#let me feel things and be able to understand them please?

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ‘honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

Next

Previous

Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

How would the Diaboys react when their s/o wakes them up by giving them head

Sakamaki Brothers

Shu

“Haaah… lazy, are you? Couldn’t wait till I woke up?”

Smirks, even half-asleep. He tilts his hips lazily into your mouth and threads his fingers into your hair.

“Mmh… that’s it… wake me up like this every day.”

Reiji

“Tch… What a filthy girl you are.”

He wakes up instantly—flushed and breath catching—but keeps a firm grip on his composure. Uses one hand to tilt your chin just so.

“If you insist on being vulgar this early… do it properly. I expect perfection.”

Ayato

“H-Huh?! Wha—Oi! Are you serious right now?!”

Flustered at first, but so into it. Groans your name and grabs a fistful of sheets.

“Shit… you’re gonna make me obsessed with mornings…”

Kanato

“…Are you trying to tease me, or serve me?”

His eyes snap open and he watches you intensely. Whines and gasps turn into growled commands.

“Don’t stop. I’ll punish you if you stop.”

Laito

“Nfu~ my, my~ how eager you are this morning, Bitch-chan.”

Moans softly, voice husky with sleep and lust. Keeps eye contact, cupping your cheek.

“Wanna taste me before coffee~? I can’t deny you that~”

Subaru

“W-Wha—!! A-Are you crazy?!”

Immediately turns bright red. He tries to stop you, but his body betrays him fast.

“D-Don’t look at me like that… fuck, you’re driving me insane…”

Mukami Brothers

Ruki

“Livestock… what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Stern at first—before that smug smirk breaks through. He keeps his voice low and commanding.

“You’ll take every drop. Understand? Then I’ll reward you properly.”

Kou

“Eeeh~? Nnn~ you’re spoiling me, Kitten~”

Runs a hand through your hair as he watches you with sleepy adoration.

“You’re such a good girl for me~ I should wake up like this more often…”

Yuma

“O-Oi! What the hell—shit…!”

Growls low in his throat and fists his hands in the sheets. Can’t stop groaning once he lets go.

“Damn, Sow… yer gonna be the death of me…”

Azusa

“Ah… you feel… so warm…”

Whimpers softly, barely able to keep his eyes open. Moans your name again and again, fingers trembling as he strokes your head.

“…Don’t stop… please… I need you…”

Tsukinami Brothers

Carla

“…Bold. You dare touch me while I slumber?”

Voice low, regal, dangerous—until you don’t stop. Then he exhales sharply and grips your hair, groaning.

“…Very well. Show me how much you crave your king.”

Shin

“Y-You’re seriously doing that?! First thing in the morning?!”

Flustered but so into it. Bucking his hips without realizing, growling your name.

“Tch… You’re so damn addictive…”

Other Diaboys

Kino

“Oho~ now this is how a vampire should be treated…”

Grins lazily as he stretches, groaning low as your lips slide down his length.

“You really wanna worship me like that first thing? Fine. Let me enjoy it.”

Karlheinz

“…You wish to serve me like this, little one?”

Eyes half-lidded, smile soft but wicked. He cups your cheek reverently, guiding you slowly.

“Good… Keep going. Devotion becomes you.”

Richter

“Mmh… what a sinful little pet I have…”

He moans softly and strokes your hair, hips moving gently with your rhythm.

“Come now… you started this. Don’t you dare stop.”

[itchyandtwitchy]

I feel like the part where his husband just audits to watch is so crazy???? I need to know more about their dynamic. Also teaching with a tissue over the nose IS just crazy. I am eating this up!

IT IS CRAZY! I mean, its definitely practical but also the most distracting thing ever. Unfortunately, because I never took a class with his husband, Im not sure what he's like as a teacher. HOWEVER, allow me to ramble off a few dynamic obs about them.

Obs under cut

Having class with Russian professor then going to my internship with his husband gives me such insane whiplash. They work at two different colleges about 25 minutes apart and just hop between buildings during their breaks. Dont ask me how it works, I have no idea.

Not only are they nearly polar opposites of one another, Russian professor is insanely different outside of the class. He has a reputation for being critical and having unobtainable standards, I nearly failed his class my first year. His husband is the exact opposite, he still has that strict professor vibe but he's more gentle and understanding in his teaching. Again, not sure how he is in the classroom, but Ive been able to sit down and have an actual conversation with him on many occasions.

Anyway, SNEEZE TIME

Im often working with the husband late into the night; comparing notes, writing reports, updating databases, etc. This means that Russian professor almost always stumbles in while Im still there, makes himself some food (God bless that microwave), and pulls up a chair next to his husband. This is where the interrogation begins- 'how are you feeling? Still coughing? You take anything? You looked poorly during class, I have more tea and tissues on my desk'. Hearing my professor answer these questions is like taking multiple bullets to my soul. He goes so in depth about every symptom, PLEASE BE QUIET (keep going).

The even crazier part is he knows I know what theyre saying even if Russian isnt my first language or speciality.

But the ACTUAL craziest part is how much his husband tolerates while I'm literally right there observing all of this. One of husband's quirks is that he will catch professor's sneezes in a tissue. Like fully, if professor were to show any sign of sneezing (and they're obvious) his husband just holds a tissue to his nose and let's him use it. This is why Im convinced he is one of us, I cant be the only one going insane over this.

A few times when I was in his office at even later ungodly hours than usual, professor will sort of lay his head on his husband's shoulder while we work and turn to bury sneezes against his shoulder or neck. I just know hes lurking on this side of Tumbleweed. Do you understand my insanity? The worst part, even though Im a personal victim of his bad attitude, hes so docile when its just me and his husband. He doesn't talk much at all, but thats still a major improvement from how he usually treats my work.

Hope you enjoyed, these are so fun to think back on. I also might go back and expand on some of my asks with @empresskaze

[dudewheresmynug]

Rook's Hobbies

I've been tagged in so many amazing Rook games that I decided to make one!!

For this, I'm going to tag @rooks-dagger @dancing--lights @trashwithvariety @justanecho94 @herald-divine-hell @razzberrydazz and @zombiefishgirl. No pressure! I would love to learn more about what your Rooks enjoy 🥰

Obviously, the tag is also open to anyone else who would like to try it! Please let me know if you do!

Rules: Post a few of your Rook's hobbies and write an explanation (however long you'd like) describing why they enjoy them. Then, tag some other people to play!

Lydia Thorne

Reading

A lifelong hobby of hers, Lydia enjoys nothing more than getting into a good book. Surprisingly, she mostly engages with historical or magical texts. She's always looking to advance her magic, or learn something new, or understand something that unsettles her. It's uncommon for Lydia to fall into a storybook, but not unheard of. When she does find herself getting engrossed in a story, it's usually the sappiest romance she can find. Or, it's something action-packed and high-stakes. Reading is the only hobby Lydia has that she would hate to have interrupted. Honestly, she'll ignore the culprit at best, and throw something at worst. Her favorite book of all time is The History of the Grey, which, as the title suggests, is about the history of the Grey Wardens. She first read the book when she was a kid, and she ended up stealing it from the Circle library when the tower fell. She keeps it with her even at the lighthouse.

Writing Poetry

Lydia keeps a few secret journals for poetry. This isn't a hobby she tends to share freely; instead, she's a bit embarrassed by it. That being said, she goes to lengths to keep this part of herself hidden. Lydia bought her first journal for her 24th birthday, her first birthday after joining the Order. She initially bought the journal because its design caught her eye, and she put it to good use! She would make bullet point lists about how she was doing, or what she was thinking (much like regular journaling). These eventually turned into lists about her surroundings, or recent events, and how they made her feel, and what they made her think and remember. She would also write about things she wanted to be able to reflect on in the future. From there, she slipped into the habit of writing poetry whenever she needed to process something. It was a great coping mechanism while she dealt with deep depression in the Order. Lydia will also write about her magic use or about her friends. Then, when she starts crushing on Neve, she writes about Neve. A lot. Likeee a lot a lot. And Davrin, a lot, after he dies.

Nature Walks/ Running

Lydia needs to be outdoors a LOT. Years of growing up in the circle made her less than a fan of being in enclosed spaces, especially for long periods. During those 7 years she spent living at home with her parents, after the Circle and before the Order, Lydia could often be found outside. She would hang around the farm, but she also had her little areas around Crestwood, which would be her refuge. She also enjoyed sleeping outside, which she would do as much as possible (as weather and parents allowed). Being in the Fade is...weird? It looks outsideish enough for Lydia to feel comfortable, but she still prefers not to sleep in her own room. She spends a LOT of time in Harding's room, actually. Davrin's "touching grass" trips are super helpful for her. In that same vein, Lydia really enjoys running. She's fast and has great stamina. She loves the rush she gets during and after a good run and loves the feeling of fresh air filling her lungs. She'd definitely be the type to sign up for multiple marathons a year. Lydia has definitely also challenged some (all) of her friends to races. Neve smokes her every damn time (seriously have you ever panned the camera up while running around with Neve in game? She's fast as fuck).

Baking Bread

This is a lesser-known hobby of Lydia's because she doesn't get to do it very often. Her father grew up working for his family's bakery (more of a flour mill that also baked and sold bread), so he's an expert at baking bread. Her mother has the skill, too. Baking bread was one of the ways Lydia's parents bonded with her when she came home from the Circle. It was a calm task with enough personal care put into it that Lydia could handle it without becoming overwhelmed. Lydia doesn't talk about this hobby because it reminds her of her parents, and she doesn't like to think about them. Baking bread becomes a happier hobby once she finally reunites with them. By extension, Lydia also enjoys cooking. Nothing is better than a hot and hearty dish, though she can slap a suitable meal together with whatever's lying around. She doesn't get much kitchen time, though, because Lucanis tends to cook nearly every day.

A Nice Game of (Drunk) Darts

Another one of Lydia's lesser-known hobbies, Lydia enjoys a nice competitive game of darts. As the section title suggests, it's even more fun for Lydia if she's had a few drinks. Lydia started playing darts during her time in the Order -- it was one of the games she and the other recruits would play to bond. Lydia is an alright shot on the regular. Drunk Lydia is either phenomenal or horrible, depending on the night. She's been known to throw the darts too hard or insist on getting an extra turn if she misses. She has also, on several occasions, gotten worked up enough over being heckled by other players that her magic has sparked. Unfortunately, my girl is competitive as all hell. She'll create extra challenges or rewards/punishments to make the game more interesting. She's not always a sore loser, but she can be! When she is, she's getting into shouting matches, or talking shit, or storming off in a huff. Still, she claims that the game relaxes her! Losing her favorite elemental orb in a match once has also taught her not to gamble.

Thank you for reading this (not so short) post! Can't wait to see what your Rooks enjoy <3

[pedrcpasccl]

Her 'I love you' echoed in his head, as he tried to focus on the sensation of her mouth around him, bring him to pure bliss. He wanted to let her know that he loved her, but the overwhelming sensation that pulsed through him completely overtook his thoughts. As he relaxed under her control, he already felt less stress in his body and it was all because of her. Her touch feeling like absolute magic — as her head bobbed and her hands pumped, he could feel himself already getting close to his orgasm and that was something he honestly wanted to hold out on. Being inside of her as they both cummed quickly became his favorite thing — he looked at it as them being connected in a way that no one could ever understand.

"Amor..." he murmured out along with a moan the echoed in the room, he attempted to control himself, but as she continued to work her mouth and tongue along his shaft he kept drifting from attempting to form a sentence to not being able to. "...stop..." he finally was able to say out loud, his grip on her tousled blonde hair loosened and he untangled his fingers from her hair. His hands now finding her waist, and he gently pulled her back up towards him and he rolled them over yet again. Taking control yet again, he waned to make sure she was pleased as well. Pedro pinned her to the mattress, his face just inches from hers, slowly he leaned in and brushed her lips with his. "I wanna hear you moan my name, babygirl."

One of his hands moving down her chest and slowly down towards her legs, pushing them apart it gave him easier access to her heat. And god how he loved how wet she already felt, "already so wet for me, baby...." his middle and ring finger sliding in between her wet folds, he teasingly pushed just his finger tips into her entrance.

sabrina knew that there were times that he needed her to reassure him. it was something that they both needed. it was one of the many things that made them work. he made her so unbelievably happy and he had since they met. his words caused butterflies to fill her stomach," i love you." she knew that they both had crept up on each other. it was unexpected but she felt like they were meant to be. it didn't matter to her how others looked at them or what they thought of their relationship. she knew what mattered and it was that they loved one another. already she knew that he probably would be confused. normally she allowed him to be the one who took control. he seemed to focus mostly on her and she wanted to do that for him. she heard how he started to speak but she wasn't going to be deterred. instead she eagerly took his cock into her mouth. the sound of his groan would have made her grin if her mouth wasn't occupied. her gaze shifted up towards his face to see how his head dropped back. she knew he would lose control of himself the second she moved. she focused on breathing through her nose as she allowed her jaw to relax. her hand pumped where her mouth didn't reach. the feeling of his hands in her hair allowed her to feel relaxed. she loved being able to see the tension leave him as she started to bob her head up and down. her cheeks hollowing out as she shifted a bit closer to the bed. in that moment the only thing that mattered was the two of them. nothing existed to her outside of the four walls of the suite they were in. she knew they'd have to navigate so much once they were back to the real world and she didn't want to think about it.

[fix-me-sixteen]

okay i think we need to start writing lists of hunger games theories/opinions we hold in disdain.

we do . . . here are some of mine:

gale killed prim

effie went through a spectacular character arc and came out to be a good person in the end

katniss supported coin's idea to hold one last symbolic hunger games

peeta is boring (boy is manipulative as shit hello)

finnick shouldn't have died, it should've been gale instead

the reapings were rigged to pick prim in the first book

coin is lucy gray

coin is worse than snow. also snow is worse than coin

snow truly, genuinely loved lucy gray

snow truly, genuinely cared about sejanus

gale is genuinely, truly an evil bad person

katniss should've ended up with gale

people unabashedly hating on the careers/cheering at their deaths/saying they deserved it

katniss's mother deserved more anger from katniss for the way she checked out

when people say they want to see more of the games/hope the next book has a sizable portion dedicated to it

when people make sotr about haymitch ships

when people unironically ship snowbaird or whatever-snow-and-sejuanus-is as a non-toxic, happy, loving couple and make romantic tiktoks about them

when people make any of the books about mainly the romance (they're about how romance/marketing is used to cover the less digestible aspects of the horrors of war hello)

when people say flickerman in tbosas was super funny comedic relief???? his literal point in that movie was to show how making sick, twisted jokes about children dying was used to water down the fact that, you know, children are dying. you're supposed to be sick to your stomach because he could casually banter and dumb down the severity of the hunger games, not laugh with him. if you laughed at even a single one of his jokes . . . like hello

the berries started the rebellion . . .

snow wasn't genuinely convinced by katniss's in-love-with-peeta act

when people thirst over snow because tom blyth is hot get me out of here

snow was a genius for the third quarter quell (that was an objectively stupid move on his part and not at all smart)

katniss never wanted kids and the ending was out of character for her (i'm all for criticizing writers that make (usually female) characters who explicitly don't want to have kids have kids anyway, but uh. katniss is not that character)

snow is smart in general. he is not smart, he's just opportunistic

gale didn't deserve katniss because peeta had bread and he didn't (do not take this the wrong way people; i'm saying this is a stupid anti gale argument, not that i ship katniss and gale)

pretty much anything the movies pushed or changed (*cough* hayffie *cough*)

the hunger games isn't a tragedy

[iksydk]

tsunami dream haunts me. i already died like that once why would you do that to me twice. but im scared of not dying if it happens and getting trapped. if it happens let it kill me fast. if i must suffer let it mean something to someone.

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[madesofgold]

Don't you wanna live far away from your family and their expectations sometimes and just start a new life?

[empresskylo]

part one

“come sit on my desk, sweetheart.”

you’re nervous as you look back at ghost, but he only nudges you gently, urging you to get up and do as the captain says. your swallow is audible, standing on shaky legs, ghost’s hands lingering on your hips until you step out of his reach.

the metal clanking of price’s belt makes you blink rapidly, your mouth going dry. is this truly how you want your first time to go? to be fucked by your boyfriend's boss while he watches? the nerves begin to rattle through you. having price watch while ghost tried to please you was one thing… sitting on price’s desk while he fucked you was something else entirely. 

you’re still stunned you let ghost walk you into price’s office in the first place, obeying him when he instructed you to sit on his lap, spread wide for the captain to see. it was a crazy idea that you were somehow talked into. you’d do anything to ease ghost’s worry, and if that meant allowing another man to show him how to be gentle with you, then so be it. 

price’s eyes trace your figure as you approach, the cool air of his office making you shiver. your skirt is crumpled on the floor along with your underwear, your tank top skewed but covering your chest still–glad for at least a little bit of modesty, still quite nervous around these two men. 

price’s tsks, clicking his tongue, gesturing his head at the open spot on his desk before him. you slip into the small space and price’s warm hands grab the fat of your hips, heaving you up so you’re sitting on his desk. you cannot believe you have your bare ass on captain price’s desk. the heat flash must be evident on your face because price’s lips tick up. john leans forward, his hands gripping either side of his desk, caging you in. “don’t be nervous, doll. m’gonna take it slow.”

you nod, unable to form words. you hear ghost shifting in his seat but you’re too drawn to john to dare risk a glimpse. one of price’s fingers slips between your legs, dragging through your core, making you whimper. “n’ you’re already warmed up for me.” price tilts his head to look over at ghost. “make sure she’s good n’ready before you fuck her, yeah?”

ghost grunts out a noise of understanding. john stands back upright and he gently begins to push you back. “lie down, sweetheart,” he coos.

you slowly fall flat against his desk and price worms his way between your legs, his hands sliding across your bare thighs, pushing them open so he can look at you. you’re embarrassed but too shy to say anything, so you let the captain have his way with you. price takes his cock out of his trousers and your eyes immediately shoot up to look at the ceiling. john chuckles and you hate yourself for being so bashful. he strokes himself once. twice. then his hand is caressing against you, his thumb circling your clit before you feel the head of his cock on your entrance. “you can look, sweet girl,” john tells you. 

you finally muster the courage to look down and bite your lip when you see how large he is–or maybe he’s average, you don’t exactly have enough experience to be able to tell the difference. but the way he’s pressed against you, you wonder how it’s going to fit. “don’t you worry bout me,” john speaks, “ghost, here, is the real culprit.” it didn’t matter if price was big… ghost was bigger. you suck in a sharp breath in both excitement and anxiety.

you turn your head, cheek on the cool wood of his desk, to look over at ghost. your eyes widen and your chest races, ghost strokes himself as he watches you and the captain. 

“now pay attention,” price says toward ghost. “m’gonna go in nice n’slow.”

and he does. price edges himself inside you and you immediately whine, your legs flying up from the table and cling around price’s waist, your instinct to try and stop him. but his body is in the way, and it only seems to incite him further, price grunting as he makes his way deeper inside you. “ahh, big stretch,” he coos as he fills you.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” price praises. he takes an excruciatingly long time edging his cock inside you, small strokes back and forth, going a little bit deeper each time. you squeeze your eyes shut as price works his way in, trying to keep yourself from clenching down too hard on him. price’s hand caresses your cheek, beckoning you to open your eyes. “m’all in.”

your eyes flutter open, your lips parted, face likely flushed. price grins before glancing over at ghost and gestures his head toward the front of his desk where your head is lying. 

you hear ghost shuffle and move across the floor, then you feel his presence behind you. “touch her,” price demands. 

ghost’s fingers are on you, sliding along the seam of your tank top, lightly feathering your exposed skin. his fingers hook on the fabric and he drags your tank up until it’s tucked under your chin, your bra the only thing between the men’s eyes and your breasts. ghost gropes your chest over your bra and you squirm at his aggressive touch. but ghost is impatient and he tears your bra down a moment later, your nipples popping free with a gasp, and he assaults your breasts, squeezing and palming your soft skin. you moan and price uses that as his chance to begin thrusting inside of you.

you’re so distracted by ghost’s touch that you don’t realize price’s movement until he sheathes himself to the hilt inside you again. you yelp, your eyes widening. “feel so good,” price slurs. ghost releases your breast, your chest likely red and marked, and he pulls his cock free, stroking it. you turn to look, flustered as ghost works himself, his cock right beside your head, his eyes dancing between where price’s cock is buried deep inside you and your eyes. 

price tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand caressing the side of your face, forcing you to look up at him as he rocks his hips against you. 

ghost tries his best to pay attention, but fuck, watching you whimper and whine like that is driving him absolutely mad. he thought this might satiate some of his more aggressive desires, but it only seems to be fueling it further. “doin’ such a good job,” ghost says above you. your eyes meet his and you’re forced to let out a moan as price begins to rub your clit. “gonna come on the captain’s cock?” his words enticing, like he’s getting just as much pleasure out of this as you.

you nod, your hands reaching above your head to grip the edge of the table and stop yourself from bucking up wildly into price. “that’s my good girl,” ghost praises. 

“gonna let me fill ya up?” price asks. he seems so confident, but you can hear the way he’s losing himself, the way he’s desperate for this. you tell him yes, your words clipping on a whimper and price begins to rub circles on your clit faster, needing to feel you clench down on him. 

and you do. you cry out, your walls clamping down, fluttering rapidly, and price groans loudly, swearing and cursing as he empties himself inside you. then you feel it, something warm sliding down your breasts and into your shirt. ghost has one hand gripping the table, the other still on his cock, his come now painted across your chest. you can’t help the wave of ecstasy that fills you when you see it. 

price gently pulls out, muttering something to ghost about how to be soft when disentangling your bodies. you feel liquid gush out of you and drip down your ass and onto the desk, your brain in a haze as you look up at the two men. 

price helps you sit up and he places a kiss on the top of your head, mumbling about how well you did, how good you felt, how perfect you were for him. and you’re certain price is going to show ghost how to care for you afterward, how to carry you to the bathroom, how to help you into some warm clothes. but instead, he says something that makes the fog dissipate from your mind. price looks to ghost, “wanna show me what ya learned, yeah?”

ghost must nod because as price shoves himself back into his trousers, he gestures to the side where you and ghost had been sitting earlier, “atta girl.”

cod masterlist

[pepurika]

i wanted to thank you all for being patient with me, today i managed to ink half a page and made this small doodle!

it's been very difficult to get into that mindspace of being excited about comics and drawing. my main worry is that there might not be book two or three of tigers.

i've been trying to look for an agent to help me with the hiveworks and seven seas contracts and to give me guidance on how to move forward with all of this, but no luck so far! i've been sending emails right and left just hoping that someone would answer, but i know it's a long game anyway. my main driving force is that all the people who have bought the first volume deserve the rest of them in their shelves too. a single volume would look so sad haha! like a failure of some sort! and your money wasted somehow!

but today when i was drawing i forgot all about that for a little moment. i just drew and drew and i got that excitement again, that i can't wait to show this page to you. to see what people think about the story. and i felt so lucky that i have the opportunity to experience that communication between the creator and the reader, even if i've chosen to be a silent observator mostly, your comments and interactions mean so much for me. my way of talking to you is the comic itself, in a way.

i cannot promise you that the rest of tigers will ever be printed, but if it happens, it happens! for now i'll let all of this float slowly forward, maybe it will end up somewhere, maybe not. i hope you will be understanding with this issue, i am doing my best but sometimes things might not work out!

but i feel my excitement coming back today. the small hiatus was much needed, but i miss the comic so much and i miss this small internet world of our strange communication. i cannot even begin to explain how you have helped me through a slump after slump, during all these years. this has been the worst, but now it's finally starting to loose its grip from me.

so, you have my most sincere thank you. please know that tigers wouldn't have gotten this far without every comment, fanart, fanfic and interaction i've had with you.

only two more chapters to go- i hope you will keep enjoying the finale of the comic. i'm working very hard to deliver it through the finishing line, and i'm so, so excited to be able to show you this strange world of sea sponges, dramatic siblings and elder gods.

thank you!!!

[mydearzero]

After Hours | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: Clean shaven. That was how you knew Bob. But while you were away on a mission, he'd decided to change up his look. Who knew just a little facial hair was enough to shine a new light on the man and drive you absolutely insane?

Contents: SMUT, porn with some plot, fem!reader, No Y/N, thunderbolts!reader, Bob is taller than reader, reader has hair long enough to get in your face, matchmakers Ava and Yelena, shower sex, Oral (f receiving), Penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), creampie. If I missed any warnings please let me know!

WC: 4.4K

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Masterlist

A/N: As I've made very clear and made it everybody's problem, I'm currently going fucking insane over Lewis Pullman. Watched The Starling Girl, was not okay afterwards, wrote this. Bon Appétit.

Clean shaven, undetectable facial hair. That was how you knew Bob. You weren’t even sure he was able to grow any facial hair, until you’d spotted him in the bathroom one morning. Shaving was part of his morning routine. For a long time, he’d just preferred the look and feel.

Until last week. 

You’d been overseas for a mission, nothing unusual. You returned, debriefed and made your way back to the tower, just like you’d done many times before. Not everybody was at the tower, but then again, it was once in a blue moon everybody was there at the same time. It was just Ava, Yelena, Bob and you for today, it seemed. 

You took off your shoes, placing them on the rack next to the elevator. The sound of your heavy bag dropping to the floor caught the attention of the room’s occupants. Such dangerous people, yet they hadn’t heard the elevator? You met each of their eyes, giving them a tired but warm smile. Your smile faltered ever so slightly, eyebrows raising, at the sight of Bob. He looked different. 

He was wearing a black t-shirt. Short sleeves, you noted. Not something he wore often. He preferred to wear longer sleeves to cover some of the scarring on the inside of his elbows, understandably so. That was in the past. The shirt looked good on him. Very good. 

It was not the main attraction, though. He had stubble. More than a five o’clock shadow, but not a full beard. Probably a few days of growth, at most. But dear lord did it change his whole look. Bob noticed the extra attention you were paying him, insecurely rubbing his hand over the stubble and turning his attention back to the TV, away from you. 

“Hey guys…” you finally spoke. You tore your eyes off the back of Bob’s head, meeting Yelena’s amused gaze. “What’s going on?” 

“We were just watching a movie, you’re welcome to join, if you want,” Ava invited. 

“I’m just gonna go put my stuff in my room and change and then I’ll join you,” you agreed. Bob casually put his arm on the back of the couch, leaning back, and your eyes snapped to the exposed skin of his biceps. You knew he had some muscle on him, so why did you feel like a sinner seeing a woman’s ankles in the 1800’s? 

You grabbed your bag off the floor and hastily made your way to your room. God, what had gotten into you? Sure, Bob was very sweet. Why had your mouth gone dry at the sight of him, today of all days? 

You unpacked your bag, throwing the dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. You grabbed a change of comfy clothes and changed into them, finally being able to unwind after a week away. You already felt more relaxed just by being back in the tower. It had really become your home over these last few months on this new team. 

You walked into the kitchen to grab some snacks and a drink. Damn it. The one thing Walker and you had in common was your favourite brand of chips. Did he really have to put them on the tippy toppest of shelves? You were convinced he only put them there so you wouldn’t be able to reach them. Bastard. 

“Need a hand?” Startled, you whipped around. Bob was closer than his voice had sounded. He was already reaching over you for the chips. You were now faced with his chest and the new stubble on his chin. He put a hand on your waist to steady you. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled. He put the chips on the counter, grabbing a bag of M&M’s for himself. You took a deep breath to steady yourself as he moved away to the fridge. You followed his movements, frozen against the counter. 

“Thirsty?” He asked, holding up a bottle of soda. 

“Huh?” You blinked. You are a grown woman. Why are you getting distracted by him like this? 

“You want a drink?” He had grabbed a glass for himself, offering one to you, too. 

“Oh, yes, please. Thanks.” He poured two glasses to the brim. 

“How was the mission?” He asked. You grabbed the snacks and the both of you walked back into the living room, putting your stuff on the coffee table. 

“It was good. Quite uneventful, really. No wonder they sent me to go alone,” you shrugged. Surveillance for a full week without any real action. Boring. 

“Well, at least you didn’t get hurt,” Bob smiled. You returned it and sat down next to him on the couch, on the free spot between him and Yelena. If anybody were to hold you at gunpoint and ask what movie they’d been watching that night, they might as well shoot you. Your eyes were on the TV, but your mind and peripheral were preoccupied with the man to your right. 

You knew Yelena noticed. Ava too, probably. At this point, you didn’t care. You were enthralled. He looked so different. It had only been a week. Had someone dosed you with an aphrodisiac on the plane back or something? Because it sure felt like it. 

He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair and pushed it out of his face, and just like that, you were done for. The nonchalant action was so hot, it wasn’t fair. You were starting to get angry with yourself, but also with him. Stupid Bob. Stupid beard. Stupid heart that won’t stop beating at a thousand BPM. 

“What did that bag of crisps ever do to you?” Ava asked, interrupting the silence. You looked down at your hands. You were grabbing the bag as if it had killed your family and owed you money. You had eaten one, maybe two hands of the stuff before your cravings had dwindled. Or shifted, more like. You were definitely craving something– someone else now. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled, releasing the bag and deciding to just put it on the table. “Probably still a bit tense from the mission.” 

“Hmmmm, right. I thought you said it was uneventful?” Yelena questioned. 

“Uhu,” your voice went up an octave, betraying your lie. Bob gave you a curious look. You refused to return it, scared what you might do if you made direct eye contact right now. 

Before you knew it, the credits rolled over the screen. Ava cleared the table and took everything to the kitchen, leaving you alone with Yelena and Bob. Yelena turned to you. 

“So, what do you think of Bob’s new look? Quite dashing, no?” She proposed. Smug little– You were so going to get her back for this one day. You slowly turned your eyes to Bob, who was patiently, though anxiously, awaiting your answer. 

“It uh– Looks good. Different,” you replied, scared to give yourself away. 

“Different? Is that a good thing? Or…” Bob’s face had fallen, though only a little. He was masking the insecurity, but you saw it either way. 

“No, no– I mean– Yes, it’s a good thing. Good different. Looks good,” you choked before he could feel any worse about it. 

“I’m not too sure about it, yet. Think I might shave it tonight.” 

“NO. I mean. Why don’t you give it a little longer? It’s only been what, a week? Just test it out for a while,” you laughed awkwardly. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know…” Bob pushed a hand through his hair again. It was getting long. You closed your eyes and turned back to Yelena. Anything to spare yourself this torture. Yelena was barely containing her laughter. If Bob had any clue as to what was happening, which was unlikely– the man was as dense as lead– he didn’t show it. 

“Well, I think it looks great. Makes him look a little more rugged. Don’t you agree?” You were going to kill Yelena Belova. It would be difficult. You would make it slow, torturous. 

“Yup! Definitely more rugged. Hey, where has Ava walked off to?” You changed the subject. Speaking of the devil, she walked back in with a cup of steaming tea. 

“I’m gonna go shower. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but please don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” Bob joked. So he had noticed Yelena was pestering you. He got up off the couch and walked down the hallway towards the bedrooms. 

The second Bob turned the corner out of sight, you jumped Yelena, reaching for her throat. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you threatened. She wrangled your arms away from her throat and laughed loudly. 

“I think you have more important matters to concern yourself with,” Ava interjected. You stopped wrestling Yelena into the couch, though you kept your grip on her wrists tight. 

“Like what?” You asked Ava. Yelena took that opportunity to flip you around. You groaned as your back hit the couch.

“Well, first of all, I think we all know you’re underneath the wrong person right now,” Ava laughed. Yelena laughed too, having finally rendered you powerless. Damn Russian spies. 

“But I’m pretty sure a shower means a shave, too. There might still be time to stop him, if you hurry,” she shrugged, sipping her tea. 

“God, was I really that obvious?” You gave up. Yelena released your wrists, and you got up, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I think if it had been any more obvious we’d have to call a plumber over to investigate a leak,” Yelena said, catching her breath. Your jaw dropped at her words. 

“What? It’s true. I mean we knew you were into Bob, but the heart eyes you gave him when you walked in? Astronomical.” 

“What do you mean ‘we knew you were into Bob’?” You put quotation marks around it. The thought had hardly even crossed your mind before tonight. Both women laughed as if you’d made the funniest joke imaginable. 

“What do you mean ‘What do you mean’? You’ve been drooling over him ever since–” Ava was going to spill, but Yelena held her hand up, stopped her. 

“You’re saying you weren’t into Bob before tonight?” 

“I mean, he’s cute. But… I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, I guess.” 

“But we’ve been trying to–” Ava was once again cut off by Yelena. 

“The beard is all it took? That was all he had to do?” Her voice held a tone of disbelief. 

“The t-shirt helps, too…” you admitted sheepishly. It was only then that it registered what Ava had said. “FUCK, you’re right. He can’t go shave now!” Your eyes shot towards the hallway he’d disappeared into, before meeting Ava’s. 

“Well what are you waiting for? By all means, go stop him.” she gestured towards the hallway. 

“Go stop him?? I can’t just waltz into the bathroom and say ‘Hey, don’t shave because then I can’t imagine what your stubble will feel like between my thighs while you’re eating me out.’ I have no–” The amused shock on their faces spoke for them. You closed your eyes and turned around, where Bob stood with his jaw slack. 

“We’re out of towels…” was all he said. He quickly walked into the laundry room, grabbed towels and hurried back to the bathroom. You turned to Ava and Yelena, unsure of what to do. 

“Well he knows, now. What’s stopping you? Go climb him like a tree! Show him some of those wrestling moves you showed me just now, while you’re at it,” Yelena shoved you off the couch. 

“You guys are horrible and I hate you very much,” you grumbled, getting off the floor. 

“Yeah, yeah. You can thank us later,” Yelena got up and used all her weight to push you towards the hallway. You stumbled over your feet and dragged them to Bob’s door. You hesitated before knocking lightly. You held your breath as you heard him shuffling around before opening the door. 

Bob Reynolds stood before you with only a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. In all the months you’d lived at the tower, you had yet to see him without a shirt. That in combination with the new facial hair? Murderous. Lethal. 

He was about to speak but was cut off as you decided to throw everything to all hell and just push into his room, place your hands on his face and pull him in for a kiss. He quickly recovered, putting an arm around you and using the other to quickly slam and lock the door behind you. The tenacity with which he kissed you was addicting. 

He finally pulled away to breathe. “If I’d known you liked it that much–” he started, interrupting himself with a soft moan as you kissed up his jawline. “I’d have grown it out months ago.” 

“Shut up,” you said breathlessly. You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled him against your lips once more. You gripped his locks tightly. His stubble felt rough against your face. He toyed with the hem of your shirt, unsure whether to take it off. You helped him take it off, making quick work of throwing it in a random corner. Your sweatpants followed, leaving you only in your bra and underwear. 

“I should–” Bob spoke between kisses. “–at least go turn the shower off.” It had been on all this time, steaming up the bathroom and in turn his bedroom. 

“We can shower together, if you want,” you suggested, fingering the edge of the towel still tightly wrapped around him. 

“Yeah– Yeah I pick that option,” he smiled, leading you into the bathroom and shutting the door. You took off your bra and shimmied your panties down your legs, kicking them into the corner. The towel around his waist was gone. You put a hand on his abdomen, softly passing over his abs down to his hard cock. 

“All for me?” You whispered. 

“Yeah, you painted quite the picture back there. Something something, me eating you out?” He cradled the back of your head and brought you in for a soft, sensual kiss. You lazily stroked him, getting a feel for his length. You didn’t know what you’d expected. He was big. 

He pushed you into the shower, soaking you with water. He brushed your hair away from your face, slicking it back so it wouldn’t get in the way as it got wet. His own hair fell in front of his eyes. He slicked it back once more before trailing kisses down to your chin. Your hands came up to his chest, steadying yourself. You leaned against the cold, wet tile of the shower when he kissed your neck hungrily. 

He mouthed at your body, quickly sinking to his knees. The water hit him so beautifully. He gently rubbed his chin against your thighs, teasing you. The stubble tickled, sending goosebumps up your spine. He moved on to the other thigh, holding both of them in his hands. He peppered kisses all the way up your legs, making sure to leave a trail of tingles behind wherever his beard had made contact with your skin. 

You were growing impatient, but he took his time. Your breathing was rapid, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. He tenderly pulled at your legs. “Open them for me, baby,” he sounded as breathless as you felt. You obliged, making room for him to nestle himself fully between your thighs. The higher he worked with his mouth, the more sensitive you became. He leaned his cheek against your thigh and gazed up. It was a hungry, depraved look. You ran your fingers through his hair again, silently begging him closer to where you needed him most. 

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, and placed a soft peck on your inner thigh. He was so close, yet he kept kissing around where you wanted him. He didn’t break eye contact when he finally placed the smallest of kisses on your pussy. You’d never seen him so confident as in that very moment, on his knees between your legs. He brought his face closer and started sucking your clit. Your knees felt weak at the sensation. The added coarseness of his beard was the perfect combination of soft and rough. 

Your head hit the wall harshly as you threw it back, a loud moan echoing from your lips. He made out with your cunt as if he was a man starving. Your grip on his hair tightened when he experimentally added a finger into the mix, circling your entrance. 

“Fuck, Bob,” you moaned, wishing he’d just put it inside. You bucked against his face, seeking more friction. His beard was going to leave a rash if you kept this up. Somehow, you didn’t care. 

A deep moan rumbled from his mouth against your clit. The sensation was so good, your other hand reached down to tug him closer against it. He chuckled, another sound that had no right feeling that good when being made against your skin. 

He pushed the finger inside, slowly working you open. Not that you needed it, at that point. You were soaked, and not just from the shower. The things this man did to you. Within no time he added a second finger, scissoring you open. 

Heat built in your core as you quickly got closer and closer to the edge. You no longer had any control of the soft noises escaping your lips or your fingers tightening in his hair. Your toes curled and you squeezed your eyes shut. He added another finger, then. 

You peeled your eyes open, enthralled by just him. He was humping the air absentmindedly at the same rhythm his fingers were working inside of you, desperate to be touched. He couldn’t touch himself though, one hand preoccupied holding you up, the other curling its fingers inside of you. He was dedicated to getting you to come in his mouth, and he was succeeding fast. 

He circled his tongue around your clit just right. A high pitched keen left you as he curled his fingers against your G-spot repeatedly. You could feel your legs starting to tremble. His grip on your thigh tightened, determined to keep you standing. You ground against his tongue, breathing erratically. 

“Shit, Bob. I’m gonna come,” you warned. He kept going, sucking and licking until you snapped. 

“Come for me,” he groaned. “Come on my mouth.” 

Your vision went blind for a second as you came, riding out your high on his fingers. 

“Fuck!” You moaned, uncaring of who’d overhear. 

Bob kept sucking, kept thrusting his fingers against that perfect spot. You hissed and tugged at his hair, trying to get him to get up. He didn’t relent. 

“Taste so good,” he groaned. “So wet.” 

He took his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You were glad for the break, but his lips worked overtime. A newfound passion arose inside him to get you to come again now that he had a hand wrapped around his cock. He stroked idly, more focussed on your pleasure than his own. 

“I– I can’t. Fuck,” you whined. Your body was on fire, the hot water pouring down on you not helping your case. How the man hadn’t drowned yet, whether from your pussy or the shower, was beyond you. 

“Yes you can,” he grumbled. “For me?” It sounded so innocent. His pupils were blown wide as he sought eye contact, pleading you to come again. It was building up quickly. You hadn’t even caught your breath from your previous orgasm. Just as you were about to tip over the edge again, he stopped abruptly, standing up. 

A frustrated sob escaped your lips, but it was cut off by a desperate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Want you to come on my cock,” he mumbled. You nodded quickly, taking him in your hand and stroking him. He put his hands around your waist and lifted you up like you were a feather. God, that super strength was a turn-on. He pushed you against the wall of the shower and lined himself up. He didn’t waste any time, pushing himself to the hilt. 

He moaned loudly in your ear as he bottomed out. It was the sexiest sound you’d ever heard. 

“F-fuck. So tight– God,” he couldn’t complete a sentence as he began rhythmically pounding inside. You held onto him for dear life. You were still so, so close. He kissed you hard, like this was his only chance. You leaned your head against the wall, lips sputtering as the water hit your face. 

“Bob,” you moaned. He sucked harshly at the bottom of your jaw. His hips snapped harshly, the sound of skin against skin vulgarly echoing through the bathroom. You tightened your legs around his waist, trying to get him to go deeper. 

“Waited so long for this,” he gushed. “Wanted you so bad.” 

“Yeah?” you replied breathlessly. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with every thrust. 

“Mmhmm. Didn’t think you wanted me,” he admitted, peppering more desperate kisses on your neck. 

“I do. Shit,” you whined. “So much.” 

“Fuck, baby. Come on my cock. Come for me, please,” he pleaded, hips speeding up. 

Your nails scratched at his back, no doubt leaving red trails behind. You dug into his shoulders, gripping them tightly. The muscles underneath your fingers were sturdy. 

You came again with a loud wail of his name. You put your hands on his face, tugging him against your mouth and kissing him deeply. You couldn’t stop kissing him. Couldn’t stop feeling that delicious stubble against your chin. It scratched your palms as you caressed his face. 

His hips stuttered against yours. You could only hope the sound of the shower drowned out the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt with every harsh thrust. 

“Cum inside me,” you begged. “Please, need it.” 

“Fuck, are you sure?” Bob asked, ever the gentleman. 

“Please, Bob.” That sent him over the edge, shooting his spend inside of you. 

“Shit,” he whimpered. His palm made contact with the tiles beside your head, cracking on impact. Neither of you seemed to care at that moment. Your eyes sought his, and you found them glowing. He held you tight as he rode out his orgasm, lazily pumping inside of you as the water washed away your sweat. 

He held you against him, still holding you up against the wall. He let his head fall against your shoulder as he caught his breath. Both of you gasped lightly when he finally pulled out, cum dripping to the floor of the shower, immediately washing down the drain. 

He gently put you back down, careful to not let you slip. Your legs felt weak. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself up. You tugged him down, craning your neck so you could steal another kiss. 

You kissed softly for a while, before deciding you’d wasted enough water. He took his 2-in-1 shampoo and squirted some on his hands. He put some in your hair, softly massaging your scalp. You held your arms around his waist as he worked the shampoo through your hair. 

“We’re going out tomorrow and buying you some actual proper products. Who still uses 2-in-1 shampoo?” You scoffed. He laughed and agreed. 

“Okay, boss.” You smiled up at him as you let the water wash away the suds. You took some of the shampoo and returned the favour, washing his hair. He had a dumb smile on his lips the entire time, looking down at you lovingly. 

The same process repeated with his body wash. It wasn’t anything special, but you loved the scent. It smelled like him. He roamed your body with his hands, massaging your shoulders as he went. He spent some extra time fondling your chest. You still hadn’t fully recovered from the heated session just now, yet you could feel the fire starting again. 

“Hmmm,” you moaned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You washed down his abdomen, and already found him hard again. 

“Superhuman stamina, remember?” Bob grinned. 

“Amazing,” you sighed. You gave him a few experimental tugs, and he hissed, gently slapping your hand away. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not sensitive.” 

You finished up in the shower and realized there was only the one towel to dry the both of you. You made do and walked into Bob’s room. 

He lent you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. “I didn’t know you owned several short sleeved t-shirts,” you joked. 

“I don’t wear them very often,” he laughed, putting on some sweatpants and a sweater. He looked like his cozy self again, if you didn’t count the stubble. The very very sexy stubble. 

“Well, I like you in them. You should wear them more often. Really highlights your biceps.” You flexed yours as a joke. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and mirrored your pose. 

“God, if you do that we’re never going to make our way out of your bedroom,” you groaned. 

“Good. Then I’ll never have to shave again.” Bob wrapped an arm around your waist and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Please never shave again. It’s so hot. Like. So hot.” 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Asshole,” you slapped his chest. 

You walked out to the living room together, ready to face the music. Ava and Yelena were still where you’d left them, on the couch. At the sight of you, both grinned. 

“About time, loverboy,” Ava commented. 

“Remind me to never buy a razor again,” Bob said as he plopped down on the couch. 

“I’m gonna personally shave your face in your sleep if this is gonna be a recurring thing. My poor, poor ears.” Yelena groaned. You threw a pillow at her face, which she caught, of course. 

“I’ll kill you for real if you do, Belova,” you threatened. 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

You were about to jump her again, but Bob pulled you against his side. You melted into his hold. You could get used to this. 

[whatsverstappeningnow]

how f1 drivers react

to you breaking up with them because you think you are distracting them from their career (requested) -> part two: getting back together

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

max verstappen

Weeks of contemplation hadn’t made this any easier. You still didn’t really know what to say, how to say it. But you knew what needed to be done. Every second you’re together is time taken away from his work. Hours wasted.

You don’t even get the words out all the way, just the beginning of a sentence, something about how maybe this isn’t fair to him, he’s distracted. He’s making mistakes he never used to make.

Max stills like you’ve poured ice cold water over him. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, eerie still.

“What are you saying?”

You keep your eyes on the floor. Meeting his gaze would hurt too much. You don’t have the strength to do it. “We need to break up.”

It’s quiet. So deathly quiet you think you can hear every thought whirl through his head at a million miles an hour. Your heart pounds heavy in your chest.

“You don’t mean it. Stop.” His voice is small, restrained.

“I do. We’re done. This is for you Max… you’re better off with me gone. I’m in the way.” You voice cracks and wavers as you speak, but you refuse to back down. You know you’re right.

Max lets out a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying not to raise his voice.

“You think I’d be better off?” His voice cracks on the last two words, his arms crossing like he can’t figure out what to do with us hands. “You think my life gets easier if you disappear? What the fuck?”

You start to explain, something about pressure, the pressure on him, his career, about not wanting to be the thing that takes his focus. About not being able to stand yourself if you were the reason he failed.

“Jesus, you think I don’t know pressure? You think I give a fuck about all this shit if the choice is it or you? You can’t decide for me that I can’t take it. You can’t decide that for us! For fucks sake!”

You flinch. His words hurt like a knife to the heart. His hands are in his hair, rubbing his face and then settling back into crossed arms, his chest rising and falling too fast. Then he stops.

He’s still so suddenly it makes your heart drop. He just looks… tired. The kind of tired that goes bone deep and settles in your soul. He looks up at you and you see the look in his eyes, he knows he’s already lost you.

If he won’t do this for himself, you will. You love him too much to let him fail.

“If you leave… don’t pretend it’s for me. Don’t. Just go.”

Leaving feels like giving up, but you don’t let yourself turn back. A flurry of texts erupt from your phone as you drive away from his house, a call rings. You let it go to voicemail and delete it without listening.

This is for the best.

lando norris

“No, nope, not happening.”

He’s pacing the room, a nervous energy filling his body and seemingly preventing him from sitting still for ever a second. His hands fidget, fighting for something to do. Ever since you told him you needed to break up, he has simply stopped listening. Nothing you were saying was getting through to him.

He refused to understand.

“Lando, please just listen—”

“I am listening. And you’re talking bullshit.”

You sigh slightly and look down, you’ve been fighting of tears all morning just thinking about having to have this discussion, but you can’t let yourself cry now. But still, they well in your eyes and threaten to fail your resolve. He softens instantly, moving toward you.

“I’m sorry, I just—” He looks desperate, eyes wide and searching your expression for any sign of hope. A sign that he can turn this around. Save what you have. “You can’t drop something like that out of no where and expect me to be okay with it. I don’t want you to leave. You don’t distract me.”

“You say that now—”

“I say that because it’s true. You ground me. You make me feel normal. You give me someone to come home to no matter if I’m P20 or P1. You make me feel like more than my fucking result. And if you walk away, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing any of this for. Cause I’m not sure who I am without you around!”

His hands reach out and grip yours, his hold tight and firm but not painful. Just constant pressure. Like he’s afraid if he lets go you will disappear. You might.

“You’re not leaving. You wanna talk about this? Fine. But you don’t get to pick up and leave me out of no where. You owe me more than that.”

“You need this. Trust me.”

“I need you!”

Finally, a tear falls down your cheek. You don’t brush it away. As it plummets to the ground, Lando knows something has shifted that can’t be undone. He’s lost you.

oscar piastri

Oscar doesn’t say anything at first. His face is straight, mouth in a tight line, but his eyes hold within them all that he feels. He just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if this is a test. Or, maybe, an elaborate prank. He hopes it is.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you lose focus. You’re so close to everything you’ve worked for.”

He finally exhales and looks away. “You think I made it this far alone?” he asks quietly, voice slow and careful.

You blink. “Oscar—”

“I didn’t. You were there. Every night I was doubting myself, worrying, thinking I wasn’t going to make it, you reminded me who I was.”

He pauses. Swallows hard. You take the chance to interrupt, to justify yourself.

“Things change. You needed that then. You need me gone now. You just can’t see it.” You plead with him, desperate for him to understand; this wasn’t because of any loss of love or heartbreak. You were doing this because you loved him too much to stand in his way.

“You think taking yourself out of the picture is going to help me? You keep me going.”

You say nothing, because anything you say will only make it worse.

So he nods, just once. Hurting. Resigned. He turns his head and stares out the window, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“I don’t want this,” he says, unable to look you in the eye.

“I know.”

“You don’t either.”

“I know.”

“So don’t leave,” he pleads, but it’s too late. You had made your mind up days ago. If this is what it takes for him to reach his dreams, you’d glad to clap from the sidelines. Even if in your heart you would always be applauding in the front row.

carlos sainz

Carlos is quiet for a long time after you say it, the five fatal words. Long enough that the pit, already deep in your stomach, starts to feel like it’s going to cave in on itself. The silence is more painful than any screaming would be.

“I don’t understand. You think I’d give up what we have… because I had a couple of bad races?”

Your eyes sting, you try to hold your ground. But the sheer confusion in his voice makes you want to turn and run.

“It’s not just that. I can feel it, Carlos. You’re distracted. You need to be focused. And I… I can’t be in the way. I won’t let myself do that to you.”

He steps toward you, voice calm but firm and hands reaching out to grasp yours. You shouldn’t, but you let him. The warmth of his hands in yours grounds you.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’ve never been in the way.” He says it with such certainty, such conviction, you almost believe him. Almost.

“I don’t love you because it’s convenient. I don’t just love you when times are easy, mi vida. I love you because when the world’s spinning, you’re the only constant. You ground me.” He exhales shakily. “Don’t take that away from me. Don’t take you away from me.”

You press your lips together to keep them from trembling, and Carlos finally lets the emotion crack through his voice.

“If I crash and burn, I want you in the pit watching. If I win, I want you there too. But I want you. That’s never changed.”

“Then maybe I’ve changed. It’s me, Carlos. Not you.”

“No, no. Cariño, no.”

“We can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“Doing what? Loving either? You want to give this all up because, what, I am not performing well?”

“No, Carlos, it’s not that…”

He’s quiet then. He can’t understand , and you can barely explain. You know what you have to do. Even if it hurts.

“Please, I have to go.”

You don’t think you’ll ever forget ever forget the look of pure desperation in his eyes as you walked out of his house for the last time, carrying with you the weight of all the could have been, that now never will again.

alex albon

The colour drains from Alex’s face the second you tell him. The spark in his eye, the pure joy he radiates that you’d learnt to associate with him, and him alone, suddenly disappears. His whole body just stops.

“No—no, no, come on,” Alex says, voice panicked. “You don’t mean this.”

“I do,” you whisper. “You’re distracted, Alex. Every time you chose me over work, I know what you’re giving up. You’re so close to proving yourself again, and I don’t want to be the reason you miss this opportunity. I won’t be.

His mouth opens like he wants to argue, but he closes it again. His eyebrows furrow and his head dips. For a moment his hands twitches forward, but, like he suddenly thinks better of it, it stays in his lap.

“You’re not the reason for any of that. But you are the reason I get out of bed some days.”

You look away. It’s too much. “Alex…”

“No, c’mon. You want to know what you’re really responsible for? It’s not my failures. It’s not my losses. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough. I’ve lived that for years. And then you showed up and made me believe I was more than all of that.”

His hands wave in the air as he speaks, but you can only stare at his eyes. The beautiful eyes that look so heartbroken, so afraid. He swallows hard

“You really think you could make me believe all that, and be standing in the way of my success?”

He doesn’t stop you if you walk away. Just stands there like he’s still waiting for you to come back, hoping you’ll wake up from the sleep of insecurity you’re deep in and turn back around to him. You don’t.

Walking away takes a kind of strength you didn’t know you had.

charles leclerc

“No.”

It’s immediate, institutional. He says it the second the word breakup leaves your lips. Whatever he was going before is immediately forgotten, he’s turned to you dead on like a challenge.

You try to keep your voice calm. “Charles, I just… I’m not good for you right now. I’m distracting you. You need something that I’m not.”

He laughs bitterly, eyes glossy with disbelief. One hand rest on his hip, the other rubs his eyes. He’s the picture of confusion and shock. It hurts to have caught him so unaware, just yesterday he was talking about holidays and date nights. In one sentence you’ve sent it all crashing to the ground.

“So, what? You think you’re the reason I haven’t won a championship yet?”

“Of course not—”

“Then stop trying to erase yourself like you’re some burden I didn’t ask for. If I didn’t want to be here, if I didn’t think what we had was special, I wouldn’t be.”

He steps closer, but doesn’t touch you. You fight the urge to reach for him, you know you have to stand your ground.

“I don’t care about perfect focus. I care about coming home to you. About having someone who understands me. Someone who stays.”

You whisper his name, but he shakes his head.

“If you do not want to stay, then leave, cheri.” His voice is low, and there’s a breathily disbelieving laugh that clouds the end of his sentence. He doesn’t think you’ll actually leave. That is his last mistake. He doesn’t realise how much you are will to do to help him reach his goals.

You love him so much. But you can’t keep holding him back, you won’t let yourself. Endless phone calls pile in throughout that night, but by morning they have stopped. A single text shines bright among the string of apologies.

“I love you. Please come home.” But home isn’t with him anymore.

lewis hamilton

It’s the hardest sentence you’ve ever had to say. Your heart beats heavy in your chest. Doing the right thing is never easy.

“I think we should break up,” you murmur, barely loud enough to rise above the hum of the hotel room’s air conditioning. “You’re better off without the distraction. Better off with me gone.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. Lewis doesn’t speak right away, he doesn’t even look at you at first. He just stares down at the floor, hands clasped tightly to the crisp white bedsheets.

When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You think you are a distraction? Baby, what?”

His head shoots up and his eyes meet yours with a tearful gaze. He’s stuck in place, so in shock that he can barely move.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I see the pressure you’re under. The expectations. The media. I don’t want to be one more thing pulling at you. You need to focus. And I— I can’t always be okay. You shouldn’t have to carry that too—carry me too.”

His jaw clenches like he’s trying not to fall apart from your words. Each thing you say, each self deprecating phrase, cuts into him like a knife.

“No. No! It’s not like that. Yes it’s hard, it’s always been hard. But no,” he says with a sudden firmness. But not anger. Somehow, that hurts more than rage.

“You’re not something I carry, you’re the reason I keep going.” He finally turns to face you, eyes glassy with something unspoken. “Do you really think I’d be better off alone in all this? You really think an empty house and an empty bed is going to fix me?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because it’s already too much.

“I’ve given up a lot for this career,” he says, voice shaking. “So many things. And I’ve told myself over and over it was worth it. I’ve made a million mistake and I’ll make a million more before I retire. I’m sure of it. But you’re the first thing in a long time that feels right. You’re the first person who has made me feel like there is more to life than winning.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and he curses under his breath, turning away like he can’t bear to let you see. Like the very sight of you hurts him. It’s hard to admit that it hurts you too.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And you want to walk away because you think I’d be better without you?”

You’re crying now, silent tears slipping down your cheeks, and it’s killing him. He crosses the room… then stops. Like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. He doesn’t want to over step in already shaky grounds.

“I won’t beg you,” he says, finally. “If you really believe I’ll be happier without you… then go.”

And so you do.

You feel his absence deep in your bones. It’s hard, figuring out what to do when the thing that made him feel most human leaves. But no one ever talks about how hard it’s to be the one who must walk away.

george russell

You’re standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed tight over your chest, like you're trying to physically hold yourself together. George is sitting on the edge of the bed, running a towel through his hair, fresh from the shower and smiling up at you with practiced fondness. Then you say it.

“I think we should break up.”

And it’s like a switch flips.

His hands still, towel frozen mid-motion. The silence stretches long and cold. Neither of you move, each waiting for the others next choice.

Finally, breaking the dome of silence over the two of you, he speaks, slow and careful. “You… what?”

“I just think maybe I’m a distraction,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. “You’ve been under so much pressure and I— I don’t want to be something that takes your focus away.”

George stands, slowly, eyes narrowed just slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” you insist, your voice already cracking. “You’re fighting for a championship. You don’t need me in your head before every quali or after every crash, you need to think of yourself. You need to be selfish for once!”

His expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it sharpens, like he’s trying to understand how this could possibly be happening. He drops the towel onto the bed, his hands resting beside him with a practiced kind of care.

“So you’ve already decided,” he says, voice quiet and tight. “Without talking to me.”

You look away. “It’s better this way.”

“For who?” The question is sharp, angry in a way George rarely lets himself be. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

The fight drains from him almost instantly. He hates getting mad, especially at you. He runs a hand down his face and leans back, sitting back down in the bed and letting the distance between you grow.

“I thought we were a team,” he says, softer now, but broken. “I thought when things got hard, we worked through it. We talked. Together.”

You can barely breathe. “I didn’t want to make you choose.”

“But there was never a choice,” he says, shaking his head. “It was always you. Everytime.”

“And that’s why I couldn’t let you decide… I’m sorry.”

You move towards the door. He doesn’t stop you. Not because he wants you to go, but because he’s not the kind of man who’ll beg someone to stay who’s already halfway gone. Your decision your his own, he won’t tell you what you can or can’t do.

But after you leave, he sits on the edge of the bed, the one that used to be yours, staring at the door like he expects you to come back. You don’t. And George doesn’t sleep that night, or the one after. He’s not sure when he will ever sleep well again knowing what he let slip through his fingers.

part two here!

[ohhowjooniewept]

friendship group jungkook x y/n

fluff, angst, filthy smut

10k<

——

having a big friendship group was something that most people couldn’t understand. the dynamics between each and every person were important, like a well oiled machine that churned out a mixture of jokes and joy.

you had been friends with namjoon and yoongi for years, meeting taehyung, yejin and jin in your first year of university. yoongi introduced hoseok, who in turn introduced jimin, who of course, introduced jungkook.

you were incredibly close to them all, with the exception of the bambi eyed boy, who for some reason, you just couldn’t crack. it wasn’t that you didn’t get along, on the contrary - you were the most alike and he was always extremely kind towards you. it had been years and years since you first met, and you were able to have small conversations but there was an air of tension that followed you both that neither of you understood. well, you pretended not to anyway.

it was a secret to no one, except jungkook, that you were head over heels in love with him. yoongi would groan every time he’d see the starry look in your eyes once the conversation shifted towards the younger man, with yejin and jimin giggling like their lives depended on it.

“you should just get married and leave the rest of us to finally recover from your rambles.” he grumbled, once, laid out on your sofa with biscuit crumbs on his chest.

you rolled your eyes at him, frowning. “shut up yoongi, that would require him to actually like me back.”

he groaned so loudly that you found yourself grabbing the nearest pillow and plowing it into his face. “god, you’re both such idiots.” he muttered with a shake of his head.

———

jungkook had an aura around him that most described as electrifying. he knew he could walk into any room and make a friend, or have eyes stay on him for the duration of the night - he knew he had presence and it was something he enjoyed.

one thing he didn’t know, however, was how to tell the girl he had been in love with for multiple years, his feelings. add the fact that she was also in his friendship group, he knew he was utterly hopeless.

years of knowing and seeing one another weekly, but he still struggled to hold a 10 minute conversation between you both. between stuttering words and clenched jaws - he could speak to everyone else in the room as though it was a god given talent, but you? for you, he was hopeless.

every girlfriend, every fling and every message in his inbox was a way to rid himself of you, but you plagued his thoughts and every inch of his desires.

———

“right, why are you saying this to me again?” jin questioned as he cooked.

the entire group were at namjoon’s house to celebrate his new promotion, with bottles of wine sitting in the fridge and laughter heartily coming from the living room.

“jin, please.” jungkook groaned, leaning on the counter beside him. “yoongi won’t listen to me anymore. says i talk too much.

jin looked straight at him. “you do.”

“what? this is the first time i’m opening up about this to you.”

jin looked over again, more pointed. “first time this week.”

jungkook groaned once more, overgrown pout on his face as he rubbed over his eyes.

“listen.” jin began. “you can walk, or in your case run, in circles all you want. why can’t you just be honest with her, tell her how you feel?”

“i can’t even have a conversation with her without feeling like i’m going to pass out.”

yejin walked into the kitchen, hair messy and lipstick smudged from the wine she had been drinking. her eyes fell on the pout on jungkook’s face before giggling.

“let me guess, yoongi won’t let you confess to him anymore, now you’re terrorising jin?”

“bingo.” the older man grinned.

jungkook frowned. “is this just a running gag, now?”

“hard to feel sorry for you when you’re the reason for your own problems, kook.” yejin slid next to jin, moaning over the scent of multiple little dishes. “i mean, have you tried asking her out? even platonically? have you guys ever purposefully been alone with each other?”

jungkook’s frown deepened, he hated being friends with intellectuals. stupid yejin, stupid namjoon, jin and yoongi. the rest weren’t to be trusted with this knowledge; they’d blab to you in a heartbeat. little did you know, you had taken them for yourself. they were yours informants, sworn to secrecy.

“well, i guess not but…i don’t think she’d be entirely comfortable with just me.” he confessed. “she gets shy and quiet when i speak to her. she doesn’t laugh or joke the same as when she’s with all of us.”

the two looked over at the tall boy, eyes brows furrowed. they then turned to look at one another, both shaking their head. “god, why did you curse us with idiots for friends.” yejin grumbled, allowing jin to feed her ahead of everyone.

“you guys are mean.” jungkook grumbled. “at least yoongi pretends to be nice at first.”

with a roll of jin’s eyes, he handed him a few plates before shoo’ing him away, yejin following with her hands full. in the living room, you were stood by the tv, glass in hand, giggling away as you watched yoongi and taehyung battle it out on mario cart. the former was grunting and yelling, uncharacteristically, whilst the latter grinned wide as he won another round.

“you’re getting old.” tae smirked.

yoongi gave him a glare, before standing up to help yejin put her plates down. “you don’t get hit enough for my liking.”

the wine was beginning to make your brain hazy, and you felt slightly tipsy. it was no secret that you were the lightweight of the group, which was why you were on a strict one glass policy whenever you were with your group.

the living room table was set, adorned with finger food and a bowl of larger dishes, everyone tucking in. jungkook took a seat on the coach on the left, leaving a space beside him before his eyes flickered up to you, hovering over the table behind hobi, waiting to be given a plate. his eyes stayed trained to your face, a reddish flush evident on your cheeks that made his heart beat painfully. fuck, you were so pretty.

“okay. this weekend, what are we doing?” yejin clapped, as you began filling your plate. “you know i love pigging out with you guys, but we should celebrate joonie properly. you’ve really been waiting for this for so long.”

the dimpled boy grinned, blushing slightly. “i’m happy to do whatever, this is enough for me.”

“boring.” jimin groaned, shaking his head. “we need to go out.”

your eyes brushed over the seating arrangement, noticing the only free spot was between yejin and jungkook, the latter already staring up at you with too large eyes and parted lips. you wanted to scream, the little girl in you clawing her way through your body at the thought of sitting next to your crush.

with a tinge in your cheeks, you made your way over, wobbling slightly as you began to sit down. jungkook’s reflexes were fast, one hand on your thigh and the other taking control of your wine, letting you sit down comfortably.

his touch didn’t register with your brain immediately, but once you sat down and looked, noticing his hand remaining on your thigh whilst he looked up to join in on the conversation with the others, your brain began to short circuit. he was touching you. his hand. on your thigh. touching.

you had never noticed how big his hands were until now, your eyes flickering over every inch and knuckle, core clenching and mouth watering. you wanted him in a way that was neither healthy nor acceptable, but right now, who could blame you?

jungkook wasn’t fairing any better. his heart was beating so loudly, he swore he could feel it in his throat. he hadn’t even thought before touching you, it felt like second nature and once his hand found home on your thigh, he simply couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

you both sat, tense and head swirling, his hand firmly where it belonged.

“what do you think y/n, you down?” yejin murmured next to her, bumping her shoulder.

“down..” you cleared your throat, fixing your position. “down for what, sorry?”

her eyes flickered down, before meeting your gaze with an all knowing smirk. “the new club downtown on saturday.”

“isn’t it kinda expensive? i hear the drinks are pricey.” you cringed.

jimin scoffed. “with a face like yours, you won’t be spending a penny, don’t you worry.”

you exchanged giggles, the group going back to exchanging conversations as you all drank. the wine was getting to you, so much so, you hardly noticed jungkook’s hand flexing on your thigh, gripping tighter and higher.

——

saturday had finally come and you went all out. everyone was dressed nicely, excited to go christen a new club, the electricity palpable and running through you. you knew you looked good tonight, you had gone the extra mile - sleek hair and dress both tight and perhaps too short. your heels made your legs look longer than usual and your makeup sultry - you had one single goal tonight. jungkook.

you were sick of this cat and mouse game. you liked him. maybe a lot more than like, but regardless, you were going to get a few shots in you, tell him how you feel whilst you felt confident, and then get black out drunk so you wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. solid plan.

unfortunately, said plan meant nothing once your eyes fell on him.

broad shoulders and piercings catching the light of the club, drink in hand as his t shirt stretched across his chest. every plan, thought and idea fluttered away from your head, leaving a hollow echo chamber in which all you could hear was a repeat of his name.

he turned to look around, noticing you walking towards the group with hugs and greetings. he blinked once or twice, before turning around and openly groaning. fuck.

“yeah, yeah. pack it up lover boy.” yoongi scoffed, before you walked over to give him a hug too.

jungkook spun again, meeting your gaze as you shyly reached over to hug him as per usual. he never let you get far, always closing the distance himself and wrapping his arms around you as he held you tightly.

“hm. you smell good.” he murmured next to your ear, leaving a shiver down your spine.

“is that it?” you cheekily asked, eyebrow raised.

he smirked wide and broad. “you look good. better than good.”

you grinned up at him before letting him go. he, however, let his arm rest loosely around your waist as you turned to the group, gushing with yejin about how good she looked. you tried to ignore how badly your heart was thumping, he was never this bold - sure he could be touchy but that was jungkook, he practically resided on namjoon’s lap. this felt different, but you couldn’t bare yourself to get your hopes up.

his eyes flickered downwards, observing you and wracking over your body. you looked better than ever, and it both excited and angered him. he knew he’d have to have his wits about him tonight, if a man even approached you, he was sure he’d combust.

“okay, drinks!” taehyung exclaimed over the music, clapping his hands.

you and yejin took a seat at the table whilst the boys filtered down to the bar, the loss of jungkook’s arm both palpable and healing to your racing brain.

your eyes travelled to across the club, where your boys stood, jungkook ignoring evident glances and women sauntering over to him. you couldn’t help the grimace.

“you’re too pretty to frown.” yejin cooed, moving your chin so you were facing her. “especially over a boy.”

you blushed. “wish he wasn’t so handsome, can’t believe everyone sees what i see.”

“ah,” she grinned wickedly. “funny. you’ve had guys trailing you and watching you from the second you walked in, and believe me, he’s not happy.”

your eyes widened at her comment, eyes flickering to jungkook again, who’s gaze was already on you. you broke the contact, embarrassed before turning to her properly.

“enough jungkook talk, what’s on the agenda tonight? what is yeji doing?” you asked, hands in hers.

“i’m not leaving empty handed.” she wiggled her eyebrows, causing a fit of laughter that remained as the boys came back, looking at you both inquisitively.

yoongi reached over to hand you your drink, to which you thanked him gently, sipping slowly.

you felt the seat beside you dip, focused on your conversation with the boy and girl beside you, until you felt a warm hand press against your bare thigh. yejin and yoongi continued, unaware, as your head turned to face the tatted boy beside you, who drank his drink as though this was the most casual thing he had ever done. the thump in his chest argued otherwise.

you were sure your cheeks were flaming red, and your thigh began to tremble beneath his touch. you wanted him to go higher whilst also let go, you were sure your brain would wither away soon with how hazy you felt.

“like your drink?” he asked, suddenly getting closer to you so you could hear him over the music.

“mm, fruity.” you nodded, eyes never leaving his.

he grinned. “hm.” his hand flexed on your thigh. “have i told you how good you look, tonight?”

“only once.” you guys were flirting. the little girl inside your body was screaming so loudly.

he tutted, shaking his head as his grip tightened. “my bad, baby. you look stunning.” he whispered intimately into your ear. “love this little dress, new hm? would have remembered if you’d worn it before.”

all you could do is nod, as he pulled away slightly from your ear, your faces much too close to be deemed appropriate. just a little closer, he thought, eyes flickering down to your lips. just a little curve to your head and he’d take care of your tiny pout, he was sure.

before you could continue, however. “y/nnie, come on.” jimin shouted, from across the booth as he got up, forcing you to yank away from jungkook with wide eyes and parted lips. your eyes looked up to the blonde haired boy, a smirk on his face. “time to dance.”

“jimin i’m not tipsy enough.” you groaned.

“take this shot.” namjoon pushed the drink over to you, yejin giggling beside you.

you picked it up, hands still shaky, and tipped it back, grimacing deeply whilst everyone laughed and whooped around you. you shook your head quickly, as to rid yourself of the taste, before he grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your seat and guiding you down. you grabbed yejin on the way, who waved excitedly at the rest of the boys, shouting something about actually having fun.

it wasn’t long until you guys were dancing away, giggling loudly and twirling with one another. jimin was the life of your group, whilst yejin was the soul - if you ever wanted to have fun, it had to involve the pair who only ever seeked out joy.

the alcohol was already rushing to your head, leaving you a tipsy mess. being the worlds biggest lightweight never helped when you wanted to get drunk because you knew in two drinks, you were completely finished, but it was always nice to get a buzz whilst you were out.

hobi and jin soon joined, with the former’s arms around you as you danced and sang together, fits of giggles being shared.

“i don’t think i’m going to survive tomorrow, my heads already so gone.” you shouted over at him, music thumping.

“yeah, me neither - your little boyfriend is about to kill me with his stare.” he giggled louder, throwing his head back.

your eyebrows furrowed before turning your head to the side, catching jungkook’s heavy gaze.

eyebrows furrowed and a dark expression on his face, you could see the clench of his jaw and it made your core whine. he was so pretty despite being evidently bothered. the thought, the idea, that he would be this way over hobi dancing with you sent a million electricity volts through your body, your eyes never leaving his.

“we spoil him too much, now we can’t even dance with you without him planning our murder.”

you broke eye contact, looking at hobi with an excited thrill. “i want him so bad.” you groaned quietly, head falling to his shoulder.

“believe me. you could have him.”

——

the night was going strong, and you had slowed down with the drinks and paced yourself appropriately to match your friends. taehyung wanted to smoke outside, so you accompanied him.

you and jungkook had been playing a fine line all night, dancing around the tension, eye contact and fleeting touches but never anything more. it was driving you insane, you knew that maybe he wanted you in some way but if it wasn’t the way you wanted, then you couldn’t have him. you wouldn’t be able to move on and it wasn’t fair.

you both stood outside, taehyung taking out a cigarette whilst the wind nipped at your too warm skin, offering some calm to the night.

“fuck. forgot my lighter, i’ll be two seconds alright?” he groaned with a tip of his head making you nod, resting your head against the wall of the smoking shelter.

you watched him retreat, closing your eyes for a few moments before you heard a shuffling of feet behind you. your eyebrows furrowed, thinking nothing of it until a large hand gripped your hip, twirling you around to face them.

your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. why was he here? how could he be here? touching you so casually and without thought; hand bruising your hip with every passing second as he approached you with nothing but clear disrespect.

“missed me?” jaehyun, your ex, grinned down at you, lowering his head to meet your height.

your ex of two years, who had terrorised you to an inch of your life stood before you, hands on your body as though it was his every right. your relationship with him had been turbulent to say the least.

it had started once you decided you couldn’t see jungkook kissing another girl at a random party, you felt sick and you’d had enough, you were finally moving on from the schoolgirl crush you had on him. you met jaehyun and he was seemingly perfect at ridding you of jungkook’s lasting touch on your heart, until he suddenly wasn’t.

he’d get angry whenever you went out with your friends, despite knowing them and understanding the years long dynamic you all shared. the mere mention of namjoon, hoseok and jimin were enough to drive him into a rage that left you shaking all night, only for him to appear the next morning with flowers and empty promises that it would never happen again.

you’d once mentioned jungkook in a passing, harmless comment and had to nurse your face for the next two weeks as payment. he was violent regarding any man, but it was the bright eyed boy that set him off the most.

it only escalated, but by that point, you felt entirely trapped. it wasn’t until yejin had come over after months of silence on your part, and broke down at the sight of you. you’d never forget the way she wailed whilst examining the bruises on your arms and chest, holding you like a baby before packing your bags and taking you from your shared apartment with him.

you don’t remember what happened after that, it was traumatic and it had taken a year of therapy to even consider unpacking it properly. you remembered being sat with the boys, yejin holding you tight whilst they all promised to keep you safe. you’d spend a night at each of their homes in rotation for months and months, at the fear of night terrors and something worse.

the nights you’d stay with jungkook were the calmest, the scent of him imbedded deep into his home enough to lull you to sleep as he snored in the living room. your friends had supported you to an inch of your life, built up your confidence and protected you. you were no longer the meek girl jaehyun had forced you to be, you stood straight and you spoke clearly - but the sight of him; the feel of him, broke you out of it immediately.

“get off of me.” you shakily whispered, hand grabbing the hand on your hip and pushing it away with all your might, forcing yourself to step away. “you don’t get to touch me.”

his eyes darkened, the patronising grin falling from his face immediately. “you know, i thought i taught you better than that. made sure not to let you talk back, remember?”

his words made you flinch, clearly referring to the times he would plow a fist into you if you ever spoke up even remotely. you began inching backwards, throat bobbing and hands shaking.

“and that dress? so short, it’s like you’re begging for my attention. two years later and still acting like a slut, y/n?” his face contorted, as though even looking at you made him angry. “used to be such a good girl. used to fucking listen.”

“don’t speak to me. you’re..you’re not allowed to come near me.” you wheezed out as your hands shook and your stomach twisted, the horrible feeling of anxiety and fear beginning to take over you. yejin had helped you file a restraining order. he wasn’t allowed to do this to you.

“yeah? and who’s going to fucking stop me.” he growled, hand grabbing your arm tightly making you welp whilst his other pulled you forward to his chest. “fucking bitch. i’ll take you home, hm? teach you a lesson, teach you what you should have remembered.”

you couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. eyes closing and body shaking. his hand began gripping your face tightly, spouting abuse at you as your brain completely slipped away, shutting yourself down as trauma gripped the edges like a vice.

suddenly, you felt his touch completely leave you, forcing you to open them up again to find jaehyun on the floor, jungkook pounding his fists into his face. you could see taehyung shouting something, namjoon pulling you away and hobi running back inside where the others remained, no doubt to bring them to you.

you couldn’t think, your brain disassociating as your body trembled, prints of jaehyun’s hands all over your body. were you crying? tears were streaming down your face and you weren’t even aware, trembling as namjoon took you to a quiet corner, worried beyond belief.

taehyung had rushed back to their table to get a lighter, when namjoon, hobi and himself agreed to step out too, needing a smoke and fresh air. within moments of being outside, his eyes had widened at the sight of your abusive ex attacking you. he’d never get used to the look of fear in your face that felt so constant years ago, but seeing it back was enough to make him see red.

he wasn’t thinking, grabbing the man and plowing his fists into his face, watching him fall back. he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, only doing so once both yoongi and jimin had managed to get him off, watching as jaehyun scurried away as fast as he could, despite bleeding heavily from his face.

turning around, seeing you sat with your eyes unmoving and tears streaming, he wanted to chase the fucker and do it again. his baby, his girl - how could he do this to you? how could he look at you and not see anything other than stars and moon?

“y/nnie, can you hear me?” he cooed as yejin sobbed beside you, holding you tightly. the boys were all a nervous wreck, yoongi shaking angrily and the others trying to regain your attention.

after a few moments, your eyes began to focus. you met jungkook’s gaze first, your gaze flickering over him in a momentary lapse of confusion. “he’s gone, y/n. jungkook took care of it.” taehyung sniffled, crouched beside you.

a moment of silence was shared between you, the sounds of both yejin and tae filtering the air as the others ran their hands through their hair nervously.

“promise?” you asked, voice breaking making the tatted boy almost whine in sadness. “promise you, he won’t bother you again.”

you simply nodded. you hadn’t noticed how hard you were crying, with tears ruining your perfectly applied makeup and your chest heaving in what could only be fear. “i’m sorry joonie, was supposed to be your night.” you choked out.

the taller boy tutted over at you, pressing a kiss to your head. “don’t be silly, y/nnie.” he shook his head. “jungkook, why don’t you take her home? stay with her, yeah? think she’ll feel the best with you there.”

you hardly registered what was happening, feeling jungkook’s hands taking hold of yours as he helped you up. everyone took turns holding you for a second or two, ensuring personally that you were okay. yejin pressed kisses to your cheek through her own tears, promising you that you were safe and that nothing else would happen before crying further into jin’s chest. jungkook watched, almost helplessly as he waited for the uber to arrive, yoongi patting him on the back. it wasn’t long until he received the notification on his phone.

he looked at you now, as you sniffled and walked back over to him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you all bid your goodbyes. you slid into the uber first, his arms cradling you as you shuffled into his shoulder, breathing in the same familiar scent that would soothe you.

after a while of silence, your eyebrows furrowed, taking in your surroundings. “this isn’t the way to my house.”

he looked down at you, your little hand on his. he pondered before holding it up to his mouth, pressing a little kiss to your fingers. “i know baby. taking you to mine.”

your heart was thumping again, watching him as he caressed your hands, kissing each fingertip so gently you wondered if he was kissing them at all. an act so intimate you wondered what it meant.

it wasn’t long until you arrived, mourning the loss of warmth jungkook’s body provided as he pulled you out gently, taking you inside.

you’d been here a million times before but you never tired of how warm it felt, how much it resembled each bit of him. you pulled off your heels, your height dropping significantly before shuffling to the bathroom, intent on taking your makeup off immediately.

the joys of having two skincare obsessed women in the group meant yejin and yourself kept these boys stocked, considering sleepovers were a norm. jungkook let you take your time, no words exchanged as he grabbed you a t shirt from his wardrobe, knowing how much you liked sleeping in them.

“kookie, can i shower?” you asked, quietly as you peeked your head out the bathroom.

“course you can, i got you the rose body wash that you like the other day too.” he grinned over at you, hands roaming his hair. he handed over the oversized tee you loved so much, heart skipping a beat as you gave him a soft smile. “you’re the best.” you muttered back, hearing a little chuckle from him.

you watched as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets before closing the door, your eyes screwed shut for a moment. so much had happened tonight, from feeling utterly helpless one second to so safe and warm in jungkook’s presence.

you showered relatively quickly, wanting no more than to sink into the plush mattress of his bed. “you hungry?” he asked once you came out, having showered himself in his other bathroom, dressed in a similar t shirt and plaid bottoms. he looked so cute.

“no, i’m okay.” he looked over with a small double take, drinking you in, soft skin and barely hidden legs. god, you drove him insane.

he nodded. “okay, wanna head to bed? it’s been a long night for you.” you shuffled in your spot before nodding.

he’d usually sleep on his couch whenever you were round, considering it was quite large and comfortable - of course, he didn’t want to intrude either. he had too much respect for you to ever think about imposing.

“will you..will you stay with me? tonight?” you whispered quietly, looking down as you asked.

he didn’t reply, simply began walking over to you and gently taking your hands in his, littering your smaller fingers with kisses like he did in the uber. your breath hitched as you met his gaze, watching as he nodded before leading you over to his bedroom, hand clasped over yours.

you let yourself be pulled by him, watching as he rounded the bed, knowing you preferred the side closest to the window, before getting in; watching you do the same. you both snuggled into the warmth of his covers, a groan leaving your lips.

he turned to look at you, as you did the same. he couldn’t handle how cute you looked, fresh faced and cuddled into his pillow. he wanted to protect you forever, have you sheltered from anything that didn’t wish even a semblance of joy.

“i’m sorry you got hurt, kookie.” you whispered, the little pout he loved so much forming. “i had no idea he was there and i just froze..i don’t know.”

he cooed at you, inching closer before slowly pulling you in by your waist so the space between you had disappeared. your hands moved to his chest without thinking, the urge coming naturally.

“don’t apologise, y/n. should have killed him for how he was speaking to you, i’m so sorry he did that.” his eyes shut tightly for a second, as though the memory pained him. “he’ll get what’s coming to him, i’ll make sure of it.”

you looked away, eyes falling to his neck and the rise and fall of his chest. “how do you feel?” he asked.

his hands moved to cup your face. you were both inching closer and closer without even realising it. “scared, honestly. i’ve been doing so good and now he’s reappeared.” you all but whimpered. “just wanna forget.”

“yeah?” he whispered, lifting your chin again to look at him, his forehead gently pressing against yours. “want me to help you forget, pretty girl?”

“please.” you nodded slowly, your eyes flickering to his lips whilst he did the same, the two of you dancing around the tension but tonight was enough.

he looked between your lips and eyes once more, before brushing his nose against yours. you tilted upwards before you felt a faint brush of his lips.

he pulled away, only slightly, looking at the way your eyes fluttered close, all resolve fluttering away from him before he properly pressed his lips to yours again.

kissing jungkook felt like coming home. consisting of passion and years of yearning, feeling like it had finally come to an end. all compiled into this single moment.

you pulled him closer, mouths interlocking as you shared a sweet embrace, his arms wrapping around your entire body before you began pulling away. the kiss was only brief, but its impact left you reeling.

“fuck.” he whispered. your eyes remained shut for a moment longer, opening them up to find a look of hope pulling at his fingers. “i’m going to kiss you again, okay y/n? but before i do that, we need to talk.”

you nodded, eyes focused on his lips before meeting his gaze. “okay. you go first.”

he nervously laughed, sitting up slightly and giving him a moment to get his bearings. he opened his mouth a few times, before closing it, unsure of where to start. “sorry, just hard you know? telling the girl you’re in love with that..you’re in love with her.” he rambled, scratching the back of his neck.

you could have sworn that the earth stopped spinning. you looked up at him, sitting up a little too fast, causing him to stop his rambled muttering before raising his eyebrows.

“what did you just say?” you all but whispered, eyes wide.

his mouth was gaping now, confusion littered on his face as though to question what had he actually said. once it dawned on him, his eyes matched the size of yours.

“oh…i mean i guess i said it. i..i get it if you don’t feel the same, i don’t want you to feel like you have to return the same feelings, you know?” he began again, this time much faster, the two of you completely sat up in bed. “but like can you blame me? loved you second i met you, y’know? always wanted to tell you but just get so shy around you, and you’re so pretty makes my brain shut down..”

whatever you had done in a past life, god bless. you were sure you would thank every god and every goddess for this very moment, your hands shaking as you grabbed his face, yanking it towards you and pressing your lips to his.

jungkook’s breath faltered for a second before realising what was happening. he wrapped his hands over your hips, careful not to touch the bruised skin your ex had caused, pulling you onto his lap immediately.

this kiss was unlike the other. though it shared the same passion and tension, this felt like a promise and declaration of love - a certainty that had waited to be confirmed for what felt like eons.

your mouths moved in unison, your fingers gripping into his hair as he brought you closer. he groaned into your mouth, your tongues moving together whilst you both pushed and pulled, yearning for more whilst every emotion ran through you. the feel of his piercing against your mouth felt cool; an odd feeling at first touch but quickly becoming something your brain felt addicted to.

he pulled away slowly for breath, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as he looked directly at you, nudging his nose with yours. “is that your way of telling me you like me?”

“i love you, you idiot.” you whispered back at him, the both of you resorting to pecks. “loved you for so long, can’t believe you haven’t told me until day.” he grinned at this, nudging your nose once more.

“yeah, you didn’t either.”

you rolled your eyes, playing with his hair from behind. “does this mean we can kiss all the time?” you asked, pecking him whilst excitedly bouncing in his lap.

he groaned loudly, hands flying to grab your waist carefully as you smothered his faces in excited kisses. “yeah, won’t ever keep my hands off of you again.”

jungkook, although elated, was fighting the demons that were currently erupting through his chest. you, in no more than his shirt and your underwear, bouncing in his lap, conveniently over his crotch where he was already fighting his growing hard on.

“fuck, y/n.” he groaned again, holding you down a little firmer, unaware that the action was now directly pushing your own core directly to his crotch. you let out a little noise, half moan half whimper; eyes connecting.

neither of you dared to move. the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable, especially after the night you had which is shy he began to pull you up, to rest you on your side of the bed again.

only, you placed your hands on his shoulders, pressing your core against his bulge firmly before rolling your hips experimentally. you couldn’t help the moan that left you, a noise leaving his lips that rivalled it.

“still…still wanna forget kookie, you’ll do that for me?” you asked, unable to stop your hips from moving in circles, not when it felt so good.

he nodded, as though in a trance, guiding your hips as he shuddered against you. “don’t want you to feel like i’m taking advantage, baby, you’ve had such a long night.” he whispered, though your actions never faltered.

sweet, sweet boy. you couldn’t believe this was happening, the man of your dreams, both your heart and brain no longer at odds but instead connected finally in matrimony. “wanted you for so long.” you breathed out with a shake of your head.

this was beyond anything he could imagine. with direct confirmation from you, he captured your lips once more, hands planted firmly on your waist as he dragged you up and down his clothed cock. you shared moans, quiet and unsure at first before you found yourself matching his movement, the two of you closer than ever in a way you had Both only dreamt of.

“fuck. we have to stop, or i’ll cum.” jungkook whined as he pulled away from your lips, arms entirely wrapping around your body as if to stop you, closing his eyes tightly. “and i plan to impress you, so..”

you panted, with both a slight nod and slight giggle before whimpering at the loss of pleasure. this only lasted a few more seconds before suddenly, you found yourself flipped, a squeal leaving you. jungkook hovered over you, peeling his shirt from his body before swooping down to catch your lips again.

you couldn’t help your wandering hands, fingers twitching over his naked chest. you had seen him shirtless before, notably when you had all gone to the beach, but the memory was seared into the crevice of your mind. feeling his skin so intimately was completely different.

your lips moved in unison before he broke away, whining at his own action as he pulled his t-shirt you wore. he looked at you for approval, to which you nodded before he pulled it up over your head.

jungkook groaned, loudly. the sight of your bare breasts were enough for him to go clinically insane, but the way you were looking up at him, eyes big and lips bruised. you would be the end of him.

“fuck, look at you. so pretty.” he reached for one of your breasts, listening to the quickening of your breath as he wrapped his mouth around one. biting, teasing and licking, he proceeded to leave honeyed marks on your skin, whilst your moans and squeaks egged him on.

he moved to your other, making sure to physically leave his claim over them with hickeys adorning your body. “need you, kook.” you whined, impatient.

the side of his mouth flickered up at the sound of your impatience, and as much as he wanted to ruin you immediately, he had waited too long for this to just end up rushing.

“need to prep you first, hm? gonna be patient for me?” he cooed as his hands continued cupping your breasts. you nodded, eagerly, hands locking into his hair as he gave them one last kiss before easing down your body, trailing kisses from your stomach to your hips. he kissed over the bruised skin jaehyun had caused, making your heart clench for a moment.

the boy you loved, with wild eyes and bruised lips, searing love into every crevice of skin he could reach, ridding you of the pain that disgusting man had placed on you. he was freeing you with every touch, with every promise hidden behind passionate touches, you felt so safe.

he parted your legs, eyes flickering up to meet yours. he grabbed the hem of your underwear, sliding it down so that he was met with your core, a noise of pure defeat leaving him at the sight of you. wet and clenching for him, yearning for his touch just as much as he yearned to taste you. “all for me, baby?”

you nodded, as he parted your legs further despite how suddenly shy you felt. he dipped his head, planting a chaste kiss to your clit, watching as your body jolted. with a smirk, he dove in.

he couldn’t help the noises that were leaving him as he sucked and licked, intoxicated by your taste. “taste so good, y/n.” he’d moan in between your legs. “could die here.” he’d add. “addicted to you.” he’d all but growl.

you couldn’t help the moans, you’d never felt like this before. sure you’d been eaten out before, but never by a man who acted like this was his last starving meal. jungkook hoisted your legs wider, as your hips lifted, your hands tight against his scalp.

“need to stretch you, fuck. need to make sure i fit, hm?” he teased, eyes connecting with yours as one of his tatted fingers teased your entrance whilst sucking on your clit. you hated the thought of any woman before you in his life, but you thanked every higher power above that he knew what he was doing, feeling your high in your stomach already.

he instered a finger, pumping at a pace that had your toes curling. the whines that were leaving you made him dizzy, he wanted more. it wasn’t long before he inserted another, beginning to thrust them in unison whilst you chanted his name.

he groaned at the sight of you lifting your hips, desperate to reach your high. he had no idea he was grinding into the bed, chasing a high of his own as he watched you quiver and moan. “so tight, y/n, can’t wait to feel you on my cock. hm? won’t be able to think once you’re being fucked right, baby.”

you nodded, head empty and hands shaking. “w-want it, kookie, want it so bad.”

his fingers quickened, getting rougher and going harder as he sucked on your clit. he could feel you getting restless, knew you were on the edge from the way you were pushing his head closer without even realising. he could feel his sick obsession in his brain growing rapidly knowing you wanted him just as much, it felt like nothing else mattered than making you good.

“jungkook.” you let out a high pitched squeal, feeling your high rapidly approaching before your legs began to shake, and hips began to raise. your high ran through you like a shot of electricity, as your moans grew higher, his fingers pumped faster and his hand pressed down onto your stomach, forcing you to feel every inch of your orgasm.

he parted from you after you began quivering from overstimulation, plopping his fingers into his mouth to memorise your addicting taste. he hovered over you once more, the tent in his bottoms too large for you to ignore.

“i hate that you’re so good at that.” you panted, unable to meet his eyes as your focused on his bulge. he smirked, watching you, placing your smaller hand onto it so you could feel him fully. “i’m all yours now baby. gonna eat you out every chance you give me.”

your eyes met, a shared grin forming between you both before you pulled him in sharply for a kiss. hot and heavy, you could taste yourself on him which drove you insane - you reached for his pyjama bottoms, pushing them down almost desperately.

parting from him, with hooded eyes, you looked down at his cock. so big and thick, prettier than any you’d ever seen before you let out the cutest moan. he swore he could die happy. “how are you this perfect, and you have a pretty dick?”

“are you trying to inflate my ego? it’s working. i’ll get that tatted on my chest, don’t play.”

you giggled up at him before pumping him, both hands moving up and down as you sighed. “want you inside me, kookie.” you peered up. “don’t make me wait anymore.”

he pressed one last kiss to you, groaning at the feel of your hands around his already sensitive member. he parted your legs, one peek at your messy core enough to drive him insane before he began rubbing the head over you.

“don’t think you’ll fit.” you whimpered, the feel of him all encompassing.

“i’ll make it fit, was born for you baby.” jungkook promised, as he began pushing his cock in, your core instantly clenching around him. he began slowly, until he was fully inside, pelvis to pelvis, eyes fluttering shut.

you’d never felt so full in your life, the stretch both delicious and overwhelming. your fingers clawed at his large biceps, whimpers and quivers filling in the air as he held you tightly, whispering sweet nothings about how good you were for him, how incredible you felt. once you gave him the green light, he began thrusting.

he couldn’t believe this is what he was missing out on. he couldn’t believe how tightly and warmly you felt around him, felt like he was finally coming home.

his hips snapped against yours slowly, letting you feel every inch as your moans got louder and louder. “faster, kook.” you begged, though you knew you never had to, he’d give you the world.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he chanted, his pace changing as he began to thrust faster per your request, pressing his head against yours. “feel so good, my y/n, my girl.”

you clenched around him over his words making him airily chuckle, thrusting harder at that. “yeah, like that? like me calling you my girl?”

“yeah, wanna be yours jungkook.” you whimpered back, legs reaching up to wrap around his waist as he began to thrust deeper.

the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air and he knew his neighbours would be furious tomorrow, but could hardly begin to care. “you are, hm? was always my girl, you’re all mine and i’m all yours.” he promised, biceps flexing beside your face. “won’t ever let you go.”

you mewled loudly, hands finding home in his hair as you pulled against the strands. “feel so full.”

“yeah? pussy loves it baby, loves taking it.” he growled back, head hiding in your neck, leaving hickeys.

you could already feel your high approaching, but you couldn’t bare for this to end yet, lightly pushing his chest. he immediately pulled himself up and stopped thrusting, looking down at you with furrowed eyes. “wanna ride you.” you whimpered to which he threw his head back in what could only be a pathetic groan.

“you’re going to kill me, y/n.”

soon, your positions had changed and you were slipping him back inside, the two of you moaning loudly at the feel of one another in such a deeply intimate way. he felt so much bigger like this, and the feeling of fullness for you and your heat for him were enough to drive you mad.

he watched as you began to bounce, body contorting at the feeling of pleasure running through you. this was the hottest sight he had ever seen, your hands pressed against his chest to stabilise yourself.

“fuck yourself on my cock, that’s it.” he cooed, hands grabbing onto your ass before landing a harsh spank, to which you mewled and rode faster. you had no idea to what extent you were driving him crazy.

he watched as you rose, hands now held behind yourself as you practically used him to get off. the sight was severed into his brain forever, with his fingers rubbing your clit to bring you closer to your high. “already so close, feels too good.” you moaned.

music to his ears, jungkook thought. you were getting tighter and tighter, no doubt nearing your second high but he couldn’t bring himself to lay back anymore. he grabbed your ass again, before bouncing you up and down himself, your moans getting expeditiously louder.

“jungkook!” you squealed, feeling his cock fuck you in a way no one had ever managed to. you were addicted, you had no idea how you were ever suppose to live again after this, after experiencing heaven.

“fuck baby, can feel you getting close hm? wanna cum with me, wanna cum on my cock?” he cooed at you, switching your positions again. you were now on your side, one leg on his shoulder whilst he hovered over you, pounding roughly whilst rubbing your clit.

you chanted yes over and over, his free hand holding your own as he could feel his own high approaching. with the final rub to your clit, your breath stitched as your orgasm rushed through every inch of you, shaking your body beneath him.

the sight alone was enough to bring him to his own high, giving you one last sloppy thrust before cumming, his fingers on your clit not letting up as he chased you through your high, your moans twisting into one another.

his fingers fell, alongside your leg on his shoulder leaving you both a shuddering mess. he immediately found home, his forehead touching yours whilst your breaths mingled, panting at one another.

you spent a few minutes just like that, getting your bearings before he slowly pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum trailing out of you.

“you okay, did i go too hard?” he cooed at you, his hands reaching for your face as he planted sweet kisses over your cheeks.

“felt so good, kookie. felt perfect.” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck immediately, pulling him down to properly meet you beside him.

he could hardly believe it. the love of his life, cuddling into him after a session of pure passion and lust. he was addicted to you; sure that no other drug would be as potent as you. completely ruined from the inside out.

you both stayed silent for a while, simply caressing and kissing each other. it felt so pure, so right that you felt ashamed knowing you hadn’t told him your feelings earlier. you had long forgotten everything that happened that night, your brain totally encompassed by the thought of him.

“i’m never going to live down the fact i should have confessed to you earlier.” he frowned at you. “we wasted so much time.”

to this, you giggled, holding him close. “we were idiots, but i guess this means we have to make up for it, right?”

jungkook grinned widely at your words, taking your hand in his and lightly kissing your fingertips. “firstly,” he began, sitting up slightly so that you could look at him properly. “i love you, love you so much i can’t breathe when i look at you.”

you took him in, a bashful smile forming. “secondly, know i didn’t properly ask but this makes you my girlfriend, right?” he asked, smiling wider as he watched you nod excitedly with a squeak. “not for long though, i’ll put a pretty ring on that finger in no time.”

your mouth fell open at his words, eyes widening. “jungkook, you can’t say that!” you giggled, evidently very giddy at his words. say more, your heart screamed.

“please, i’ve learnt my lesson y/n. not wasting any more time.” he teased back, the two of you embracing and sharing a sweet kiss.

this was everything you both had wanted and more, spending the rest of the night talking, embracing and perhaps dabbling in other pleasurable activities. soon, you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. home, at last.

——

“you owe me like 50.” namjoon grinned widely at jimin.

the group had walked into jungkook’s apartment, each bringing breakfast assortments and flowers for you to make sure you were alright. they had been so worried last night that they’d gone straight home, each of them unsure of what to do but all understanding that the safest place for you to be was with jungkook.

when jin had seen yoongi and examined the redness of his knuckles, he couldn’t help but grin, knowing full well the boy had probably paid jaehyun a little visit sometime in the night. neither party said anything, but an understanding was shared. you were the youngest of the group, and of course, they were incredibly protective.

what they didn’t, expect, however was to see you cuddled up in jungkook’s arms, the two of you snoring away, evidently naked considering the duvet was hardly doing anything for modesty. upon sight of this, they all silently cheered, filtering out into the living room.

“no way, you ALL owe me 80, i said they’d fuck, you guys just said they’d confess.” yejin chimed in with a grumble, prodding a figure into the taller man’s chest.

hobi couldn’t help his giggles as he began unpacking breakfast. “whatever, can we all just be glad that this ordeal is finally over?”

taehyung nodded. “no more y/n pining.”

“no more jungkook whining.” jin added.

“no more will they, won’t they.” namjoon grinned, grabbing a seat at jungkook’s kitchen table.

“no more does she lo-“ yejin began, before shutting her mouth immediately. all eyes furrowed, including hers, straining their ears to hear the sudden noises forming in the bedroom as their heads snapped, looking over.

a moan filtered out into the air to which everyone groaned, realising what had instead replaced it. “pack it up, lovebirds.” jin shouted loudly. “breakfast on the table in 5, i expect you out and showered.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

hard bargain

in which spencer reid tries to convince reader to get out of bed.

fluff (18+ for implied intimacy) warnings/tags: Spencer is down horrifically, post sex, ur difficult in a fun way, fem reader a/n: teeny tiny blurb for today just 2 remind u this is a fanfic blog

Maybe it’s your eyes. 

The way you blink up at him as he strains to flick the bedside lamp on and drowns the room in slow, honey-gold light, lashes fluttering and drooping, sweet and sedated. Their limpid, placated shine, so content on him. Maybe it’s the bare expanse of your back when the sheet slips away, the perfect dips and swells of you, like sand dunes shaped smooth in desert winds. Maybe it’s your hair, or the way your lips temporarily deepen in color when they’re so well-kissed.

But, your eyes—he couldn’t look away if he tried. 

The idea that anyone would ever look at him like that would’ve been absurd, to a past Spencer. 

Maybe it’s everything about you. 

“Need to get up,” he reminds you in soft, whispery tones—almost sorrowful for disturbing your divine rest, mourning the perfect arrangement of your limbs, just inches from his own. A positioning that can’t be faked or recreated. Like leaves carried down to the forest floor on a gentle breeze and settling with a private sigh, far from anyone’s prying eyes. It’s not lost on him, this kind of magic. This secret kind of existing you let him in on. 

You blink, slow and unworried. 

“Can’t.”

“You can,” he assures you, unable to resist from leaning forward and pressing a kiss as light as a snowflake to the tip of your nose. Your face scrunches into a smile. 

“Don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

“Not ready. I think I need my beautiful perfect angel boyfriend to cuddle me longer.”

Spencer flushes and presses his forehead to yours. 

“I hate when you do that.”

“What? When I’m nice to you?”

You reach up to cup his face. Spencer carefully grabs your wrist and kisses your palm. 

“When you’re nice to me because you want something and you know it’ll work. Because I’m weak.”

“I just want you,” you say, innocently, devilishly. 

“Just,” he scoffs. “I know you. You’re not a girl who just wants anything.”

“Sorry.”

You don’t look sorry. You’re going for pout, but you can’t hide whatever mischief inside you is pleased by his teasing. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers, softened. “You don’t ever need to be sorry. I love giving you what you want. Keep asking me for things.”

You sparkle as he maps the warmed high point of your cheek with a thumb. 

“Careful. I might end up a spoiled brat.”

Instead of pointing out that it’s not a matter of might—you’ve already arrived—Spencer exhales a laugh. 

“No, no. Never. You just… have… a developed understanding of your wants and needs, and you communicate them efficiently, and to the extent that I am able, I enjoy fulfilling you. Unconditionally.”

Another wide smile, real and gorgeous. He could die happy, as you hold his face like he’s holding yours, and you speak so quietly if he were any further away, if he couldn’t feel your breath on his cheek, he might not be able to hear. 

“You make me sound so good.”

“You are,” Spencer promises, speaking through a smile that mirrors your own but is, he can only imagine, not half as radiant. “You’re perfect. You’re actually perfect.”

“No such thing.”

“But there is, because you are. I’m looking at my proof.”

Another warm giggle. 

“Well… okay. Say I’m willing to accept this. Doesn’t that mean… if I’m perfect… I don’t need to get up?”

“No. You absolutely do need to get up. But you’re gonna look so pretty doing it.”

You make a face. Spencer kisses it away. 

“C’mon. We could get you snacks while we’re up.”

“Or you could get me snacks while I remain lying down.”

“You have to let me incentivize you.”

“Maybe you just have to do it better.”

Spencer huffs. 

“Okay. You get up and go to the bathroom. I’ll get you something to eat and I’ll bring it to you once you’re done.”

“Will you read to me?”

“I will read to you.”

“Will you make me breakfast tomorrow?”

“Was it so bad you didn't get any value out of the experience? You have to take me for all that I’m worth?”

“No, no—” you laugh loudly, realizing your mistake. “No! Okay, no. Sex is not transactional. You don’t have to make me breakfast. Thank you in advance for getting me a snack and reading to me. You’re the nicest person ever and I love you so much.”

Spencer blushes and laughs to hide it and buries himself in the crook of your neck. You slip an arm under his ribs to hold him closer, and over the course of a minute or so, the laughter dissipates. A hand finds its way into his hair.

Spencer presses his lips to your skin and hums. “I was gonna make you breakfast anyway.”

[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x Ransom! Reader

Summary: How would the Arcane characters react if the reader was held for ransom?

Characters: Jinx/Powder, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Sevika, Silco and Licker (mention).

Warning: Slight cursing and suggestive themes/implied sexual themes.

A/N: I literally got the idea for this request from Helluva Boss, particular episode 6 of season 2. I hope you all enjoy this though, I know I did!

Powder/Jinx

“You have who?! Where are they?!… You want me to pay you for them? Oh I’ll pay you alright!”

Jinx doesn’t take the idea of you getting hurt lightly. She already is super overprotective of her little trinket, so when she heard that you were being held for a price, she wasted no time grabbing Pow-Pow, Zapper and a bunch of chompers to aid her in her “heroic rescue” for her princess/prince. As soon as she is where you are held, you don’t have to see her to know she’s there for you. Don’t expect any talking, just laughter and hollers followed by gunfire, screams for mercy and explosions.

Before you know it, the Loose Cannon is standing in front of you, pulling you into the tightest hug ever and dressing your face with kisses. She will ask you countless questions while freaking out, beating herself up over you being in such a position. But when she feels you touch her and assure her you’re okay, she’s on cloud nine. As soon as she laces the area with bombs to blow it to kingdom come, she’s back at her hideout, being super affectionate and touchy the entire night. Don’t expect anyone to be touching you for months unless they want their head blown off.

Violet “Vi”

“… What?… You… You just pissed off the wrong woman.”

First word that you were kidnapped, Vi wasted no time hunting your captors down and beating them to a bloody pulp. The woman is like a bull seeing red knowing you were somewhere cold and scared away from home and her arms. So until you were back to her, anyone was able to get a personal greeting from the pink haired fighter. Vi is pretty merciful, but in situations like this, she isn’t afraid to push the envelope by giving life threatening injuries to the bastards that hurt you.

When she found you, she didn’t bother asking any questions or giving any money to your kidnappers, unless they counted a mouthful of fists and kicks as payment enough. When she’s done with her punishment, she’ll immediately scoop you into her arms and take the both of you back home, where she checks you for injuries and asks if you are okay. Please comfort her. She may act all tough and cool, but the situation scared her due to thinking she lost you just like everyone else. As soon as she knows you are alright, she’ll promise no one will ever do that to you again.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“You kidnapped Y/N? Why would- Who do you think you are? You better let them go right now!”

Caitlyn was used to people being kidnapped on the job, having to save them or negotiate with criminals for their safety. But she would have never imagined such a thing happening to you of all people. When she was told you were being held for ransom, she understandably panicked before taking deep breaths and thinking of how to get you back to her. The enforcer can easily scrounge up the money for you to be freed, because you were more important than any coin that reaches her pockets.

So when she arranges a meeting with your kidnappers and finds you so scared, she finds it hard to stop herself from grabbing you and making a run for it. If the kidnappers pull a fast one on her though, all bets are off and bullets are flying. When she has you back, she will watch you like a hawk and be on the defensive for a while. But if you assure her enough that you are okay, she will lighten up. On the bright side, after the incident she’s more romantic and spends more time with you in and out of work.

Viktor

“Look, I’m sure we can talk about this. I’ll get you the money, just. Please don’t hurt them…”

Viktor beat himself up when he heard you were taken away from him for monetary purposes. He just doesn’t understand how he would let this happen- How he would let someone easily take you under his nose and put you in harm’s way?! He could’ve waddled in his sorrows, but he couldn’t. He had to save you and he had to act fast! It would hurt him, but he would ask for assistance from Jayce and the council if he can. And if they can’t help him? Well. Maybe it was time to break out those so-called dangerous machines Heimerdinger warned him against using.

When he finds you, he’s wasting no time trying to negotiate a way around matters so you could be freed. And if those negotiations don’t go according to plan, then he’ll use his machinery and his brain to outsmart the criminals into freeing you. When you are back together, he’ll just. Hold you. Like you are a precious gemstone. He’ll promise you this will never happen again. No one will ever lay their hands on you again…

Jayce Talis

“Is this supposed to scare me? If anything, you should be the one scared- Do you know who I am?!”

Jayce does not take threats lightly, especially when it comes to his family, friends and his loved ones. As soon as he was told you were held for Ransom, he let his anger and determination to get you back fuel him to do anything to send a message and bring you back to safety. You will immediately know your boyfriend got the message because in a matter of hours, enforcers are barging into the area you were held like they were entering a war, shooting, punching and slamming anyone who got in their way from their goal; You.

And Jayce is in the middle of it all, swinging his hammer without remorse before running to your rescue as your knight in shining armor. As soon as you grab his hand, he’s walking you back to his place casually through the enforcers destroying everything in their sights and leaving a message for the assholes that took you; Never. Ever. Touch the councilman’s lover. Don’t expect to go anywhere without guards following you if Jayce isn’t, whether you want to or not. Jayce just can’t take the chance for you to be taken again. Is it extreme? Yes. But it was worth it.

Sevika

“Ransom? Seriously? Please, that’s nothing. And I’m about to show you why.”

When it comes to ransom, Sevika wasn’t new to having her friends or past lovers be kidnapped for money. So when she heard you were being held hostage, she casually grabbed her poncho, fixed her arm for a brawl and headed outside to round her co-workers up. When she found you and the ones that took you, she wasted no time kicking in the doors and sicking her co-workers on everyone before she made her way towards you after knocking some skulls in. She’ll ask if you are okay and especially check you for any injuries before grabbing you and joking how you found yourself in this predicament.

The fight rages on as soon as she places you outside for safety. Saving you wasn’t enough. No, she needed everyone to know that when someone messes with you, they have to deal with her and the rest of Zaun. When everything is over and done, Sevika will take you both back home and treat any injuries you want before kissing your cheek and simply talking as if you weren’t kidnapped to begin with. If you think she doesn’t care, then hoo boy. The way she’ll treat you that night in bed will make you think otherwise.

Silco

“Hmm… If I were you, I’d beg for mercy when I get there…”

Silco is never one to be threatened because he’s always the one making the threats. Hearing about you being held for Ransom made him immediately go on the move to round up Sevika to follow him in bringing you back to him. If he gets there and doesn’t find you anywhere, he will deliver a silent signal to bring the house down. But if you are present, then he won’t need violence to be delivered by his Right Hand. He’ll just need to put the fear of gods into your kidnapper.

He’ll paint them a picture of how he’ll find their families and let them listen to the melody of their bones breaking. How he’ll have Licker carve paintings into their bodies and let them choke on their own blood as they beg for mercy. What do they think of that? They wouldn’t like that at all. As a matter of fact, they would hate it so much that they would release you and fade from existence right there. As soon as you are back to Silco, he’s going to take you back home as if this was only a minor inconvenience. But as soon as you two are behind closed doors, he can’t help from keeping his hands to himself and make promises against your skin.

If you have any requests for Arcane, X-Men '97 or Blue Eye Samurai, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay safe, stay hydrated and have a good day!