#and shes not going to be outside in the real world for a little bit. kills us all

[hangmanwrites]

your personal kryptonite ━ clark kent

dedicated to ━ @frivolousimagination because she’s the one who convinced me to post this ridiculous filthy mess even though i was being a coward about it, love u bestie, this one’s for you!! word count ━ 3.4k words pairing ━ clark kent x fem!reader content warnings ━ smut, mdni, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it irl unless you’re also dating superman), soft dom clark, praise, overstimulation, crying during sex (in a hot way), emotional support himbo vibes, aftercare, romantic filth, gentle but devastating author's note ━ this is only my second time writing smut so please be kind to my fragile little writer brain, i’m still figuring it out one emotionally unhinged paragraph at a time, but i really hope you enjoy it anyway and fall a bit in love with soft filthy clark, too. masterlist read here ━ we have a little discord server if you want to talk about david corenswet, clark kent, or anything in between. it’s a cosy community where we spiral together, share ideas, and help each other out with fic writing too. everyone’s welcome to join as long as you’re over 18. minors are not allowed, sorry loves!! 🩵

Today was a shitty day.

Work treated you like you were some sort of animal, not even a real person, just this empty thing people could toss problems at and expect answers from, like your brain was some kind of machine that didn’t glitch or ache or hit its limit after hours of passive aggression and sugarcoated threats and stupid bloody spreadsheets that kept crashing for no reason. 

You’d barely managed to get through lunch without biting someone’s head off, and you did snap at a printer, which definitely made at least one intern scared of you forever, but honestly, at this point, let them be scared. 

Let them think you’re heartless, because you can’t keep doing this, you can’t keep pretending it’s fine, that you’re fine, not when the train made you late and the rain soaked your socks and some stranger told you to “smile more” like that was going to fix your entire nervous system spiralling into self-destruct mode.

You almost didn’t come, almost got off at your usual stop and went home to cry into the same pillow that’s soaked up too much already this month, but the thought of being alone felt unbearable, like your body might shut down if you didn’t see him.

So now you’re outside his flat, fingers aching from gripping your keys too tight, throat thick with everything you can’t name, and the second he opens the door—

It’s over.

Your whole posture collapses like your spine forgot what holding you up looks like, like his face was the final straw, and suddenly he’s right there, stepping forward like you’re made of something delicate, like he knew before you said a single word that something was wrong, and he doesn’t hesitate and just pulls you into his chest with both arms, firm and warm and steady, and it ruins you completely.

You don’t even get a chance to apologise, because he’s already holding you like you’re not a burden at all, just tired, just human, and your fists are already curling into the front of his jumper like it’s the only thing keeping you standing upright.

And you can feel your breathing hitch against him, feel that awful stutter in your chest like a sob is waiting to break free and you hate it, you hate it so much, but he just keeps whispering, quiet and careful and close to your ear, It’s alright, I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you.

And he does, one arm wrapped firm around your back as though he’s trying to hold you together by force, the other hand steady at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair in slow, soothing motions as though he knows exactly where the panic lives and how to quiet it without being told. 

He sways with you gently, barely a movement but enough to keep you present, enough to remind your body that time is still passing, that you’re still here, still held, still safe in his arms even if the rest of the world spent the entire day trying to convince you otherwise.

He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push or question or try to coax anything out of you, he just stays there with you. He’d done this before, he’d memorised the shape of your silence and knows how to sit inside it without making it about him. 

When you finally manage a full breath, not the shallow, uneven things you’d been taking all day but an actual proper inhale that lifts your chest and makes your shoulders fall, his hand presses gently against your back as if to say I felt that, I see it, you’re doing so well.

“Come here,” he says, soft and certain, and you follow him instantly, still clutching his sleeve, still a little folded into yourself, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just guides you through the flat with both hands at your waist as though you might vanish if he lets go.

He sits you on the edge of the bed and crouches in front of you without hesitation, his hands on your knees, thumbs brushing slowly over your tights in a way that doesn’t ask for anything, and when he looks up, his eyes are so impossibly kind it nearly undoes you again, not because he pities you, but because he doesn’t, because he’s really looking at you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, gently, carefully, as if the question is something he’s laying at your feet rather than pressing into your hands, “Or do you just want quiet?”

You shake your head, not sure which one you’re saying no to, not sure it even matters, because he nods anyway, as though a quiet understanding in the way he leans forward and presses a kiss to your knee, soft and lingering.

Then he kisses you again, a little higher, just above the edge of your skirt, and his hands slide to your hips, not in a greedy way, not in a way that demands anything, just a presence, just a reassurance, just him reminding you that he’s here.

“Alright,” he murmurs, voice lower now, gentler, as though you might fall apart if he speaks too loud, “Then we’ll just sit. You and me.”

You nod, barely, just once, and maybe he thinks that’s it, that you’ll stay still and let the quiet carry you, but your hands are already reaching for him, moving like they’ve been waiting all day for permission, and the second your fingers thread through his hair, your whole chest twists, as though something in you finally dares to ache now that he’s here to hold it.

He doesn’t pull away, just lets you tug him into the space between your legs where you’re still curled on the bed, and your mouth finds his before you’ve even had time to think, messy and eager and a little too much, as though your body’s just trying to survive through contact.

He kisses you back like he’s been waiting for it, like this is exactly what he hoped would happen the second you walked through the door, and it’s slow at first, careful, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you that you’re not ready to give, but the way you’re pulling at him makes it impossible to keep it gentle.

You know he feels it too, the way the air thickens around you the second you tilt your head and open your mouth for him, the way his hands tighten on your hips as though he needs something to hold or else he might break apart entirely.

It’s not perfect, not neat or delicate or slow-burn cinematic, it’s messy and damp and hungry, and the exhaustion still clings to your limbs, the rawness of the day still presses at your skin, but none of it matters, not with his mouth on yours like it’s the only place he wants to be, not with that heat building low in your belly every time his thumb finds your waist or his tongue brushes yours just right.

You’re not trying to start anything, but the way he groans when your nails scrape the back of his neck pulls something up from deep in your chest that has nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with want.

You press in closer, tighter, chest flush to his, legs drawing him in, and you don’t stop kissing him because you don’t know how else to ask for more.

“Wait,” he breathes, voice rough now, ragged around the edges like he’s barely holding onto restraint, forehead pressed to yours, “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage, I—”

“Please,” you whisper, too fast, too breathless, too much, but you don’t care, you’re already chasing his mouth again before he can finish the sentence, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in, and he lets you, because it’s Clark and he always does, and his lips are back on yours before either of you can think.

He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push or take more than you’re ready to give, just kisses you with that quiet, steady focus that makes your whole chest tighten, his mouth slow against yours, his hands firm and careful even when they slide under your thighs to lift you into his lap, holding you close like it’s second nature.

You shift slightly, just enough to feel the heat of him pressed between your legs, and the sound he makes is low and helpless, his hands gripping at your hips like he’s trying to keep control, and for a second he pulls back, just enough to look at you again, and there’s no rush in it only that same quiet awe in his expression.

When he leans in again, he doesn’t go for your mouth, not yet, just presses a kiss to your jaw, then your throat, then just under your ear, each one slow and unbearably tender, and when he whispers, “You’ve had such a hard day.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he kisses you again, quiet and steady, as if he knows you’ll try to brush it off and doesn’t want to let you.

His hands move lower, sure and careful, fingers sliding beneath your underwear like he’s done it a hundred times, not from habit but because he knows you now, knows how to move without asking for more than you’re ready to give, and when he pulls the fabric down your legs, you lift your hips for him without needing to be told.

And when he sees you, really sees you, he exhales like it knocks the breath out of him, low and quiet and almost reverent, like he still can’t believe you’re letting him in.

“God,” he murmurs, barely louder than a breath, hands sliding up your thighs to part them, not rough, not rushed, just steady, grounding, and when he sees how wet you already are, he doesn’t say anything else just leans in and licks into you like it’s all he’s needed all day.

It’s filthy, right from the first slow pass of his tongue, so deliberate it pulls a whimper straight from your throat before you can even think, and you can’t hold it in, not when it’s not just his mouth.

Your thighs twitch, your hips shift, and you’re gripping the duvet in tight fists just to stay grounded, but he just keeps licking into you, slow and deep and steady, as though this is the only thing that matters.

And when you moan his name, helpless and breathless and wrecked, he groans back into you, fingers digging in just a little harder, and it’s not for show, it’s him, it’s real, it’s yes, that’s it, let me have it without saying a word.

Then his hand slides back down, his fingers warm and slick when he pushes two of them inside you, slow but sure, like he’s done this in his head a hundred times, and the stretch is so good it knocks the breath from your lungs, makes your hips jolt into his mouth, and he groans low and keeps going, his fingers working you open as his mouth stays right there.

And you can feel your climax building already, hot and unbearable and close, because it’s him, Clark, on his knees, giving everything, and you’ve never felt more wanted in your life.

You say his name again and it’s not a choice, it just happens, your mouth moving before your brain can catch up, because everything’s gone fuzzy, because your body is too full to hold anything else, and he hums in response, pleased and steady and so full of love it makes your chest ache all over again.

His palm presses firm to your lower stomach, and his voice comes soft and ruined against your cunt as he says, “Let go for me, baby, I’ve got you, it’s okay, just let me have it, come on.”

And you do, God, you do, it hits you hard and fast and so deep you don’t even realise you’ve stopped breathing until it all rushes back at once, and your body’s jolting up into him without warning, a helpless thing. Every muscle snapping tight and letting go all at once, and your thighs are shaking around his shoulders and your fingers are pulling hard in his hair and he just groans, low and hoarse and wrecked.

He slows down, keeps his tongue soft and steady and lets you fall apart in his mouth, lets you ride it out with his hands holding you still, one on your thigh and the other pressing down gently on your stomach.

You’re shaking, breathless, too far gone to speak, not a single thought in your head beyond the crashing release still flooding your chest and hips and thighs, and your hands are still in his hair, and when he finally lifts his head it’s slow.

His mouth is red, his eyes unbearably soft, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He’s flushed and wrecked and breathing hard, but he still smiles when he sees you staring at the ceiling like your mind hasn’t caught up yet, and he reaches up with a trembling hand to brush your hair back, voice low and hoarse when he asks, “Are you alright?”

You nod, or something close to it, and he seems to understand. Then he leans down, kisses your hip, your stomach, the centre of your chest, soft and slow and steady, like he’s still trying to take care of you even now. 

Your throat tightens all over again, because it’s him, and he’s still looking at you like you’re a miracle.

His mouth moves higher, kissing along your collarbone and neck, and his hands slide back up your thighs, hot and unshaking, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. 

You can feel it in the way he breathes, in the way his body holds still like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You feel him now, still hard, still clothed, the shape of him pressed to your thigh, and you can’t help it. Your hips roll, slow and greedy, your body answering before your head can catch up. 

He groans into your skin, low and deep, and you feel him falter, feel him fight not to lose it.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, quiet and hoarse and almost dazed, and it’s not a complaint, it’s reverent, it’s full of disbelief that he gets to have you like this, that he gets to stay here, and then he’s sitting up just enough to tug off his shirt and undo his belt, one handed.

And you watch him, still flushed and sensitive, still sore in the best way, but your legs spread for him automatically because your body wants this, wants him, wants to feel him everywhere, and when his trousers hit the floor and you finally get to see the full, desperate shape of him, flushed and thick and twitching with how hard he is. 

You swear under your breath because it’s obscene, it’s not fair, he’s so beautiful, and he just kneels between your legs like he belongs there.

He leans down to kiss you again, mouth still messy from everything he did to you, and you moan into it, half from the taste of yourself on his tongue and half from the way his cock presses right up against you, not pushing in yet, but it’s hot and heavy against your overstimulated cunt.

Your body jolts with it, and you hear yourself whimper, and he shushes you softly, forehead pressed to yours.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, not because he doesn’t know, but because he needs to hear it, needs to be sure, always so careful even when he’s wrecked and seconds from losing it completely.

You nod again, this time more definite, more desperate, and you whisper, “Please,” and that’s all it takes.

He pushes in so slowly you can feel every inch of it, feel every thick, aching stretch of him as he fills you, deeper than you thought anyone ever could, thick and hot and perfect, and you’re already gasping before he’s fully seated, already clutching at his back with both hands as your body adjusts, 

“You feel—” he starts, and then cuts himself off with a soft, broken noise, and presses a kiss to your throat as his hips roll forward, just enough to make you whimper, and he whispers, “So warm, sweetheart, so soft, you feel incredible.”

And then he moves for real, pulls back just enough to drag the whole length of himself out of you before sliding in again slow and deep, and your mouth falls open because it’s filthy, the sound of it, the slick, obscene drag of his cock inside you, your body taking him like it’s what it was made for, and Clark’s still breathing like he’s trying to survive it.

Clark sets a rhythm, gentle but full, grinding deep into you with every stroke, his hips tilting just right to press against that spot inside you that makes your thighs twitch and your stomach clench.

And every time he finds it again, again, he murmurs something soft into your skin, “There you go, That’s it, I’ve got you,” as though he’s guiding you somewhere, as if your body is answering him and he’s proud of it.

And it is so much, the stretch of him, the wet slide of your bodies moving together, the way your slick is dripping down your thighs now, messy and shameless, and Clark can feel it, can hear it, and instead of shying away from it he groans softly into your neck, presses his hand flat against your lower back to keep you right where he wants you, and says, breathless and stunned, “You’re so beautiful like this, I don’t think I’m ever going to forget how this feels.”

His voice is wrecked, soft and rough as he shudders above you, fingers finding your clit with slow, careful circles that make your whole body jerk beneath him. He doesn’t speed up, just keeps fucking you deep and steady, every thrust dragging right through you, and your legs are shaking, your hands clutching at him just to stay grounded.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs into your mouth, kissing you slow, “I’ve got you, I promise, just let go for me, sweetheart, please—”

And you do. It hits hard and hot, your body locking tight around him as everything breaks open, and you cry out without words, just Clark, just need, and he holds you through all of it, kissing your face, whispering soft things you can’t even process through the pleasure.

And he’s still inside you when it fades, still thick and hard and throbbing, just watching your face with the kind of awe that makes you ache all over again, and when you finally open your eyes, blinking up at him with wet lashes and parted lips, he leans down and kisses you one more time, deep and slow and full of everything he hasn’t said yet.

“You’re alright?” he asks, and he’s flushed and wrecked and still holding back, and you nod, still breathless, still clenching around him, and his whole body shudders again.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, so softly it makes your heart twist, “You feel too good, I can’t— I don’t want to hurt you—”

But you’re already pulling him closer, because he needs it, because he’s holding himself so carefully, still buried in you and barely moving, arms shaking and jaw tight like it’s taking everything not to fall apart.

You press your hands to his face, tilting his head until he looks at you, and the second his eyes meet yours, something in you snaps again, because he’s beautiful and he’s yours and he’s waiting.

You don’t have to speak. He sees it in the way you nod, in the way your hands cradle him, in the way your thighs pull him in.

And he exhales, shaky and wrecked, and leans into your touch like he’s been waiting for it, and he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, barely audible, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say, and it’s not breathless anymore, not messy or chaotic, it’s just soft, steady, honest, because you mean it, because you know him, and you know he never could.

He starts to move again, slow and deep and careful, as if he’s trying to memorise how you feel now that he’s allowed to. It’s not rushed anymore, just warm, just full of that unbearable closeness that only he ever gives you, and when your body clenches around him he groans, low and reverent.

Clark kisses you again and again, mouth soft on yours, whispering between breaths, “So good, I’ve got you, I’m right here,” and it’s never really about him, not even now, not even with his hips starting to stutter and his hands gripping tighter like he needs to hold on to something real.

And when it happens, when he finally lets go, you feel all of it; the shake in his thighs, the rough sound in his throat, the way his mouth drops open against your cheek and you hold him through it, hands in his hair, whispering his name just to let him know you’re here.

He groans your name like it’s the only word he knows, and he spills into you with his face tucked into your neck, his entire body trembling as though he’s never felt anything like this before, as though this moment, this warmth, this love, is undoing something in him he never thought could be undone.

When it’s over, his hips still and his breath evens out, and he doesn’t move. He stays close, chest to chest, mouth pressed to your skin like he’s not ready to let go, and you lie there with him in the quiet, holding each other, breathing slow and steady, hearts still racing in sync, and you know you’ve never been loved like this before.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, tangled and quiet, your legs still around his hips, his arms still tight around you like he’s afraid to let go. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you would fall apart if he stopped holding you like this, so gently, so steady, like he’s keeping you from breaking again.

When you finally shift, just enough to breathe deeper, he follows without question, tucks his face into your neck and sighs. Quiet and warm and full of peace, as if something inside him has finally gone still.

It’s a mess, all of it, your bodies sticky, your thighs still shaking, your heart beating too fast to keep up with your thoughts, but you don’t care. Not when his hand keeps stroking slow across your back like he’s soothing something deeper than skin, not when his mouth keeps finding your shoulder in soft kisses that feel more like promises than habit.

You should say something, maybe thank him or laugh or breathe properly, but all you can do is hold him tighter and hope he gets it. Hope he hears it in the way your fingers stay in his hair, in the way your forehead presses into his cheek, in the way your breathing finally begins to settle, not calm, but easier. 

And the thought hits you, not all at once but slowly, creeping in through the quiet like a truth you’d been ignoring until now;

Kryptonite could kill him, sure, it’s the one thing strong enough to bring him down, the one weakness he can’t hide, but Clark Kent on his knees, hands steady and tongue slow and eyes so full of love it breaks you, that might just kill you first.

[bm571158]

Burnout- MV1

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen🔥

Part Fourteen🔥

Tag list: @littlewhiterose @dontsupressthejess @idontknow0704 @vinylphwoar @katyniss

'After Midnight'

It was nearly 1.30am when Max and Talia finally arrived at the club. The party was well and truly in full swing, even without the man they were supposed to be celebrating. The music was vibrating through the place, the lights dim and everyone keen to congratulate Max as he made his way through the crowd, a tight grip on Talia's hand, towards the booth at the back where Lando and some of the others were waiting for him.

"About fucking time mate!" Lando yelled as the two of them approached the booth. "Where have you been?!"

"I don't think you want to know." Charles laughed, and the way Talia blushed and hid behind Max a little only made it worse. "We thought maybe you two had got swept up in the vegas mayhem and were getting married by Elvis or something."

"Just enjoying the moment." Max smirked.

"Oh I mean... fair play I guess." Lando laughed. "Let me get you both a drink."

As Lando got up to head to the bar, swaying a little unsteadily as he went, Talia realised that he was only wearing one shoe.

"Do I even want to ask what happened to his other shoe?" She turned back to Charles.

The Ferrari driver shrugged. "I don't even know if I can remember to be honest. We've been here a long time, had a lot of drinks while we were waiting for you two to finish... you know."

Talia blushed again, Max just laughed. A few minutes later Lando reappeared with a collection of colourful looking shots on a tray, which he very nearly dropped all over them.

"Alright everyone, drink up!" Lando cheered.

🎥.

A couple of shots later, Lando was dragging them all on to the dance floor, having discarded his other shoe somewhere in the process.

The music was loud, the dance floor crowded, and Max dragged her along with him with a hand on her waist and a crooked smile on her face.

"I think you owe me a dance. To celebrate." He shouted over the music.

"I seem to remember you getting your celebration earlier." She pointed out, and he just laughed. Hands falling onto her hips, body moving with hers as she started to dance.

There was a heat between them, half her mind still lost back in the way his hands felt on her body in the hotel room earlier, that seemed to make the outside world disappear. Her arms looped around his neck, his hands low on her hips.

If she was sober, she probably would have been a bit more conscious of quite how many eyes and cameras were on the two of them as they danced like they were the only two people on the room.

His lips found his way onto her neck again, teeth nipping at the marks that he'd left earlier and she'd tried so hard to cover up. The was thankful that the lighting in the club was low enough that no one really seemed to have noticed.

"Stop it." She laughed, swatting him away. "You're going to get us in trouble."

"It's my party. I can do what I want." She grinned.

"Behave yourself and maybe you'll get a reward later." She suggested. The way he was looking at her was like he might actually just rip her clothes off in the middle of the dance floor for all to see, and she was now where near drunk enough for that.

He leaned in close, lips against her ear. "Now that, I like the sound of."

She laughed, face tipping toward his like gravity was pulling them together. It was like the win, the champagne and the low lights in the club had blurred all the rules between what was real and what was for the cameras. He leaned in, lips brushing over hers and she kissed him back, bodies still swaying in time to the music.

"We need more drinks." He declared as he broke away.

She laughed, the look of offence on his face as he seemed to suddenly realise that he didn't actually have a drink in his hand.

"I'm going to go to the toilet. I'll meet you there in a sec." She told him, placing a kiss on his cheek and starting to weave her way through the packed dance floor.

It was quieter once she stepped in to the hallway where the bathrooms were. The door slammed shut behind her and blocked out some of the pounding bass line.

The brighter lighting in the bathroom though showed off quite how poor the attempt she'd made to cover all the marks he'd left on her neck were. Thank god that it was dark in the club and the others all seemed too drunk to notice.

As she opened the door to step back out, she was knocked off balance by someone forcing their way in to the bathroom, the door clicking locked behind him as he stood in front of her.

"Leo?" She asked uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching you making a fucking fool out of yourself." He hissed, hand still encircling her wrist as she tried uselessly to pulls way from him.

Her breath caught as she looked at him. He'd been drinking, not enough to make him clumsy, but perhaps enough to lower his inhibitions and for him to start speaking his mind.

"Let go of me." She said firmly, pulling her arm again but he didn't budge.

"He's got his hands on you in front of the whole world. You think that's cute?" He hissed. "God look at the state of you. You're really just out there letting him treat you like the desperate little slut you are?"

"Leo, let me go." She said firmly, but her voice trembled as she said it and it was nowhere near as forceful as she had intended it to be. "Max is going to be looking for me."

"You think he really gives a shit about you?" Leo asked, taking another step towards her. The resulting step backwards that she took left her trapped between him and the wall. "I know this is all just some bullshit that you came up with to get out of spending more time with me. I'm not an idiot."

"Leo, you need to let go of me." She tried again.

"This wasn't the plan." Leo frowned. "Was supposed to be me and you... not you and him. I had this whole thing planned out and you just fucking ruined it."

"Me and you was never going to happen, Leo." She told him.

"Yeah because you and him fucking ruined it all." Leo hissed. He dropped her wrist, but before she could make a run for it he had hold of her waist instead. "Maybe I should show you what you've been missing while you've been fucking around with him."

"It's not going to happen, Leo." She repeated. "If you let me go now, I won't tell anyone about this. We'll finish the movie, go our separate ways and you won't ruin your whole career because you can't cope with being rejected."

It happened quickly, the way his fingers tightened around the material of her dress, the sound of the delicate material ripping under his touch. The gap that it left was only a couple of inches, mostly hidden by her arm because of where the seam was but it was there.

"Told you that you needed to lay off the food a bit. Christ, you can't even fit in your fucking dress." He sneered. "You're right, you're not worth it after all."

The second he let go of her she ran. Kept running all the way back out onto the crowded dance floor. She paused for a second, in the crowded safety of the dance floor, fixing her hair and tugging at her dress to try and hide the rip in it. She wiped her eye, and then forced a smile, walking back over to the booth where everyone was sitting.

She approached the booth just as Max was getting up to come and look for her.

"There you are." He breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted her walking towards him. "You okay?"

She nodded, forced a smile. "Just need another drink I think." She flashed him a smile like it's nothing, like her skin wasn't crawling from the feeling of Leo's hands on her. She slid into the booth beside him, close enough that she was almost sitting on his lap. His arm wrapped around her waist and she relaxed against him, knowing she was safe from Leo while she was with him.

"You sure you're alright, darling?" Max asked quietly in her ear. He'd been chatting away to the others, but it hadn't escaped his notice that she'd gone quiet. Sipping on her drink and staring blankly ahead.

🎥.

It was nearly 5am when everyone eventually started to drift out of the club. Lando complaining bitterly about his lack of shoes and repeatedly asking everyone what had happened to them, but no one seemed to know.

Max and Talia had headed off their separate way to get back to their hotel, waving goodbye to the others. Max was absolutely hammered, the celebration definitely worthy of having claimed his fourth title, and he kept his arm wrapped firmly around her as they walked to keep himself upright.

He'd been laughing to himself as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room, three attempts in and repeatedly missing the slot for it to go in, when Talia took it off him and finally opened the door.

"Thanks, darling." He grinned, stumbling through the door in to their shared hotel room. "What a fucking day!"

He stumbled off into the bedroom already half undressed before he's even rounded the corner. A huge grin on his face, drunk enough that all he could think about now was getting some sleep.

As she watched him go she assumed he was going to be passed out asleep, and probably snoring, before she even got as far as removing her make up. So it made her jump when he suddenly appeared behind her in the bathroom mirror, catching her inspecting the rip in her dress.

"What happened to your dress?" He frowned, taking a step closer to get a better look at it.

"It's fine, I must've caught it on something." She mumbled dismissively.

He looked at the rip and then back at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired, Max." She reassured him. "It's been a really long day. A good day, but exhausting."

She finished taking her make up off, walked back out of the bathroom leaving him brushing his teeth. She stripped out of the dress, burying it in the bottom of her suitcase as though it might bury the memory of what Leo had said to her in that bathroom along with it. She pulled the first shirt she came to over her head to sleep in, releasing as she smelled his cologne on it that it was actually Max's.

She didn't take it off. It was comforting.

He came out of the bathroom a few moments later, when she was already curled up in bed, the sound of his feet padding across the carpet filling the room. Then the bed dipped beside her as he settled in.

He flicked the lights off and there was a pause, a moment of in decision on his part. Then he turned onto his side, tucked his head in against her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

🎥.

Max woke long before Talia did, the daylight streaming in through the curtains that they'd forgotten to close getting him. She had her head buried so far in the pillows the sunlight still hadn't got to her, and he smiled softly at how cosy she looked, pulling her back a bit closer into his chest.

And then she'd moved and the smile was wiped off his face.

Because as her wrist peeked out from under the covers there was a dark, angry hand print shaped bruise wrapped around it. He peeled back the duvet a little more as she slept to get a better look at it and yeah, it was definitely hand print shaped.

His mind immediately wandered back to her ripped dress, to the way she'd sat so quietly beside him for the rest of the night when she came back from the bathroom.

Something had obviously happened. The worst part was that she obviously hadn't felt like she could tell him.

He was still staring at it when she woke up, couldn't take his eyes off it even though he knew she was going to catch him staring at it.

"Morning, champ." She said softly, twisting in his arms to face him. "How's the hangover?"

"I feel surprisingly okay." He admitted. "What about you?"

"Just tired." She yawned. "Was a good night though."

"And your wrist?" He asked.

She looked down at her arm in confusion at his words, then her eyes locked on the colourful bruise Leo had left behind. She poked it carefully, relieved to find it was nowhere near as painful as it looked

"It doesn't hurt." She reassured him.

"What happened?" Max demanded.

She hesitated, just for a second. "Just a drunk guy in the club, that's all. I handled it."

"The same one that ripped your dress?" Max asked, and she could feel the way he'd gone rigid just thinking about it. It absolutely confirmed in her mind that she'd been right not to tell him Leo was there. She could only imagine the fight that would've broken out.

"I handled it." She said firmly. "I'm okay. Don't let it spoil your day."

"Why didn't you tell me at the time?" Max pressed.

"Because you'd have overreacted and got yourself in trouble." She told him honestly. "It's fine, no harm done. We got to enjoy your big night, that's all that matters."

"I'd have enjoyed my night a lot more if I got to punch that asshole in the face." Max muttered.

She put her hand on his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin. "It's all fine, and I didn't want you getting yourself in trouble. Just let it go, Max. He's not worth it."

Max was quiet for a minute, then his body relaxed a little. "You're sure you're okay?" He asked quietly, brushing her hair out of her face.

She nodded. "Perfect, actually."

He tightened his arms around her, pulling him in closer.

"Did you enjoy your party?" She asked him after a moment of silence.

"Think I enjoyed the pre-party hotel celebrations with you a lot more." He smirked, and she blushed.

"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "Was thinking we could just stay in bed all day?" He asked hopefully. "Our flight isn't until tonight."

"And what would we be doing in bed all day?" She asked innocently.

"Well..." he said slowly, hands sliding under her shirt. "I was thinking it might go something a little like this..."

🔥.

His hands dragged up her sides, savouring the moment. She arched into his touch needily. There was something so much softer about the way he touched her this time, like he'd got all the time in the world and absolutely nowhere else to be.

His lips met hers, the feeling of his mouth on hers clearing almost every other thought from her head. He pulled away just long enough to look at her, eyes flicking over her face like he was really, properly looking at her for the first time.

"So pretty." He murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. "Meant it when I said I was the luckiest guy in Vegas having you with me. Could wake up like this every morning and die happy."

"Max." She groaned as he continued his lazy trail of kisses down her neck. Taking his time, no urgency to anything that he was doing at all, despite the fact that she wanted him so badly she was clawing at his skin trying to get closer to him.

"What's the hurry?" He grinned. "We've got all day, remember? Wanna take my time, enjoy you properly now we don't have to hurry."

He shifted his position slightly, rolling on top of her so his hard length was pressing directly against her crotch. The material of her panties sliding over his boxers as she squirmed.

"You should wear my shirts more often." He mumbled. "You look so good like this."

His hips found a slow, agonising rhythm. His eyes never once leaving her face as he pressed himself against her in a way that made her head spin. He just carried on slowly rutting against her, rhythm never faltering as he peppered lazy kisses across her skin and his hands explored her body under his shirt.

The length of him dragged through her now embracing wet panties, bumping against her clit in a way that made her gasp, and left him with a smug grin on his face. Her hips stuttered, eyes snapping open to find him watching her like his favourite show.

"You going to cum just like this?" He asked. "Before I've even undressed you or touched you properly."

"Max." She gasped, arching up in to his touch.

"What do you want, darling?" He asked. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

It took her a minute. Every single bit of her brain was focused on the feeling of him slowly grinding against her, his hips never faltering even for a second.

"Need you inside me." She moaned out eventually, breath catching her in throat as he ground against just the right spot again. "Need you so bad."

He let out a content sounding nose, hooking a finger into her panties and dragging them down her legs quickly. He kicked his own boxers off, then settled back into the position he was in.

"Gonna leave the shirt on. Like seeing you wear my number." He murmured against her skin, lips back on her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking about the fact that it was going to be 30 degrees in Qatar and if he didn't stop she was going to be reduced to wearing a turtle neck to cover all the marks, but she also made no attempt to stop him.

When he eventually gave a lazy thrust into her a moan left her mouth, only to be muffled by another kiss from him. He sunk into her slowly, the stretch delicious and then stopped, just paused and looked at her. The way her hair splayed out on the pillow, the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were parted and swollen from kissing him.

"God you feel so fucking good." He told her, slowly rolling his hips. It was similar to the lazy pace he'd set through their clothes earlier. Incredible but no where near enough at exactly the same time.

"That's it baby." He breathed, picking up his pace a little. She moaned, nails scratching down his back and her legs locking around his waist to keep him there.

"Gonna stay here all day and celebrate with you." He breathed against her neck. "Gonna make you feel so good you won't be able to think about anything else for weeks."

"God, please Max." She moaned out. "I need... faster..."

He ignored her though, carrying on with the lazy rhythm he'd set. Determined to make this last, and savour every last second of it.

[sandyca5tle]

I know plenty of people have talked about this, but I want to ramble my own thoughts:

So many people still think of Team RWBY (and other characters, but gonna focus on Team RWBY for this) as their first/early appearances, and very one dimensional.

Yang is notorious for suffering this, since her initial personality is a purposeful(?) facade. The happy go lucky, no-cares-in-the-world flirty party girl is not her, or at least, it's not all of her. She absolutely can be flirty (and I look forward to more in v10), but she's not someone who doesn't care, she cares so incredibly much.

And this isn't something we learn later on, it's very clear in v1 - yes she ditches Ruby early on to go do stuff with her friends (lets be honest, who wouldn't want to go explore the new school with their friends, especially if they've already spent a lot of their life looking after their younger sister), but then she saves a spot for Ruby, and despite her reticence to be on a team with her, is immediately looking for her during initiation. This extends beyond Ruby of course, most notably Blake in Burning the Candle. It's very clear very early on that Yang is not that party girl she puts on in Yellow Trailer - and even in that, it's a means to get information about Raven.

Ruby is arguably the next most notable for suffering this, although I think more people are realising with v9, but she's not some naive and unwitting child who believes everything is always going to work out because the good guys always win. Again, this is something she acknowledges in the 3rd episode, when Blake is sort of dismissing her due to her wanting to be a huntress because of the stories she was read as a kid, she doesn't go 'oh the world is fine' she says 'that's why we're here, to make it better' she knows the world can be rough and harsh - her mother died (as far as she knew) when she was little and her father fell into a grief-fuelled depression so bad that her older sister was her primary care taker, not to mention her uncle is an alcoholic, who clearly she's had to deal with his drunken states before - she's not optimistic out of a place of naiveity, but out of a place of genuine hope and faith that it can get better, and she's determined to help achieve that.

There's also very clearly some bad habits picked up from Yang, and likely only worsened by Ozpin's talk at Beacon (I've got thoughts on that too). Yang has a happy go lucky facade, well so does Ruby, and she employs it to cover up the crushing weight of all of the expectations placed on her. That's why everyone assumes she's always so happy and cheerful and fine, it's a facade. She is more hopeful and optomistic than most, but that's not endless, and she's only human, she has breaking points - V9 being the most obvious, but v8 also shows her struggling with the pressure put on her.

She's also shown that she's a mature and capable leader, but again, people still see her as the naive little kid.

Weiss is next, at least in my opinion, so many people have her stuck in their minds as the stuck up, rich girl who knows nothing about the real world. To some degree, this was right originally, Weiss had much less real world experience than the rest of her team - but she's also competing against two children who are the children of the previous 'top' hunter team, and an ex-white fang member, who has carried out a great many actual operations, so it's a bit of a high bar.

However, Weiss does get over her 'stuck up-edness', and infact becomes incredbily compassionate, helping her teammates out and comforting them when she can (see the conversation with Yang in v5 in particular, or even earlier, trying to get Blake to talk about her issues in v2).

She was also never that naive about the world. Granted, she had limited socialisation outside of her family and Atlesian high society, but, as she says while in Mountain Glenn, she's not unaware of her father's questionable business practices, even doubling down on that being part of her reasoning for wanting to be a huntress when Blake points out her lightened language around the fact. She, of all people, knows exactly how bad her father is, and that's why she's at Beacon, to do better and fix what her father broke - not the actions of a unaware rich kid.

Lastly, Blake. I feel like a lot of people still see her as 'the emo one' as Qrow put it, which is not something she's been for a long time. Once she got answers about Torchwick and the White Fang (before the Fall) she cheered up immensely, and was happily cheering on her team, eating giant bowls of tuna, and blushing at a boy flirting with her. And even before then - she was very much involved in the early antics of Yang and Ruby, being the third vote for the bunk beds, and joining in with the call of 'Bonzai' alongside them. And ofc in the later volumes, she's playful, joking, and teasing with her team, and specifically Yang as well of course

Just wanted to get this out because I think it's a shame that we've been given these amazing three dimensional characters, and they just get reduced to the first impression, and often critisized for any deviation from those as 'out of character' despite either character development than explains the new behaviour, or it's something that's always been a part of their character and people just missed because it was subtle.

[drlancaster]

Mizuki confirmed trans but jesus fucking christ

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[cursedthing]

.havign lots of thoughts about how npcs are portrayed learning about the nature of their universe in works

[gerudospiriit]

[Updated thought on Nabs noticing that Astarion wouldn't have a spirit because dead: meeting Withers would either A. cement the idea that he's somehow dead, but give her no real understanding of what's going on there since she doesn't know what a vampire is (or if she DOES know, it was something she heard or read in passing and decided was a silly urban legend told by Hylians or something/maybe went by another name, etc.) or B. just further confuse her understanding of reality, the dead, her powers, etc.

And this makes me laugh because I guess I just like seeing her suffer in this verse. 😅]

[zoldsick]

── Lagneía

𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: shanks x f!reader - as the newest member of the red hair pirates, you have a long way to go to prove yourself, not only to your crew mates but your cocky captain as well. Unfortunately, things fall apart after a little excursion and a run-in with a glowing mushroom that has you feeling...hot.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 tags: smut, sex pollen, nsfw, dubcon (it's sex pollen, ya know how it is), MDNI

𓍊𓋼𓍊 wordcount: ~8k

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Read on AO3

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

You really did respect your Captain, though you didn’t tend to show it. 

Benn Beckman was the one who had recruited you when he stumbled upon you in a gambling hall. You had been using Observation Haki to beat the dealer, racking up thousands in berri. Beckman clocked your underhanded method and cornered you outside the casino. You were nervous that he would report you to the authorities, but as luck would have it, he turned out to be a pirate. He was impressed by your advanced skills in Haki, and the two of you hit it off. Eventually, he brought you to the Red Force and introduced you to Shanks, who did not give the best first impression. 

“Who’s the kid?” Shanks questioned, barely looking up from his drink. 

He immediately rubbed you the wrong way. 

Beckman cleared his throat before you could tear him a new one, “This is Y/N. They’re who I told you about, the one gifted in Observation Haki.” 

Shanks finally looked up from his drink, lazily trailing his eyes from your feet, all the way to your face. He finally met your eyes and you struggled to maintain your composure under the immense pressure of his gaze. You lifted your chin, desperate to keep your dignity. 

Shanks kept his eyes on yours, his gaze intense as he questioned you, “And why should you be a part of my crew? Have you ever been around pirates or even worked as one? It’s dangerous work. Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of lifestyle, kid?” 

“I didn’t come here to be interrogated by some old man,” you bit back quickly.

Shanks put his hand over his heart dramatically, feigning emotional pain. 

“Listen, Red Hair, I came here as a favor to Beckman, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” You paused as the hair on the back of your neck stood up, “And if your friend hiding over there even thinks about shooting that spitball at me, I’m walking.” 

Beckman looked surprised, but Shanks only smiled. There was a clatter and some swearing before another man with dreadlocks emerged behind nearby ship supplies. “Well, shit. So much for that plan, Captain. Seems like she’s the real deal.” The man then jokingly blew the spitball at Shanks, who to your dismay, easily dodged it. 

“Color me impressed.” You look back to see Shanks smiling up at you. “You have a lot of potential. Let’s work hard together, Y/N.”

… 

While you didn’t join the Red Hair Pirates for Shanks, you became proud to be part of his crew over time. You had been sailing for around 6 months and were glad to say you had quickly proved your worth. Although there were members with better Haki skills, you knew you were improving every day with each new experience. 

You hated to admit it, but your captain occupied much of your thoughts. You often wondered if Shanks knew just how hard you were still trying to prove yourself to him. Though you saw him often, you rarely ever worked with him directly. In fact, you’d barely spoken to one another after your first meeting. You had occasionally exchanged a few words, formalities really, at mealtimes and during duty; but a part of you wished there was more. Though, you would never let him know that. 

You always put on a tough face in front of him, using words to bite back and hold your ground against the confident, and often cocky, Emperor of the Sea. Truthfully, after your first meeting you had come to admire him, and were slightly intimidated by the powerful man. 

While sailing the Grand Line in the New World, the ship stumbled upon an uninhabited island. It was a warm, tropical island, thick with jungle and vines. Shanks decided that the crew would depart and explore the island for supplies, and Roux hoped to find some edible plants and animals for their stock. 

All active members of the crew made groups and departed from the Red Force, but since you were not on shift, you’d decided to sleep in. When you awoke and found the ship docked, you decided it would be fun to explore the island as well. It was better than being cooped up all day in the barracks. 

As you stepped down the ladder a cheery familiar voice called down to you, “And where do you think you’re going, kid?” 

You jumped at your captain’s voice and looked up to see him. His hand gripped a rigging rope, holding him as he stood on the rail’s ledge, and leaned far off the ship to gaze down at you. His hair fell over his face, but his smile was still visible. 

“God, Captain. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

“Well, I’m just trying to make sure our ship’s hawkeye doesn’t stray too far and get into trouble,” he teased. 

“I’m not getting into trouble,” you grumbled as you looked back down to continue your descent onto the sand. “I just wanted to explore the island like everyone else.” 

“Alone?” His smile slightly faltered. 

“Is there a problem with that?” You ask, confused about where this conversation was going. 

“Well, we can’t afford to lose a member with skills like yours. I’ll come with you.” 

You reached the bottom of the ladder and looked up at Shanks in shock, “That really isn’t necessary, Captain. I don’t plan on going far-”

“Nonsense. Besides, you’re not much of a fighter, you should have a bodyguard when you go to unfamiliar places. And I have a duty to protect the valuable members of my crew.” As he said this he jumped from the railing and landed next to you. 

You did your best to hide how flustered you were, “There are other members with better Observation Haki than I do, you included.” 

Shanks tsked at your objection. He looked hard at you and spoke genuinely,  “Don’t sell yourself short. I heard about how you helped the snipers take out that marine ship last week. And I heard how you helped guide the navigator through the rocky sea and fog the other day. I’ve only ever heard other crew members praising you.” 

You quickly turned away from the red-haired man adjusting the strap on your bag. You knew you couldn’t stop the blush that was forming on your face, so you turned around to start walking into the jungle. “I just do what I’m told, Captain.” You quickly dismissed him, “Are you coming, or what?” 

Shanks laughed as he caught up with you, walking ever so slightly behind you. The walk was silent as the two of you marched deeper and deeper into the jungle, occasionally stopping to inspect certain plants or animals or collect samples in your bag. He enjoyed watching you as you took in the new landscape around you. He’d always found it fascinating to watch you while you concentrated. In fact, he had rarely taken his eyes off you since you’d joined his crew. 

From the second he met you, he knew you would be interesting. Shanks would be the first to admit he tested you during your first interaction. He purposefully pushed your buttons to see what you were made of. He needed to know how strong your resolve was before he let you, a stranger, onto his ship. And boy, did you meet his expectations, surpassed them even. Your insulting response nearly made him fall for you right then and there. But he knew his place as captain. He couldn’t risk showing special attention, let alone romantic attention to one of his subordinates. It was his job to keep you safe and provide you with a place to hone your abilities. He had to keep his distance. 

Yet… here he was, an Emperor of the Sea, trailing behind you like a puppy. He was rightfully worried to see you sneaking off the ship after the assigned explorers already left. He was doing this because it was the captain’s duty to protect his crew. At least, that’s what he told himself.

As you pushed your way deeper through the vines you tried to ignore the fact that Shanks was tailing you. This was just like any other outing with any other crewmate. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you walked, but you tried not to let it affect your movements. Was he judging you? You felt a little more self-conscious than usual about what you stopped to look at or how you collected samples. Especially when you caught him staring intensely at your hands.  

You finally reached a large plateau. Looking up, you examined the wall looming far above your head, and at the base of the formation, there was an illuminated opening. 

“Shanks,” you called out to your captain, “there’s a cave over there.” 

Shanks shoved some pesky vines out of his face and looked toward where you were pointing. There was a small opening, barely 4 ft tall, and a blueish light was emanating from the abyss. You moved closer to the cave willing your senses to reach out and explain the phenomenon. You couldn’t sense any danger coming from the cave, so it was time to be like a pirate and explore. 

“I’m going to go in.” You stated as you dropped your bag to the ground and started making your way to the entrance. 

Shanks was quick, definitely not desperate, as he moved forward and grabbed your arm, “Woah! Hold on there. There is no way I can fit in there.” he gestured towards his large stature and again at the tiny entrance. 

You considered the situation and shrugged, “Then wait out here. I won't be long, I just want to check out what’s causing the glow.” 

Shanks frowned, realizing there was no point in arguing with you. “Alright, but be careful.”

You saluted him with an exaggerated hand on your brow and firmly stated,. “No.” 

You turned away from him and focused back on the cave opening.

“Brat.” you heard him mutter under his breath. You turned around quickly, did you hear that right? He had a smile on his face. 

You stared at him for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. You smiled back before rolling your eyes and descending. 

The walls of the cave were rich in color, with layers of lichen growing throughout the chasm. You strained your ears to listen for any unseen threats that could have been lurking beyond your sight, but all you could hear was the rhythmic drip of the cave walls weeping. As you bent and contorted your body to ease your way through the damp walls, you could see the blue light growing in intensity ahead.

Finally, you reached a large pocket of space in the cave, enabling you to stand straight and take in your surroundings. As you stretched out your back you stared in awe at the sight before you. 

Dozens upon dozens of glowing mushrooms covered the room, growing across the walls and floor of the cave. The view was nothing short of dazzling, the light blue glow illuminating the space around you like nothing you had ever seen. 

You approached the fungus carefully, although they were beautiful, you knew well that not all beautiful things were good. You drew a handkerchief from your pocket and crouched forward to grab a sample. 

Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and your blood chilled. You trusted your instincts and rapidly jerked backwards from the mysterious mushrooms. Unfortunately, you were not fast enough. 

The gills of the mushrooms expanded and expelled a great mist of spores. The sickly sweet-smelling mist filled the room instantly and you yelped in surprise, feeling your way out of the room and back into the tunnel. You coughed as you darted through the veins of the cave desperate for fresh air and open spaces. You could hear Shanks calling out to you and you forced yourself to push forward toward his voice. 

Shanks was anxious from the moment he heard you cry out. He felt helpless, unable to fit into the cave. He briefly considered blowing a hole through the mountainside to get to you. Thankfully, hearing your panting and clawing as you made your way out of the cave stopped him. He placed his hand above the cave opening and began calling out to you, begging you to keep moving toward him. 

Shanks wasn’t prepared for what came out of that cave. 

You stumbled out of the suffocating walls and fell onto the grass in front of your captain. You could vaguely hear Shanks, his voice filled with worry, but you barely registered it. Something was wrong. Your clothes felt tight and itchy, you felt your cheeks warm while the rest of your body developed goosebumps from the jungle air hitting your skin. And most troubling, everything from the deepest part of your core felt tight and ticklish. 

Shanks knelt down, grabbing your shoulder to lift your gaze to him. The contact between the two of you sent electric shocks to your core. Sitting face to face with your captain you could barely breathe. At this distance, every feature of his face was at your fingertips. You took in your captain's features. The jagged shape of the scars that ran down his face, the prickly stubble he grew across his chin, his eyes bright with worry, the color of his lips…  It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. 

“Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N! What happened in there? What's going on?!” 

The seriousness of his tone did not reach you. Why did he look so worried? You wanted him to smile at you like before. You reached up and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. Taken aback by this gesture, Shanks froze for a moment, then grabbed your hand, pressing it to his face harder. “Y/N. I need you to tell me what happened in there. You can do that for me, right?”

Your eyes widened, coming back to your senses you groaned as you tried to move away from Shanks and stand, only to find that your legs were jelly. “Capt’n. What's happening?” 

Shanks let out a shaky laugh, “Well that's the million berri question right now, kid. Tell me what happened in the cave so I can help.” 

You push your hands into your eyes, struggling to retrieve your memories, “The glow,” you whispered, “The glow in the cave. It was some kinda, I dunno, mushroom. It puffed some dust on’ta me.” you panted your words out. 

“Good girl,” Shanks stroked your hair with his hand, “Now tell me, what did this mushroom look like?”

“Was so pretty, just like the sea. Blue and glowing.” You smiled at the memory of the beautiful sight. 

While you reminisced on the memory, Shanks froze, overcome with the realization of what he was dealing with.

 It happened several years before you joined the Red Hair Pirates. Shanks and Beckman were wasting the night away at some bar when a woman approached him. He had noticed the dark-haired beauty staring at him from across the bar but had paid no attention. It wasn't uncommon for him to get stares as an infamous pirate.

The woman set down a blue sparkling drink in front of Shanks, “Don't think you're from around here, handsome.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, “How about we get to know each other over a couple’a drinks?”

Beckman stifled a snicker and Shanks shot him a glare. Looking back up at the woman, Shanks politely declined her advances, “Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not looking for any more company tonight,” Shanks slapped Beckman hard on the back making him wince, “This fella’s all the entertainment I'll need for the night.”

The woman tried to hide her annoyance with a smile, “Well then, sorry for interrupting.” She sneered as she turned away, “But the drink’s still on me. Do enjoy.” 

Shanks and Beckman eyed each other and the drink skeptically. “Poison?” Asked Beckman bluntly. 

Shanks let out a hearty laugh, “Well, only one way to find out!” And downed the sickly blue drink in seconds. 

Shanks was stuck in his room the rest of the night, fisting his cock and rutting into his mattress. He admitted it wasn't his best decision. Hongo guessed that based on the color he likely ingested an aphrodisiac made from a plant called the lagneía fungi. “I've heard of petty thieves using it on pirates to steal their loot.” Hongo looked at Shanks scornfully, “Can't believe our captain fell for something like that …”

Shanks shook his head refusing to believe the evidence right in front of him. No! It can't be that. He brought his gaze back down at you and examined your face. You were flushed red, your pupils were dilated, and your gaze wandered across his body. He reached out to touch your arm and you gasped, goosebumps exploding from his touch. He really couldn't deny it any longer. 

“Alright Y/n, don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine, just try not to panic.” Shanks spoke, trying to reassure the both of them. Despite his words, Shanks himself was panicking. What was he going to do with you? Sure, it's just an aphrodisiac, but truthfully the experience was borderline torture. Furthermore, judging by how quickly its effects were overcoming you, you must have gotten a serious dosage in your system. If you were a male member of his crew he would laugh it off and condemn you to your bunk with a porno mag like he had done for himself. But how could he let you of all people suffer alone like this? 

“Am I gonna die? Everything feels weird,” tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, “like I’m on fire.” 

“You’re not going to die.” Shanks insisted, “You’re just, going to be… uncomfortable for a little while. Let’s get you back to the ship so you can lie down.” Shanks bent down and grabbed one of your arms to maneuver you onto his back. Hoisting you up, your breath hitched as your center came into contact with Shanks’ back.

Shanks took off at a brisk pace, navigating the rough jungle terrain. You tried to take Shank’s advice to calm yourself, but you were distracted by the friction created between you and Shanks as he strode back to the ship at an agonizing pace. Everywhere you were touching him felt hot and unbearable. You began to feel a familiar sensation brewing in your lower abdomen. No way, there’s no way! You panicked at the feeling and tried to create distance between you and Shanks to alleviate the burning coil between your legs, but he gripped your thigh back, securing you to his back. “Stop squirming, are you trying to fall over?” 

“Captain, ugh.” You buried your head in his back, panting from the unintentional pleasure, “Please slow down. Wait, please sto- Ah!” Suddenly the pressure built up to its peak. You squirmed and shook against your Captain’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to control your movements or your voice. With a final moan and gasp, you pushed yourself backward off of Shanks’ back onto the jungle floor. 

Shanks circled back on his heels to find you curled up on the ground, “What are you doin-”

The realization hit him. He noted your shaking legs and rapid breaths and suddenly he became aware of a slightly damp spot on his back where your bodies had just been connected. He grappled with his own arousal seeing you like this, disheveled and glassy-eyed. 

“God, Captain. I’m so sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I couldn’t stop myself.” 

Shanks was kicking himself mentally as he watched you before him. Here you were feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and vulnerable; yet, there he was feeling himself getting hard at the sight. He’d wanted you for so long, wanted to make you his. Shanks licked his lips. He pushed down his indecent thoughts and turned his attention back to you. This wasn’t the time. You needed to get back to the ship, and right now that’s all that mattered. 

In one swift movement, he scooped you up, placing a hand under your legs, carrying you in his arm. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck in embarrassment as he took off running. He was fast. You felt the wind on your face as he swiftly maneuvered through the trees at a great speed, his black coat flapping in the wind behind him.  It took less than a minute for him to reach the ship. Shanks bounded onto the deck and managed to avoid the eyes of the returning crew. Reaching his room, he quickly ducked in and closed the door behind him, causing maps and papers to fly in all different directions. 

Shanks walked with you in his arm over to his bed and laid you down as gently as he could. “Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he slipped his hand through your hair and gripped the back of your neck to force you to look at him. You looked up at him dazed, trying your best to concentrate on what he was telling you rather than the feeling of his hand on your neck. “You’re not dying. Those spores were an aphrodisiac,” He looked at you hard, making sure you understood what he was saying, “That’s why you’re feeling like this.” 

You groaned and tried to hide your face out of embarrassment, but Shanks held you firm. “I’m going to get Hongo, he might be able to find some sort of sedative to help you work through this. You might have a shitty night, but I promise you’re going to be alright. I’ll be right back, ok?” He said softly.

Shanks lightly rubbed the back of your neck with his thumb before turning to leave, but you sat up and clutched his shirt to pull him back, “No! Please don’t. Don’t get Hongo.” You buried your head in his shirt, “I don’t want anyone seeing me… like this.”

Shanks’ gaze softened, “Y/N, Hongo is a professional, he’ll definitely be able to help.” 

“No...I don’t…I can’t have anyone see me like this, please Captain. I-” your voice cracked, “I worked too hard to gain respect on this ship. Please. Don’t let anyone see me like this.”

Shanks began to disagree, “Hongo really would know the best way to deal with this, Y/N…” he stopped upon seeing the panic in your eyes. He sighed as he relented, “But, I’ll keep this between us for now. If that’s what you really want.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. The aching between your legs was demanding attention, and you didn’t know how much longer you could restrain yourself from tending to it. 

“Y/N.” You looked back up at Shanks, “If you really intend to deal with this on your own, the only way I know you can find relief is to stimulate yourself or… have sex.” Shanks kept your gaze as he spoke. “I’ll leave you my room. At least that way you can have some privacy while you deal with this. I’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You have my word.” 

“Captain…” You found it hard to look him in the eye, you knew what you were about to ask wasn’t right, “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Shanks froze, for a moment he was speechless, he waited for you to meet his gaze and searched your eyes, “Y/N, do you really understand what you're asking right now?”

“I-” You doubled back over struggling to compose yourself, gripping Shanks silk sheets. Just imagining sleeping with your captain was enough to make your arousal unbearable. Despite your best judgment you shakily reached down and palmed in-between your legs, exhaling from the slight relief it gave you. You looked back up to Shanks, eyes pleading, “I can barely manage this right now. I can't do this alone. I'm begging you, please Shanks.” 

Shanks stared at you, mouth agape and spellbound by the proposition. He could feel his mouth watering and his pants tighten. Shanks remembered just how miserable he had been with just the small dosage he’d taken, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the turmoil that was currently wrecking your body. He balled his fist gathering the last bit of restraint he had and whispered, “It… wouldn’t be right of me to do this. You’re not in your right mind, you’d take anyone in your condition-”

“No. You’re wrong,” you were breathing heavily, choosing your words carefully, “I couldn’t bear it being anyone else. I want it to be you… Unless,” Your breath hitched, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer to the question you were about to ask, “do you not… want me?”

This was the final straw for Shanks. You had broken the great Emperor who’d tried so desperately to do the right thing. His resolve crumbled at your words and he found himself lunging toward you. He pounced over you, throwing you back onto his mattress as his lips crashed onto yours. Your senses exploded with electricity by his contact and you moaned into his mouth, eagerly accepting more. It was utterly overwhelming and you couldn't control the noises that escaped from your mouth as Shanks pushed your hand away to tend to your clit himself, shoving his hand down your pants.

Shanks briefly separated your lips and breathed heavily trailing kisses along your cheek and to your forehead, “I’ll ask you… one more time,” he muttered between pecks, “Are you sure about this?” He pulled back to meet your eyes. 

“Old man,” you huffed at him, “Won’t you shut up and put your mouth to good use for onc-” 

Shanks didn’t let you finish your sentence and forced your mouth wider to deepen your kiss as he worked to slip your pants off. Once they were off you spread your legs obediently for him, pushing your hips against his hand for more friction. With your pants out of the way, Shanks had more freedom to explore your folds. His thumb kept a steady rhythm on your bud as his other fingers dove lower. He smiled as he found how soaked you were for him. He gathered copious amounts of slick from your pussy, and used it to tease you further. Shanks moved his mouth down your neck, leaving dark spots where he sucked and teased. 

You could already feel that you were close to climax, you squirmed and whined for more. Shanks relented to your obvious request and slipped two fingers inside you. The gratifying release was instantaneous. You gripped Shanks’ arm as he massaged your walls through your orgasm. He reveled at just how seductive your body was and how your pussy gripped his fingers tightly. 

Shanks lifted his head out from the crook of your neck and glanced over to you, but you were worlds away. His whole body reacted when he finally saw you in shambles from his touch. Tears streamed down your reddened face, unable to concentrate on anything besides how good you felt, you just focused on trying to catch your breath. It was all so overwhelming, Shanks’ touch, his kisses, and his scent all around you. 

Shanks’ breath hitched as he let out a snide laugh, “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut you up, brat.” 

Shanks pulled away from you for a moment and the sudden loss of contact made you whimper. Shanks scolded you, “Quiet now, it’s not good to be impatient, Y/N.” Shanks teased as he shook off his coat and lifted his shirt above his head, discarding it onto the floor.  You watched, entranced by the way his muscles moved. His broad shoulders and massive tanned biceps patterned with scars. You felt the heat grow again as he turned back to you. 

You pouted at Shanks’ words, “It’s a little difficult being patient when you're so horny you feel like you're gonna explode!” You huffed, frowning dramatically. “Being in a hot man’s bed and watching him strip is not helping my situation.” 

You immediately regretted your words as you watched his brow rise and a wicked smile form on his face. “A “hot man,” you say. Is that what you think of me?” 

“Don’t get cocky,” you spat back, staring him down. He glared back, not backing down from your challenge. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.  

With a mischievous smile, Shanks crawled back over to you, placing his knee strategically between your legs pushing into the wet spot of your underwear. He ground his leg as he reached his arm up to pull off your shirt, you lifted your arms to make it easier. Shanks sighed with bliss as your breasts came into view, no bra in sight. 

You gasped as Shanks’ hand groped one of your breasts and his mouth found the other. You leaned back and interlaced your fingers in Shanks' hair stroking and pulling on the red strands. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he devoured you. 

Shanks released his lips off of your nipple with a pop and moaned, “In all my years,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never wished so much that I had both of my hands again.” 

You couldn't help but laugh at this statement, it was just too ridiculous. Shanks eyed you curiously, “Are you laughing at your Captain? Or, are you going to start calling me by my name like you did before?” Shanks’ mouth moved lower down your body, kissing your stomach as he trailed down, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Shanks’ earlier. What made you think you could drop honorifics with your Captain like that?” 

All you could do was watch him as his lips moved closer and closer to your core, you were speechless with anticipation. Shanks played with the fabric of your underwear, tracing the hem and circling lower towards your clit. You jumped from the sensation. “Though, I have to admit. I did like the sound of my name on your lips.” He continued to tease you with both his words and his movements. 

“Please, just touch me already, I can’t-”

“Call me by my name again. Then I’ll consider helping you.” Shanks was enjoying this far too much. His eyes twinkled up at you as he grazed your hip bone with his fingertips. 

You gave in immediately, your pride nowhere to be found, “Shanks. Please make me feel good. I’m begging, Shanks.” 

“That’s more like it.” Shanks shoved your underwear aside and thumbed your clit roughly. You arched your back at the sudden contact and cried out in pleasure. Shanks was completely enthralled with what was happening in front of him, he couldn't take his eyes away from your glistening pussy, soaking wet, all for him. He wanted more and demanded, “Lift your hips.” 

You immediately obeyed your captain and raised your hips. Shanks grabbed your underwear and ripped them off you. You leaned back with anticipation, but nothing came. You peered up at the red-haired man and you realized he was examining your panties. “Oh. Sorry, I know that old pair isn’t exactly sexy…” You explained self-consciously. Then suddenly, as if he was possessed, he shoved your soaked underwear into his face and inhaled deeply. Your mouth fell open at the sight. At last, when he lowered your panties from his face he stared at you intensely, his eyes drunk and lazy from your scent. 

You watched mesmerized by the man in front of you as he tossed your underwear aside, gripped the back of your thigh with his arm, and shoved it back towards your head. Before you could react to the sudden change of position, Shanks plunged his tongue between your folds and lapped up your juices. You gripped his hair as he indulged in your aroused pussy. Shanks moaned into you as you tightened your grasp and pulled his hair slightly. He felt his hard-on twitch painfully, desperate and leaking with pre-cum. It didn’t take long before you were rutting into his face, chasing another high and coming undone for a third time by your captain. 

As your spasms ceased, Shanks sat back up between your legs. You were mortified to see his face covered in your arousal. You sat up and began to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry let me just-” You raise your hand to wipe away the creamy slick from his face, only to have it shoved away and to be brought into another hungry kiss. The juices from Shanks’ mouth mixed in with your saliva as your tongues intertwined. 

You were at Shanks’ disposal, at his mercy. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. It wasn’t enough, not yet. You needed more. Reaching down, you pressed down on the protruding tent that was rising in Shanks’ pants. Shanks pulled away from you slightly and hissed at the contact. You continued to palm at his growing member and whispered, “I want this, Shanks. I want to make you feel good too.” 

Shanks laughed weakly, “Well… if you ask me like that, who am I to say no?” He moved back to sit on his knees and fumbled with his belt and pants. You couldn’t help but smile at how he shakily tripped over his buckle with only one hand. You reached up and helped him by pulling his pants down. Although you knew from feeling him earlier, you were still taken aback by the sheer size of his cock as it nearly smacked you in the face. 

You eagerly eyed his cock and looked up at Shanks hovering above you, “Can I…” you begin as you reach up to take him in your grip, “suck it?” 

Shanks couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you came into contact with his dick. “If- that’s what you want. But only a little. I’m not confident that I’ll last long if yo-” Shanks was cut off by your tongue trailing up the side of his cock. A shiver ran up his spine, and he gripped your hair with his hand to hold on for dear life. You wanted to taste every part of him, you couldn’t hold back. 

You weren’t particularly experienced, but somehow you knew exactly what to do for him. You teased his rosy tip with your tongue, licking circles before wrapping your lips around it. You savored the salty taste and traced your tongue along the veins running down him. There was no way you could take him in his entirety, but you pushed as far as your throat could allow. You only got a few pumps in before Shanks stopped you. “Alright. That’s enough.” He sat back down on his rear and motioned for you to come to him, “This isn’t about me.” Which was true, but he knew his words were just an excuse. He easily could have come from just your tongue if he wasn’t careful. 

You got up on your knees as Shanks requested, and straddled him. His dick sat hard in between the two of you as he pulled you in for another breathtaking kiss while he used his free hand to continue to stretch you out. Finally satisfied with his prep, he broke the kiss and lifted your ass to hover over him. Shanks looked up at you and purred, “I’ll leave this part to you.” He wrapped his large hand around yours and guided it to his throbbing cock, “I don’t want to hurt you. So you need to go at your own pace.” 

You hesitated slightly at his command, insecure about your skills. But whatever shyness you felt about taking the lead was quickly dismissed by your overflowing arousal. With one hand on Shanks’ shoulder to steady yourself and the other seizing his member, you raised your hips to accommodate his height. You rubbed the head of his cock on your dripping pussy and you both hissed from the contact. Once Shanks was properly lubed by your fluids, you held your breath and slowly lowered your hips onto the tip of his cock. The head alone stretched your inner walls with an intensely painful pleasure. You felt overwhelmed by his size and the electric current that emanated from its pressure. You intended to take him slowly and acclimate to his size, but your instincts took control. You wanted to feel full. You wanted to be completely consumed by him. You hastily realigned yourself, took a breath, and slammed your hips down, instantly taking him down to his base. 

Neither of you could keep your voices contained. You let out a moan laced with the pain and pleasure of finally receiving Shanks in his entirety. The feeling was devastating. You gripped Shanks’ head pulling him to your chest as you entangled your fingers in his hair. Shanks cursed as he willed himself to stay in control, the pressure and sensation of your grip was mind-shattering. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gripping your skin to ground himself. 

You didn't give him time to recover. You raised your hips again and slammed down hard against him, receiving a grunt from him. You felt drunk, unable to control your actions, you found yourself rocking into him at an uncontrollable pace. The pain was fading away and was replaced by unbelievable pleasure. You needed more, you needed him everywhere. 

Shanks took advantage of your position above him, trailing kisses along your chest and leaving occasional bruise and bite mark. He used his tongue to tease and suck on your hard nipples. His hand wandered along the length of your back, grazing your spine with his fingertips leaving you gasping. Even the slightest touch on your body created an unbearable reaction, flooding your senses with bliss. 

Shanks’ hand continued to explore your body, ticking the nape of your neck, pinching your nipples, and finally falling between your legs. He flicked and rubbed your clit as you rode him at an alarming pace. You felt yourself nearing another climax as the coil in your core began to tighten. You chased the high as you ground against him, willing yourself to continue despite feeling like you were on the brink of collapse. 

Your climax hit you like a train, bringing earth-shattering pleasure throughout your body. You fell forward, pushing Shanks onto his back as the feeling overtook you, unable to continue. But Shanks wouldn't let you rest and you couldn’t contain your voice as Shanks cruelly thrusted up into you, compelling your senses to disintegrate as he fucked you through your peak.

Your ears deafened and rang as you laid exhausted against Shanks’ wide chest, still twitching on his dick. Shanks slowed his pace and you sat on him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. You felt lighter than when you’d first entered Shanks’ room and your head was clearer, but the burning desire still lay unsatisfied. You tried to sit up to keep riding until your body was appeased, but found yourself collapsing again. Your legs were wobbly, unable to continue. “Shanks,” you whispered, “I think you’re going to have to take over from here. Please.” 

Shanks was still reeling from your ruthless pace on his dick. He looked up at you, astonished that you still had the energy to keep going. “So demanding. You’re making me forget I’m the captain here.” Shanks sat up and reversed your positions, laying you flat on your back as he hovered over you, “But, I guess I’ll follow your command this time, Captain.” 

Shanks pushed your legs back again and took a moment to examine your swollen pink pussy. It dripped and pulsed in anticipation, making it obvious that the mushroom was still wreaking havoc on your nerves. Shanks knew you wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and decided to bring this to an end as soon as possible. He positioned himself above you and gripped his cock. Pushing it on you, he teased your clit with his tip for a moment before moving lower and watching in awe as you swallowed his thick cock to the brim of his balls. 

You gripped the sheets around you tightly, this felt even deeper than before, he was reaching far down inside and rubbing all your sensitive spots. He sat there a moment breathing deep with his eyes closed, feeling the deepest corners of your pussy squeeze and warm him. He was only brought back to reality when you squirmed and whimpered underneath him. You needed more friction, more movement, more anything. Your body was not going to be as patient as Shanks was wanting. 

Shanks opened his eyes and smirked down at you, “Don’t worry,” he gripped your thigh tightly with his hand leaving it stinging, “I’ll give you what you want.” 

Without warning he lifted his hips, leaving his tip barely inside you, and plowed himself into you as deep and as hard as he could. You choked on your own breath as he pulled out and hammered down into you again, and again. He set an abusive pace, each stroke hitting your deepest nerves and causing waves of spine-tingling pleasure.

Your heightened senses multiplied every feeling, every touch, and every kiss. You felt as if your body was going to disintegrate underneath Shanks. The sensation in your body was unfamiliar and frightening and it was becoming too much. You put your hands on Shanks’ chest in a half-hearted attempt to slow him down, but his merciless tempo continued to wreck your body. Twitching from pleasure, you attempted again to turn your body to run from the feeling. It was all too intense, it was too good and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Before you could move away Shanks forced you back into position and entangled his hand with yours. His thrusts persisted as he leaned down his head next to yours and whispered gruffly into your ear, his slurring voice tickling your neck, “This is what you wanted, right? What you needed? Take it for me. Be a good girl for me.” 

You were nearly comatose from the pleasure racking your body. Just from his words, you reached another climax, and Shanks fucked you through it once again. Your eyesight became hazy and you knew you needed to ground yourself. Out of desperation, one of your hands reached out to claw his back and the other clenched his hair. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on Shanks’ shoulder. Shanks hissed harshly as your teeth pierced his shoulder, yet he found himself smiling. Your disobedience had always been a turn-on for him. Excited from the pain, he moaned into your ear, “I’m- close. So close.” 

“Come in me.” You cried out. You knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him to ruin you, “Please come in me, Shanks. Please… Please… Please,” tears ran down your cheeks and you lost all sense of self. All you knew was that you wanted Shanks, every last bit of him.  

It took all of Shanks’ willpower not to fulfill your request. 

Every last instinct in Shanks’ body willed him to release inside you, to truly make you his. But his reasoning prevailed. He knew that despite everything he could not do that to you in this state. So, with a few final harsh thrusts, Shanks pulled his cock out and released his warm come across your stomach. 

Shanks collapsed next to you, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Everything around him felt fuzzy as he came down from his orgasmic high. Once he finally caught his breath again, he turned over and reached for you. 

You had passed out. 

 …

You woke with a jolt of pain as you turned over on your side in your sleep. Groaning, you shifted your body to try and stretch out your achy muscles. However, you realized that you couldn’t move. There was a weight laying across your abdomen… and your leg… and there was something pressed up against your back…

Your eyes snapped open. 

You weren’t in your room, that was obvious. But where were you? You turned slightly to lay on your back, and looking down you saw an arm strewn across your stomach. Horrified, your eyes trailed up to see whose arm it was. It took everything in you not to scream as you realized you were entangled in your captain's sleepy limbs. 

Your mind raced, desperate to remember what happened. You were exploring the island, Shanks came with you, you went into the cave and… 

It all came flooding back. 

You lay there in shock. 

What was going to happen now? What if someone saw you? Would you have to leave the ship? 

Your eyes wandered to where he lay, breathing deep in his slumber. He was shirtless and you couldn’t help but stare. Looking down you realized you weren’t wearing your own clothes, but rather an oversized off-white button-down shirt. It was obvious that Shanks lent you his own shirt. What a gentleman, you thought sarcastically as your body ached. But, you couldn’t help yourself, you turned your body to face him for a better look at the man before you, admiring his strong features. 

As you savored the view in front of you, Shanks willed his body to sit as still as possible. He had woken up nearly an hour before you had and had spent the time watching you sleep, stroking your hair, and indulging in the feeling of sleeping next to you. He panicked when you shifted in your sleep and decided to pretend to be asleep. To his surprise, you hadn’t gotten up to leave, and he could feel your warm gaze on his face. He savored this morning, never wanting it to end. 

The peaceful moment was ruined in an instant. 

Shanks’ bedroom door flew open with a loud crash as none other than Benn Beckman strode in. You and Shanks’ eyes flew open and met each other in horror before turning your attention to the trespasser. Beckman didn’t get more than three steps into his Captain’s room when he realized what he stumbled in on. 

There was a moment of silence, all three of you stared at each other, taking in the information in front of you. 

Finally, you came to your senses and flung the sheets over yourself to hide from the embarrassment. You felt Shanks’ hand lay protectively on your back as you hid, “Beckman,” He spoke sharply, “you’d better have a good reason for barging into my room.” 

Beckman gulped, “Definitely not a good enough reason for this.” 

“Right. Beckman?” 

“Yes?” 

“Leave. Now.” 

“Right. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Beckman turned to the door and stepped out of the room. You peeked out of the blankets and saw Beckman pause before closing the door behind him. He looked back at you and Shanks sternly, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” 

And with that, he closed the door. 

You peeled back the covers and emerged next to Shanks. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, both pondering Beckman’s statement. He had a good point. What were you going to do now? Mushroom or not, the two of you crossed the boundary between captain and crewmate. Would you both ignore it and pretend nothing happened? 

Your mind was spinning down all the possibilities that were laid out in front of you. Shanks thought your ears would start smoking soon, and he spoke first. Laying you back down on his arm he spoke two simple sentences that made you relax and settle down to sleep.

“Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊 authors note: HUGE shout out to @nanpecan for editing this and helping me not sound illiterate

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[goldenhourology]

IRL.

pairing: jeong yunho x f!reader

genre: smut, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers-ish

summary: using a video game to release your daily frustrations had to be a new low for you. but without it, you wouldn't have met your team leader, yunho. when an embarrassing voice chat leads you both to meeting at a conference for work, it ends in a night neither of you ever saw coming. not even in your imaginations.

warnings: dom!yunho, mutual masturbation, masturbating over a (probably discord) call, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, praise, forced proximity, a little bit of miscommunication, yunho is kinda mean but it's ok!!, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 8.3k

note: soooooooo. how do I explain myself here lol. I've had a million other fics running in my head and yet this was the first piece of writing I actually finished in weeks. go figure. basically I went to go see ateez on tour and was hit smack in the face (I wish, literally) with these feelings for yunho that can simply not be contained 🙂‍↕️☝️ and in fact, I might write MORE for him. also, this fic hardly has a plot, as you can see from the word count lol. just kinda pure smut. enjoy!!! (taglist posted at the bottom.)

in rotation: fantasize, the boyz / slide to me, ateez / more than friends, isabel larosa / we don’t talk anymore, charlie puth ft. selena gomez / make you mine, madison beer

You started playing Valorant as a means of relaxation. Forever exhausted from your grueling 9 to 5 and needing an outlet for your anger management, your therapist suggested to either take up a recreational sport or try video games. Typically, she wouldn’t recommend the latter, but she figured it was better than nothing. The thing was, though, you were definitely not athletic, so what other choice did you have? The last time you let your frustration from work bubble up, you ended up digging your nails so far into your palm that you drew blood.

That wasn’t going to happen again.

You had first seen an ad for Valorant online, and then heard your coworkers talking about it. Back in high school, you had been pretty good at RPGs – probably the best out of your friend group – so you decided it was time to take up the hobby again. You cracked open your years-old PC one night, set up an account, and hit download. Within minutes, you were immersed in the world and quickly learning how to find the best team to join. It was a lot to absorb at once, but it was such a good distraction from all the worries that come with being an adult. Before you knew it, the clock was hitting 1 AM and you hadn’t even done your skincare for the night.

Suffice to say, this was how you met Yuhno, your team leader.

Gamertag: YunhoGizer99.

Being around the same age, you two formed a friendship rather swiftly. Everyone else on your team was either just hitting 21 besides you two, who were on the cusp of hitting your late 20s with “real, adult jobs,” as your team member, Wooyoung, liked to put it. Yunho had taken a chance on adding you to his team, but your skills improved so fast it felt like whiplash. You could rival him in the game … someday. Not today. As time went on, you both began to talk outside of the game, frequently sending messages during working hours about what you both did for jobs and relationships. This was how you found out that both of you worked in data science and played Valorant as a distraction from everyday life.

Using a video game to solve your anger issues and discontentment with work was probably the cringiest thing you could ever do. However … it was helping. Even your therapist noticed a difference. And despite it all, you liked Yunho. Over the past 6 months, he’d become someone you talked to everyday. 

Your friends didn’t exactly understand it – talking to this guy you met in a video game. You could admit how nutty it sounded, but they wouldn’t get it until they experienced something similar. It was so easy to form a friendship to someone without a face, so easy to share things you’d normally keep to yourself. Alexa, your roommate, was convinced he was your boyfriend that you were trying to keep secret, while your other friend, Laura, said you two were having phone sex. “You’re both so ridiculous,” you had said before rolling your eyes and changing the topic.

And then came that rainy night in July.

Your apartment was so hot when you came back from your ice cream date with some guy you met on Hinge. Or at least, it was supposed to be an ice cream date before the rain started. Jared – or was his name, Jacob? – had decided to take you to frozen yogurt instead, but the shop was full of families and you both decided to shared your large cup of strawberry froyo in his car while the rain battered against the windshield. And, to be honest, there was nothing romantic about that. Not that you were particularly looking for anything at the moment, but you would’ve given anything for him to at least take you back to his place. But the mood had been ruined and he dropped you off at your building before the clock hit 9 PM. Unmatched. Unbothered. Undone.

Turning on the air-conditioning, you put on your favorite sleep shorts and big t-shirt before opening up Valorant on your PC. Alexa was staying with their boyfriend for the night, so it was just you, all alone, in the apartment. You fiddled with a few keys on your computer as the game booted up, noticing that you received a message as soon as you logged on.

YunhoGizer99 [9:27 PM]: why are you online? thought you had plans You [9:28 PM]: I did. I just got back earlier than I assumed YunhoGizer99 [9:28 PM]: bad date?

You called him immediately and it only took him a second to pick up. Before he could say a word, you replied, “Horrible date. I probably could’ve sucked it up and gone to bed early, but I logged on for the distraction.”

Yunho chuckled on the other end. You were always so surprised by how deep his voice was. Alexa once walked in while you two were on a call and remarked that they were surprised someone named YunhoGizer99 had a “bedroom voice.” You simply called them a pervert.

“What happened this time?” He said through your headphones, his voice amplified more than before.

“Why do you say it like that?” Your eyes narrowed, even though he couldn’t see them. “It was just bad. I don’t want to explain it. The guy is automatically an asshole for dropping me off before 9 o’clock. And it’s humid and my apartment is fucking muggy because Alexa didn’t leave the air conditioner on –” You stopped yourself with a huff.

At this point, you were just staring at the home screen of the game. You didn’t even want to put in the effort to play, given the state of your mood. When Yunho realized you were done, he said, “You know that you don’t have to go on dates, right?”

You scoffed, “Of course, I know that. It’s just –”

“Because in the short time I’ve known you, you come back from them with no good news.”

“Yes, I get that. But –” You spun around in your desk chair. “You’re one to talk. You told me once that you haven’t been on a date since college.”

You heard him blow a raspberry through your headphones. “Hey, now. Don’t use my unwillingness to put myself out there as a defense mechanism.”

“I just –” You sighed, going silent for a moment. Licking your lips, you toyed with the idea of being honest with not only him, but yourself. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“And maybe I’m being too subtle with the way I approach this –”

“Maybe you are.” He let out a frustrated groan, which sent a shiver down your spine that you didn’t expect. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap. “Oh, come on, just say it –”

“I just really need to be fucked.”

The line went completely silent. So silent that you thought Yunho dropped from the call. You checked your computer and despite it all, his icon of a golden retriever with glasses was still on screen. His mic was just completely silent. You were pretty sure he could hear you gulp on his end. “Yunho?” You called out, voice surprisingly quiet.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “I just … didn’t expect that.”

Your cheeks were heating up. You considered dropping the call, closing the laptop – anything to get you out of this situation. He couldn’t even see you, but you already felt so vulnerable, almost naked. Your chair spun away from the screen, as if that could do anything.

“I shouldn’t have said that –”

“No, no, it’s fine. Seriously.” He exhaled, and you felt like your lungs were burning as you held your breath. “You could just … message a guy on some dating app and tell him that you want him to fuck you.”

Your brow immediately furrowed. Turning around in your chair, you saw your frown reflected in screen of your laptop. Maybe you should’ve guessed that he would say something outrageously stupid like that. “Oh, like it’s that easy. Big help, Yunho,” you sneered.

“Guys don’t like subtlety. I thought you knew that at your big age,” he laughed softly.

“You’re a fucking comedian,” you replied with a shake of your head. “My therapist said that video games can’t be my only distraction in life, but I hate being so upfront with guys about what I want. I try to avoid awkward situations at all costs.”

“If a woman was that upfront with me … it would work.”

You paused, noticing a shift in his tone. You bit into your cheek, trying to stop the word vomit, but you simply couldn’t help yourself – “I shouldn’t have to try so hard to get a dick inside me. My fingers can only do so much.”

“God, you can’t just …” You heard rustling on the other end, as if he was running a hand down his face. Suddenly, you were thinking about what your friend’s hands looked like. How big they were, if his fingers were really that long. You’d seen them once – in a photo he sent you a couple months back – and you couldn’t help but notice how slender his digits were, the veins that were etched between his knuckles. 

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” he finished.

You traced your bottom lip with your fingernail. “And why’s that?”

He took a moment. You froze, and it felt like years until he spoke again.

“You know why.”

Your mouth curved slightly. “Women don’t like subtlety either, Yunho.”

“I think I’m done talking about this now. I –” He huffed suddenly. “Fuck.”

His voice had taken on a tone you had never heard before. It was deeper, more of a groan than anything. The kind of tone that you might have fantasized about once or twice on a really lonely night. It wasn’t hard to guess why he sounded like that, and you struggled with sinking your nails into your palm. But it wasn’t out of anger this time; it was far, far different.

Your voice was like a mere croak when you said his name, “Yunho.”

“I’m gonna log off for the night –”

“I can help you, if that’s what you need.” Your fingers were now tugging at the hem of your oversized tee. The one that you bought on clearance because it had off-brand Hello Kitty on the front. “Maybe we can help each other.”

His lips smacked, making you rub your thighs together instinctively. “That would ruin our friendship.”

“It would.”

“But I think I would rather ruin you more.”

Your breath hitched, and the line was so silent that you knew he could hear it. You could almost hear the smirk on his lips when he spoke next. How was that even possible when you’ve never even seen his face?

“I think I’ve always wanted to, as stupid as it sounds,” he admitted, and you could hear him playing with something on the other end. A cable? Drawstring? “Whenever you would come back from these dates all pent up, I couldn’t help but think … what I could …” He trailed off, a sigh escaped his lips as you heard him grip something. “God, fuck.”

This was such a bad idea. It was crossing a line that you never thought was there. A line that all your friends had already assumed you crossed, and you hated to prove them right. But you were just so frustrated with … well, everything, and god forbid you finally give into your desire to hear your friend masturbate over a voice chat. 

You should hang up. But your hand was already creeping up under your shirt.

“Do you want me to end the call?” You breathed out, your palm squeezing your breast.

“No,” and the soft laugh he let out sounded so cocky. “I want you to touch yourself and imagine it’s me.”

Just his words had a gasp slipping from your mouth. “Okay,” you rasped, fingers playing with one nipple. His voice was enough to turn them into pebbles, but you started to envision your fingers were his, how they would feel as they toyed with you in person rather than over a call.  You rolled your nipple between your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Yunho –”

More rustling on the other side, and you heard him grunt. “You haven’t started fingering yourself, right?”

You looked down at your other hand, still playing with the end of your shorts. “No,” you replied, and it was the quietest you ever heard yourself. “Not yet.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, and you heard him start to slowly stroke himself. “Can you get those fingers wet for me with your mouth, princess?”

This felt absurd. You were practically debasing yourself for your Valorant team leader over a call, all because you were pent up with so much sexual frustration that it felt like you couldn’t breathe sometimes. If anyone found out about this, you’d be eaten alive. But now you were slipping two fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them, and he let out another groan when he heard how sloppy it all sounded.

“Just like that,” he muttered, his grin practically audible through your headphones. “Do you think they’re wet enough now?”

“Mmhmm,” you said around your fingers.

“Are you wet enough?”

You took your fingers out of your mouth and nearly screamed, “God, yes.”

He chuckled, and it was just about evil the way he sounded. “I want those fingers to play with that pretty pussy while I fuck my hand. Can you do that for me?”

You didn’t care that he was commanding you. All you cared about in this moment was getting off as you whispered, “Yes, Yunho.”

Trailing down your torso, you slipped your hand underneath the waistband of your shorts, not even bothering to take your panties off either. Your fingers, wet and warm with saliva, parted your folds so easily, just barely brushing your clit and yet, your hips jumped anyway. You pressed down on it, before starting to rub slow circles, imagining this is how he’d be. Clearly, he was into teasing. Perhaps you should’ve known this from all the times he called you names between rounds, as if you were students at recess. 

You moaned out his name and it sounded like heaven through his headphones. He muttered curses under his breath, and you hoped he was squeezing himself at the tip, like you would do for him. You wondered how much precum was coating his hand now; all you could hear was a faint tacky sound in your ear. You wondered if his cock curved to the right or left, if the same veins that ran along his hands were also carved on his shaft.

“I know you’re just playing with your clit, princess,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t wanna fuck my hand faster until I know those fingers are inside you.”

“But it’s not the same as if you were here,” you whined.

“I need you to imagine their mine,” he commanded. The seriousness in his tone was like a shock to your system, making your toes curl. “And then, I’ll let you put three fingers inside and you’ll know what it would feel like if I were there.”

Your eyes opened, staring at the voice chat screen, not believing that your friend behind the golden retriever icon was saying such dirty words to you. Without processing it, your legs curled up to your chest and you leaned all the way back in your desk chair, praying you wouldn’t fall over. Your thighs spread and you could feel your arousal dripping between them, soaking your favorite pair of panties. You sunk two wet fingers inside, and the way you whimpered, “Fuck, Yunho,” had him fisting his cock so fast he almost forgot to breathe.

You struggled to play with your clit at the same time, too focused on Yunho’s hard breathing pouring through your headphones as you pumped your fingers inside your sopping wet hole again and again. If you didn’t think too hard, this almost felt like he was here, and you imagined your hand on your breast was larger as you squeezed and toyed with it. 

“Keep going, princess,” he breathed out, voice fighting to remain level. “Shit, I wish I was there … you’ve seen my hands before. My fingers would stuff that pussy so nicely … fuck, wish I was touching you. Wish it was your mouth on my cock instead of my own hand.”

Drool was spilling from your pursed lips just from the thought of his dick in your mouth. You didn’t care if he pulled your hair or shoved your face into his groin – you would kill for just a taste. “Please.” The word slipped from your mouth before turning into a plea. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

He chuckled darkly, and then let out a deep grunt, the kind of sound you liked to hear when you cupped a guy’s balls while he was inside you. You imagined Yunho would like that too. “At some point,” he huffed, slowing his strokes. “For now, I want you to put three fingers inside of you, and then we can cum together. You think you can cum for me, princess?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, too lost in the pleasure to utter a real word. You hardly waited for his go ahead, shoving a third finger inside your pussy so quick that you almost orgasmed on the spot. Now, this was what being full felt like, but you knew, somehow, that this was nothing to what his cock would feel like. Your jaw unhinged as you fucked three fingers inside of you, your hips bucking to grind against the heel of your palm. Through your headphones, you heard him fist his cock faster, all wet and sticky and damn near sloppy. His deep breathing had to be the hottest thing you’d ever heard in your life, next to how his voice vibrated when he got angry while in game. You wondered if his voice trembled like that in real life while fucking into you deep from behind.

Jeez. Had you always been this much of a pervert?

Before you could come to terms with that assumption, Yunho was groaning in your ear, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, already on the precipice of shattering, “I’m cl–”

It happened before you could even comprehend what was happening. Your hips stuttered, and it felt like a dam breaking as your fingers curled at your g-spot, soaking them with your own cum. You cried out his name, which was all that he needed to finish, ropes of hot, white seed probably blanketing his chest. God, you wished you could see it. You wished he could see you, cumming all over your fingers while thinking about him. There was something so depraved, yet embarrassingly hot about all of this, but you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up when your heart rate settled and you realized what you both had done.

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up in your chair, staring at laptop screen. Both of you were as silent as ghosts. Your mouth opened, then closed, unsure of what to say. “I –”

“Goodnight,” he said abruptly, ending the call before you had the chance.

YunhoGizer99 [10:49 AM]: we shouldn’t do that again

You [10:55 AM]: agreed

YunhoGizer99 [10:56 AM]: not that I didn’t like it

You [10:56 AM]: I didn’t assume that at all

YunhoGizer99 [10:59 AM]: it’s just not a good idea

You [11:01 AM]: again agreed

YunhoGizer99 [11:03 AM]: oh, okay. great. so we’re both on the same page

You [11:04 AM]: definitely

You [11:12 AM]: things are gonna be weird now between us, right? [UNSENT]

Days turned into weeks, and then months. You couldn’t remember the last time you opened your PC, let alone talked to Yunho. As dumb as it sounded in your head, you couldn’t bring yourself to play your favorite game, the best outlet you ever found to pour all the rage from the day into. You tried to find something else to play, but nothing was suiting your fancy. 

You felt silly. It was silly – not doing a hobby you enjoyed just because you were avoiding Yunho of all people. Even worse that this was over a stupid video game.

So you did what you always did: throw yourself into work, even though that was the very thing you needed to be distracted from in the first place. You came home most nights exhausted, frustrated with yourself over your lack of productivity. There was just so much to be done and so little time to do it. Your mind was racing again most nights, leaving you tossing and turning, or even worse: scrolling through dating apps. Not that you were actually going on dates right now. Not that you were actually talking to any men, left to your own devices on lonely nights with the memory of Yunho’s voice in your ear. 

Your therapist told you that you needed to find another outlet. And you were trying. But you were still so embarrassed over what happened with – ugh. If you thought his name again, you might implode.

In a strange turn of events, your company extended an offer to all the data analysts to attend a conference out of state next weekend, and you thought this was the perfect opportunity to get yourself out of your usual routine. You had absolutely no clue why there could be a conference about your chosen field, but hey, a free trip was a free trip. So you packed up your carry-on suitcase the day before, and headed off to the airport after about only 4 hours of sleep. You prayed that no one would be able to tell.

The conference was being held in a swanky hotel just off LAX. You were greeted by the sight of palm trees and trash on the ground, pollution heavy in the air. But still, the weather was nicer than you imagined. The hotel was all plush carpets and expensive furniture, and after checking, you realized they were using Egyptian cotton sheets. A small card was placed on your bed that listed all the events happening this weekend. There was a cocktail hour and dinner tonight, even an arcade being hosted just off from the ballroom.

You got yourself ready, sliding into the most work-appropriate dress you owned: a high-neck, black dress that showed just enough of your legs to be a little sultry, but still suitable for a conference. After slipping on your comfiest pair of heels, you headed down to the cocktail hour, hoping to find some man that would talk your ear off so you wouldn’t have to speak a word tonight.

Unfortunately, you might’ve arrived too early. There were only a few groups of people grabbing drinks, and the solitude of it all made you want to die. Everyone was so engaged in conversation, it was hard to even introduce yourself. You sipped your lemon drop martini in a corner, fighting the urge to scratch your nails against your palm. Maybe the arcade they’re hosting is open, you assumed. Everyone could be there.

There were a significant amount of people in the arcade being held next to the ballroom. As you passed, you could already see that every table was decorated for dinner. This might be the fanciest event you ever been to. No wedding had an arcade like this either. The room was filled with vintage games, even some from your childhood. You remembered playing Street Fighter with your friends at a local pizza shop after school, before it was replaced by an oversized fish tank. Everyone was yelling at the screens in front of them, or mingling by the Dance Dance Revolution booth. The bright Street Fighter visuals reflected in your eyes, and you smiled at the memories of years past.

“I used to play this too at a penny arcade,” a voice said beside you. “Hard to imagine that this is still around.”

You never thought your blood could run cold until now. Your body froze, the grip on your martini glass tight. Because you knew that voice. You knew what he sounded like when he was annoyed, his laughter, even how he moaned while cumming in his hand.

Turning your head, you realized you had to look up at the man beside you. He had tufts of wavy, dark brown hair on his forehead, with a straight nose and eyes so dark they reminded you of a night sky. His lips looked like they were constantly graced with a smirk, slightly wet from dragging his tongue at the corners. He was lanky in all the right places, yet toned, with wide set shoulders, stuffed into a pressed white button-up and well-fitting dress pants. His shirt was just open enough at the top to show the tiny chain sitting on his collarbones, a small pearl pendant in the middle.

You almost didn’t want to say anything. Maybe you could pretend to be mute, anything to survive these next couple of days without him finding out who you were. But your mouth was opening before you could stop it, your voice loud enough even over the volume in the arcade.

“Yunho?” You said, eyes growing wide.

His smirk dropped. He would’ve dropped the glass of beer in his hand if it wasn’t so heavy. Both of you stayed eerily silent, the vivid lights of the arcade room flashing around you. All the people in this room had absolutely no clue what went down between you two during a voice chat months ago.

He grabbed your arm, his grip firm as he pulled you out of the arcade and into the main hall hosting the cocktail hour. Sending a soft smile to anyone who passed by, he let go of you once you reached a corner, and you looked up at him again. Jesus, he was taller than you ever expected.

“Yunho?” You said again, tilting your head to get a good look at his eyes. “YunhoGizer99?”

“Okay, well, don’t say it out loud and remind me how ridiculous it is,” he remarked, setting his glass down on a nearby end table. He then called out your old username, which you confirmed with a nod.

You arched a brow. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was invited here,” he argued, “through work.”

It was then that you were reminded that you both worked in the same field. “So was I.”

Yunho lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you were able to study his fingers in real life. You had only seen them in a photo that one time, and they were … longer than you assumed. Nails only slightly manicured, especially for a man his age, with tiny wisps of hair at the knuckles. You had to swallow hard to stop yourself from drooling.

“This is a mess,” he finally said.

“You’re telling me.” You gulped down the last of your lemon drop, placing the empty glass on a waiter’s tray as he walked by.

He lowered his eyes on you again, and you never expected that they could have such an edge to them. “What happened to you?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. His lip curled slightly to one side. “We stopped talking. I never saw you online again.”

“I …” Your eyes darted around the room, looking for just about anyone to grab and get out of this conversation. But there was no one close enough. Besides Yunho. “I found something else to do with my time.”

He snickered, “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, and it was so cocky that you weren’t sure if you were pissed off or turned on. He had so much confidence for a guy who worked in data science and spent most of his time in his apartment playing Valorant. 

Your eyes narrowed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Preferably, the truth.”

“Yunho –”

They were called into the ballroom then for dinner, and you shuffled off in your heels before he had the chance to grab you. You meandered through the crowd of analysts, trying to find your name card printed on a table, when it finally appeared near the middle of the room. You looked around at the people gathering at your table and – just your fucking luck.

Yunho plopped down in the seat beside you, both of your backs as stiff as boards as you fought to make eye contact. Waiters were already starting to hand out the first course as a speaker got up on the stand to introduce what seminars would be included this weekend. You could hardly hear anything but the ringing in your eyes, desperate to find a way out of this. 

“You’re really not gonna talk to me, huh?” Yunho muttered, trying not to draw attention to the two of you.

You shook your head. “Not now.”

“Why not?” His tone was almost pleading. “It’s not like I could’ve done this months ago with the way you were avoiding me.”

Your head snapped in his direction, and your voice was low as you whispered, “Because I’m done with this conversation.”

His hand was on your thigh then, his palm hot against your skin and the hem of your skirt hiking just a little. You paused, both looking at each other, no one else knowing that he was touching you like this underneath the table. His eyes were slightly dangerous, studying you, despite his innocent demeanor. Then his mouth were curling again, especially when he noticed the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“You sure about that?”

Without a second thought, you stood up, walking out of the room and leaving your seat abandoned. You didn’t care that people were watching you. You just needed to get out of here. Only a minute after, you could hear footsteps following you. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was, and maybe … just maybe … you secretly wanted him to do this. Yunho followed you to an empty coat closet near the kitchens, locking the door from the inside as soon as you both stepped inside. Empty racks were littered amongst the room, an old couch that looked like it had once been in the main lobby now deserted to the corner of a closet.

You stepped around him, back pressing against the locked door, as if that could get you away from the situation that you made. Hands laid flat against the wooden surface, you fought the urge to fist them, to let out the frustration bubbling inside you. But you remained collected – somehow – even with Yunho’s simmering gaze following your every move.

“What is your problem with me?” You damn near barked.

“My problem?” He mocked, and his voice suddenly made your thighs squeeze together more. “I just want to know why you started avoiding me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you oblivious?” The last thing you wanted to do was spell it out for him, but unfortunately, that might be the case. “I was embarrassed, Yunho. And the way you reacted the day after didn’t help. I didn’t want to face you after that.”

“You could’ve just told me that months ago,” he said, so nonchalantly, walking close until your feet were touching. “We were friends.”

“Were,” you repeated, as if trying to taste it on your tongue. 

He smirked a little, head leaning down until you both were eye level. You swallowed hard. “It’s difficult to imagine us as friends after admitting that I wanted to ruin you.” His tongue dragged over his bottom lip, and you were hypnotized. You had wondered what that tongue could do to you for months. “Can I tell you something? Since you obviously don’t want to talk to me again after this.”

You nodded dumbly. Words were beginning to fail you.

“I tend to think about that call between us at least once a day,” he continued, his voice deep, even. “It never fails to make me hard.”

Your pupils widened.

“Sometimes I’ll remember the way you moaned my name while I jerk off.” His eyes flickered to your lips, watching your teeth sink into them once again. You could feel his growing hardness against your thigh now. “But nothing will ever compare to how it sounded in the moment.”

He then sighed, so out of the blue, and straightened his back. Just when his lips were inches from yours, he pulled away. You were like a fish and he was dangling the bait. “Too bad you’re done with me now. We have closure and can go our separate ways. If you’ll excuse me …” He reached out to unlock the door, but you slammed your hand on it so fast you almost yelped.

Your eyes never left his, and he grinned, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. And honestly, you didn’t care. Your legs were shaking now, desperate. “You’re not going anywhere,” you said, palm slowly sliding off the lock to play with the loose thread on your dress. “I want …”

His brow raised. “What do you want?”

“I want you to ruin our friendship again.”

“What is there to ruin?” He chuckled, leaning down once more, his mouth so close to yours that his hot breath was making your cheeks heat. “We stopped being friends months ago, princess.”

Your hands locked around his collar, tugging him the short distance to smash his mouth onto yours. The kiss felt like a bruise, aching and swollen, but you decided then that any mark by him would be a blessing. He didn’t touch you yet. Instead, he kept his large hands on the door, shaking the surface and caging your body into his. Slotting his knee between your legs, your skirt hiked up and you didn’t bother to tug it back down. It was like your hips had a mind of their own, rubbing up and down the meat of his thigh, and you sighed into his mouth. Your lips tried to move away – wanting him to hear you, since he loved those sounds so much – but he wouldn’t let you. He needed to taste you from the inside out. 

If your mouth was this sweet, the arousal seeping into his pants must taste like candy.

You didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, your ass was hitting the cushion of the vintage couch. How did he move you without touching you? You were sure that if he had his hands on you, you would’ve felt it. His touch practically burned your skin when his hand met your inner thigh under the table earlier. But he was sitting you down now, detaching his lips from yours and standing up to his full height. You felt so small then: sitting there in front of him, cheeks flushed red and pupils blown wide. Your skirt was hitched so far up he could almost see your panties, the whole dress feeling so constricting now. 

He wiped away the trail of spit that seemed to connect you two, and he kicked one of your legs more open. “I want you to show me,” he said breathily, adjusting his pants.

Jesus, you thought, staring at the prominent bulge, is that a third leg?

“Show you what exactly?” You finally replied.

His smile was like a threat. “Show me how you made yourself cum all those months ago.”

You just stared at him, not believing what he was asking. Minutes ago, you told him how embarrassed you’d been after the voice chat situation, and now he wanted you to masturbate in front of him? You wanted to say no, call him a sick, perverted freak and walk out the door before finding the next flight home. But … oh, god, but he’d hardly even touched you and it felt like you were dripping between your legs. You were so soaked that your panties were clinging to you, uncomfortable and sticky. You needed him to touch you, but if your own fingers had to suffice, then you would do it. God knows that’s all you’ve been getting off with for a while.

He put his hands up in mock surrender, stepping back slightly and leaning against one of the empty coat racks, giving you some room. Your legs pried apart, your skirt bunched up around your waist now, before bringing them up to your chest. He saw all of you then, and you could feel your heart batter against your ribcage, practically visible through the tight fabric of your dress. You pulled your panties to the side, and you noticed his hand flex for the first time at the sight of your exposed folds, weeping with arousal for him. 

He watched you. And you watched him. Despite the fact that you wanted to fucking die at putting yourself in this scenario, you used two fingers to open yourself up and started rubbing tight circles on your clit. Heat pooled in your stomach, a tight coil bunching in your abdomen, as you worked yourself. Your teeth clenched as he grazed a single finger over his top lip, and you finally let out a soft cry of his name when you sunk one digit inside yourself.

“I think you could take two,” he commented.

Your breath hitched, fucking a single finger inside of yourself as your thumb flicked at your clit. You swallowed hard before muttering in short breaths, “Or you could … do it … for me.”

“Nuh-uh,” he snickered. “I fuck you when I want to fuck you. Now, two fingers.”

You didn’t think twice. Two fingers curled inside of you, stretching your walls for his eyes only. You whimpered, still in disbelief at what was happening. What was it about Yunho that made you turn into putty, that made you demean yourself so easily? Maybe it was the way he held himself. Even in something as silly as a video game, he commanded a room. He was intimidating – even when he didn’t want to be, even when he was friendly.

He was certainly not being friendly right now, watching you fuck yourself dumb on your fingers. “Yunho,” you whined, “please. I want to cum on your fingers, not mine. I … I’ve thought about it since that call. Come on, please don’t be an asshole. Pleeeeeeease.”

“Well,” he said evenly, “are you about to cum?”

You felt that coil in your stomach tighten even more. You were so close to release that if you rubbed your clit even faster, you’d tumble into the same ecstasy that you brought yourself to every night in the comfort of your own bed. Head nodding, you couldn’t even form the words to express how you felt. Your body felt like it was on fire and the only thing that could extinguish it was cumming all over his fingers. Or wherever he wanted, for that matter.

Yunho nodded, quickly closing the distance between you two once again and smacking your wrist out of the way. “You don’t get to cum yet,” he said, nearly dragging your hand out from between your legs. You gasped and your mouth dropped in surprise. You had just been on the precipice and it was just … stolen from you. By Yunho.

“What the hell?!” You whispered loudly, instantly aware that this coatroom might not be soundproof. “I was doing everything you asked of me.”

“Just like how I decide when I want to fuck you,” he smiled, “I also decide when you cum.”

You fingers twitched as he held your wrist. His gaze softened slightly, and then he asked, “That okay?”

You saw a flicker of the Yunho you’d always known, the flicker of the innocent man behind the alarming demeanor. It was enough to make your heartbeat skyrocket again, and you nodded at his question.

He tipped his head, finally looking at your hand that was locked in his grip. Your slick dripped down your fingers – warm, inviting. Yunho had to stop himself from taking them in his mouth and sucking them dry. He’d taste you eventually. Maybe not tonight, but someday, he’d bury his face between your thighs for hours. 

Using one hand, he tugged off his belt and let it clatter around his hips. He pushed down his pants a bit, pulling his cock out from his soaked boxers. Precum beaded at the tip, leaking onto the musty carpet below you. With one hand holding his cock and the other clutching your wrist, he commanded, “I want you to take these wet fingers and paint my cock with them.”

He let go your wrist, and you didn’t hesitate. You sat up, reaching out and tracing his pretty pink tip with your slick fingers. Veins ran down his shaft, which was darker than his pale skin tone, and you grazed them, coating him with your essence. He was longer than you ever expected; you could probably cover his entire length in your two hands. You looked up at him when you gripped him at the base, silently asking permission, and he nodded. “I wanna be covered in you,” he whispered.

You stroked him slowly, feeling his cock twitch in your grasp, his precum slipping down your knuckles and mixing with your own essence. He threw his head back and grunted, “Oh, fuck.” His eyes closed, and when you viewed up at him while you squeezed him at the head, you wondered if this was exactly how he looked when he jerked off on the phone with you. Had he been in just some sweatpants, the waistband pushed down to accommodate his length, and a cheap t-shirt? Something so simple as he threw his head back and fucked his hand while asking you to finger yourself. You were kicking yourself now for not asking him to turn his camera on because this … this was a sight. 

Your hand was moving faster and the other cupped one of his aching balls, wishing he had asked you to put one in your mouth. Drool might be slipping down your chin now; you weren’t exactly sure. You just needed something in your mouth or you might just combust –

It was like he could sense you were about to moan his name and ask, because he placed a hand over your mouth. Your eyes went wide, and you squeezing his other ball, making his hips jump. “Shit, fuck, I might –” His eyes snapped open, and before you could even blink, he pushed your hand off his cock.

When his palm moved off your mouth to shove his pants and boxers to his knees, you frantically asked, “Did I do something wrong –”

“I’ll be damned if I cum in your hand and not inside of you,” he replied, turning you so that your back was hitting the cushion and yanking you to the armrest of the couch. He peeled your panties off with precision. Swiping a single finger in the air, he said, “Open your legs more.”

The back of your thighs were resting on the armrest, your feet angling off, and you did your best to spread yourself for him. You just wished he took your dress off. You wanted his hands all over you, squeezing and marking wherever he pleased. The temperature in this closet was sweltering, and your dress wasn’t helping. But everything about this was quick, dirty, raw. You weren’t going to get your way no matter how much you begged.

He tapped your weeping slit with the head of his cock. Your hips bucked and you gripped the sides of the couch to stop yourself from falling off. “You like that, princess?” He smirked, repeating the action. “Are you sure you can fit me inside you?”

You nodded, too cock drunk and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

“Hmm … I’m not so sure.” He made his point by pushing just the tip in, and you felt the stretch immediately. He loomed over you, tilting his head as he looked down. “It’s gonna be a tight fit, princess,” he chastised, shoving another inch inside and making you choke, “but I think you can take it.”

It felt like the wind was being knocked out of you with each brutal push of his long cock. But when he was seated fully, leaning down over you so you could feel his teeth grazing your jaw, you finally felt like you could breathe again. “Look at you,” he cooed, one hand snaking up to capture your own, pinning your wrists above your head. “Such a good girl.”

He still wasn’t moving. He was reminding you how full this felt, how all the guys you had complained about to him over voice chat were always going to be nothing compared to this. Compared to him. You were made to fit him and he was made to take you. You felt him deep, so deep you could hardly move your hips. His lips dragged down your jugular, nipping, as his free hand pressed down on your stomach, feeling how far he was nestled inside. He practically snarled against your skin.

“I’m gonna fuck you now and you’re gonna cum all over my cock before I fill you up,” he said, almost casually. “Understood?”

“Yes, Yunho,” you breathed.

He pulled out until only the head remained, and then slammed right back into you. Your back arched off the old cushion, jerking as he held your wrists down. His thrusts were ruthless, each one feeling different than the next, as he tried to find that place that would make you see stars. It was only when he curved his hips to the left that he got a choked moan to fall from your lips, and he grinned big, like he just won a brutal 5 on 5 tournament. He hit it again, making you scream, “Fuck, Yunho, oh my god –”

He latched his mouth onto yours, swallowing your moans as he fucked into you hard. You felt exactly how he imagined, tight and warm and just for him. He wouldn’t tell you this until later, but you had the prettiest pussy he ever seen, the best one he ever felt. Like every shit date and all your frustrations had led up to this moment where you two could meet in person at a stupid conference and he could fuck you in an abandoned coat closet. 

You let out another desperate whimper when he leaned back, tugging your lip between his teeth. Your mouth was swollen from his kiss, but he wasn’t done with you yet. Not until he filled this perfect pussy with his seed, not until you were dripping with him like he always imagined. “Can’t have you too loud, princess,” he chuckled, slamming into you again. Your response was in an anguished plea. “Wanna cum?”

You nodded, lips pursed slightly. Spit dribbled from the corner. Lipgloss smeared onto your chin. 

Yunho’s lips spread wide. “Beg me.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and you struggled to lift your hips, trying to meet his to get yourself over that peak again. It was no use. You were too full of him and he was too heavy on top of you. This was torture, and he was playing you like a controller. 

A sick part of you loved this far too much.

“Princess,” he said calmly, oh so carefully, “use your words and beg me to let you cum.”

You let out the loudest sigh, eyes snapping open as you met his dark gaze. You bit your lip for a moment longer before whispering, “Please, let me cum.”

He bobbed his head, trying to decide if that was good enough as he nudged your g-spot once again.

“Fuck, oh my god, okay, please –” You let in a sharp intake as he filled you again and again with his thick cock, making sure your pussy was molded to fit him. “Yunho, please, let me cum. Pleasepleaseplease. I need you. I need to cum on your cock so bad. Pleeeeeeease.”

You could feel his smile as his lips ghosted over your ear. “That’s what I like to hear.” His hand slipped off your wrists finally, reaching between your bodies so he could rub your clit while fucking into you. “Now, cum on my cock like a good girl.”

And he made it so easy to. His long, slender fingers rubbed you just right while his cock pistoned into you had you hurtling towards an orgasm so fast that you forgot how to exhale. Your arms locked around his neck, anchoring yourself to his broad body, as you clenched around him and cried his name into the crook. Your walls milked his cock, cumming for what felt like forever and making him groan into your shoulder. He didn’t realize when, but at some point, he stopped fucking you and released. He felt his vision go bright, his brain short circuiting as he moaned and actually whined for you. His hot seed painted your insides white, marking you as his, letting your pussy take all he had to give. And when it felt like he was finally done, he held himself above you, breathing heavy against your earlobe. Your body shivered when you felt him press a ghost of a kiss at the shell.

He moved his head, wanting to look at your eyes, how fucked-out you looked underneath him. His cock softened, but still twitched slightly inside you. Distracting you from his release dripping down your thighs, he traced a single finger over your top lip, like he had done to himself minutes ago. Or had it been an hour at this point? You weren’t so sure.

“So,” he laughed, his smile warm and innocent, “you think we can play nice for the rest of the weekend?”

tag list: @taz-97 @bumbleteas @healingmv @skzbangchanniee @koliki @novawon @cherryhwa-02 @moxhi7 @yvnhoos @lalataitai @bloomyroses @ackermansass @soupbinlily

[thedropsofblood]

A wolf in hunter's clothing

Warnings: Dub-con, age gap (????), mostly gender neutral but made with male reader in mind, size difference, started as rough -> slightly sweet mid-way, bratty reader, overstimulation, blindfolding, implied obsessive behaviour.

Word count: 8k

Minors DNI, do not report, I WILL cry /nsrs

Isekai, the act of transporting a person from earth to a different planet, world, universe, usually of a novel or a video game. It was a childish concept that you haven't bothered and never intended to look into, until you got 'isekaied' yourself.

Unlike what your younger siblings have told you, instead of beautiful vast magical worlds filled with sub-human species and a logical storyplot, you ended up in the most boring case scenario, a fairy tale. Specifically, the "Red Riding Hood" children's book that fell out of the shelf and onto the ground next to you while you were at a bookstore.

As any normal person does, you picked up the book, hoping to put it back to it's original spot, but got your body sucked into the pages instead. To be fair, it could've been worse, so, so much worse. You luckily didn't become the new Red Riding Hood, instead, you became the older brother of the Red Riding Hood.

It's not as bad as it sounds, like, you have a loving and caring family of both parents and an adorable younger sister, as well as a grandmother who you occasionally visits for the first 18 years of your life. What more could you ask for?

The life of your younger sister, that's what you could ask for. Even if they're technically not real, you couldn't help but care for them, care for the years of family meetings, the little happy moments, the vacations, even something as trivial as a meal together. And yet, imagine how your heart sunk in once you heard your mother tell your sister to deliver the cookies to your grandmother tomorrow after hearing rumors of the hunter being on break on the same day.

It made your anxiety levels go wayhire. Your sister's and your grandmother's life depended on the hunter after all, what would happen to them if there's no more hunter? Will they die under the wolf's hands? Can you even escape this book if they die?

.

.

.

Would you be trapped here forever then? What about your family outside of this? Would they even still remember you after 18 years? Worse, what if they just, hate you now?

Why should you even leave this place if that's the case?...

You crawled onto a ball on your bed, hugging onto the soft pillow in search of even a little bit of comfort. This place wasn't real, none of this is, your world was simply a scramble of words combined together by some random old man hundreds of years back, hell, you weren't even supposed to be here, why would you care if your supposed 'sister' and 'grandmother' dies?

Yet you found yourself restless. You had an idea on what to do, god knows if it'll work, but... It'll never hurt to try, right?

You throw your pillow away and change into warmer clothes, turning off the lights before sneaking out of the house through the window, heading directly towards the bright tavern in the middle of the town.

"Brother, why are you not eating? Do you not like it?" The voice of your sister knocked you right out of your thoughts, scrambling to take a bite out of the sandwich she made for you.

"No no- it's good, it's good, I'm just thinking about what I need to get for groceries." Your sister barely bought your excuse, barely. You can still see her crossing her arms and pouting in the corner of your eyes. She was glaring at you for a few solid minutes, as if trying to pry the truth from you. With a huff, she leaned back against the chair and muttered under her breath.

"Remember to buy some candy for me while you're at it then, I'm gonna go now. I don't wanna leave grandma waiting." You let out a mental sigh of relief, ruffling your little sister's hair. "You're just as childish as ever." You chuckled.

Before you sister leaves, she jumped into your arms to give you a hug causing a small smile escapes from your mouth. Your hand reached up to pat her on the head, if you had to be honest, you don't know if you regret your deal with the hunter or not anymore.

"Shit... If I knew slacking off would get you on my dick, I would've taken so many vacations."

The hunter chuckled, leaning in to place a loving kiss on your forehead. You pushed his head back to give him a glare, well, as best as a glare could be with the blindfold covering your eyes. You barked, gritting your teeth as you tried to kick him in the stomach.

"Shut the fuck up and just get it done with already. This deal was only for my family, bastard. Bet you can't even get anyone else to get into bed with you without forcing them into shitty deals-" Your words were cut mid way when he firmly slapped you across your face, his other hand gripping your ankle and hosteling your leg onto his shoulder.

You hissed in annoyance, yet a part of you felt pride for successfully pissing the hunter off. You can only assume what his face was like right now, is he glaring down at you like a lamb in the slaughter or is that stupid smug smirk on his face away? You didn't even have time to guess twice before he shoved his fingers into your mouth with a firm "Suck."

You held yourself back from laughing when you got your answer immediately, this guy was pissed as fuck. You decided to comply anyways, sucking on his fingers and making sure to bite them lightly as you pulled back.

"Sweetheart, did nobody teach you to not play with fire?" His hand wandered down to thrust his fingers roughing into you, his other hand gripping onto your chin to muffle your noises with a kiss.

This fucking bastard didn't even give you a warning before he turned you into puddy over his fingers, you bit onto the bottom of his lips, but instead of him pulling away, he continued on, ignoring the way you clawed onto his back as if you were trying to murder him.

Your hands reach up to try and remove your blindfold out of annoyance, leading to his hand snapping up to hold your wrists together, the other one pulling out of you to unbuckle his belt. "Good boys don't disobey their orders, sweetheart." He chuckled half-heartedly.

That scratched you in the worst way possible, but before you could even react, he thrust the tip of his dick into you, stealing all the air out of your lungs. "Fucking! Ugh- Warn me!" Your nails dug onto your palm, you felt like all your body strength just disappeared into thin air.

You didn't even have time to complain about it after he thrusted fully into you, huffing at the sight of your body shaking like a leaf under him. It was adorable how your attitude went away as soon as he entered, but to be fair, you would probably be more horrified when you realized his dick made a small bump on your stomach.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled, placing a kiss on your forehead as he started moving at a fairly gentle pace. He freed your wrists to grip onto your hips, leaning forward to place comforting kisses on your neck. "Come on, let me hear those beautiful noises of yours, sweetheart."

You bit the bottom of your lip to the point of drawing blood, your hands gripping onto the bedsheets underneath to the point of your knuckles turning white. Despite your efforts, some small muffled noises still managed to escape your throat, which was enough for him to speed up his ravage with a satisfied grin.

"You're truly so, so adorable, sweetheart." He groaned, hugging you and burying his face into your collarbone. Your hand moved to grip onto his hair to try and push him away, but it barely felt like anything to him due to the lack of strength in your body. Your antics didn't last long anyways, you were already a cock-drunk moaning mess under him, and at this point, he thinks he likes you better this way.

Those thoughts made him bite your neck roughly as he threw away all self control he had, prioritizing on chasing his own pleasure instead. You wouldn't have complained if you didn't get overstimulated from that, you already came a few moments beforehand, and he didn't even give you a break from abusing your sweet spot even more.

You couldn't be bothered to try and stay quiet when you felt like you would break under him. As a warm feeling filled your stomach, you felt lightheaded as you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down from the climax.

He pulled you into a hug, his hand patting you on the back of your head as he pulled out and rested you on your side. Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt a kiss on your cheek as he muttered something you couldn't make out.

A/N: This was supposed to be wolf X reader but I felt like writing some dilfs today, wondering if I should start writing more dilfs...

[bi-writes]

ok i have this idea for alpha!ghost and omega!reader. this is a very, very rough draft and is not even close to anything with real meat, but i would like to get some early feedback about this idea i have.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it around your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't--"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised--"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply.

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

"I can't--"

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to--"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head sing. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."

[amxritt]

Wrong Code

Tim Bradford x f!reader

summary: after a home security mix-up Y/n lands herself in a holding cell

part 2 — lattes

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: wrongful arrest, fluff

It was supposed to be a chill morning. y/n was in her sweatpants, hair in a loose braid, and slippers as she padded up to her friend’s house. She was dog sitting for the week while her friend was away shooting for a new movie. She was happy to get a break from the chaos of her job, or so she thought.

y/n typed the code into the keypad next to the front door.

Beep. Beep. Error.

Weird.

She tried again.

Beep. Error.

Panic started to fizz under her skin. She was sure this was the right code.

The alarm went off—blaring, screeching, end-of-the-world kind of loud.

“Oh my god,” y/n muttered, fumbling with her phone and the slip of paper with the override code on it. Her fingers were shaking. “It’s fine, it’s fine…”

It was not fine.

The alarm company had already pinged the LAPD. Neighbors peeked out of windows, one of them already on the phone. And then—

Flashing red and blue lights.

A black-and-white cruiser pulled up, and outstepped two officers. y/n froze mid-button press.

“Ma’am,” Bradford called out, hand near his holster. “Step away from the door. Put your hands where I can see them.”

“I live here!” she yelped, then immediately corrected herself. “No—I don’t live here. I’m dog sitting! My friend’s an actress! She’s in—where is she filming? Italy? No, no—France! It’s in France—”

Chen raised a brow. Bradford was already walking toward her, expression unreadable. “Ma’am, we have a report of a suspected break-in. I need you to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” y/n lied, hands shaking as she gestured to her slippers. “Would a burglar wear slippers? These are bunny slippers!”

“Regardless, we’ll have to take you into custody until we can confirm your story,” Bradford said, matter-of-fact. “You have the right to remain—”

“Wait!” Y/n blurted. “Can I at least let the dog out first? He hasn’t been out since last night and I really don’t want him to pee on the couch.”

Tim blinked. It was the kind of request no perp ever made.

He looked at Chen. She gave him a “don’t-look-at-me” shrug.

“Make it quick,” he muttered, unlocking the door.

y/n dashed in, the dog—a fluffy golden retriever named Henry—bounding up to her in joy. “Hi, baby!” she cooed, then opened the back door. Henry zoomed outside, tail wagging, barking at the wind.

Bradford watched her carefully, arms crossed, but something in his stern face had shifted. Just a little.

“He needs to run a bit or he’s going to go stir crazy,” she pleaded, throwing a tennis ball for Henry. “Please. My friend won’t be back for days. I swear, if she would just pick up—”

“You have five minutes,” Bradford relented, jaw still tight.

She looked at him gratefully, cheeks flushed, and that was when he really noticed her. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The messy braid. The oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. She didn’t look like a criminal. She looked… soft. Real.

Eventually, she returned inside, scooping up Henry’s water bowl and refilling it. “Alright,” she said, voice small. “Let’s go.”

Tim gently took her wrist. “Sorry, but we still have to cuff you.”

“Even if I’m cooperating?”

“Policy.”

“Ugh,” she muttered, holding her wrists out dramatically. “Do what you must, Officer Serious.”

—

Six hours. That’s how long y/n say in the holding cell.

Her one phone call? Straight to voicemail.

By the fifth hour, even Officer Chen had brought her a granola bar and an apologetic look. “We’re really sorry,” she said softly. “We know it’s a mistake, but we have to follow protocol.”

Y/n sighed, head in her hands.

At hour six, the holding cell buzzed open and Bradford appeared.

“She called,” he said simply, unlocking the door. “You’re good to go.”

Y/n stood, rubbing her wrists, eyes wide with exhaustion and relief. “Thank God.”

—

Outside the station, she stood on the sidewalk, phone clutched in her hand, waiting for her Uber.

Bradford’s truck pulled up instead.

“Need a ride?” he asked through the open window. “Figured it’s the least i can do.”

She eyed him. “You’re off-duty?”

“Clocked out ten minutes ago.”

“Then…yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

—

They pulled up to her friend’s place twenty minutes later. y/n punched the code perfectly and gave him a pointed look as the door clicked open.

“See?” she teased. “I do know the code.”

Tim shook his head, amused.

“You hungry?” she asked suddenly, turning in the doorway.

He hesitated. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Come on. You arrested me. You can at least let me feed you. If she has anything edible in here.”

They ended up cooking pasta together—well. y/n cooked, Tim let the dog out again and insisted on washing the dishes. They sat side by side at the kitchen bar, laughing and sharing stories.

“So, be honest… do you secretly judge people by how they parallel park?” y/n asked with a slight smirk.

Tim raised an eyebrow, and gave a small chuckle, “Depends. Are we talking ‘can’t park within the lines’ or ‘curb it like they’re drunk’?”

“I mean, the ones who do a 12-point turn to squeeze into a space that’s basically a football field,” y/n replied in a playful tone, “because I nailed it in two moves out front, and I feel like I deserve some kind of medal or something.”

“Is that so?” Tim laughed lightly in response.

“It is!” she exclaimed as they both broke out laughing.

As they came down from their laughter, she leaned a little closer. “You know,” she said, voice warm, “you’re kind of cute when you’re not arresting people.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A pause.

Then Tim looked her dead in the eyes. “Go out with me.”

y/n blinked. “Like, on a date?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, honest and direct.

She grinned, eyes lighting up. “Only if you promise not to arrest me again.”

“No promises.”

They both laughed—and when he leaned in, she didn’t pull back.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. Like maybe this was the start of something neither of them had planned—but weren’t about to run from either.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

:) I’m backkkk you all thought you could get rid of me

🛕Pharaoh Tucker with his “Wifes” Sam and Danny🛕

Yes I’m bringing attention to this like why is nobody talking about this????

Now let’s get into the main plot so Danny, Sam and Tucker have to GO and fast ( GIW or bad Fenton au either or. !!!Bonus points!!! If Danny got hurt and than it would make this so much funnier y’all get what I mean in a sec) and they all go to the ghost zone where they meet up with clockwork and he tells them that one of Tuckers earlier reincarnation made a place so in the future he’s good even if he doesn’t remember it so clockwork brings them to what looks like an ancient Egyptian empire with the civilians and the people who live there as the people who died in the past {sorry if this is a bit hard to read I am very tired} and they are brought to the place where clockwork just casually reveals that Tucker is the pharaoh ie: The King and Sam, Tucker and Danny take this very well for them this is a safe place for them to heal and live with the added bonus of helping with Danny’s obsessions (Protection and Space) and after a bit they gain the affection of the people and the…Protection of the people??? Because for the people they see that one of their queen (Danny) was hurt before the royals came here so they get a bit protective and for a bit of information here’s the main jobs of the trio

Tucker taking care of the rules and doing the main running of the empire

Sam takes care of the army and gardens of the empire ( making sure they have enough food and such )

Danny takes care of the people (who grown the most fond of ) and such

So you can see what I’m going for with this now here’s where the JL comes in so the empire was NOT in the ghost zone it is in its own little world but somehow the JL gets tipped off about a triving empire that NOBODY has made contact with so a group ( Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, the flash, green lantern you know the works) goes to make contact and hopefully make allies with them so they go and are taken aback a bit by how much this place is triving and what to meet the people who made this happen so what the JL was expecting was a lest a adult but instead they got what looked like a 16-17 with what looked like two people the same aged sitting next to him on either side (!!!EXRA BONUS POINTS!!! If one of the supers helped Danny before the meeting) and someone makes the dumb decision to ask them where are the REAL rulers and the guards in the room ( who I forgot to mention ) get mad at them and become hostile to them and Sam has to clam them down and that’s all for the plot at the moment

Now on to the details let’s start with tucker I’m thinking about this

( just instead of blue it’s red) and for a head piece I’m thinking the good old classic 

It just fits

Now for Sam I’m thinking is for her outfit

But in darker colors because she’s SAM and for a head piece I’m thinking something like this

Nothing to big because she has to train the army and she’s outside a lot so if it’s anything to big I think it will just be annoying

For Danny this

Mixed with this

Because ye and for his hair piece I’m braining

This I think it looks neat

Now that’s all from me byeee

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. established relationship, sappy sappy. | wc: 2.2k, reading time: ~12 minutes

Another afternoon turns into evening while you sift through paperwork, shoving aside past due bills to make sense of the invoices for his last four missions. Did he even get paid for these? You’ll have to ask him when he gets back.

The relative quiet is interrupted by Nero, who tosses something far and hard enough across the room and onto the workbench that it echoes through the room.

“Everything okay back there?” You turn in the chair, gazing over the side of it at the scowling twenty something moving through the lobby of Devil May Cry like a tornado. “This is the tenth time you’ve slammed something in five minutes so I’m just making sure.”

Nero pauses and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Yeah but it pisses me off that Dante didn’t invite me to go with him today. He’s a cocky asshole and someday he’s going to get caught out by himself.”

The young man places down his tool with a frustrated grunt, exhaling sharply through his nose. He’s young and chomping at the bit to go. You get it yet sometimes the way he speaks about the man you love rubs you the wrong way.

You still can’t help but feel like it’s up to you to bridge the gap between the two men even if your eye has started to twitch.

You lean back in your chair, voice low but steady.

“You know, Nero, Dante’s not just the demon hunter or the reckless guy who likes to joke his way through chaos.”

Nero glances at you, eyes sharp and defensive.

“I know that.”

“No, I mean…listen to me.” You pause, gathering your words carefully. “He’s…complicated. Imperfect, like all of us but there’s something about him that most people don’t see and it’s that he’s just like his father.”

Nero’s eyes narrow as he listens.

“I mean, obviously I don’t know Sparda or anything like that, just what’s in books I've read or the little tiny bit Dante has told me about him yet I can never shake this feeling that they’re so similar.”

Leaning over the desk and propping your head up with your palm, you try to make sense of the way you’ve felt for a long time. It’s harder than you thought.

“He’s one of the kindest, most fiercely protective men I’ve ever known. Especially when it comes to women.”

You see his brow lift slightly.

“It has never been about just being strong or tough to him. He treats the women in his life with a respect that you don’t find often. Eva, even after all these years, she’s the heart of who he is. Lady and Trish? They’re more than friends or partners, they’re family. And Patty… even when he was in his darkest place, he was her protector.”

Nero’s expression softens a bit. The weight of what you’re saying starts to settle in.

“And me. He’s done more for me than I can even begin to tell you. He’s not perfect.” You laugh, shaking your head. “In fact, he’d laugh if you called him perfect. But he is a knight.. Not like the stories you hear — more real, more broken — but still a knight all the same.”

You meet Nero’s gaze, voice firmer now.

“I know you look up to him. And you should. He deserves that respect, more than most men I’ve met. Because he doesn’t just fight demons outside; he fights the ones inside himself, every day. And he does it while trying to make the world better for the people he loves.”

Nero nods slowly, swallowing something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “I needed to hear that.”

“He’s lucky to have you, too.”

The two of you share a moment — a silent understanding.

The bell above the Devil May Cry door jingles as Dante pushes it open, a gust of street wind following him in like a stray dog. His boots hit the wooden floor with their usual swagger. Whistling, low and tuneless, he strolls in, spinning Rebellion in one hand like it’s a baton instead of a sword soaked in demon blood.

He glances your way. Then at Nero.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he mutters, voice too casual as he sets Ebony and Ivory down on the workbench, turning his back under the pretense of cleaning them.

You and Nero share a quick glance. The conversation had gotten... tender. Personal. You hadn’t realized just how personal until now.

“Everything go okay out there? Are you alright?”

Your voice is quiet as you cross the room, hand reaching for his gently, like if you press too hard, he might flinch.

Dante doesn’t flinch. But he does stop. Entirely. Still facing away, though his head dips just enough to suggest he heard every word you'd said to Nero. Every single one.

He looks down at your fingers wrapped around his hand, his calloused thumb brushing yours absentmindedly.

Then he lets out a breath. It’s long and slow, like he’d been holding it since the doorway.

“You really think I’m like my old man?”

His voice is so quiet it’s barely a scrape of sound. He finally turns to face you, and it’s not the usual cocky grin he wears like armor. It’s something rawer. Stripped down. Vulnerable in a way Dante almost never allows.

You nod.

“Yes, absolutely..”

Dante’s mouth twists. Not into a smirk, but into something between disbelief and awe. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to find the lie but can’t.

“You called me a knight.”

“You are one. I know you don’t see it, but—”

“No.” His hand squeezes yours. “It’s not that I don’t see it. It’s that... no one’s ever said anything like that about me before. Not like that. Not in a way that made me wanna believe it.”

You reach up, brushing a bit of grime off his cheek, and he closes his eyes for just a second, like your touch is the first warm thing he’s felt all day.

“Maybe it’s time you started listening.”

Behind you, Nero makes some loud, exaggerated noise with a screwdriver and a chunk of metal that definitely doesn’t need fixing.

“I’m still in the room, y’know.”

Dante opens one eye and grins faintly.

“Yeah, yeah, kid. We’re just havin’ a moment. You’ll get one someday.”

“God, I hope not,” Nero mutters.

Dante laughs, really laughs, but when his eyes finally meet yours, the mirth fades, replaced by the soft gravity that ceaselessly pulls you in every time.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “I don’t know what the hell I did to earn what you said about me… but I’ll try to live up to it. Even if I think you’re a little crazy.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his for just a moment.

“You don’t have to try. You already do.”

He closes his eyes again, lets that truth settle in his bones.

Outside, the sun is setting. Inside, something else is rising, slow and sure and good. Maybe, for once, Dante doesn’t feel like just a man trying to outrun his past.

He feels like someone worth coming home as.

———

It’s late.

The Devil May Cry office is quiet now. The neon signs outside casting pale light through the window blinds. Nero’s long gone. You and Dante are left in the comfortable kind of silence that only happens when you don’t need to fill it.

He’s on the couch, one arm slung across the back of it, boots kicked off, hair still damp from the quick shower he took after getting home. You’re sitting sideways, your knees curled beneath you, tracing lazy circles over the worn fabric of his shirt where it hugs his chest.

He hasn’t said much since dinner. Just little things. A grunt here, a soft chuckle when you teased him about tracking blood into the kitchen. But now he’s quiet. Too quiet.

You look up and find him already watching you. His gaze is softer than usual. Troubled, maybe but it seems more like he’s deep in thought.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, voice rough from disuse. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod, shifting to face him fully.

“You said earlier that I’m a knight. Like my dad.”

He swallows. His throat moves, and he looks away like maybe he regrets bringing it up, as though even asking might break something sacred.

“Do you really think that? That I’m like him?”

There’s something raw in his voice. Not insecure, just wounded. Like he wants to believe it so badly but can’t quite bring himself to. Like repeating what you said aloud will make it evaporate.

You reach out, gently brushing your fingers along his jaw. He doesn’t pull away.

“I think you’re the best of him,” you say softly. “And everything he didn’t get the chance to be.”

He blinks. You see it hit him. the quiet force of your words, and you press on.

“Sparda gave up everything for love. For humanity. He protected people who would never know his name. But you? You stayed. You fight every day. You carry his legacy and your own. Not because it’s easy but because it’s right.”

You lean closer, your voice even gentler.

“You love like he did. Fiercely. Without hesitation. You protect people not just with your sword, but with your heart, even when it scares you. That’s what makes you like him. That’s what makes you better.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just breathes, slow and heavy, like your words are air in lungs that have been empty for too long.

And then he speaks, barely above a whisper.

“He was a hero.”

“So are you.”

Dante closes his eyes, like he needs a second to believe it. To let himself believe it. When he opens them again, they’re shinier than before, not tearful, just full of a kind of emotion he’s never had space for.

“You know... if he were here, I think he’d like you. You’re a lot like…”

You smile, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. He doesn’t have to finish that sentence for you to know what he means.

His mother. Eva.

“Too bad for him I’m yours.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, leans in, presses his forehead to yours. You feel his hand rest at the small of your back — grounding, steady, grateful.

“Guess that makes me the lucky one.”

The moment lingers, your forehead against his, your breath warm between you. Dante’s hand rests on your back, the other curled loosely in your lap, fingers twitching like he’s turning something over in his mind.

You know that look. You don’t rush him.

He leans back just slightly, eyes distant now, like he’s watching something that happened a lifetime ago.

“You ever think about how few memories I have of him?”

You nod.

“Sometimes I think I’ve made most of them up,” he says with a small, humorless chuckle. “Bits and pieces… like trying to hold water in my hands.”

You wait. You know what’s coming is rare.

“But there’s one I’ve never told anyone.”

He shifts, runs a hand through his hair like the memory itself makes him restless.

“I was maybe four. Real young. I’d had a dream. One of those bad ones, y’know? Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. I ran down the hall looking for Mom, but she wasn’t home. I guess she was out shopping or something. And I remember just... freezing there in the dark. Couldn’t move. My legs felt like stone.”

You squeeze his hand gently. He doesn’t stop.

“Then I felt this warm hand on my shoulder. No words, no ‘it’s okay, kiddo’. Just that hand. Big. Calloused. Strong.”

He pauses, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips.

“He didn’t pick me up or carry me. He just sat down right there in the hallway. Crossed his legs. Patted the floor beside him.”

You smile too, already picturing it.

“I sat down next to him. And we just... stayed there. For a long time. Didn’t speak. He just let me sit next to him until I could breathe again.”

Dante’s voice is quieter now, far away.

“It wasn’t a grand lesson or some legendary quote. Just...presence. Safety. He didn’t try to fix it. He was the fix.”

You feel your throat tighten. He finally looks at you.

“That’s the man everyone talks about like a myth. But to me? He was just a guy who sat on the cold floor with his scared kid in the dark until the fear passed.”

Your voice catches when you finally answer.

“That’s beautiful, Dante.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. But the way he presses your hand to his chest tells you it’s everything.

“I guess I never told anyone ‘cause I didn’t want to share it. Felt like the only real thing I had left of him.”

“And you’re giving it to me?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thick. “You earned it.”

You reach up and kiss his temple ever so softly, slowly, reverently.

“You’re more like him than you think.”

He chuckles low.

“You mean stubborn and impossible to live with?”

“I mean the kind of man who sits with someone in the dark until they can breathe again.”

His smile is quiet. Grateful. You don’t speak after that, content that all that needs to be said has been. You just sit with him — the way Sparda once did — and for a while, that’s enough.

[flipthepaige]

driver, roll up the partition, please!

includes. SMUT 18+, paige bueckers x fem! reader. public setting still somewhat private, oral, drunk and nasty, little bit of sub paige, praise and begging, grinding, makeup smudging, just all over each other…

about. after your girlfriend gets drafted number one overall, neither of you have the patience to wait until the afterparty. surely the driver won’t mind if paige celebrates a little early… right?

ju speaks. incase you didn’t know, i am @ohbueckers :) mama had to make a whole new blog, but she’s back! this is a bit of filth but i haven’t wrote any good smut in so long so i poured it all out here lol. p gets drafted in less than a month, let’s cope the right way, amen!

“Driver, roll up the partition, please!”

She says it all politely, like her lips aren’t as red as a cherry and swollen, like your hands haven’t untucked and found their way up under her dress shirt, nails scraping over the ridges of her abs, like she hasn’t been grinding against you for the last two blocks, all while tasting like champagne and every bad decision you were always going to make tonight. Your leg is hiked up over her lap, and she’s been kissing you like she doesn’t give a damn that the limo is still moving, that you’re supposed to be on your way to the afterparty, that there’s a whole world outside this car waiting to celebrate her—number one overall, finally Dallas’ rookie.

The second she stood up, walked across that stage, and held up that jersey, she was already thinking about getting back to you. And when she did, when she came striding over, still grinning like a kid on Christmas, the most anticipated person in the room but still just your girl, she grabbed you like she needed proof this was real.

Her arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like she was scared someone might try to take you from her. You smiled up at her, and expressed how proud you were, of course. Her lips brushed your forehead, and she made sure you heard the six words that followed, whispering into your hair, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

This time, your mouth is on her neck before she even finishes her sentence, nipping and sucking at her skin, breathing in her Valentino like you can pick apart every ingredient in it. Too eager for manners, and way too far gone to care, you don’t even hear the driver’s muttered response, not even the hum of the partition sliding up and clicking into place. No more audience. No more distractions. Just you and her. Atleast for a couple more miles.

And Paige? Back like she never left, like she needed that barrier up before she could really lose herself in you. “Ain’t even gon’ take ya time with it?” she teases, smiling as her hands slide down, find the swell of your ass, squeeze like she’s been dying to do it all night. “Fuck, y’so impatient,” she mutters, tilting her head back just enough to let you work, and when you bite down just right, she shivers, the pads of her fingers tightening against your shoulder for some sense of stability.

“Mhm?” You grin against her throat, licking over the marks you just left. “You wanna do something about it?”

Paige groans, large hands already pushing the fabric of your dress up over your hips. The amount of need in her movements is overwhelming, because she’s been too good the entire night. She’s been sitting pretty at that table, shaking hands, doing interviews, feeling your eyes on her and knowing she couldn’t do shit about it. Not yet.

And now she’s got you all to herself.

Paige never does anything halfway, and that includes kissing you like she’s trying to ruin you. Your tongues move all sloppy, the sounds even nastier than the kiss, and you swear you hear the music get louder, vibrating against every corner of the vehicle, the driver clearly trying to drown out the obscene sounds of Paige Bueckers losing it in the backseat. But fuck, you’re not quiet either.

You let two of her fingers push your panties to the side, gasping as they run through your slick. You grip onto her tighter as Paige hoists you fully into her lap, straddling her leg as she whispers filth into your ear.

Big hands, rough from years of handles, crossovers, midrange shots that got her here, but gentle where they need to be—slipping between your thighs, spreading you open like she already knows what she’s gonna find.

Her fingers are slipping through the mess you’ve already made for her, slow at first, just to get you going, because she knows how much you want it, because she likes making you wait. But then you whimper, and it hypnotizes her to do exactly what you wanted her to do.

Paige is fast, but she’s precise despite being intoxicated, two fingers sinking inside you like your pussy was made for her. Your breath catches, body jerking forward, head tipping back against the seat, but she keeps you secure, pressing down on your stomach. “That’s it,” she urges, free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for her. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

“Mfmph, there.” Your fingers wrap around her wrist while hers curl just right, pressing against that spot that has your thighs shaking, your back arching from her chest. The blonde watches you intently, her pupils blown, lips slick and kiss swollen, owning every reaction like it’s another trophy for her collection. “Right there, P” you drag out.

The music gets louder, and you can’t even make out the lyrics, just the beat of something that never falls low. You’re sure you’d have some remorse for the driver if you weren’t about three drinks in and a little fucked out, but you can’t find it, because Paige wants all of it. Every sound, every plea, every desperate, breathless, “Paige, please.”

And, oh, do you give it to her.

Paige groans at the way you say her name, like she can feel it straight between her legs, like it’s fueling her. Her fingers keep working you open, hitting every spot like she knows your body better than her own, because truthfully, she does. She’s mapped you out a hundred times before, but never like this, never this drunk, never with the high of being number one mixing with the high of you.

“That’s my girl,” she praises, watching the way her fingers disappear in and out with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Look so pretty takin’ it, baby. Knew you would.”

You tremble, a moan breaking past your lips, and Paige just grins, like she’s putting on another show, something like the one she just left from. But this one? This one is just for her.

“Almost there?”

You nod frantically, nails digging at her wrist, trying to keep yourself together—but fuck is it hard when she’s all over you like this. She speeds up just a little, the wet sounds of her digits working you over and making your cheeks burn, but Paige loves it. She leans in, licks up the side of your neck, tasting the wreckage.

“Paige,” you pant, eyes fluttering.

“Say it again,” she rasps, her forehead pressed to the side of yours now, her fingers still moving, hips subtly grinding against nothing, like she’s as desperate as you are.

“Paige,” you whimper, and you wish you could say it was voluntary. “I—”

You don’t even get the chance to finish, because Paige presses down on your stomach again, just right, and your whole body reacts—clenching around her fingers, thighs twitching like she just stole every bit of your sanity. You really think she might’ve. Maybe she’s been taking from you this entire night—the air in your lungs, the thoughts from your head, the control you thought you had.

“Yeah, I know,” she talks you through it, lips brushing against your temple, her fingers still working, still curling inside you, playing you like a highlight reel. “Go ‘head, ma. Give it to me.”

Your release crashes into you, body locking up before breaking apart, your moan swallowed by Paige’s mouth as she kisses all of it out of you, eating up every last sound like she needs it, like she wants it dripping down her chin. Her fingers never stop moving, making sure you know she did this to you.

She pulls away with a bite of your lip, savoring the remnants of her own name on your tongue, and for a second, you think she’ll let you breathe, let you come down from the high she just sent you to.

But then she shifts against you the same way she’d been doing all night, grinds her hips up into nothing, and you feel it.

Paige Bueckers, all six feet of her, usually so composed, the one who calls the shots in bed and most of the time out of it—is crumbling for you now, fists gripping at the leather seat like she’s barely holding on.

Your fingers slide down slowly at the realization, popping open her belt, then her slacks, pushing them down just enough to expose the waistband of her boxers.

All you need is five minutes.

So you move. Drop to your knees right between hers, push her legs wider as you settle between them, dragging your palms up her thighs when she breathes out your name in her gravelly Minnesota accent. You let your nails creep up under her shirt, scratching lightly against her lower stomach. Too much teasing for the blonde, not enough mouth.

Paige growls, actually growls, and before you can blink, she grabs your wrist, pressing your hand right over her, rolling her hips into your palm. “Ain’t in the mood for allat,” she mumbles, jaw clenched, pupils dilated. “You know what the fuck I want, baby. Stop stallin’.”

You listen.

Partly because she’s just had the biggest night of her life, the kind of night people dream about. Winning a National Championship just a few weeks prior to getting your name called first for the draft, becoming the face of a franchise, name solidified in history. She worked her ass off for it too, and tonight? Tonight, she made it.

So you listen. You don’t stall, and you swear you hear the music get louder again—like the driver knows exactly what’s about to happen.

The minute you start mouthing at her, you can feel her muscles jump under your lips. Paige inhales, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, rubbing at your skin. The limo rocks slightly, the bass from the speakers rattling through your ribcage, but none of that matters. The only thing you care about is the way Paige is falling apart in your mouth.

She tries to hold out, tries to keep it together, but the way her thighs twitch when your tongue moves just right? The way she shudders when you suck?

“Fuck,” she groans finally, head tipping back, body lunging upward on instinct.

And she loses it.

Because Paige has never been one to sit back and just take it.

Her hips start moving, rolling into your mouth, and you let her, let her use you, let her chase what she needs because you need it too—the way she sounds, the way she tastes, the way her legs start to tremble, thighs pressing against your cheeks and smudging your makeup because she can’t help it.

She’s ruined and a little helpless, mumbling half formed curses and praises that don’t even make sense. You swear you could come again just by listening. “Been needin’ you all night. Keep doin’ that.”

She rides it out while your tongue works in circles, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her there even though she can’t be still, her body shaking along with her hands that can’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

You flatten your tongue, holding her down a little rougher when she bucks up against your mouth. She’s so close, right there, her body trying to outrun her own orgasm, but you don’t stop.

“Please—please, baby—feels s’good,” she whines, her fingers tugging at your hair just the way she knows you love, hips stuttering, moans guttural. “Just like that—don’t stop, don’t—”

She chokes on her next breath, her body breaking just like yours did, just like she’s so deserving of.

And when she finally slumps back against the seat, spent, her chest still heaving, her thumb lazily stroking over your cheek, she grins down at you, tired, satisfied, definitely not ready for the whatever afterparty diorama is waiting for her like a coronation.

“Yeah,” she breathes, licking her lips as she pulls you back up into her lap, kissing you like she could go another round, tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste herself.

“Number one pick, baby,” she slurs. “How that sound?”

Like trouble. Like a whole dynasty in the making. Like she’s already on top of the world, and somehow, that ain’t high enough.

You giggle, pressing her cheeks between your fingers as you peck at her lips. “Fucking great. How’s it feel?”

“Feel like I could do this all night,” she mumbles, hips rocking up into you, her need reigniting just like that. She masks it as a slight shift, but you know better. “What about you? Think you got another one in you?”

Like she even needs to ask.