

Yeah. You fucking are. And you send them just as easily as you did the first time, allowing your clit to think for you at this moment rather than worry about the consequences of this.

Jay: fuck, i can't believe you're doing this right now, prettier than i imaged

Jay: jerked off to you so much last semester, was starting to think i need to find someone else to chase

Jay: [image attachment]

The whiplash you're getting right now. Jay...has been into you?! Since fucking when?!?! and, god, fuuuuck, why is he so big? Why is Sunghoon at the back of your mind right now? Why the fuck are you rubbing your clit harder for this?

Jay: well?

You: i feel weird about this

Jay: just give it a few, keep doing that, keep showing me.

And well, you do. Solely out of curiosity. You keep snapping pictures, showing him a personal timeline of how wet you're getting before you get another text from him. Finally, after about ten minutes of silence.

Jay: open your door

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Silence. Utter fucking silence as you lay next to Jay with his heavy limbs thrown over you. Despite the heaviness of your breathing paired with his, your ears are ringing.

How did he do that?!

When did he learn how to fuck like that?

What the actual fuck is happening?!

"Jay..." You half-whisper out to him, breath still struggling to balance out.

"Hm?" He hums back, his arms pulling you in, pressing your back to his chest as he ghosts his lips next to your ear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just-" You decide not to tell him about how this was accidental. "I'm shocked, that's all."

For some reason, the laugh he lets out fills your heart. It's the same, genuine, laugh he lends to you when you do something clumsy. Never had you realized that it was an endearing laugh, one that pointed to the fact that he likes you.

And it's not that you don't like him. You love Jay so, so much. But this, this is something you don't know if you can come back from. Do you have feelings for him? Not really...you're just horny. Do you have feelings for Sunghoon? You can't say that you do. But this...meant something to Jay.

He can never find out that you'd never spared him a sexual glance or thought before this. You can't bring yourself to lose that laugh in your ear right now.

"So, you liked it?" He asks now, which only makes your heart rattle even more because of course he's seeking reassurance right now.

"Are you kidding?!" You try to play it off like a joke, trying not to attach yourself to the emotions he gives to you. "I came like three times Jay, holy shit."

You feel him shrug behind you, as if he's proud.

"What? You thought I couldn't do it?"

It's not that you never thought he could do it, it's just that...you've never thought about it all.

[prael]

Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

-

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

-

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

-

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

-

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

-

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."

[tbaluver]

I loved the “when you have a baby with them” fic, could you do one where you feel insecure about your body post birth and they reassure you? I love your work!! 🤍

When You're Insecure About Your Body After Birth- The Love And DeepSpace Men

warnings: mentions of body insecurities

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie!! im so happy to hear you loved that headcanon fic and my works! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) it always makes my day to hear you guys love them <3 i hope you and everyone else enjoys this one!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He would notice every time he tried to get close to you, you would find an excuse or completely avoid him. Anytime you would try to wrap his arms around you at bedtime, you would roll away from him so you're out of his reach. Your sleepy lover would not be able to sleep anymore without you in his arms.

He would be so confused on why you tried to avoid his affection. He would look it up on his phone, his search history filled with questions of "Does my lover hate me?" "Why does my lover not want my affection" All the answers he read online made him more confused and sad.

It wasn't until he watches you stand in front of the mirror, tugging at your clothes and grimacing each time you realize the fabric doesn't sit on your body like it used to before. You wouldn't notice that he was watching you, thinking he was asleep the whole time.

He would grow concerned every second and every minute as you're still fixated on your clothes and by the time he gets up from your shared bed, you're on the verge of breaking down. You avoid eye contact with him before he can even ask what's wrong.

His arms reach around your waist and he pulls you firmly into his body, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Honey, I can’t stand seeing you like this. What’s making you upset? I want to support you and make everything better.” He would say, kissing your neck before nuzzling into you.

Although your lover warms your heart, it doesn't stop your tears. Instead, you start to ramble about how you don't look like how you used too before your pregnancy. How your clothes don't fit you like how they used too and how you felt like you started to hate your body.

He would listen silently, letting you let it all out while he's continuing to hold you so closely. You let out a deep sigh when you finished talking, melting into his touch.

He would pepper you with kisses and promises you that every inch and part of you is beautiful and deserves to be loved. He'll continue to love on you as much as it takes for you to see you as he sees you.

"You're my everything. Every change is proof to your incredible strength and the beautiful journey we've shared. To me you're more than perfect and I'll keep reminding you of that every single day."

Zayne:

Zayne has always been and will be extremely attentive to you and your family. He's remembered your medical record and has known the smallest detail about you so he's already noticed the change on your eating habits. He'll notice you checking the packages to check the calorie counts and at first he wouldn't think much of it. He would think at first, you were maybe keeping track of your energy but he wouldn't brush this off.

He'll notice this has been happening quite often every day. Every time you want too cook something or order something or even get a snack, you'll always check the calorie count. So he decided to finally talk to you about it during dinner and ordering your favorite takeout.

As you chat and set down the dinner together, feeding the baby first, he’ll notice you putting only a small amount of food on your plate. It’s your favorite dish, so this seems unusual to him. "Is that all you're going to eat, my love?" He would ask, his gaze on you. You would look at him anxiously and tell him it was enough for you because you were on a diet but he would tell you that it wasn't enough and that you didn't need to go on a diet at all.

Tears would threaten to spill from your eyes when you would explain to him that you need to lose weight. You'd open up about your insecurities, worried that he might not find you as attractive now because you feel your body has changed after the pregnancy compared to how you looked before.

Zayne would get up from the opposite side of the table where he sat and made his way to your side. He would sit back down on a chair closest to you, hold your hand tenderly, and gently rub soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

“My love, you’ve only just welcomed a new life into the world and your body has done something remarkable. It’s proof of your strength and love, and its beauty goes far beyond just appearances.” He would say while pressing soft kisses on the back of your knuckles.

He hated to see you so upset like this, insecure and hating your body when to him you were the most beautiful thing in the world. He would do anything to show you how truly loved you really were.

"I promise you, you don't need to lose any weight. I think you're perfect the way you are. But if you don't feel confident in your body, then there are better ways to do it. I can help you and support you."

Rafayel:

He's called you a couple times to dinner but you didn't come down to the dining area. He's already fed the baby and put your baby down for a nap before he went off to find you. You stood in your shared bathroom mirror, poking and prodding at the pregnancy scar and imperfections on your body. Every single flaw became amplified in your mind the longer you looked at your figure contort in the mirror. You felt disgusted in your own body and wanted it all to disappear.

Tears would race down to your cheeks and you would feel strong arms wrap around your waist. You were met with Rafayel's reflection smiling right back at you until he saw the tears stain your face. He would gently turn you to face him, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist while using his free hand to wipe away your tears. "What's the matter princess?"

He patiently waited for you to talk as you tried to steady your breathing as he continued to wipe any more tears that came running down.

When you were ready to talk, you explained to him that you've been feeling insecure lately. The weight that you gained from pregnancy hasn't left your body. You haven't looked the same every since. A couple of your clothes don't fit the way they used too and it's all been upsetting you.

Hearing you talk so low of yourself broke Rafayel's heart. He hated that part of your brain. The brain that brings you down and makes you despise yourself. He desperately wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.

He began peppering your face with soft kisses, causing you to let out a laugh. He continued trailing kisses over your body and stopping at every area to tell you why he loved it. Your body was practically covered with kisses and praises from head to toe. Once he was finished, he brought himself back up and pulled you into a kiss.

"My love, you're like a breathtaking masterpiece to me. Every change tells the story of the journey we've been through together. You're still the same incredible woman I fell in love with, and you'll always be my beautiful, amazing wife. My one and only. I adore you more than ever."

He cups your cheeks gently and looks into your eyes with his warm gaze, "I love you, every part of you," He says softly. "If I could somehow transfer my thoughts and feelings into your mind so you could see yourself the way I do, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Sylus:

He would notice the signs but he didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet. You two would shower often before you gave birth. It was one of the intimate times you both shared. After birth, he noticed that you wouldn't shower with him anymore. Usually you would excuse yourself to watch the baby or say you would have already showered. You also wouldn't go out that often with him to auctions or any dates even if he offered Luke and Kieran to watch the baby. He figured maybe it's because you didn't trust them with the baby just yet, which is valid.

It wasn't until he finally got to convince you to go out tonight to an auction. He picked out a dress for you so he could match with you.

You stared at the mirror completely lost in thought. You hum dismissively as continued to poke at your skin. You analyze every stretch mark that appeared on your skin out of the dress. You'd turn every few minutes to check out your other angles.

You were so caught up in thought that the footsteps of your lover didn't alert you that he was in the room. He was leaning against the door frame, watching you for a while. He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You look beautiful sweetie." He says, placing a kiss on your shoulders and then one at the top of your head.

You'd frown and protest, feeling that you're not as beautiful as he says. You'd start to ramble about how the changes from pregnancy have made you uncomfortable with your appearance, tears welling up in your eyes. Realizing that tonight might not be the best time to go out, you'd suggest that he should go by himself instead.

He'd spin you around so you were now facing him. His large hands cupping your face as one of his thumbs wipe any tears running down. A finger on your chin made you look up at his crimson eyes and you can see the concern and honesty in his eyes as he spoke.

"Sweetie, you are truly beautiful. Your beauty isn't just in how you look but in the love and resilience you've shown. I see you, not just as my wife but as this remarkable woman who has given a gift and something truly precious. You are stunning, inside and out."

He would gently intertwine his fingers with yours, holding together as he placed tender kisses on your knuckles. All the while, he'd keep his gaze locked on you, with one arm wrapped lovingly around your waist.

"I know every detail about your body and I know it's perfect. I will continue to love you, every inch of you. And I'll remind you that every single day."

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[rae-writes]

Firstly, big fan of your poly mc x obey me brothers stuff. Secondly, I'm a bit curious about the dynamics between the brothers and mc (cough three-ways cough). Obviously Beel and Belphie wouldn't mind working together, but do you have any headcanons regarding the other brothers sharing?

threesome parings lets gooo! // nsfw, poly!mc (duh) // dateables and sides next maybe?? ;)

Obvious parings

Beel + Belphie; this one is the most obvious, but it works so well (Belphie likes to say they're the best tag-team). It can leave you reeling because you don't always know what's going on when they communicate with just their eyes. The favorite positions in this team are probably: you sitting on one's face while sucking the other off; riding one while the other fucks you from behind; spooning with one in front of you and one behind you

"Such a fuck-ing slut for us, huh? Our pretty little slut."

"o-oh..yeah, move your hips like that again, please..g'na c-cum-!"

"Please go faster, Mc..uh-huh, like that..a-ah! Yesyesyes, cumming! 'm cumming, oh fuck!"

"Your mouth is always so good...here, do Belphie next. Wanna prep you with my tongue."

"Mmm...slow down over there, Beel. We said we'd go slow...'s still early..'m tired." "Sorry, Belphie, but they feel so good..just listen to them. They need us." "..fine...we're going back to sleep after, though."

Lucifer + Satan; yes. These two. Their synchronized energy is almost on par with the twins (even if it's like a subtle competition the whole time) and they do everything so smoothly and seductively it makes you hot and bothered at a rate that should be illegal. The favorite positions for this team are probably: bent over something, one pounding you from the back while you suck off the other; being held up while they fuck you standing, one in front and one behind

"Come on, you can suck my cock better than that. Don't tell me he's made you dumb already?"

"No, no, no, moan my name. Yeah, that's it baby, let me hear you. Louder."

"I'm cumming- don't fucking move. I don't care if he's close, I'm filling you up first."

"You look so pretty, Mc...so. fucking. gorgeous. Doing so good for us, always do so good."

"Hold it. Yes, you can, and you will." "Don't be so mean to them, Lucifer. I think they've well earned the right to cum, don't you? I wanna feel it. Let them cum." "No. If you keep mouthing off, I'll take them away and you can finish yourself off. They hold it until I say so."

Mammon + Asmo; PARTY DUO! They're so wild and filthy and it's so fun to have both at the same time. Tag teaming you is one of the times they can bounce their energies off each other without arguments. The favorite positions of this team (though they're down to try any positions) are probably: riding one while the other fucks you from behind; train style- fucking one [w/strap or dick] while the other fucks you; both squeezing themselves between your legs to give you oral

"Harder! Yeah, yeah, yeah- like that! Come on, Mammon, fuck them faster, I need them to give me more!"

"Ahh, fuck...you're so fuckin' good t'me, baby. Look so good, you're so damn perfect- look at me, look at me, baby...fuuuckkk.."

"Come on, hon! Spread those legs a biiit wider...don't be shy~ show us your pretty self..gotta give us room to work our magic!♡"

"Rock them hips over me, baby, yeahh..make me feel so fucking good. Takin both of us so well."

"Ooh, turn them around this way!" "No way! They faced you the last time, I wanna look at them this time." "That's so not fair- oh! Aw, just listen to that little whine...you need us that badly, Mc?" "Course they do, you kept us waitin so damn long. Don't worry, baby, we gotcha."

Not-so-common pairings

Asmo + Belphie; little odd pairing here, but Asmo cancels out Belphie's sloth (and even gets him riled up in a way only Azzy can) so once you experience it, it's like the shock of temperature play. The favorite positions of this team are probably: riding Belphie while Azzy fucks you from behind; sitting on Bel's face while sucking Asmo off; getting fucked by one, head hanging off the side of the bed, while the other fucks your throat

"I knew I made the right idea picking this set out for you! You look absolutely gorgeous, Mc! Put on a little show for us?"

"Mmmnn...move faster..yeah, come on..ugh- please? Please, for me...y-yeah! Like that.."

"The way you move your tongue like that has me spinning, darling! A-ah..ah, ah-! I'm gonna cum!"

"No, no, no, look at me. At me, Mc, not at Asmo. I wanna see your face when you cum on my cock- take that pretty mouth of yours off his dick and scream my name."

"Come on, Belphie! You gotta get motivated! Just look at them, laying there so pretty for us!" "I can make them feel good without acting like you, you know." "Not unless you want me to steal them away~ Ooh, there's that competitive look in your eye!"

Lucifer + Levi; not necessarily an ‘odd’ pair, but definitely one we don’t see often. With the elder commanding the room and the younger so willing to follow along, it makes for a smooth combination (and an easy dynamic to settle into). The favorite positions for this team are probably: sucking off one while the other fucks you from behind; bending Levi over and fucking him while Luci bends you over the other and fucks you from behind; sitting on Levi’s face while sucking Lucifer off

"Ah, ah, ah. If I can hear you forming words, it means you're not sucking his cock properly. Doesn't Levi deserve some pleasure, too, hm? Go on, choke on it."

""Nghh! You f-fuck me s'good! Hnn...h-huh? Y-yes...yes, y'r fucking me dumb already- 'm your good boy t-though, please keep going!"

"So willing and obedient...you don't know what you really even do to me, do you?"

"Mmph...love the way you taste..ride my tongue faster."

"You can fuck them harder can't you? If their mouth isn't being forced onto my cock, it means you're slacking again." "S-s-sorry...they just- ah!- f-feel so good...my legs are..are already shaking." "Already? Well, if you aren't going to do it properly, let's just switch positions."

Mammon + Beel; again, not ‘odd’, but more so an overlooked- giving based- combo. They’re pretty much all about you, so it can be a bit overwhelming sometimes (but in the best way). The favorite positions for this team are probably: sitting on one’s face and giving head to the other; laying on your sides, each fucking you from the front and back; riding one while the other feels you up and plays with you

"Aw, why're ya cryin', baby? Yeah? Feels good? Sweet little thing...how bout we make ya feel even better?"

"No, no- don't run away, Mc..not done yet..you can take us both at the same time, know you can."

"Y'look s'good ridin' him like that. Can't wait for my turn, fuck, do you feel what you do to me? C'mon, baby, feel it...s'all for you."

"Make him cum again..I don't wanna stop tasting you yet."

"Beel! C'mon! I wanna taste 'em too! Stop hogging!" "But their taste.." "I know- but look at 'em. They're dying to taste you, too. So give me a turn, yeah? Let 'em get their fill." "Okay...just for you, Mc.."

Levi + Belphie; this one…is interesting. It’s easy to run things because of their natures, but this is the unofficial ‘drastic switch’ team— you never really know what you’re getting with them. The favorite positions for them are probably: giving both a handjob while they pleasure you; riding one and making out with the other; getting fucked from behind and fucking the other

"D-don't stop- hnn..! O-oh, u-uh-huh, make me cum again, don't care if 'm sensitive, wanna cum again for you!"

"Noo! Come back...mmph..mm...don't stop kissing me. Don't care- I'll move your hips for you, don't worry about Levi, just focus on me."

"You look so. fucking. good. bent over for me. Shh, don't listen to Belphie's bitching, he's getting fucked every time I slam my cock into you, so focus on me."

"Pull my hair. Yeah, like that- mm! Let me fuck you harder..please? He won't care, he can take it, I need to fuck you harder, Mc, please!"

"Quit hogging them! It's not fair!" "Is that all you ever say? It's not my fault you don't ask them to give you what you need. I do. So I'm going first." "H-hmph! Mc, Belphie's being mea- oh..oh your hand feels good..yeah stroke me like t-that.."

Other good mentions

Lucifer + Mammon; these two can communicate with just their eyes as well as the twins can, okay, they absolutely have your head spinning— and usually, the eldest is in charge of the whole thing but sometimes his favoritism shows and he lets Mammon take over. The favorite positions in this team are probably: each fucking you standing, from front and back; sucking one off while the other guides the pace; rough makeout session to see who gets to be in charge (and sometimes it’s you)

"It's been awhile, hasn't it, Mc? I can tell by the way you're already drooling for us...all dumb and pretty. All ours."

"Doin' such a good job, baby...uh-huh, bob your head a liiittle faster, like..this. Use your tongue too...hear the way he's moanin' for ya?"

"Don't make fun of me...is it so wrong that I want to feel your touch, too? I love the rake of your nails across my skin..indulge me, won't you?"

"I don't even care if 'm not in charge this time- just don't stop kissing me..haven't felt your lips on mine all day, please, fuck, don't ever stop kissing me."

"Well? What are you going to do now that you're in control this time, Mammon?" "Heh..overstimulate him, Mc. 'n don't stop until he's shooting blanks." "...what? Mc, don't you d-ah! Gr..damnit...fuck, it feels good.."

Mammon + Levi; they might act like it’s a big competition sometimes, but all they really care about is making you feel good, and when their energies are in sync, it’s crazy. The favorite positions of this team are probably: riding one while the other fucks you from behind; getting fucked while fucking the other, spreading your legs wide open so they can both give you oral

"Don't be such a fuckin' sore loser, Levi. Just put your mouth on 'em and shut up..we don't getta talk till their legs are shakin."

"C-can't handle when you s-stare at me like that..m-makes me feel all hot a-and bothered..especially w-when he keeps fucking you e-even closer."

"Can take it- promise I can take it! Don't stop fucking me, need it s'bad!"

"Hah! Look at him! He's practcially in tears from just one orgasm..h-huh? W-w-what are you doing- no, d-don't! You're..going too fast..a-ahhh..c-cumming! N-no..'m not crying..'m not!"

"What'd you say?!" "You heard me! You're not that dumb, are you?" "You little- Mc? Oh, no, we're sorry baby...no, no, we didn't mean to forget you, we'll make it up. Here..put that tail of yours to good use, Levi." "Yeah..okay..we're sorry, Mc. That feel good?"

Satan + Asmo; this pairing can be so softly sweet and so passionately intense, it should come with a whiplash warning (but are you really complaining?). The favorite positions for this pair are probably: laying down while one fucks you from each side, getting fucked while making out with the other, mutual masturbation and getting edged while edging them

"Ah, ah, ah...not yet, love, don't cum yet. It'll feel better if we wait, yeah? Hold it for me...just a little longer."

"You look so sexy, all disheveled like this! Gets me all hot and bothered every time! Hehe! ♡"

"Arch your back for me- just like that. Makes it go even deeper, doesn't it? Just. like. this. Ohh, fuck, make that sound for me again- 'm gonna cum."

"Stroke me faster, baby, please! Uh-huh, uh-huh...mm! Cumming! Yes, yes, yes!"

"Calm down, Asmo. Mc's had a tiring day..let's take it slow and make them feel better, hm?" "Ooh, you're absolutely right! We'll take care of you, hon, you won't even have to lift a finger!" "Relax, love...we've got you."

[gothgoblinbabe]

Nothing Worth Saying Aloud

Logan Howlett x fem reader

A/N: This one is short n' sweet! Inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove which I had first heard because I read this one shot that used that song as inspiration! Theirs is much better I'll be real but I had this festering in my brain for too long every time I'd play that song on repeat

Summary: Misunderstanding and miscommunication makes for a terrible combination that leaves you feeling like you've had your heart ripped from your chest

Warnings: Angsty as all hell, a lil' bit of fluff at the end, that's really it!

Word Count: 2K

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

You’d gone through a couple break ups in your life, a handful of failed situation-ships that ended awkwardly - even a long term relationship or two - but all the heartbreak you’d experienced couldn’t compare to the chest-crushing agony you experienced now.

The terrible moment of facing the music; accepting what couldn’t be, even if you wanted it more than anything.

Logan was not into you and he was never going to be.

You had to confront that when you’d gone down the stairs of the mansion one night to get a glass of water, almost certain you were the only person awake. That was until you’d stopped short in the hallway, seeing Logan and Jean standing with their backs to you. You couldn’t hear their conversation and didn’t think anything of it until you watched his arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug.

Your stomach sank. You really should have known.

The way he talks to her, looks at her, is always there to help her; it must have been obvious to anyone but you. You’d been friends for so long that you were almost dumbfounded that you never realized, probably too blinded by your own rose colored glasses.

You turned on your heel immediately, climbing the stairs to hide in your bedroom. Your chest felt heavy and your skin felt like it was on fire. You never ended up sleeping that night, too sick to think of anything else but Jean and Logan.

That was maybe two weeks ago now and you’d avoided Logan every day since as best you could. You’d gone from being nearly inseparable to speaking only when you had to. He’d try his best to get you to talk to him about anything at all but you only gave him one word answers. He even tried to keep you after training one day, gently having a hold on your bicep.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” He asked bluntly. He tried to look you in the eyes but they were nearly glued to the metal floor of the basement corridor, your hair falling in your face.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Logan, really,” you were able to mutter out, somehow keeping your voice from cracking. Before he could interrogate you further, you shrugged yourself out of his soft grip and speed-walked to the elevator, tears flowing the second you turned away from him.

You were not fine. Your eyes were always red and puffy from crying yourself to sleep and everyone could tell something was off. 

Ororo even stopped you in the hallway outside your bedroom one night, begging you to tell her what was wrong and what she could do to help.

“It’s nothing, I - “ you had started to dismiss her, but she was having none of it. 

“Stop with that! Enough! You need to tell me what’s up or I’m gonna have to force it out of you somehow and you know I do not wanna do that. Now tell me.”

You sighed, never picking your gaze up from the floor. 

“Come here, I don’t want anyone to hear me,” you beckoned her into your room.

She sat by your side at the edge of the bed as you confessed what you had seen and how badly it had torn you apart, rubbing your back gently when you choked out a sob.

“Honey,” she cooed, pushing some hair from your face and wiping a tear away, “I think you need to talk to him. This is gonna eat you up inside if you don’t and I think maybe it could’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, ‘ro. I can’t even look at him without feeling like I’m gonna burst into tears,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the collar of your t-shirt.

“Think about it. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you really should. And if it was what it looked like, sweetheart, this is not the end of the world,” she reminded you.

“It sure does feel like it,” you joked, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“I know,” she sighed, patting your back gently, “talk to him.”

You nodded and she left the room, reminding you to come find her if you needed anything at all.

You thought her words over and ultimately still hid in your room the next day, skipping training to rot in bed in sweatpants and a tank top. The thought of having to confess to Logan that you were really in love with him was far too paralyzing. It almost made you sick If you thought about it too long.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep shuffling sad songs on repeat and yet you did, keeping your CD player at a low volume so you wouldn’t bother anyone and they wouldn’t bother you. Your hair was a mess and you were glad that at the very least, you’d had enough energy to shower that morning after three days of not doing so. You held your knees to your chest while laying on your side, burying your face into your pillow to muffle your wailing sobs. 

Logan was downstairs at the same time, making his way towards the stairs, only to run into Scott.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan spoke, stopping him with a hand on his upper arm.

Even through Scott’s glasses, Logan could tell he was glaring suspiciously.

“About what? Why?”

Logan said your name, looking around to be sure they were alone in the hallway.

Scott’s expression softened and he leaned against the wall, waiting for him to explain.

“Do you know what’s up with her? She won’t talk to me, she hasn’t in two weeks. She won’t even look at me. Has she said anything to you?” Logan spewed out, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous tic. 

“No, your girlfriend didn’t mention anything,” he teased, shaking his head, “but hey, just talk to her. You’ve been close for a while now, you just have to confront her.”

“She’s not my - okay, whatever. Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to her. Maybe she’s in her room,” Logan sighed.

“She’s always in her room lately. If there’s anyone that can pull her out of it, it would be you.”

He quickly thanked Scott and finally reached the stairs. He had been walking through the hall, finding your bedroom door and stopping when he heard a noise he couldn’t quite make out. He heard you sniffle and his heart dropped.

You were crying.

He tried to give you your space, work through whatever it was that was bothering you, but it broke him to see you the way you were and his prodding didn’t seem to help. Still, he didn’t know how much longer he could let you dodge him in the halls or live with the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He had planned to talk to you that day, but you rarely came out of your room now.

So, he laid a hand on your doorknob, turning it slowly. He would’ve knocked - he always did - but every time he had recently, you laid silent and pretended not to be in the room. He always knew you were, recognizing the smell of your perfume behind the door. 

The door cracked open a few inches and he saw you, curled in a ball in your bed with your face in your pillow. Your shoulders moved up and down as you sobbed, gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

There’s no way Logan could leave you like this. He slid into the room and closed the door gently, but you could hear the click of the knob over your music.

Your head shot up and you saw Logan standing with his back to your door, an almost devastated look on his face.

“Oh god, Logan, please, don’t - “ you choked out, turning your face so he couldn’t see you and waving him away. Out of everyone you wanted to see right now, he was at the bottom of the list because this was humiliating. 

He’d seen your bloodshot eyes and pink nose, your cheeks wet with tears. There was no way you could tell him you weren’t crying.

“You have to talk to me. Please, what did I do?”

The last thing you wanted was for him to think it was all his fault. It wasn’t, really. He didn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose; He couldn’t have known it would upset you in the slightest or that you were even in the hallway that night. 

“Nothing, Logan, please, just go away - “ you begged, still facing away with your face buried in your hands.

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s going on,” he said firmly, “you won’t even look at me. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you.”

You still had your face buried in your hands when you felt the bed dip as he came to sit beside you.

“I miss you, you know. You won’t train with me anymore, you won’t come out with me, you won't talk to me. Please, I don’t know what to apologize for if you don’t tell me.”

His voice so close to you made your heart ache. You wanted to just hug him, tell him you missed him too, but you sat paralyzed. He really wasn’t going anywhere until you said something.

You removed your hands from your face, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. You took a long inhale, closing your eyes and trying not to let your voice crack.

“It’s nothing worth me saying aloud,” you muttered, gnawing on your bottom lip. You felt like you needed to, though - like a lump in your throat that you couldn’t cough up. 

“Please,” Logan’s voice was quiet, his hand arm coming to rest around your waist.

You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face in an attempt not to cry even harder when he touched you. You had wanted him to for so long, but not like this. 

You inhaled sharply, standing up as you did so to pace around your room. You couldn’t sit still with his hand on you.

“I - “, you tried to speak, the words getting lodged in your throat, “ it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, it’s not that.”

“Then, what? Tell me. You know I’d do anything to help.”

He would, and that’s what made it all hurt so much worse; how sweet he could be to you. You reminded yourself that he was also probably like that with Jean and you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the thought. 

“It’s so stupid, Logan, really - “

“Pretty girl, it’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”

Pretty girl. He probably called her that too.

Fuck, you couldn’t get it out of your head no matter how bad you wished you could.

“Ugh,” you groaned, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe it would be easier to spit it out when you weren’t looking at him. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to get it all out in one go.

“A couple weeks ago, I went downstairs in the middle of the night and I saw you and Jean.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but Logan’s eyebrows were furrowed, completely lost on what exactly it was that you saw.

“And it’s so fucking stupid, I know, but I - “, you choked back a sob, “fuck. Logan, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m in love with you, I don’t know how to handle it, not when I know nothings ever gonna happen.”

When you didn’t hear a response, you dreaded the moment you finally tore your eyes from your ceiling. Logan was still in the same spot at the edge of the bed, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Sweet heart - “, he began, but it only hurt you more to hear him call you stuff like that.

“Logan, please, I know, just - I don’t want it to be a big deal and you don’t have to give me the rejection speech, trust me.”

“Are you gonna let me explain?” His tone was mildly frustrated, though he was still clearly worried about you.

You sighed, hands on your hips as you stood almost completely across the room. He got up to meet you where you were. He wanted to put his hands on your shoulders but he could tell you didn’t want to be touched.

“Explain what?” You muttered, gaze glued to the floor when he stood in front of you.

“There’s nothing going on between Jean and I.”

Seeing that your expression never changed, he continued.

“I think I know what you saw. I hugged Jean, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

You swallowed hard, dreading any details he wanted to spill. You still didn’t believe that there was nothing, convinced he was lying to save your feelings. You nodded anyway, still looking at the floor.

“I gave Jean a hug because her and Scott got into a fight. She said she fucked up and wanted my advice, I hugged her and that was all. Honey, I’m telling you, nothings going on.”

You were nearly turning pink at the realization that he was being truthful. 

“And another thing,” he began again, tentatively pulling your hands from your hips so he could hold them in his, “you think I don’t love you?”

You finally met his gaze then and his heart broke when he saw your watery eyes. He brought a hand up to wipe your tears, leaving it there to cup your face while his other still held your hand. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you, too. I don’t feel that way about Jean at all. I thought it was obvious, but I guess neither of us have the greatest communication skills, huh?” He laughed a little, nervously waiting for you to finally say something.

You were still soaking in his words, first about Jean and then about you. 

“Really?” You squeaked, unable to say anything more.

“Really, baby,” he said sweetly, continuing to wipe away your tears.

You sniffled and leaned into his touch, happy to just be near him again.

“I missed you too, you know. I miss everything about you. I just couldn’t look at you when I thought - I don’t know, when I thought you couldn’t love me like that. Oh god, I’m so stupid, Logan, I’m so sorry - “ you began to apologize and he cut you off, shaking his head.

“None of that, c’mere,” he pulled you into him gently, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to hug you. 

You smiled into his t-shirt. You missed the smell of his cologne, the warmth of him, the way he called you sweet names. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, standing on your toes to do so.

“I love you, Princess. I’m so glad I get to say it,” he mumbled into your hair, neither one of you letting go of the other, “and I’m a dumbass for not saying something sooner and letting you think all that.”

“No, I’m a dumbass because I should’ve said something sooner instead of assuming. I was just terrified, I guess.”

“No more being terrified, right?” He pulled away a little to look in your eyes.

You nodded, a smile on your face for the first time in weeks. You both stood there in the middle of your bedroom, frozen in an embrace with your eyes locked on each other.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his hand rubbing up and down your back reassuringly, “you can say no if it’s too soon -“

You leaned up to press your lips to his, not wanting to waste any more time than you already have. He kind of grunted in surprise, relaxing into your touch when you ran your fingers through his hair at the back of his head. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were so soft and he was so gentle with how he held you that your knees could’ve buckled. He pulled away reluctantly after a few seconds, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t wanna ruin anything,” he explained, tucking your hair behind your ear, “you know, just being with you. I would’ve swallowed it all down to be just your friend if it meant I wouldn't lose you.”

You brought both of your hands to cup his face, scratching lightly at his mutton chops, “Really?”

He nodded, kissing your forehead, your cheek and your lips again. It was sickeningly sweet, making you giggle into the kiss.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothin’. Just really happy.”

“Me too, pretty girl. Hey, you owe me a couple of movie nights, by the way.”

“Race you to the TV?”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

A/N: ik this ones pretty short but it was rotting in my google docs so here u go <3 pls like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[punkshort]

Just Friends

Thank you @brittmb115 for this prompt!

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.

Warnings: language, fake dating, one bed trope, sexual tension, jealousy, flirting, cigarette use, alcohol use, friends to lovers, reader has insecurities about her looks, fingering, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex

WC: 6.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Please, cariño, it's just one night. The party's at a casino about two hours outside the city. The DEA paid for hotel rooms 'cause they're worried about people drinking and driving. We'll be back by noon on Saturday, you'll still have your whole weekend to mope around over Travis," Javi begged as he followed you around your kitchen.

"Trent," you corrected with a glare over your shoulder. Javi just waved you off.

"Yeah, whatever. His name doesn't matter anymore, now does it?" he countered with an arched brow. You frowned and continued to put your dishes away.

Javier was right - Trent's name didn't matter anymore. Not after he dumped you out of the blue, two weeks before Christmas. He probably didn't want to buy you a gift, Javier had said when you called him up crying. It wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to hear, but at least he made you laugh.

"And why is it you don't want to attend this event by yourself? I thought you would have wanted to take some poor secretary back to your room for the evening," you said, flipping the dishwasher closed before playfully adding, "This better not be some sick move to try to get into my pants again." Javi pulled out his carton of cigarettes and began to anxiously tap it against his palm. When you whisked by, you smacked it out of his hand with a warning: do not smoke in my house.

"You've made it very clear I won't be touching your pants, hermosa," he chuckled, recalling a handful of failed attempts to get you into bed before giving up entirely. "But, uh, I've been taking one too many secretaries home lately," Javi admitted with a lopsided grin. "Got one real pissed at me for not calling her back. Had to make up a lie that I had gotten back together with an ex, so..."

Your jaw dropped and you stared daggers at him with your hands on your hips.

"So not only are you asking me to go with you to this party, but I'm supposed to pretend we're dating?" you clarified, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. When he nodded sheepishly, you tossed your hands in the hair and began to curse under your breath.

"Oh, come on! It won't be that bad! It's not like she's gonna say anything. It's just for looks. Hell, you never know. Maybe you'll meet someone at this thing. I could be doing you the favor of a lifetime," he said before hopping up to sit on your kitchen island. You smacked his knee when you walked past and he grinned.

"I have barstools, you know."

"Yeah, but I like it up here. Better view," he winked and jutted his chin towards your v-neck shirt.

"Gross," you scowled, making him laugh. He took a handful of nuts from the bowl on your counter and shook them in his hand like dice.

"So? What's it gonna be? You in?"

You watched him tip his head back, pouring some peanuts in his mouth, and you sighed. What the hell. You didn't have anything better to do.

"Fine."

Javier jumped off the counter excitedly. "Thank you! I owe you one!" he exclaimed before heading for your door. "I gotta run. I'll pick you up around noon on Friday. And, hey - bring a dress. The party is a little formal."

You rolled your eyes and groaned, then shooed him out your door. "Thanks. Now I have to figure out a damn outfit."

"You're the best!" he shouted happily from his car. You shut your door and turned around to sag against the wood, finally surrounded with silence. Something you thought you were craving until you had it, and then suddenly you realized you had never felt more alone in your life.

"Where the hell is this place?" you asked, staring out the passenger seat of Javier's jeep. It felt like the car kept climbing higher and higher, and the way your ears were popping, you were thinking your hunch was right.

"It's a hotel slash casino up in the hills," he said with a nod towards the open, winding road. "Supposed to have a hell of a view."

"Yeah, guess so," you muttered, then gasped when a clearing came into view and you saw just how high up you really were. "Oh, my god! Javi - look!"

"I'm driving, cariño," he reminded you with a smirk, but his eyes still flickered quickly over the ridge.

"Wow," you said breathlessly. The view was spectacular. Miles and miles of hills and trees surrounded a sprawling hotel/casino. If you were closer to the edge, you would be able to see a lazy river snaking around the bottom of the mountain.

"Alright. So what's the story?" you asked when you settled back in your seat. There was still a ways to go until you reached the casino, but you could see it from the road nestled into the landscape.

"What story?"

"Our story," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You told a girl you got back together with an ex. So, why did we originally break up?"

"Oh," Javi said, scratching his chin. "I don't know. You really think it matters?"

"Maybe. Who knows? Probably a good idea we at least talk about it," you shrugged.

Javi thought about it for a minute before snapping his fingers. "You wanted marriage and I didn't."

You made a face and shook your head.

"That would imply we're on the path to getting engaged. You really think you can fake a whole marriage because you pissed off a girl at work?"

"Yeah, good point," he mumbled before falling quiet to think about it some more. After a few minutes, he came up with another idea. "How about you were gonna move away for a job and we didn't want to do long distance, but the job fell through and you stayed?"

You nodded slowly, rolling the idea around in your head.

"Yeah, that's good. That'll work. Then one day to explain why you're single again, you can say I got another job offer out of state or something."

"Exactly."

"Alright. Easy enough," you hummed, then turned to gaze out your window again. Javi watched you for a few minutes out of the corner of his eye, his jaw working back and forth while he tried to come up with the right words to express his gratitude.

"Hey, uh," he said, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him expectantly. "I just wanna thank you again. I know you're going through a tough time and all that-"

"Don't mention it," you said dismissively. "It's not a big deal. Plenty of guys out there, right?"

Javi gave you a tight smile. "Yeah. Sure."

One thing that you didn't have a chance to fully think through was the sleeping situation. As Javi checked you in and you heard the girl at the front desk confirm one king sized bed, you felt yourself stiffen. He signed and grabbed the keys, then shot you a warm smile before gesturing towards the elevators. From the looks of it, Javier didn't mind one bit. Then, of course, it was Javier...

"No funny business," you declared when you entered your room and Javier flopped down tiredly on the huge bed. "You stick to your side, I'll stick to mine."

"Whatever you say, cariño," he replied with his eyes closed. "I'll be reminding you of that later tonight when you're all over me after a few drinks."

"That was one time and I told you I was sorry!" you exclaimed, cheeks burning from the memory.

Your relationship in the past with Javier was... complicated. When you first met, it felt like you kept seeking each other out at all the worst times. Whenever you made a move, he was unavailable, and vice versa. Eventually, you had decided to just be friends and left it at that. And it worked well. You had an easy relationship where it felt effortless and natural to go to the other with some exciting news, and sought a shoulder to cry on if something bad happened. It just seemed to work better without the romantic element.

All of that aside, at the crux of the issue was you were a romantic, through and through. You liked being in long term relationships. You enjoyed the comfort and peace it brought. Javier, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. You couldn't even remember the last time he brought the same girl out for drinks more than once and you had a suspicion he had never been in love.

"I'm just messing with you. Can't help it, I like when you're all flustered," Javi said before sitting up with a groan. When he stretched, you found your eyes drifting down to where his shirt rode up, revealing a small sliver of bronzed skin. You swallowed and forced yourself to look away because no matter how many times you reminded yourself it would never work between you, it didn't stop you from being unbearably attracted to him.

It was the confidence that he exuded. That was what you had finally decided was the thing that kept you drawn to him in a decidedly less-than-friendly way. But of course, you were quick to remember you weren't the only one who was attracted to his charm. Half the women in the city noticed it, too. You had just gotten very good at hiding it.

"What time's the party start?" you asked, hauling your duffel bag onto the bed so you could begin to unpack your toiletries. The first thing you did was take out the dark red slinky dress you bought so you could steam out the wrinkles with the iron packed away in the coat closet. What you didn't notice was the way Javier's eyes greedily locked onto the fabric while you moved around the room.

"Uh..." he murmured, his pulse quickening when he saw the plunging neckline of your dress. "That new?"

You furrowed your brow and turned around. "Yeah. I didn't exactly have anything suitable so I went shopping. Why? You don't like it?"

"No, no... it's perfect," he assured you. Javier blinked a few times, snapping himself out of it, and looked at you. "Very... festive."

You grinned and hung up the dress on the back of the bathroom door. "Thanks. I thought so, too. So... the party? What time?"

"Oh, right. Cocktail hour starts at five, dinner's at seven then dancing or whatever til who knows when."

You glanced at your watch and made a face after you did a quick pass with the iron.

"I better get in the shower, then," you said, grabbing your things. Javier leaned back onto the headboard and flicked on the television with the ease of a man who didn't intend on putting in much work on his appearance for evening. However, once you finished your hair and makeup and stepped out of the bathroom in that damn dress, he suddenly felt like he should have tried a little harder.

"Maybe I should put something in my hair," he muttered, his fingers flicking through the dark locks as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. You appeared in the doorway of the bathroom looking way too fucking attractive to be his date, let alone masquerading as his girlfriend. Your brows pinched together as you looked at his hair and it took every last ounce of willpower not to let his eyes fall to your cleavage in that tight dress.

"I think your hair looks good," you said. When you reached up to fix a stray piece of his hair, he cleared his throat and twisted away.

"Alright, let's get this thing over with," he mumbled as he slid past you and headed towards the door.

"What's got you so grumpy?"

"Nothing. Just need a drink and a smoke."

"You're gonna abandon me with a bunch of DEA agents to go smoke for ten minutes?" you whined, following him out of your hotel room towards the elevators.

"You could always join me. You'd look like Bette Davis smoking a cigarette and wearing that dress," he replied when you both stepped inside the elevator. He tapped the lobby button and grinned down at you.

"You and Bette Davis," you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"What? She made smoking look so damn cool."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to pass," you told him. "I'll get a drink and mingle. Maybe find one of the girls you pissed off and have a cat fight."

Javi chuckled and shook his head. "That's a long list, baby. Shouldn't be too hard."

When the elevator doors slid open, you could hear the music thumping from the ballroom and laughter echoing off the walls.

"Sounds like they didn't waste any time," you said to Javier.

"Are you kidding? When the government gives you an open bar, you fucking milk it," he replied before taking one step towards the front doors. "You sure you're good for a few?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you said, waving him off. He nodded and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Before he even made it to the door, he slipped one in between his lips.

The ballroom was pretty full already, Javi was right: when government employees have a chance to let loose, they jump at the opportunity. The entire room was decorated in Christmas lights, garland, and at least five different trees. The DJ was cycling through a mix of Christmas carols, pop music, and classic rock. Some people already shaking their hips on the dance floor with drinks in their hands. You spotted two different bars set up, so you made your way to the nearest one and ordered a white wine. As you waited, you bopped your head along to the beat of Last Christmas while mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

"Jack Daniels, neat," a man's deep voice said from beside you when the bartender placed your wine glass on a coaster. You thanked him and slid a few dollars across the bar before taking a sip.

"Excuse me... have we met?"

You turned to look at your neighbor and slowly shook your head. He was cute. Blonde hair parted to one side, mustache, lean but strong physique and sparkling blue eyes.

"No, we haven't," you said before offering your hand and name.

"Steve," he grinned, giving your hand a firm shake before accepting his drink with a nod and a couple bucks in the tip jar. "What department do you work in?"

"Oh, I don't work for the DEA, I'm here with someone," you said, leaning closer. You watched his face fall when you implied you weren't single and you pursed your lips. How the hell would Javi expect you to meet anyone when you had to pretend to be his girlfriend?

"I mean, just a friend. A good friend," you added, praying you didn't blow Javi's cover the first time you opened your mouth. "Uh, what do you do?"

"I'm an agent," he told you, chest puffing with pride. "Takin' down drug rings one scumbag at a time."

"Wow. That's so impressive," you gushed. You saw the way his cheeks flushed a bit and preened when he glanced down at your chest. "That must be so hard. What's your favorite part about the job?"

"Goin' to the Christmas party and meeting beautiful women like you," he shot back smoothly, making you giggle and toss your hair flirtatiously over your shoulder. Steve's gaze dragged up and down your dress appreciatively before adding, "I mean it. You look stunning. Should've known someone like you didn't work for the DEA."

"Oh, stop," you giggled, feeling your face warm from his compliment.

"Where are you sitting? Maybe I can convince you to dance after dinner? Now fair warning, I got two left feet, but I got a feeling no one's gonna be lookin' at me," Steve grinned, taking a step closer and grazing his thumb along your bare arm.

"Hmm, that sounds-"

"Murphy."

You both twisted around to find Javier storming across the room. And storming was really the only word for it. His fists were clenched and his jaw pulled tight like he was about to take a swing at Steve.

"Javi," you greeted him sweetly with a smile. At the same time, Steve said, "Peña."

"What's going on here?" he asked, sidling up so he could wedge himself between you and Steve.

"Nothing. Steve and I were just talking," you said innocently.

"Looked like more than that," Javier huffed. His tone and the serious look on his face made you falter. Did you do something wrong?

"Well-"

"I was just asking her for a dance after dinner. Relax, Jav," Steve joked with a playful punch to his shoulder. When Javi remained stoic and unmoving at your side, the smile slowly slipped from Steve's face.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I thought you were just friends."

"We are," you said quickly, but Steve was already backing away.

"Enjoy your night! It was lovely to meet you," Steve said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You swiveled on your heel to glare at Javi.

"Why didn't you correct him?" you seethed.

Javi just shrugged, his relaxed demeanor slipping back in place, and leaned up against the bar to flag down a bartender. "You can do better than Steve."

"Who are you to say?" you argued back after he ordered a whiskey. "We were clicking! And he's cute, why-"

"'Cause I don't want you fucking my partner, hermosa, that's why," Javi snapped. Your eyes widened and you clamped your mouth shut for a moment.

"He's your partner? Why didn't you ever introduce us before? He's-"

"C'mon, let's go find the appetizers or something," he said after snatching his glass from the bar top. It was very evident you wouldn't be getting any more information out of Javier so you decided to drop the subject. But as the happy hour inched along with your third drink in your hand and Javi's arm finding a permanent home around your waist as he introduced you to his coworkers, your mind kept drifting back to that hardened look he had given you and Steve. The butterflies in your stomach churned to life every time you thought about it, your memory twisting things so you could pretend he was jealous over you flirting with another man. It wasn't that hard to imagine, really. He could hardly keep himself from touching either your waist or lower back or grabbing your hand. It fed the little fantasy in your head, deluding yourself into thinking he was subtly trying to claim you in front of the whole party, warning others to stay away.

You had given up reminding yourself that the fake relationship schtick was just an act by the end of dinner. It was too nice to pretend otherwise.

Javi had been wrapped up in a long winded conversation with the man seated on the other side of him, but your heart was fluttering the whole time because from the moment he set his silverware down, his hand hadn't once left your leg.

With a dreamy smile plastered across your face, your eyes casually drifted around the room. People were already beginning to dance but many still remained at their dinner tables chatting. You had been quietly admiring the artwork on the walls and sipping from your glass when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It was hard to explain, but you just felt like someone was staring at you. Doing your best to be subtle, you shifted in your seat and let your gaze wander around the room again until you found the source.

There was a table to your left, half of which was empty, but five young women remained staring in your direction. Some had drinks dangling from their fingers, one had a scowl and another was leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

There was no question one of the girls must have been one of Javi's scorned lovers. If not all of them. Your heart sunk a little when you saw how beautiful they were and you forced yourself to look away.

Javier was handsome, he had charm, and he was funny. A lethal combination that managed to get him in bed with some extremely drop dead gorgeous women. It was then you felt your insecurities flare up. How could anyone buy you were a couple when he was used to having girls like that on his arm?

With Javier still talking, you stood up from your chair, suddenly feeling flustered and overwhelmed.

He stopped speaking mid sentence to look up and ask, "Where are you going?"

"Uh," you glanced around and swallowed nervously. "I think I just need some fresh air. I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," he said, immediately standing. "I'll catch up with you later, Jim," Javi added over his shoulder before hurrying to catch up with you. When his palm pressed against your back, your feet automatically slowed.

"What's going on? Drink too much?"

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know," you rambled, eyes scanning for the exit. "I just feel like I don't fit in here."

"What? Why?" he asked, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. His face was filled with concern as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You're doing great, cariño. I thought you were having fun."

"I was. I am," you stammered, and then your gaze landed on the table of girls, most of which had moved on to something else.

Before you could tear your eyes away, Javier noticed where you were looking and sighed.

"Yeah, sorry. I told you, I pissed off a woman or two here."

"It's not that," you mumbled, now staring down at the floor.

"Then what is it?"

You felt your cheeks flush and you couldn't look him in the eye when you finally admitted, "They're really pretty, Javi."

He just scoffed and took your hand in his.

"You're prettier."

You laughed lightly and shook your head. "Yeah, right. It's a good thing there's an open bar. Otherwise, I'm not sure people would believe we're together when you're usually seen with girls like that."

"Hey," Javi said softly. He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you would look at him. "Don't say that. You look better than anyone else here. If you weren't already, I'd be trying to get you up to my room right now," he said with a smirk. You giggled a little and sighed.

"Sorry. I guess I just had a moment or something," you said, breathing deep. Javi looked around the room and noticed how the dance floor was beginning to fill up.

"Wanna dance?"

You smiled and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you watched others having fun on the dance floor. Without waiting for your answer, Javi tugged your hand and tilted his head, urging you to follow him. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging."

You laughed and let him lead you to the dance floor, weaving through the throngs of people until he found a little wiggle room, but right when he turned back to look at you with a big, goofy smile, the fast tempo switched to a much slower ballad. Javi cocked an eyebrow at you and extended a hand, unphased.

With a smile of your own, you took his hand and let him pull you in close. His fingers laced together with yours while his other arm wrapped around your middle and your free hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, you can dance," he teased when you fell into rhythm with him effortlessly.

"Of course I can dance," you said, rolling your eyes. Being that close to him, you could smell his aftershave, the whiskey on his breath, and a faint hint of cigarette smoke from earlier. The smell you had unknowingly grown to love. The smell that was, simply put, Javier.

You gazed up at him, smiling at the little pink tinting his cheeks and the glassy look in his eye. He looked so fucking adorable it almost pained you.

"Can I ask you something, Javi?" you asked quietly. His eyes softened at your tone and he nodded. "Why were you so mad earlier when I was talking to Steve? Really?"

The corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes flickered somewhere behind you as he considered his answer.

"I think you know why."

When he looked back down at you, the playfulness was gone. His eyes carried something else in them. Something he couldn't bring himself to say. Then your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat when you saw it. The look you had been aching to see from him for years. The same look you were giving him at the very same time.

And then it hit you. Yeah, you knew why.

It turned out Javier was much more popular at work than you ever expected. You had spent the rest of your dance trying to come up with the right thing to say, but you panicked and lost your chance when Javier's boss nudged his shoulder while dancing with his wife. The four of you fell into a conversation - the men about work, you and his boss's wife about Christmas bargains - in the middle of the dance floor. When you realized you were in the way, the conversation moved to the bar. After that, an investigator joined in the conversation with her girlfriend and before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and the moment you had with Javi on the dance floor was long forgotten.

Or so you thought.

It had been a long night. You were exhausted and your feet ached from the new shoes you picked out to match your dress. You had hoped to possibly find an opening and talk to Javi about what you thought he implied during your dance, but while you were waiting for him to wash up, you passed out cold.

One thing you knew for certain was you were on your side of the bed when you fell asleep. You knew that because your side faced the bathroom and you had rolled over to wait for Javi before you fell asleep. However, you couldn't explain why you woke up around three in the morning with your cheek resting on his shoulder and your arm wrapped around his waist.

Well, maybe you could explain it. It was probably your subconscious trying to seek him out after spending the evening being so close to him. No matter the reason, you knew you had to sneak back to your side of the bed before he woke up, so you slowly began to extract your arm.

"Where're you goin'?" Javi murmured sleepily. Your eyes widened and your heart began to race.

"Nowhere, just go back to sleep," you whispered, pulling your arm away. Just as you were about to roll over, Javi's hand shot out to grab your wrist. You froze, cheek still pressed against his shoulder, and slowly lifted your eyes up to meet his.

It was hard to see in the dark, but from what you could tell, he was wide awake. His dark brown eyes continued to study your face while you fumbled for words.

"Javi?" you said, voice sounding so small in the quiet room. His eyes flickered anxiously between yours for another moment before he came to his decision. In one quick movement, he had rolled you onto your back, his hips fitting perfectly between your legs as he caged you in.

"Javi," you said again, although this time sounding far more breathless and aroused than you intended.

He swallowed tightly, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips before he whispered, "Do you feel it too, cariño?"

You shifted underneath him, eyelids fluttering when you felt his arousal pressing up against the inside of your thigh.

"Yes," you whispered back.

His mouth crashed against yours in an instant. It was rougher than you expected it to be but you didn't mind. You understood because you felt it, too. All that time wasted, dancing around something that was right in front of you the entire time. It was bound to drive anyone a little crazy, a little hungry.

Before you knew it, your fingers were in his hair, dragging down his shoulders, and then tugging at his shirt, and all the while his mouth remained cemented against yours. He had to pull away to yank his white tshirt over his head and you heard yourself make a pathetic little noise, like you couldn't possibly survive without his kiss, not even for one second.

"Take this off," he panted, lifting your oversized shirt halfway up your torso. You didn't need to be told twice. You flung it off and pulled Javier back down before he even had a chance to take a good look at your bare chest.

Everything was moving so fast but given the amount of time it took you to get there, it felt like a fucking eternity. He expertly tugged your shorts and underwear off while your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. It wasn't even until you felt his fingers brush against your cunt that you realized you were entirely undressed.

"Oh, god... Javi!" you cried out brokenly when he slipped two fingers inside of you.

His mouth fell to your chin and he made a strangled sound, curling his fingers when he said, "Fuck, baby, when you say my name like that..."

His hand maintained a steady rhythm between your legs, reaching for that spot that made your back curl off the bed every time he thrusted inside. His other hand got lost in your hair, tipping your face so he could feverishly lock his lips with yours while dragging your first orgasm to the surface with a few circles over your sensitive clit.

"Javi! Wait... I'm gonna - I'm gonna come -" you gasped, unable to stop your hips from rolling up and meeting his hand.

"Go ahead, hermosa. I got you."

"No," you whimpered, muscles going tense. You were getting to the point of no return and you needed to stop him. "I wanna - I want you to fuck me, Javi. I - I wanna -"

Your head fell back into the pillow, unable to complete your sentence.

"I am. I'm gonna fuck you," he assured you, lips ghosting the shell of your ear and wrist snapping faster between your thighs. "I'll make you come on my cock, don't worry, baby. Just let go, c'mon, you can do that for me, right?"

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fu- yes, Javi, yes! More... please-"

"Christ, cariño, you're gonna wake the whole fucking hotel," he chuckled, but you were too far gone to care. You tilted your chin to the ceiling, his name echoing off the walls as you came. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, like your legs were so weak you may never walk again, yet somehow it wasn't enough. Not for either of you. In fact, it only seemed to make you each more desperate.

Your kisses on his skin became messy, both of you so eager to have the other that there was no room to worry about being too fast or abrasive. Your teeth clashed together when your arm curved around his neck, yanking him down to your level. Your shared hot breaths mingled with each pant and gasp. When you reached down to wrap your fingers around the heavy weight of his cock, he moaned into your open mouth and slid his fingers from your pussy so you could line him up with your entrance, neither of you in any mood to wait a second longer.

"Fu-uck," he groaned when he pushed inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one go. You gasped and sharply bit down on his shoulder when tears sprung up and threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"You okay?" he panted, planting weak kisses against the side of your face. All you could do was nod. He filled you and stretched you so perfectly that it took your breath away and left you speechless. He nodded, too, lips parted as he puffed for air, then began to rock his hips. Slow at first, then steady and deep.

"Javi," you moaned in his ear, sending a shiver through his body. "Shit, just like that. Oh my god, Javi, just like that!"

Javier smirked into your shoulder, fucking you with deep, long strokes as you continued to fill the room with your cries and moans.

"Never thought you'd be so goddamn loud, baby," he teased, nipping playfully at your shoulder.

"Sorry," you whined into the air. Your jaw was clenched tight, fingers clawing uselessly at his broad shoulders while he continued to pump in and out a little bit harder, a little bit faster, setting loose one of the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Don't be sorry, I fucking love it," he groaned. He lifted himself up so he could watch your face contort with each devastating thrust. "Fucking love how you say my name. Dreamed about it for so long, you have no idea-"

"Me, too," you moaned, a second tear trickling down your cheek. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he began to fuck you faster. His eyes flickered down to your bare chest, breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts. Craning his neck down, he latched onto one with a groan, teeth grazing enticingly over your nipple before sucking the other one into his mouth.

"God, you're so perfect," he mumbled into the space between your breasts. "So fucking perfect, hermosa. Drove me fucking crazy all night."

Your heart stuttered before grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up for a deep kiss. Every time he slammed inside of you, it had you seeing stars. You felt completely at his mercy, unable to think about anything else except him, him, him.

"Tell me you want more," he demanded, pulling away from your kiss so he could look you in the eye. His eyes were blown wide with lust and a few dark hairs were beginning to stick to his forehead, the image so captivating that he had you nodding dumbly to his request.

"Yes, Javi, please," you moaned, "more, please, fuck me-"

"No, I mean-"

His hips slowed and he cupped your face, chest heaving and lips parted for air as he stared down at you imploringly. "I mean, tell me you want more than just tonight. Tell me there's something else here."

You blinked rapidly and nodded, stunned he would even have to ask when you had always been the one to prefer relationships. Hardly trusting yourself to speak, you whispered, "Yeah. I want more than just tonight. I want more than just this."

A smile stretched across his face right before he lunged down to capture your lips with his own. His hips resumed their pace, snapping steadily into you and pushing you higher and higher until you stiffened and cried out his name.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit," he muttered, hips stuttering against you, his name still tumbling from your mouth as the last of your orgasm rippled through your body. "Baby - look at me," he begged, and it wasn't until that moment you realized your eyelids had even shut.

Tiredly, you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. The way he was looking at you caused a lump to form in your throat and you had to suppress a shiver. It was too intense all of the sudden, the air thickening between you in a matter of seconds.

"Come for me, Javi," you murmured lowly. You brought a shaky hand up to card through his damp hair, watching as his eyebrows pinched and his chin dropped, pulling out of you quickly and sitting back on his heels to fist his cock. Your hand fell back to the cool sheets beside you, unable to look away. He was hunched above you, one fist pressed into the mattress and the other jerking himself off until he stilled with a deep groan, painting your stomach with his sticky release. You couldn't even let yourself blink, doing your best to commit every detail to memory until he collapsed next to you with a heavy sigh.

"Fucking Christ," he grumbled, forearm tossed over his eyes. You giggled, face warming when you heard how raspy you sounded. Javier removed his arm and turned his head to look at you with a lopsided grin.

"You're a screamer, hermosa."

"Javi!" you cried out softly, but your broken voice only further proved his argument. He chuckled and rolled onto his side to push some hair away from your eyes.

"I was expecting a phone call from the front desk ten minutes ago."

"Shut up, Javi!" you whined, covering your face with your palms.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby, I love it," he said while pulling your hands away. You bit your lip and peered up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret and finding none. Then his face softened and he swallowed nervously before adding, "I'm in love with you."

He said it so quietly, so sweetly, that it had you wondering if you were hearing things. But then you saw the anxious look in his eye and your pulse skyrocketed.

"Really?" you asked in disbelief. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yeah. I think I've been in love with you for a while," he admitted, tracing an invisible line down your cheek.

You laughed and two fresh tears fell when you said, "I love you, too."

His mouth crashed against yours in relief and you wrapped your arms around his neck, matching smiles pressing together in stunned happiness.

"I'm sorry I wasted so much time and didn't tell you sooner," he murmured while stroking your hair.

"It doesn't matter," you replied, "we have each other now."

Javi smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"So, now what?" he asked.

"Now? Now I would really like to take a shower," you said, then grinned when you added, "and maybe in the morning we can do this all over again."

He laughed and rolled to his side so you could get out of bed. When his eyes locked onto your ass as you made your way to the bathroom in the dark, he flung the covers off and leapt out of bed to follow you.

"I think we're gonna need a late check out."

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[luveline]

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 

"Not this time, Pete." 

"Too bad," he laments. 

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 

"You want me to wash your hair." 

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?"��

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 

"Anything else?" 

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 

"Wait–" 

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 

"About what?" 

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little." 

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 

"It doesn't suit me–" 

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 

"Even when I was thinner?" 

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 

"No, but you have to say that." 

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Career Day arrives, and you definitely have the coolest collection of adults visiting your classroom. Bradley orchestrates a surprise, hoping you don't realize it's just a cover for something even bigger.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, 18+

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You were up before your alarm, too excited to stay in bed for a minute longer. When you tried to roll away from Bradley, his knee dug into your butt, and you groaned.

"Morning, Gorgeous," he grunted, arm wrapping around you like a boa constrictor until you were snug up against him again.

"Bradley," you whined, trying to squirm away. "I'm sore from being spanked."

You could hear his soft rumble of laughter as he released you, and you dragged yourself out of the other side of the bed. You weren't sure how you were going to make it through the day like this. You didn't even know if you'd be able to sit down. Still, you couldn't stop the smile that bloomed across your face, and soon Bradley was wearing one to match.

"Maybe we should have saved that for tonight," you whispered, gingerly rubbing your butt as you pulled your most capable looking dress from the closet you now shared with Bradley.

"We can revisit that activity tonight if you'd like." Just when you were about to argue there was no way that was going to happen again just yet, he let his hand slip down to the right side of your butt which went untouched last night. He gave you a little squeeze and whispered, "I'll get breakfast ready. I want you one hundred percent ready to go for Career Day, Baby."

The way he strutted around the house naked was highly distracting, but you had so much to do. You wanted to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect, and you wanted to get to your classroom early. So you got started, and at some point when you were in the bathroom, Bradley must have put his flight suit on. He was wearing it when he knocked on the door, and you told him to come in while you rooted around under the sink, trying to find the lotion you wanted to use.

"What are you doing?" he asked, panic lacing his voice as you glanced up at him.

"Looking for my lotion. The stuff in the blue bottle." You turned back to your task, and a second later, Bradley was in front of you, snatching up the exact thing you were looking for.

"This it?" he asked anxiously, nudging the cabinet closed with his knee as he handed it to you.

"Thanks," you muttered, wondering why he was acting strange as you smoothed the lotion all over your hands and arms.

"Let's eat breakfast before you're late for your big day."

You wanted to argue that it was his big day, too. He could do anything for his presentation, and your kids would eat it up. But for you, Career Day was always a chance for the fourth grade teachers to show off who they were able to get in their classroom. Who had the coolest adults. It was ridiculous, but you were still excited about it.

Bradley's idea of breakfast was an enormous bowl of cereal, toast, muffins and a banana. "I don't have time to finish all of this!"

"I'll eat whatever you don't eat," he promised. And he did. You watched him inhale the rest of the food as you double checked that you had everything in your bag, and then the two of you went out to his Bronco with travel mugs of coffee.

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

Bradley was nervous about today. He couldn't pinpoint one reason why, because there were several. First of all, he'd spent so much time in your classroom already, maybe it wasn't the best idea to have him scheduled for last out of all the Career Day participants. The kids were bound to find him stale at some point, and Marty had just scratched the surface of his many talents. He didn't want it to be his fault if things ended on a low note for you today.

Second, he was already hoping and praying that Natasha was going to be able to distract you the way that he wanted. He needed a little bit of help from your students to make this extra special. 

And third, just because he thought his mom's retro ring from the early 1980s was cool didn't mean you would. But that was really the least of his concerns. He wanted you to have it if you agreed to marry him, but he'd buy you something else if you so desired.

"You're so quiet," you mused softly, and Bradley almost forgot he was holding your hand while he drove. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said before clearing his throat. "Just going over what I want to talk to your kids about."

"What are you going to talk about today?"

He smiled and tilted the sun visor a little bit more. "Remember that video I posted on YouTube before I left in December? When I said there would be a quiz? I'm going to quiz them on everything they've learned with me. Stuff from the video and their field trip. Things I talked about in my letters. I'm going to try to stump them."

"I don't think you'll be able to," you said, lacing your fingers with his. "They hang on your every word. Just like I do."

Oh, he wanted you to have an engagement ring on that hand in the worst way. His life had changed so much since your first letter, but he knew pretty early on that he had feelings for you. And he knew as soon as the first date that he would end up here, completely in love with you.

When he pulled into your school parking lot, Bradley drove past all of the empty spots to drop you off at the front doors. "Aren't you coming with me?" you asked him, but he shook his head.

"I don't want to be a distraction for your morning routine. I'll wait out here for Nat and Marty and come inside with everyone else at nine."

"Okay," you replied, but you were looking straight ahead now. "I'm a little nervous."

"Why?" He shifted into park and reached for you.

You sighed against him. "It's ridiculous, but I want my guests to be the coolest ones. The other fourth grade teachers all rolled their eyes at me for even writing to an aviator in the first place."

"Joke's on them. You can't even get rid of me now," Bradley murmured, making you laugh. "You've got Nat and Marty. And one of your kids' parents owns a pizza shop. You're golden, Baby. Coolest fourth grade teacher ever."

You kind of rolled your eyes at him, but you smiled and kissed him before you climbed out. "I'll see you inside."

Bradley had a while to wait for Nat and Marty to arrive, and he considered running to Starbucks for his newest addiction. Instead he grabbed the bag that was tucked underneath his seat and started to sort through all the notes inside. It was a sizable collection now. All of the letters you and your students wrote to him made a stack a few inches thick. Some of the pages were creased and worn, but they would work perfectly for what he had planned.

When Nat tapped on his window, he jolted, sending pages flying.

"Why are you so jumpy?" she asked, opening his door.

"Jesus, Nat. I already told you I was anxious about this!"

She huffed out a breath. "And I already told you that you could put in literally no effort at all, and she would say yes. You could hand her a ring and grunt, 'Marriage?' and she would start planning a wedding."

Bradley laughed as he organized the pages again. "I want it to be special. Butterflies and all that shit. She makes me feel incredible."

His best friend leaned against the door, crossing her arms over her flight suit, and asked, "You still want Marty and I to help with your distraction scheme?"

"I need you to."

"You got it."

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

Your students were on their best behavior. The guests were all excited to be there. Bradley kept smiling at you. Your rear end was still sore, but it turns out there was no reason to be nervous at all. Even the music teacher and school librarian decided to hang out in your classroom for part of the day, because your kids talked it up so much.

Nia's mom, a pediatrician, gave a presentation about keeping your body healthy. Oliver's dad talked about designing skyscrapers and then let the kids build with Lego blocks. Now you were listening to Natasha talk about the challenges of landing a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier, and even the parents were enthralled.

"What do you think would happen if I flew in too low?" she asked, pointing at Jackie who had her hand up.

"You could like miss the deck?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied. "And what if I came in from too high?"

Jayden's hand shot up this time. "You could crash!"

"I could indeed," Nat answered seriously. Five more hands shot up in the air as she talked about velocity, and Marty, who was standing next to you at the back of the room, leaned in closer to you.

"Why are you making me go after Lieutenant Trace?" he whispered as she engaged with the kids.

You smiled at the older man in his khaki shirt and dark pants. "You can hold your own, Marty. Trust me." You knew for a fact he arrived with two tool boxes and some engine parts you couldn't even identify. You were already excited for what that meant. He would be just fine.

Suddenly the room erupted in applause as Natasha finished up, and you made your way up to the front of the classroom. "Thank you so much, Lieutenant Trace. Next we will hear from our favorite mechanic whom we met on our field trip to North Island. Marty needs a few minutes to set up, so in the meantime, Nia's mom is going to share some healthy snacks that we can enjoy."

You were going to go stand with Bradley while your classroom dissolved into the soft hum of conversation, but Nat cornered you first. "I just got a text from Maverick about something so exciting, but I need to run it past you first. Can we talk in the hallway?"

"Uh, sure." 

You looked around the room before deciding on asking Ms. Masters the librarian to help you out. "Would you mind monitoring things for a couple minutes?"

"I'll take care of it," she promised with a nod, and you knew everyone was in good hands as you slipped out into the hallway with your boyfriend's best friend.

"How would you feel about a flyover today?" 

You stared at Natasha, blinking silently at her words. "A flyover?"

"Yeah," she replied casually.

"Like over the school?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, buffing her nails on her flight suit.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

You felt like she was being kind of purposely slow to give details as your mind swirled. "You're talking actual Naval aircrafts?"

"Of course," she said with a grin. "I mean, once again, it would be Hangman and Coyote flying them, but even those two can handle holding a simple formation."

Now you were really excited. "How is this actually happening?" you whispered.

"Bradley and I asked Mav about it the other day," she said with a shrug. "Any chance we can walk out to the parking lot and make sure there's enough room for everyone to stand safely?"

When you tried to peek through the rectangular window in your classroom door, Natasha slid her body in front of it. When you tried to look over her head, she seemed to grow several inches as she went up on her tiptoes. 

"Yeah... we can go look at the parking lot." 

You were wearing your key card on your lanyard, and Ms. Masters could probably keep your class under control for an entire day if you needed her to.

"Well then, let's go."

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

As soon as you walked out of the room with Nat, Bradley jumped to action. It wasn't his intention to steamroll Nia's mom or her packs of apple slices, but he had something important he needed the kids to help him with. Marty was setting up some sort of demonstration with tool boxes on the desks in the front row, but Bradley grabbed the stack of papers he brought with him and cleared his throat.

"Do all of you think you can help your pen pal out with something for a few minutes?" Eyes went wide, backs went straight, and Oliver even saluted him as he started handing out the papers. "I brought all of the letters you kiddos sent me last year when I was deployed. There are a lot of them, and I'm going to use them for something special. A surprise for your teacher."

"What kind of surprise?" Henry asked, crunching through a piece of apple.

"I can't tell you that," Bradley replied with a wink. "It's classified."

"Are you really going to marry our teacher someday?" Violet asked as he handed her three of the handwritten notes.

Bradley froze, unsure how to answer. "If she wants to marry me, then I definitely want to marry her."

"She wants to marry you," Violet said easily. "What are we doing with all of these letters?"

"Paper airplanes," Bradley announced, holding up the last sheet of paper. Even the parents and Marty seemed amused now. "We are folding them up into the best looking paper airplanes we can make within the next six minutes or so. Watch how I fold this one, and then work on as many as you can, okay?"

He folded it up using the top of your desk when he needed to smooth the creases, and then he held it up for everyone to see. "Start folding!"

There was a flurry of activity as he walked around helping, and even the librarian and music teacher were getting involved. Bradley whipped through a few himself before walking around the room with an open trash bag.

"When you're done, drop them in here."

"But what are they for?" Oliver asked, dropping three airplanes into the bag. "Are you going to have airplane races with our teacher?"

"Not exactly. All of you are really doing me a favor here though. I promise."

"Do you love our teacher?" Jayden asked. Bradley thought maybe he should have felt silly admitting it in front of all of the adults, but he did it anyway.

"I absolutely do. I'm going to use the paper planes for a little project to show her just how much, okay?" He got several nods in response as he checked the time. You and Nat left seven minutes ago, and he knew he couldn't hope for much more than that. "Time's up! toss everything into the bag. And you can't tell her about any of this!"

You were smiling when you walked back in with Nat. He thought that things must have gone well for everyone as he tied up the bag. Marty was ready to give his presentation, and the kids all scuttled back to their seats.

Now he had everything he needed to make this the best weekend of his life.

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

Marty looked a little nervous as he started out by greeting everyone and telling them a bit about himself. He told your class that he had a lot of fun the last time he saw everyone on the naval base. You already knew about his decades-long Naval career, and your students already thought he was extremely cool, but he was about to get even cooler.

"I brought three identical intake manifold pieces from jets exactly like the ones that Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Trace fly. Does anyone know how they work?"

Several of your students raised their hands, and you watched as Marty walked around the room with the engine parts and let them answer his questions to the best of their ability before he took over.

"This is fascinating." You turned to your right where Ms. Masters was watching Marty, completely absorbed. "I can't believe you got military clearance to take your class to visit North Island," she whispered.

You were about to tell her that it was really all thanks to Lieutenant Bradshaw when you realized she was perhaps looking at Marty even more than she was paying attention to the engine parts in his rough hands. You cleared your throat softly and said, "You know, meeting Marty was probably the highlight of that whole day. And that includes touring the air traffic control tower."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Mmhmm. He put on a brilliant workshop for us. And he's just the sweetest man. Really takes the time to connect with the kids."

If you knew one thing about Ruby Masters, you knew she loved it when kids got excited about learning something new. And if you knew one thing about women in general, most of them loved a man in uniform. Right now, Marty was absolutely rocking his ensign khakis and his pins, and Ms. Masters stood up a little straighter when he turned your way with a smile on his face.

"Okay, time for some fun," Marty said as he headed back to the front of the classroom. "One manifold has been put together correctly." He held it up in the air once again. "Two are in pieces on these desks. I'm going to take this one apart and put it back together while you watch. Pay close attention, because after that, we're going to have a race."

Your kids looked absolutely delighted, and you had to ask Oliver not to sit on his desk while he watched the demonstration. Even all of the adults in the room were watching intently as Marty worked with a wrench from one of the toolboxes until he finished reassembling everything.

"Pretty simple, right?" he asked. Your kids all nodded and answered yes. "Who thinks they can race me?" You gasped in delight when a few of your students raised their hands. "What if I made it a little easier? What if I was blindfolded?"

"No way," you whispered, meeting Bradley's eyes across the room where he was holding a garbage bag for some reason. "Is he serious?" you whispered.

"He's so serious," Bradley confirmed, and sure enough, Marty pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

"I'll let your teacher pick my opponent," Marty said as he tied the square of fabric so it was covering his eyes.

You needed to pick a child who would be a gracious winner or loser, but you were almost convinced Marty was going to be able to beat any of them. "How about... Jayden."

You set him up next to Marty, making sure he had all of the tools he needed lined up. Then you gave them a countdown and stepped away again. The room erupted in cheers as Jayden puzzled his way through the task. Marty seemed to be moving smoothly, using muscle memory to do something he'd done hundreds of times before.

"Oh," Ms. Masters said. "It seems like Marty is... really good with his hands."

Your lips parted in surprise. "I'm sure he must be," you replied, trying not to squeal as she smiled and covered her face in embarrassment.

It turns out Jayden didn't stand a chance. "Marty wins!" boomed Bradley's voice, and you watched as the older man peeked out from his blindfold with a hesitant little smile on his face.

You were still applauding his effort as you thanked him for joining your classroom today. You were almost overwhelmed by how wonderfully the day seemed to be going. Bradley was your last guest, and then there was the flyover that Nat promised.

"Our last guest really doesn't need an introduction," you said with a laugh.

"Is it Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Oliver asked, ready to climb on top of his desk again as your boyfriend strolled up to stand next to you.

"Yes, of course it's Lieutenant Bradshaw." You smiled at him and said, "Take it away, Lieutenant."

There was a little smirk on his lips as he turned away from you to address your kids. "I know you all learned a lot about aviation this year, but right now, we're going to see just how much. I hope you all remembered that I said I was going to give you a quiz."

"Not a quiz!" complained Jackie, but Bradley held up his hands in mock surrender.

"If you pass, I can promise with one hundred percent certainty that you'll love the prize."

"There's a prize?" Violet asked, perking up.

"A secret prize," Bradley confirmed.

"Alright," Oliver said, still a little skeptical. "Let's do it."

Bradley started calling out questions, letting your students deliberate as a group to come up with an answer, and you leaned against the back wall near where Marty was packing up his toolboxes. 

"That was absolutely fascinating," you heard Ms. Masters tell him softly. "I'm Ruby Masters, the Mira Mesa Elementary librarian."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Marty with pink cheeks, wiping his palm on his shirt before shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you," he whispered while Bradley continued to try to stump your kids. "This is the first time I've ever been to a career day."

"Well, you're a natural with the kids," she replied, still holding his hand. "And obviously very smart. I'm kind of new to the topic of aviation, but always interested in learning more."

"Oh. There's an endless amount to learn," he muttered, staring at Ruby like he couldn't look away.

"If you're ever free and feel like it, maybe you could show me how you rebuilt that manifold so quickly?"

Bradley had your kids taking turns writing at the board now, but you couldn't stop eavesdropping as you witnessed Marty go silent. The crash and burn was painful as he just stood there while Ruby finally extracted her hand. You were silently begging Marty to say something. Anything. But the seconds passed, and Ruby took a step away from him toward the door.

"Okay, no worries. It was nice to meet you." She gave you a forced smile as she slipped out into the hallway, and you rounded on Marty who was standing there like someone just stole his favorite toy at recess.

"I don't mean to overstep, so please feel free to tell me to mind my own business," you whispered.

"Uh. Okay?"

"Marty... Ms. Masters is hot and single, and she was flirting with you. She wanted you to ask for her phone number."

His eyes went wide as he gaped at you. "She did? Are you sure?"

You cradled your forehead and groaned softly. "I'm positive. She can't have gone far. The library is out and to the left, and then another left."

He nodded before dashing out of the room, leaving you alone just as Bradley said, "Are you sure you're all still in fourth grade? Or is this a grad school level physics class? You win. I can't even stump you. Come see me or Lieutenant Trace to get ear plugs for the Super Hornet flyover."

Your classroom was probably louder than the jet engine would be.

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

The whole school was buzzing with excitement as everyone emptied out onto the lawn and the parking lot. Something must have happened earlier, because Marty and the school librarian were standing awfully close together in all the chaos. As far as Bradley could recall, he'd never seen that man smile so much before.

"Ear plugs in! And then hands over your ears!" Natasha shouted, giving a safety demonstration. "Do it just how I do it!"

It was almost time. Bradley tried to keep the hand holding and cheek kisses to a minimum, but it was so hard when you were standing right next to him. You looked tired but happy as you put your orange, industrial ear plugs in place. With a dreamy look on your face, you leaned up and kissed him right on the lips, and that familiar roar of an F/A-18 engine approached. 

Bradley put his own earplugs in before the sound of the jet wash hit. You and everyone else stared up at the sky where his colleagues were flying overhead, but he kept his eyes on you. He was in love. He had Carole's ring and the paper planes. He had all of these words that he wanted to say to you, but mostly he wanted to promise that he'd feel the same way about you forever. And he wanted to hear you say the same thing.

As soon as you had your ear plugs out again, you threw your arms around his neck with a huge smile. "Thank you, Bradley."

"For what? I barely did anything."

You laughed and shook your head. "You did everything."

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

I love Career Day. Marty is the man. The oblivious man, but the man nonetheless. And our boy Bradley is ready to go! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 26

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