#that needs to stay pure and only for my screen

[emmynemm]

Everybody Here Wants You ♡

Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You're working the most mind-numbing shift of your life at the movie theatre, until your favourite bleach blonde makes a surprise appearance.

Word count: 1,366 words

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Working at a movie theatre in small-town Wiskayok wasn’t all bad; you got to see movies for free from the projector room, and you saved money on overpriced movie theatre popcorn and drinks. However, the cons outweighed the pros. Especially tonight. A Friday night that you’re only working, because Grace magically got sick the night of the party at her pretentious jock boyfriend’s house. To make matters worse, the only coworker working with you is a dude stoned so far out of his mind, you doubt he even remembers his name right now. But the worst part? Being stuck with guarding the ticket booth in case a customer decides to catch a screening of ‘Men in Black’ halfway through the movie’s runtime, even if you’ve seen the movie billions of times by now, at least sitting in the projection room meant keeping your brain occupied somehow, all being sat at the concession stand entailed was staring at the same wall for hours.

Truly, if it weren’t for the free movie screenings, you would’ve quit months ago. But money is money, so you stay despite the mind-numbingly boring shifts. Maybe if you stare at the same red curtain lining the wall long enough, you can even pretend you’re in Twin Peaks. Of course, your bitch fit can’t last forever, and it ends abruptly at the sound of none other than your favourite bleach blonde walking right up to the register you’ve been stood at for what feels like centuries.

“You’re stuck with ‘Men in Black’ again? What is this, the 20th screening now?” She grins, absolutely overjoyed at your misery. Still, she could easily be at that party with her fellow Yellowjackets, and instead, she’s here, at a bleak movie theatre, showing a movie she’s seen more times than necessary, just because you are, too. “No, more like the 27th, my shift’s going so slow, it feels like I’m in a time loop.” You whine, clearly ready to go home, “That bad?” Her voice is just a bit softer when she responds, despite her inherent need to tease you every time you’re at work. She pauses before adding, “There’s literally no chance someone’s coming in here this late, and I highly doubt your manager cares enough to check where you were the whole shift, you know that, right?” And without waiting for a response, she’s already got you away from the register, dragging you towards the projection room you’ve snuck her into too many times to count.

Immediately, she hops up onto the first countertop in sight, looking around the projection room, “You know that guy working the ticket booth is like… totally high, right?” She grins at the thought of your coworker, her eyes constantly looking back and forth from your eyes to your lips. “When is he not? He’s been like that every time I’ve covered for Grace. I’m on my own here.” You sink into a swivel chair placed against the wall of the cramped room as Natalie reaches for something in her bag, “Right, I forgot to give this back, thanks for letting me borrow it.” It’s none other than your ‘The Lost Boys’ tape, returned without a single scratch on the clamshell case, as if Natalie treasured it the whole time it was at her house. You can’t help but tease her; you know she would do the same to you, given the chance. “So, you came all this way just to return my VHS? And here I thought it was out of pure longing to see the best movie theatre employee in town…” She lets out a huff of a laugh despite herself, “Your competition is an absentee manager, a dude who’s clearly high at work, and a bitchy cheerleader that hands her shifts off to you more than she actually shows up to work. That might be the lowest bar you could’ve come up with.” Maybe it wasn’t the best metaphor, sure, but it got a smile out of her, and that meant more than any metaphor could.

“I still don’t see you calling anyone else your favourite cinema worker.” You can’t help it, it is true, after all. “Don’t get cocky now,” She smiles back at you, before responding to your question, “and no, actually, I’m here to save you from the lamest shift ever, and drive you home once it’s done… and maybe stay the night. Just for tonight.” There was no need for her to elaborate; she didn’t even need to ask. You were one of the few people who really knew about her homelife, and you two were far too close for you to deny her the sense of normalcy your room provided every time her place got too suffocating. “You’re totally gonna have to sit through ‘Dead Poets Society’ with me again, just so you know.” There’s an audible groan coming from Natalie before you can even meet her gaze, “You always get all sad after that one guy dies, and then I’m stuck comforting you for the rest of the night.” She has a point, so after a bit of bickering, you end up sitting on the same countertop next to her, settling for another rewatch of ‘Scream’.

“How much longer until you finally get to clock out?”

“You sound like the whiny kid on a road trip.”

“Just answer,” Natalie kicks lightly at your foot with her own, her eyes on yours, a soft smile on her face, as you look at the tiny desk clock on the counter,

“Like… 30 minutes, start closing up in 15.”

“15 minutes is good.�� Natalie doesn’t beat around the bush, pulling you in for one kiss, then another, and a third, until you’re kissing her back. It’s not heated; rather, it’s soft, the kind you can only exchange after longing for a moment of privacy for a long time. And between you working extra shifts, or the occasional soccer practice that kept Natalie occupied, you really hadn’t had a moment of peace like this in weeks. Both of you were eager; the way your hand was tangled in her hair, and how hers was cupping your cheek, wasn’t exactly hiding it. Both of you get lost in the heat of the moment, undoubtedly trying to cherish every second you can get, only parting every once in a while for some air, before diving right back in. That is, until the two of you jump apart, practically ending up on different sides of the room at the sound of a knock on the door, from none other than your coworker. “Hey, can I go home, or am I the one locking up tonight?” His voice is muffled through the door, but you look at the clock, and sure enough, you’re already 5 minutes late to start locking up. “I’ve got it!” You reassure through the door, eyes locked on Natalie’s as you listen for the sound of his footsteps getting further, before finally bursting into a fit of shared laughter ‘cause of how close you were to getting caught.

“So… we’re gonna get home and continue this shit, right?” She offers, trying not to burst into another fit of laughter,

“‘Scream’ and making out sounds like a pretty odd combination,”

“Don’t be a wuss,”

“Bite me,” It’s supposed to sound mean, though the smile you share when she looks back at you says otherwise.

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“Are you serious?” You ask, exasperated, when you walk in on Natalie, already behind the concession stand, filling a large bucket of popcorn, filled so far up that it’s nearly overflowing. “What? It’s already old anyway.” The two of you stare at each other for a second before you respond with a short, amused huff:

“Freeloader.”

“Complain some more, asshole, I won’t share.”

You fake an offended look, as if it isn’t the biggest lie you’ve heard.

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a/n: holy yap if this is awful or a mischaracterization don't bully me this is insanely self indulgent and I didn’t really proof read <//3

[formulafanfics13]

you cost me the fucking race - LH44 🔥✨

Masterlist

The garage is dead silent when he steps out of the car. Helmet off. Gloves ripped off. Eyes burning.

Lewis Hamilton doesn’t say a fucking word. He doesn’t need to. The rage is rolling off him in waves, thick and sharp like static. The entire Ferrari crew parts like the Red Sea as he storms past them, race suit half-unzipped, sweat glistening across his collarbones.

No one dares look him in the eye. No one except her.

She stands tall, headset still clamped around her neck, tablet in hand, chin lifted like she’s not the one who made the call. Like she didn’t just tell him to stay out on degrading mediums while everyone else undercut. Like she didn’t just cost him a guaranteed P2.

He stops in front of her. Too close. Too loud. Too fucking angry. “You cost me the race.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. “You ignored my second call.”

Lewis laughs, bitter and sharp. “Because the first one was shit.”

The rest of the engineers scatter. They know better. This isn’t just post-race tension. This is two storms circling the same eye, and something’s about to snap.

She shoves the tablet into his chest. Hard. “You weren’t fucking listening.” 

He catches it, drops it straight to the floor. Doesn’t even look at it. “Oh, I was listening,” he growls. “I was listening to the worst goddamn strategy I’ve ever heard. What were you watching, the wrong timing screen?”

She shoves him again, angrier this time. “I had data-”

“I had track sense.”

“You had your ego.” That does it. His hand shoots out, grabs her wrist, yanks her toward the back corridor of the garage, the private engineers’ room, small and dark and soundproofed from the world.

“Let go of me-” 

“Shut up.” The door slams behind them. Before she can breathe, he’s got her against the wall. Not violent. Not rough. But impossible to escape.

Lewis stares down at her with every ounce of fury he’s been swallowing for the last hour, breathing heavy, eyes black. “You think I can’t see it?” he spits. “You love this. You love having power over me. You love fucking me with strategy instead of your hands.”

Her breath catches. Her eyes flicker to his mouth.

“You think I like calling the shots you ignore?” she snaps. “You think I don’t watch every fucking lap with my heart in my throat, praying you won’t throw it away just to prove a point?”

Lewis growls low in his throat. “Say it again.”

“What?”  

“Say you think I throw it away.”

She opens her mouth- But he kisses her before she can finish. It’s vicious. Teeth. Tongue. A crash of tension and fire. His hands are everywhere, yanking open her team polo, fumbling with her bra, dragging the elastic waistband of her trousers down her hips with the kind of desperation that’s been building for weeks.

She moans when he bites her lower lip. He swears when her nails scrape down his spine. They stumble to the desk. He lifts her like she weighs nothing, sits her on the edge, and drags her trousers off completely. “No panties?”

“None of your fucking business.” 

“It’s about to be.” Lewis sinks to his knees.

She gasps, real, raw, as his mouth finds her inner thigh, then higher, then right there. “God, fuck- Lewis-” 

“You gonna tell me what to do now?” he murmurs, tongue circling, lips dragging across soaked skin. “You gonna call the shots again, huh?”

She grabs his hair, hips grinding into his face. “Shut the fuck up and eat me.” He does. Like he’s starving. Like she’s the only thing that’ll make up for the goddamn podium. It’s messy. Filthy. Pure revenge. He doesn’t stop until she’s writhing, nearly sobbing, thighs shaking around his head. When she finally comes, he drags it out, licking her through it until she’s breathless and cursing and clawing at his shoulders.

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock’s already out, hard as hell, and he doesn’t waste time. He flips her over. Pushes her chest to the desk.

“Still mad at me?” she throws over her shoulder.

He lines himself up, teeth clenched. “Fucking furious.”

And he slams into her. She cries out, face pressed to the cold wood, hands gripping the edge. Lewis fucks her like she’s the race. Like every thrust is a lap he couldn’t finish. Like every moan is a second he lost. Like she’s the win he didn’t get, so he’s taking this one instead.

She arches her back, takes every inch. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing romantic. Just pure, unfiltered need. “You think you can make me beg?” he hisses.

She throws it back at him harder. “You are begging.”

He growls and slaps her ass once, hard. She moans so loud it echoes off the walls. “God, you love this,” he pants.

“Only when you’re this pissed.”

His hand finds her throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. Anchoring. “You ever question me on the radio again,” he murmurs, hips slamming deep, “I’ll fuck you on the pit wall next time.”

She gasps. “Fucking do it, then.”

He groans. And he comes. Hot. Deep. Guttural. He fills the condom and collapses against her back, breathing heavy, skin slick with sweat.

She moans softly as he pulls out, kisses her bare shoulder without thinking. They don’t speak for a full minute. Then— “So,” she says, voice hoarse. “That make up for the strategy call?”

Lewis exhales a single laugh. Presses his forehead to the back of her neck. “You still owe me a fucking podium.”

She smirks. “Guess I’ll have to fuck you again next weekend.”

[gayofthefae]

As someone who recently listened through Mike's playlist, I have switched sides. I want him to initiate the breakup. He built up throughout season 4 working up the courage to talk to her, berating himself for his past inaction and finally taking his life into his own hands "It's My Life" only to ultimately not and berate himself for it to the extent and severity of "Mad World".

Let him take action for himself. Let him do this thing for himself and break out.

[syluss-littlecrow]

release

<Caleb x fem!reader>

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell. 

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him. 

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side. 

You're supposed to be back already. 

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread. 

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue. 

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you. 

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think. 

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…” 

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched. 

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles. 

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed. 

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did. 

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.” 

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room. 

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view. 

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed. 

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit. 

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…” 

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath. 

He sighs. 

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that. 

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.” 

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?” 

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face. 

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off. 

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.” 

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare. 

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again. 

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer. 

Then he turns away. 

What the fuck? 

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head. 

“You should go back to bed. It's late.” 

He turns to open his door for you to leave. 

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.” 

He pauses in his steps. 

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door. 

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.” 

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind. 

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed. 

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?” 

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts. 

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly. 

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh. 

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin. 

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more. 

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough. 

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad. 

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed. 

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb. 

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed. 

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs. 

“We both know you wouldn't.” 

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full. 

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted. 

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up. 

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily. 

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes. 

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed. 

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit. 

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head. 

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven. 

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name. 

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second. 

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down. 

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?” 

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him. 

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink. 

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else. 

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below. 

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him. 

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips. 

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you. 

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out. 

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.” 

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.” 

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace. 

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens. 

What day is it now? 

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks. 

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime. 

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny. 

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again. 

Are you even awake to realise this? 

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight? 

He watches your breathing steadily. 

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning. 

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below. 

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots. 

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.” 

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder. 

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls. 

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths. 

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again. 

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom. 

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.  

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward. 

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always. 

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence. 

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you. 

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint. 

6 missed calls. 

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you. 

[aomiiine]

somnophilia, sexting, creampie

older bf! zayne who takes care of your needs, day and night, without fail. Working overtime at the hospital doesn’t stop him either. He’s using every opportunity to check his phone, searching for your name on his notifs. And when he does, he opens it to see an attachment. It was a photo, of his pillow squished between your bare thighs, skirt hiked up just enough to see the blooming wet patch of your cum on the cover.

older bf! zayne who sends quick texts asking you were able to take good care of yourself in his absence. Except, he knew damn well you were frustrated beyond belief. Struggling to replicate the feeling of his thick calloused fingers rubbing your clit in slow, caring circles with your own or his pillow. He could imagine it, really. You laid on his bed, hair sprawled on the pillows with your legs taking up his spacious bed, toes curling on the sheets as you played with your messy pussy, unable to sleep without your loving, more experienced boyfriend taking care of you.

older bf! zayne who hums in amusement at your reply to his message, words mostly misspelled, no doubt holding your phone with one hand. He teases you further, fingers flying across the screen to spell out a brief yet blunt text saying ‘you shouldn’t bother me at work, dove. You know how noticeable my boners are.’

older bf! zayne knew the mere mention of his cock would send you into a frenzy, getting you to form a mental image of his bare, heavy dick being pumped by his fist lazily before he plunged it into your tiny cunt. And he absolutely loved it—knowing you’d only add yet another digit into your pussy that cried for his girth to stretch you open.

older bf! zayne who’d come back home past midnight to see you passed out on the bed, nightgown bunched up above your midriff, exposing your drenched panties that hung low enpugh to give him a glimpse of your pussy. Just one look at you in the dark of his bedroom was enough to rile him up more than he already was after getting off his phone. Now, he knew he had to take care of you. He wouldn’t ever dream of leaving his girl unsatisfied no matter how long he left you hanging.

older bf! zayne who’d scoop you knees under his hands, pushing your legs up to your gently heaving chest, belt and zipper left open to let his pants hang low, cock standing at attention. He didn’t have to do much with the thin fabric of your panties, merely tucking it to the side enough for his bulbous tip to delve past your folds to notch into your entrance. He tries so hard not to force it all in with one swift thrust, willing his entire body to restrain his flexing muscles as he held your legs in place.

older bf! zayne who’d bottom in and out of you so fucking good, his fat cock nestling deep into your fluttering pussy with needy throbs that would lull you back to sleep. He’d shush you back to sleep softly, voice tight yet soothing still even as he worked to satisfy both of your needs. He’d hiss curses underneath his breath, mumbling and cooing tender praises into the dead of the night, hoping your slumbered self could hear him in your dreams.

older bf! zayne who’d pick up the pace when he feels himself getting dangerously, the coil in the pit of his stomach tightening with each slap of his balls against your plump ass. You weren’t far off either and he could tell—hands prying up for the covers of the pillows beneath your head, balling up to fists with needy mewls leaving your parted lips, your brows knitting into a look or pure ecstasy—the same look you’d have whenever you’re about to cum too, he notes.

older bf! zayne who plunges his spurting cock deep inside your spasming cunt when he cums, jets of thick hot semen spraying your womb white. Your whines grew louder, strands of your hair sticking to your sweat sheened skin. He’d stay still even when his orgasm fades, thrusting shallowly to prolong your pleasure—and hear the lewd squelches of the mess your cum made on his cock, the nest of hair below his pelvis glistening with your nectar.

older bf! zayne who pulls out slow, careful to not wake you up from your resuming slumber. He’d put your legs back down, getting off the bed while tucking his dirty cock back into his pants half-heartedly, not bothering to zip himself up. He’d walk over to the wardrobe, picking one of your clean panties to slip back up your legs, making sure it’s cups your dripping cunt snugly, not wanting a single drop of his cum to ooze out of you in your sleep.

[taeghi]

let's collab | (m)

⇰ summary : you've always vied for the top spot on onlyfans but "hluvsbabes" makes it tough with his undeniable charm and looks. when you unexpectedly meet him you realize he's even more captivating up close. despite the competition, you find yourself unable to turn down his one request.

⇰ pairing : camboy!heeseung x camgirl!y/n

⇰ genre : smut!! masturbation, vibrators lol, dirty talk, oral, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, praise, sir kink, spanking, brief spitting and hair pulling lol.

⇰ word count : 10k (8k of it is just pure, filthy smut) !!!

⇰ taglist : @criminalyun @princeseung @seokseokjinkim @loveydoveyhee @immelissaaa @iselltulips @strxwbloody @ensaz008 @loavibeycipoosan @liwugy @starfallia @you-make-skz-stay @ineedsomezzz @heeshlove @niniissus @mirramirra @skzenhalove @fandom-freak-geek @lilifiedeans @woahhhhaw @cchangli @enhabooks @heelovesmeknot @fakeuwus @soobinsnovia101 @river-demon-slayer @jjklvr9 @hanjisunginc @iamliacamila @jaylaxies

mdni

you started ‘darlingdove01’ when you needed some extra cash in your second year of college. at first you didn’t show your face at all and you were nervous that someone you knew was going to find out. godforbid your parents found out about your sex work. 

over time, you started to get more comfortable in front of the camera and started to show your face. though you never said your real name. you had started to get a close following and were at the top of the creators of the week every week. the way it worked was that the longer you were number one, the more increase of pay you got. though, you had never been number 1 for more than one week at a time. 

all thanks to hluvsbabes. 

it seemed that every week you and hluvsbabes would alternate who was number one. no matter what new things you tried to increase your audience and views, the next week you were back at number two. 

the day that you were fed up with always being put back to second was the day that you would very soon regret. 

you were lazily scrolling through the app when you noticed hluvsbabes had just started streaming, so, you clicked onto the livestream. 

and there he was. hluvsbabes shirtless with his hard cock pulled out of his pants and sitting in between his fist. his pale skin gleamed against his computer screen light, showing off his abs. he had a black mask covering the lower part of his face. his bangs fell into his squinted eyes as he casually pumped his cock up and down in his fist. 

you couldn’t stop your jaw from going slack as you took in the sight before you. you could tell his mouth was in a playful smirk as he watched the comments fly. suddenly a tip of 20$ flew in the corner of the screen : “take ur pants off pls”. 

you could hear his dark chuckle through your speakers, “mmm, only because you said please.” 

you watched him do as the viewer asks. he dug his thumbs into his pants and boxers and pulled them down to reveal his pale legs that matched the rest of his body. 

he seemed so confident and casual as he sat in his chair fully nude, as if 8,000 people weren’t watching him right now. 

“is that better for you?” his voice asked with a tone of amusement. you watched him laugh as all the comments immediately filled with variations of “yes”. “what else do you want me to do? tell me.” the comments were instantly filled with nasty things that you have to admit you also wanted him to do. 

you had figured hluvsbabes was hot since he was always top one or two, but you didn’t think he would look like this. and that his voice would be so seductive. 

“i won’t be taking off my mask, guys.” hluvsbabes shakes his head with a chuckle, he’s just so amused with his fans. along with his fans you also wished he took off his mask. you would love to see the mouth that formed such seductive words. 

suddenly, a tip came up in the corner of the screen of 100$, “start jerking ur cock, baby”. your jaw dropped at the amount of the tip. you had only ever received 100$ worth a few times in the past two years. hluvsbabes didn’t even seem that shocked by the amount as he did as he was told. 

his hand started to move faster up and down his hard cock. the tip of his cock looked so red and swollen in the light of his computer screen. 

“will you spit on it for me, baby?” hluvsbabes whines out and you instantly shut your legs together. 

the comments are gradually picking up pace, commenting demands and praises, asking questions for him to answer. you can hear his deep grunts through your speakers as he keeps his bang covered eyes on the comments. 

a 15$ tip pops up in the corner again; “tell me i’m ur good girl pls”. 

hluvsbabes amusingly shakes his head, “of course you're my good girl. do you have your fingers in your panties? how wet are you? tell me how wet you are, good girl.” 

you’re in shock from his words, the comments, the amount of tips and from how hot hluvsbabes is. 

his deep laugh distracts you from your thoughts. he throws his head back on the chair’s headrest, making his bangs reveal his forehead. even with his mask on, you can tell that his mouth is open agape from the pleasure he’s feeling. 

“fuck, guys. i’ve been thinking about this– about you all day. my dick has been hard since my morning class.” 

the thought of him having to walk around with a hard cock all day because he thought of getting off in front of thousands of people only turns you on more. he continues to move his hand up and down his cock, his grunts getting louder and louder. 

“i-i’m getting close. i wish you were here to taste my cum, shit.” 

it was getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore the tingly feeling starting to increasingly grow in the pit of your stomach. you felt entranced by him, not being able to take your eyes off of your screen. you had only planned to watch a couple of minutes just to see what the hype was about, but now you’ve been watching him for close to twenty minutes. you lean onto your desk uncaringly over your keyboard and your heart stops when you see : 

darlingdove01 : ghj

your eyes widen at your username in the comment section, praying to god none of his 15k viewers notices. 

“oh, darlingdove is in here,” hluvsbabes’s voice speaks suddenly, making you jolt away from your computer screen and grab the handles of your chair. he tilts his head and looks directly into the camera as he continues, “how are you, darling? do you like the show? do you like watching me get off?” 

you are in shock and you can’t think of what to do. you never thought you would be in a situation like this. you notice all the comments start filling up with your name as hluvsbabes is still stroking his cock and groaning. 

“maybe she’s too busy with her hands to type right now.” hluvsbabes jokes in a grunted laugh. you cover your mouth with your hands in shock. and you read one comment that says “who can blame her?”. 

and with that, you immediately leave the one and only hluvsbabes livestream you have ever watched, the embarrassment being almost too much.

a few days and a lot of thoughts of hluvsbabes later, you know you have to get back to livestreaming. you had planned a few things for your next live stream despite being busy with college and being distracted by the memories of hluvsbabes. 

the way ‘darling’ slipped from his mouth so casually and sensual. 

usually, people only referred to you as ‘dove’. you didn’t anticipate for darling to be so efficacious. but maybe it was only because hluvsbabes had said it. the way it sounded in his smooth, mischievous tone. it kept you up at night. 

tonight, you had to live stream on your account. 

you started at your usual time; 10pm, in your usual setting; your bedroom. your nightside lamp was lit behind you, being your only source of light besides your computer screen. your body was covered by an oversized hoodie which covered your panties and the top of your bare thighs. 

“hi everyone,” you spoke into your microphone, looking at the rising amount of viewers on your live stream. the comments started piling in, regular questions about yourself mixed with sexual ones that made you laugh to yourself. “my week was good, thank you. how has your week been, guys?” 

you read some of the comments, recognizing some of the usernames that comment. and when you notice a steady amount of viewers and when the comments start teasing you and begging you to start, you begin. 

“tonight,” you start, and sit back in your computer chair, “i think i’ll have some fun with my new toy.” you reach out of the camera’s view and grab the toy you had bought earlier in the week. it was a long, white vibrator. you take your time to show the camera the entire toy, smiling proud of it. “what should we name him?” you giggle out, reading the comments as they flood with names and praises and begging. 

you sit back in your chair, “he has three settings, should i start with the lowest? see how wet he can get me?” you ask, your voice teasing. tips start to come in, telling you to turn it on, telling you that they want to see you cum. 

with a flick of your thumb you turn it onto the lowest setting. a low buzzing sound fills your bedroom, entering the mic for your audience to hear. you lift your feet so they rest on the chair, your knees up in the air. your hoodie bunches at your waist for your panties and bare legs to be revealed. you press the vibrator against your clit over top of your panties, testing it. 

“oh god,” you moan, “even the lowest setting is good.” you inform your audience, keeping your eyes on the camera and comments. you giggle when you read a tip that tells you to move it in circles. “want me to move it? want to watch me pleasure myself?” the comments flood with yes’s. 

you start to move the vibrator in slow, small circles around your clit. wanting to tease yourself and the audience for as long as possible. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. the feeling of the vibrator against your pulsing clit and the eyes of hundreds of people watching you in real time. 

a tip catches your eye; 

heesacc tipped 50$! : that looks like it feels good, darling. why don’t you move up a setting.

your eyes linger on the word darling and the large tip they gave you. 

“okay, let’s put it up to the medium setting.” you agree, your finger flicking the button up. the buzzing becomes louder as the toy starts moving faster. your hand still moves the vibrator in slow, small circles over your panties. “fuck, this is even better, baby.” 

you read comments that compliment you, that tell you they wanna see you cum right now, that you should remove your clothes. 

“want me to take my clothes off?” you tease the camera, your free hand playing with hem of your oversized sweater. “tell me what you want me to take off.” the comments tell you that they want you naked, that your sweater should come off, that everything should come off. 

heesacc tipped 50$! : take your sweater off and play with your tits, darling. rub your nipples and pretend it’s me.

“wanna see my tits? wanna see me play with them just for you?” you bite your lip at the tip, but do as they said, putting down the vibrator for a second as you pull the sweater off your core. your breasts being revealed to the audience. you look at yourself in the mirror, noticing the large wet stain on your panties from your juices and the vibrator. “oh my god, look wet i am.” you wiggle so your panties can be seen better on camera. the large wet stain evident in the computer screen’s light. “this is how good you make me feel.” 

you read the comments that say they wish they were there beside you, that they want to rip your panties off. 

you pick up the vibrator again, still on the medium setting. your one hand holds the vibrator steady against your covered clit, as your free hand comes up and starts to tweak your nipples. your forefinger and thumb hook your nipple, rolling it. you let out moans at the feeling, your back arching off your chair naturally. 

“fuck, i love playing with my nipples, it turns me on so much.” you state honestly, switching between nipples with your fingers. 

heesacc tipped 70$! : let’s see how swollen your pretty pussy is, darling. 

you gulped as you read the tip come through. just reading the words sent a shiver straight to your core. you swore your pussy got so much wetter as you finished reading it. 

you set the vibrator down again, “you wanna see my pussy, baby? wanna see how wet and swollen you got it?” you tease the camera, your hand dragging across your panties. with the multiple “yes”’s commenting, you start to slowly slide your panties off your legs, showing the camera the larger wet stain on them. 

you lean back in your chair again, the same position with your feet on the chair and knees up, but this time your pussy was visible to the camera. your hand glides down between your legs. you keep your eyes on the camera as your fingers slide through your lips so easily. you whine when your fingers rub over your sensitive clit. “i’m so wet, fuck. you could slip right in. stretch out my tight pussy. god, i need that so bad. need to be stretched out.” 

you reach for the vibrator again, “let’s see how long i can last on the high setting. i’m so close already.” you giggle out to your audience. 

you turn the vibrator to the highest setting, the toy buzzing in your hand as you bring it to your bare pussy. instantly you throw your head back, crying out at the pleasure. your other hand massaging your breast. 

heesacc tipped 100$! : cum like a good girl, darling. 

“oh god!” your eyebrows pull together from the pleasure. your knees start to buckle as the pleasure starts to take over you. “i’m gonna cum! fuck, i’m cumming.” you nod your head and try to keep your eyes on the camera as you hit your high. your bare chest heaves as your orgasm washes through your body, struggling to keep the vibrator on your clit from oversensitivity. 

when your head clears and your body relaxes, you manage to say goodbye to your audience, that you’ll see them again next time. you end the livestream, your eyes reading the tips, resting on the username ‘heesacc’. you had never seen them before, but they tip generously throughout the entire livestream. 

and they kept calling you darling.

you always had to get coffee before class. but your usual coffee shop had a line out the door today, so you had to go to one on campus that you’ve never been to before. though you knew you’d probably be late to class now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit through the two hour lecture without your daily coffee. 

you’re distracted by the menu of unfamiliar drinks that you don’t hear the barista question if you’re ready to order until the third time he says it. 

“oh sorry,” you tell him, shaking your head to wake up, “uh, could i get the blonde vanilla latte, please?” you tell the barista. you start to dig through your backpack for some money. 

“darlingdove01?” his voice questions, recognition definite in his voice. 

your head snaps up to look at the barista properly for the first time. your username making your ears and cheeks paint red. “uhh, yeah!” you’ve only been recognized in public a few times, and they’ve usually been at parties or get together, never in a public public place before. 

the barista has dark brown hair that’s covering his forehead. his eyes are big, doe-like and expressive. his features are sharp and delicate at the same time. his complexion is so smooth in the harsh coffee shop lights. “oh, cool.” his voice is smooth as he shrugs, almost impressed. “that’ll be 5.49$, please.” 

so shocked, you scramble to pile some change on the counter, dropping it for him to pick it up. you smile with a faint nod before you walk away for the next person behind you to order. 

you take deep breaths as you wait for your order, telling yourself that it’s okay, that that could’ve gone a lot worse. you weren’t used to people looking at you in public, that’s why you chose to stay behind a screen. 

“blonde vanilla latte!” the barista calls out a few minutes later. you go up and take the cup from him. “have a good day.” he’s polite, and his eyes tell you something that you don’t quite pick up. 

you turn away from the counter, ready to get the hell out of his coffee shop. you glance down at your drink, noticing words written in black on the side. 

let’s collab, hluvsbabes

with his number written underneath.  you turn your head to look back at the barista, but find a woman working the cashier instead. the brown haired boy disappeared from sight. you think back from the one and only hluvsbabes stream you had seen of his. he had kept his bangs over his eyes, hiding how doe-eyed they really were. his mask covered the entirety of his lower face. there was no way to know if the barista was really the hluvsbabes, but his eyes seemed to tell you that he was. that he knew who you were, too.

your fingers hover over your phone’s keyboard. the apparent hluvsbabes’s phone number typed in above, but the message box left empty. you decide to bite the bullet, even if it wasn’t him, all you had to do was block him after and then act like this never, ever happened. 

youhi, uh hluvsbabes? 

only a few minutes pass before you get a response. 

(123) - ***-**** hahaha yeah but you can call me heeseung

(123) - ***-****

hi, darlingdove01!

you

how’d you know it’s me? my name’s y/n btw

heeseung

bc you’re the only one i’ve given my number out to lately

heeseung

and bc i knew you’d text me sooner rather than later ;)

you smile, rolling over onto your back, your phone in the air as you text hluvs- heeseung back. 

you

damn, i knew i should’ve waited a month

heeseung

noooo i’m glad you texted me

heeseung 

i wanted you to text me 

you

righttt, you said something about a collab? 

heeseung

yeahh, i think you should come over sometime soon 

you could hear your heart strumming against your chest at his text. the hluvsbabes wanted to collab with you. you had only been competing against each other on onlyfans for months. and neither of you had done a collab before, solely solo stuff. you wondered if it’d be a good idea or not. 

heeseung

c’mon, you know i can make you feel good ;)

you were leaning towards it being a good one.

later in the week you found yourself outside of hluvsbabes apparent apartment. he had only lived a quick bus ride away from you, both of you living close to your university campus. you were biting your fresh manicure the whole bus ride there. 

heeseung had texted you to make sure you knew he wasn’t expecting anything from you. that he just wanted to get to know you, and hey, if a collab happened then it happened! 

though he was very polite and tried his best to reassure you and make you comfortable, you were still nervous to go to a guy’s house that you had seen masturbate before. you had heard what he sounds like when he masturbates. you had thought about his voice and his moans so many times since the “incident”. you were going to a boy’s house that you had cursed at so many times when you saw that he had passed you yet again in subscribers every few weeks. 

you knock on the apartment number’s door that he had given you. you waited a few quick heartbeats until the door opened. 

there stood the barista you had seen a few days ago. his doe-eyes the same and his long bangs covering his forehead. 

“y/n?” he spoke, a smile on his lips that made him seem even prettier than you remembered. 

you tried to picture what hluvsbabes would look like so many times, and now that you finally got a chance to see him, standing in front of you, letting you in his apartment, you were in shock. 

he was so much hotter than you could have ever imagined– now that you weren’t embarrassed in public when someone said your username outloud. 

“wanna come in or stand in the hall all day?” he spoke again, his eyebrow propped up. 

“oh!” you jolted, “sorry, sorry– i’ll come in.” you tell him, smiling at him as he held the door for you and closed once you were in. 

a quick glance around the apartment and you noticed how clean and home-y it looked. a regular couch, coffee table and tv took up one side of the apartment. and on the other side was a small island in the small kitchen. there was a hall on the far side of the room from you– which you figured led to his bedroom. (the room where he masturbates online for money– oh god!) 

“you can sit down on the couch if you want,” heeseung gestures to the couch, wiping his sweaty palms on his gray sweatpants, “do you want a drink or anything?” 

“uh no, i’m good thanks,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, your hands clasping together in your lap. 

as he sits down beside you on the couch, you think about how after you had texted him the other day you had seen he was live on onlyfans– and how you made sure to not press it. the thought of him seeing you watching his livestream again made you physically cringe. 

“so uh,” heeseung starts, a casual smile on his face as he looks at you, “have you thought? about my offer? about the collab?” 

you nod, “i have,” 

“right, well, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want– like i said. we can just hang out– i just saw you and i needed to give you my number i couldn’t just–,” 

“i wanna do it.” 

heeseung’s eyes widen at your answer, “really? only if you’re comfortable.” 

you nod, “yeah, i want to.” 

heeseung’s body relaxes at your words, “okay, when?” 

“right now?” you shrug at him, “i mean you usually stream soon anyways, right?” 

heeseung thought his mind was gonna explode. the hot girl that he’s competed with for top creator was sitting in front of him on his couch, telling him that she wants to collab with him. she could collab with anyone, but she wanted to collab with him. he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“o-kay,” heeseung stutters and clears his throat, “uh, is there anything you're specifically into– or not into? i mean i’ve seen your streams so i know some things but i-,” 

“you’ve seen my streams?” you ask him confused and intrigued. 

heeseung fights the urge to slap himself, “i mean, yeah. you’re always top creator right?” 

“right, i just didn’t think that you’d watch them, i don’t know.” 

“why wouldn’t i watch them? you’re hot and you know how to engage with the audience.” heeseung admits honestly. 

you squirm at his compliment. “you’re hot, too.” 

heeseung seemingly relaxes completely at this, finally being able to comprehend what’s happening and what you’re thinking. “thank you, i mean i know you’ve seen my streams before, you commented once.” 

you cover your face with your hands, “oh god.” you groan out. 

heeseung laughs at you, “what? is it bad that you’ve watched me masturbate?” 

“no!” you shake your head quickly, eyes wide, “it’s just– i didn’t mean to comment that time– i didn’t even mean to press it! it’s just, just…��� 

“i’m just that hot?” heeseung teases you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“oh my god, shut up!” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. it’s then that you realize how close you’ve gotten on his couch. 

heeseung laughs harder, his face turning serious again when he speaks, “okay but seriously, anything you are or aren’t into?” 

you settle into your spot on the couch and think, “uh, i think i’m okay with anything.” you shrug, “but no anal though. and i’m more into, it being rough.” 

heeseung smirks and asks, “okay no anal. how about choking?” you nod in response, “slapping?” another nod from you, “how about degrading?” you blush and nod. 

“i’m okay with everything but anal, heeseung.” 

“okay, and if you wanna stop, should we come up with a safe word?” 

you ponder for a second and think, “how about, latte?”

heeseung smirks at you, “latte it is, then.” 

both of you stare at each other, lust and playfulness filling your expressions. somehow, your faces are only mere inches apart now as both of you take in the other’s features. you had only seen each other through a computer screen before. had only read each other's usernames on the top creators list– without even knowing your real names. and now you were about to give each other everything– including your first collab. 

your breath quiets as you look into heeseung’s eyes, scanning the brown in them before glancing down at his pretty lips. your lips are just centimeters away from his when he speaks again, “let’s start.” 

heeseung grabs your hand and pulls you up, guiding you down the hall and into his bedroom. he leans over his computer, setting up his account and livestream. you take the time to look around his room. 

his room is definitely the same one you’ve seen on live steam. the multiple monitors on his computer desk. a basic bed with a black and white comforter. and you recognized the few posters on his walls that he allowed to be seen in his lives. 

“okay, it’s ready.” heeseung tells you, “are you sure you wanna do this? we can stop whene–”

“i’m sure, heeseung.” 

“okay, i’ll press start live then,” 

“wait!” you reach for his shoulder, “what about your mask?” you know he’s never gone live without his mask– it’s the one thing that helps keep his identity unknown.

heeseung simply shrugs at you, “i mean, i can’t really eat you out with a mask on, can i?” 

your mouth drops open, but before you can say anything, the camera light flicks on, signaling that you’re live. the camera is pointed towards heeseung’s bed behind you as heeseung ushers you to sit on his usual gaming chair, he stands beside it. 

“hi guys,” heeseung says cooly to the camera. he lowly chuckles to himself as the comments start pouring in. there seems to be hundreds of comments in a second about “darlingdove01” and heeseung’s face. a lot of the comments are talking about how hot heeseung is and that they “always knew he’d be hot!”.  

“today we have a very special guest, darlingdove01 is here,” heeseung gestures to you. you wave at the camera, watching the viewer numbers grow higher and higher as the introduction continues. “and she told me that she likes anything… but anal.” 

“hey!” you shove him playfully with your shoulder. 

he only chuckles before continuing, resting his arm over the back of his gaming chair behind your head, “so today, i’m gonna do anything to please her.” he takes his other hand and cups your chin so you’re forced to look at him, “does that sound alright, darling?”

“yes,” you tell him, watching his warm brown eyes turn darker as you make eye contact. you can tell he’s no longer heeseung, but instead he’s “hluvsbabes”. 

“yes what?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“good girl,” heeseung leans down and presses his lips onto yours. you don’t have time to register that you are kissing the hluvsbabes. his lips are soft against yours, but their movements are deep and rough. just from the kiss you can tell what direction this live stream is going in. he pulls away too soon for your liking, “pull up your shirt.” 

your hands reach for the bottom hem of your shirt and lift them so your bare breasts are visible to heeseung and the audience. 

“fuck,” heeseung groans, his hands cupping both of them. both of you mentally note how perfectly they fit in his warm hands. he turns to the camera, “doesn’t she have the most beautiful tits?” 

heeseung starts to tweak both your nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers. your hand flies to grip the handle of the chair, your back arches into his touch. 

“that feel good?” he asks you with a smirk, obviously amused by your reaction. 

“yes, sir. they’re sensitive,” you admit. 

“are they?” heeseung tilts his head, “keep playing with them, then.” 

your hands replace heeseung’s. your hands are definitely not as big and as warm as heeseung’s. but you massage your breasts, your fingers playing with your nipples like he told you to. 

meanwhile, heeseung starts to kiss down your revealed torso, his hands unzipping and pulling down your shorts so fast. you watch him get down on his knees in between your legs, his hot breath against your panties. heeseung groans once he’s eye level with your core and can see the faint wet strip on them. he could always see how wet you were on livestream, but now he gets to see in person. 

“i wanna make you feel good,” heeseung says against your skin, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, your legs spread wide for the camera to see. “are you gonna do whatever i say?” 

“yes, sir.” you nod down at him, watching his tongue lick his lips so close to your pussy. ‘i wanna be your slut.” 

heeseung chuckles against your skin, his fingers slip inside your panties as he speaks, “let me feel my slut’s pussy then.” 

you take a deep breath as his fingers start to massage your clit, exploring your pussy for the first time. he’s thought about his fingers touching you so many times before. he could hardly believe that you were actually in front of him right now. 

“you want me to taste your pussy, darling?” 

“please,” your voice sounds so breathy when you speak again, his fingers pressing hard. 

“ask me to.” 

“please taste my pussy, sir.” 

with that heeseung slides his middle finger into your core. it feels so long as it reaches right to your g spot immediately, as if he knew it’d be there. your jaw drops open as he pushes his finger in and out. a whine leaving your mouth as you start to move your hips to meet his finger. his palm is massaging your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of your core. 

heeseung then pulls his finger out of you, “take off your panties, show everyone your pussy.” heeseung leans more to the side as you do what he says. your panties drop to the floor and your legs are on either side of his gaming chair. “fuck, doesn’t she have the most perfect pussy, everyone?” heeseung is staring at the camera as he massages your thighs. 

heeseung’s lips meet your core before you can comprehend. he’s making out with your clit, the sloppy sounds fill your ears and the audience’s as he sucks your clit into his mouth. he reaches his finger up to slide into your core again, so easily. 

“my finger barely fits in there,” heeseung smirks. 

his mouth continues to lick and suck on every part of your pussy. his tongue circles your clit in his mouth. your hand is gripping the chair arm as you watch him, unable to contain your moans. 

“fuck yes, sir.” you cry out, throwing your head back from pleasure. you don’t think anyone has been able to make you feel this good with their mouth before. your ex’s could never make you cum at all. 

heeseung is moaning against your core, letting you and the audience know that he is also enjoying this, “god this pussy tastes so good, tastes better than i’d ever imagined before.” your stomach tightens at his words, feeling high on the pleasure heeseung’s mouth and fingers is giving you so easily and the audience watching you both. “keep playing with those tits, darling.” 

your hands fly up to your sensitive nipples, almost forgotten by how pretty heeseung looks while he makes out with your pussy. your body’s whole senses are heightened. heeseung can start to feel you clench around his fingers as your hips start to buck up to his mouth, wanting more of him. 

“fuck that feels so good.” you whine out, your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure. 

“are you gonna cum?” heeseung asks lowly. he watches you nod at him, unable to form words. 

then, heeseung rips away from you. his mouth and finger gone and before you can realize, he’s standing again beside you. his hand wrapped around your neck gently– forcing you to look at him with your legs spread. 

“you have to ask for permission if you want to cum,” heeseung’s voice is stern as he looks you in the eyes, “understand?” 

“yes, sir.” 

heeseung’s smile returns as his hand leaves your neck, “here, taste yourself.” your mouth opens for heeseung to slide his finger inside your mouth. your lips close around his finger, sucking it into your mouth as your tongue swirls around it, wanting to taste yourself. “good girl.” heeseung removes his finger, and instead presses a kiss to your lips, softly, passionately, as if to check in on you. but you’re so hungry for an orgasm that you really would do anything right now. “are you ready to make me feel good?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“get on your knees.” 

you sit up, closing your legs for the first time and feeling how wet your inner thighs were. heeseung pushes his chair to the side as he stands, looking down at you as you kneel before him. “you wanna suck my cock?” heeseung questions you, noticing how you tighten your thighs at his question. his hand slides down on your chin for you to look up at him. you nod in response to him. “ask me.” 

“can i suck your cock, sir?” 

“good girl, take it out.” 

your hands work to unbutton his pants, pulling them down to his upper thigh to release his cock. you just have to stop and marvel at it. there in front of you is hluvsbabes huge cock that you had thought about stretching you out for weeks. it’s much bigger in person you think. it’s hard, and the tip is so pink as some veins swirl down it. 

“open your mouth.” heeseung starts to glide his dick into your mouth. your hand coming up to grip the base of it as your lips close around the tip. “god, keep those eyes on me.” heeseung groans out as you start to such his cock. heeseung keeps his hand on your head, hsi fingers meshing with your hair. 

you do keep your eyes on him with as much of his cock as you can manage in your mouth. your hand jerks what you can’t fit as you moan against his dick. 

“god you’re so big sir,” 

“yeah? think it’ll fit inside your pussy? think it’ll stretch you out so good?” heeseung retorts, watching your mouth work on his cock. he’d be lying if he said you weren’t making him close to his orgasm already, your innocent eyes looking at him as your mouth sucks his soul out. 

“yes, sir, please– want your cock so bad.” you speak before going back to sucking his cock. your tongue circles the hot, pink tip of it before tracing the delicious veins. your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth. 

“are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?” 

you nod at him with his cock still fully in your mouth. heeseung moves both of his hands to grip your head as your own hand drops to your thighs, so tempted to play with your clit, but you know sir wouldn’t approve. 

heeseung starts to slowly move his hips so his cock moves in and out of your mouth. he stops when the tip is at your throat– feeling your throat tighten against the tip. he almost pulls out fully everytime, just so that the tip is at your swollen lips before he pushes back in again. 

“oh, my fucking god,” heeseung moans out, looking at the camera monitor to see him fucking your pretty mouth. your mouth feels too good for him to even notice that the viewer count is at 16,000. “play with my balls like a good girl.” 

heeseung continues to fuck your mouth as your hand reaches fro his balls. they are heavy in your palm as you start to massage them gently. tugging on them and moving them around easily with your salvia that has dripped down. 

heeseung pulls his dick fully out of your mouth, letting you breathe for a moment. you could feel your pussy drip down onto his carpet– you hoped it wouldn’t stain. 

“open your mouth,” heeseung tells you. your jaw drops open, revealing your used tongue and mouth. heeseung leans over you and let’s a drop of his spit lands right onto your tongue before he starts to hit his dick against your tongue. he mixes your spit with his on his cock and both of you groan out at that the thought of it. 

heeseung goes back to fucking your mouth. his grip on your head tight as he’s picked up the pace of his hips. his cock sliding so quickly in and out of your mouth. the sounds of your saliva and gurgling against his cock fill the room and microphone. 

“that’s it, like that, like that like a good girl,” heeseung groans out his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his own pleasure boiling. probably boiling too much if he wants this to last any longer. 

heeseung pulls away from you and pulls you with him for you to sit on the floor while he moves back to sit on the edge of his bed, his feet on the ground for you to sit in between them. your chest is heaving from excitement and lack of air. you watch as heeseung pulls down his pants fully and throws them on the floor beside his bed. 

heeseung’s hand wraps around your neck as he looks down at you, “you ready to get fucked, darling?” 

“yes, please.”

“ask me to fuck you.” 

“can you please fuck me, sir.” 

“get up on the bed and turn around.” 

heeseung’s voice is demanding as you scramble to stand up, your knees tired from kneeling for so long. you get up on his bed for the first time. you turn around so your ass is towards him in the air, your face pressed into his bed. 

heeseung pushes your chest further into his bed by placing his hand on your back, “stay like this like a good girl, okay?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“i’m gonna fuck this little pussy just like the slut you are.” heeseung grunts, spreading your ass cheeks more for him to slide his cock right inside of you.

the stretch of his cock is just what you imagined it would be. it’s almost blissful once he’s fully inside. you can feel the tip of his cock basically reaching your cervix. once he’s bottomed out completely, both of you groan out into his bedroom, pleasure taking over both of you. 

“there we go, darling,” heeseung grunts through his teeth as he starts to slide back out of you. both of you feel each and every vein of his cock sliding against your oh, so wet walls. “let sir fuck you like a slut.”

heeseung’s one hand grips your waist as the other one stays on your back. his hips quickly pick up pace, his cock easily going in and out of you due to his saliva and your juices mixing together. your hands grip the blanket on his bed, crying out into the bed as you finally get what you want. 

“oh my god it’s so big!” you whine out, your eyes trying to focus on the camera. 

“yeah? it’s so big and full just for you, it’s all just for you.” heeseung grunts out, his bangs covering his forehead like usual, his eyes entranced only on you. he watches as your entire body jerks forward everytime he slams his cock into you. his hands run down and grab your ass, wanting to finally feel it after he’s seen it so many times on your livestreams. 

heeseung slaps your ass, making you cry out a curse. the pain of it turning you on even more. you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as heeseung fucks you even rougher. heeseung’s balls are soaked from your juices. 

“reach down and rub your clit for me.” heeseung demands you, trying to keep his voice steady when he speaks.

you manage to sneak your arm under your body to start rubbing circles on your clit with your index and middle fingers. you instantly cry out. with your fingers on your clit and heeseung managing to hit your g spot with every single thrust the pleasure starts to boil up more and more in your tummy. 

“oh shit!” 

“you better not cum unless i tell you to,” heeseung smacks your ass again, harder, a warning. “you hear me?” 

“fu-fuck yes, sir.” 

heeseung suddenly grabs you up from the bed from under your arms, mumbling a “come here” before he turns you to face the camera. both of you standing now with his cock still lunged inside of you. 

“let everyone see this fucking slut’s body.” heeseung grunts out, staring directly at the camera as he continues to thrust up into you from the back. he reaches over your front, rubbing your clit for you now. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, trying to keep standing upwards. “you like everyone seeing me use you like this? like using you to get off?” 

“f-fuck sir, can i cum? please?” you whine out, barely being able to keep your eyes open as you look at him. 

“yeah? you wanna cum, darling?” heeseung voice is almost teasing as he doesn’t stop his movements. 

“please let me cum, sir. please i’m so close.” 

“ok, cum for me, do it.” heeseung nods, his grunts loud in your ear as he manages to fuck you faster and faster. 

you can’t lift your head from being thrown back onto heeseung’s shoulder. your body feels weak as heeseung fucks you infront of the camera, probably hundreds of people watching you come undone on hluvsbabes’ cock. you’ve been so close to orgasming for which feels like hours at this point. 

“i’m cumming! i-i’m cumming!” you manage to cry out. your moans get higher in pitch as you finally reach your high. 

if heeseung wasn't holding your body up with his arms, then you wouldn’t fell straight to the floor. the pleasure was almost over consuming. your body was on high sensitivity everywhere. to be honest, it had been awhile since anyone besides yourself or your vibrator had made you cum. that probably not getting any dick for a while and then fucking the hluvsbabes would probably make you feel as lightheaded as you do now. 

heeseung gently pulls his cock from you, his hands slowing down on your clit before pulling away from it. he leads you to lay down on his bed. your head is on his pillow as he crawls on top of you. your bodies are still very visible to the camera from the way his bed is positioned. 

heeseung starts to press soft, gentle kisses into your neck and jaw, letting you calm down from your very obvious, hard climax. 

you hear heeseung chuckle into your ear before he speaks, “is this a bad time to tell you that i donated to you on your livestream before?” 

through your post-nut haze, your eyes widen as you process the information, “what? when?” 

heeseung laughs before he moves down your body, kissing every (sweaty) inch that he could, “a few days ago i guess, darling. i’ve watched your streams quite a lot to be honest.” 

the way the nickname rolls off his tongue so easily makes it click in your head. “oh my god, you were the person who donated like 200$ the other day!” you also start laughing at the realization. who could not believe that hluvsbabes not only watched multiple of your streams, but also donated to you. your competitor for top creator was also boosting your content. 

“yeah, i didn’t know how or if i should tell you that. but i guess now is the better time.” heeseung pulls away from your body so he’s on his knees hovering over you. “now put those legs up, let me see your swollen pussy again.” 

heeseung helps guide you to hook your arms around your knees, holding your legs up, pressed against your chest. your entire core is exposed for not only heeseung’s eyes, but the camera’s and all of the audience’s. 

“god please but your cock back inside of me, sir.” 

heeseung drags his cock through your folds teasingly, “yeah? the slut wants to be stretched out again?” 

“yes! sir, yes!” 

heeseung guides his cock back inside of you with his hand, bottoming out completely in one thrust. your arms stay hooked around your knees, your hands resting on your ankles to keep yourself from squirming from the pleasure. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand coming down to choke you again. his grip on your neck tight as he starts the previous pace he had. rough and hard. your whole body moves with every thrust, his headboard hitting his wall. 

“oh fuck oh fuck!” you cry out, your pussy so sensitive from being overstimulated. 

heeseung could feel your walls flutter around his cock, “you better not cum.” he pulls his cock out again, his hand slaps the tip of his cock over your clit, making you jerk up into his pillows. “tell me you won’t cum without permission, slut.” 

“i-i won’t cum without permission, sir.” 

heeseung slides back into you, his pace rough. the banging of his headboard in rhythm with his thrusts. your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts. heeseung keeps both of his hands on your waist as he hovers over you. his main focus is to fuck you so good that you forget everything else. and by the way your eyes start to haze over with pleasure he can tell that he isn’t too far from it. 

“keep your legs up,” heeseung grunts to you, reminding you to keep your knees by your face. your swollen pussy is visible to him now. he has clear access to see his cock fucking into you. your lips are so puffy that he can’t help his thumb rubbing your also swollen clit. your head is thrown back into the pillow, his hard, circles on your clit mixing with his hard thrusts are overpowering you completely. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand gripping your neck again. his face is inches from you, his lips almost on yours. his thrusts don’t stop as he chokes you. 

“you like being a good girl for me?” heeseung asks you more quietly, loosening his grip on your neck for a moment to let you speak. 

“y-yes sir, i love it.” you nod up to him, completely submissive to him. 

“turn around for me again, then.” 

although your body felt weak from the pleasure, your adrenaline was rushing enough for you to be able to get up and turn over quite quickly. your ass up in the air as you grip onto the pillow in front of you. you feel heeseung behind you, lining up his hard, soaked cock with your soaked pussy. 

“push back on it, darling.” 

you let your knees push back, feeling his cock insert inside of you, filling you up yet again. this angle made him feel even bigger. his cock pressing into your cervix is only when you stop pushing back. heeseung’s hands land palm down on your ass when you bottom out. the pain makes you jut forward. the moan that escapes your lips as the pain settles on your ass is sinful. 

“god, i love your ass,” heeseung smacks it again, watching it start to turn red, turning him on more he thought his cock was going to explode any minute now. 

with that thought, heeseung starts sliding in and out of you again. his hand reaching over your back to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your upper half backward. the pain from his pulling makes you cry out in the best way. all of your senses seem to be overcome by heeseung. your grip on his pillow that smelt like him, tightened. 

“you like being fucked like this? like being used?” heeseung grunts out to you, his own eyebrows furrowing together as your walls clench around him. 

“ye-yeah, sir.” 

“say it.” 

“i like being used, sir.” 

“look at me while i fuck you.” 

with his hand still pulling your hair, you turn your head to look at him. his face is flushed, his lips are swollen from probably biting them so much. there’s sweat dripping down his line of abs that you just want to lick off. his bangs are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. he looks so hot. 

heeseung continues to fuck you until his thrusts get sloppy, his grunts get softer and his headboard isn’t banging against his wall. you turn to look at him, “let me ride you.” 

his hand smacks against one of your ass cheeks, making you cry out, “ask me.” 

“can i please ride you, sir?” 

heeseung pulls out of you, both of you switching places so now heeseung’s head is in the pillow that you were gripping. his legs are flat out against the bed as you crawl over him. both of your knees are on either side of him as you look down at him now. 

slowly, you start to sink down onto his cock. you close your eyes as he bottoms out in you once again. this angle felt entirely different. you could feel how hard and big he was inside of you. heeseung’s hands run up and down your bare thighs, letting you get use to the angle. 

“you good?” he asks from below you, concern on his face. 

“yeah, just sensitive -is all.” you shrug to him and start to move slowly. you start out slow, wanting to build both of your orgasms again. your knees lift your body up and down with the help of heeseung’s hands on your waist, he helps lift you. 

your hands grip your tits, massaging them again. your sensitive nipples hard against your palm. you start to bounce down on his harder, his tip hitting your g spot everytime now. you cry out in pleasure again. 

“fuck just like that,” you tell him, your eyes closed as you nod to him. 

“like that?” heeseung teases you, his cock hitting your g spot again. 

“y-yes,” you tell him, bouncing harder. 

“fuck, i love his pussy,” heeseung grunts to you, “so warm and tight around my cock.” 

“oh my god,” your body falls forward, your hands resting on either side of his head as heeseung takes over the thrusts completely. his hands on your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. “fuck, sir.” 

heeseungs grip on you leaves you to go nowhere. just stay on top of him as he fucks into you. your knees feel weak against his mattress. you can feel his balls slapping your ass every time he bottoms out in you. heeseung can feel your juices dripping down onto his lower stomach. 

“okay turn around, slut, let the audience see you.” heeseung gently pushes your core up and off of him. your mind feels dazed as heeseung has to literally, physically flip you over on him. 

now that you’re in reverse cowgirl, you can see yourself in the camera’s monitor. heeseung lays underneath you still, so just your bare body can be seen completely. you look so different you usually do, you’re glowing. 

your feet and arms hold your body up over heeseung, his hands on your waist as he slides himself up into you. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, watching heeseung dick disappear inside of you in the camera. you start to bounce up and down on his cock again, though you keep your eyes open to watch yourself. 

“shit, keep going, baby.” heeseung grunts below you, “just like that.” 

with every thrust heeseung’s balls are hitting your clit. you can hear a wet squelch between your bodies everytime you move. your pussy is so wet around his cock. heeseung wraps his arm around your body, massaging your clit with his fingers in a circle once again. 

“yes, sir! rub my clit, sir please!” you cry out to him. your hands sturdy yourself on his chest behind you as you continue to bounce on him. his cock filling you up every time. his hard balls slapping against your pussy. his fingers keep moving against your clit. “i’m so close, sir, so close!” 

suddenly, heeseung’s fingers stop and he’s pushing you off of him. your chest is heaving as you look back on him. your pussy is clamping around nothing, so desperate to cum. 

“lay down,” heeseung is also out of breath when he speaks, “wanna see your face when you cum.” heeseung grabs your forearm and helps you lay down again. he puts your one leg up to your face, allowing him access to slide into your fucking soak pussy again. 

heeseung holds your leg up, while the other starts to rub your clit again. his thrusts continue to stretch you out, to hit your cervix over and over again. you aren’t sure how much longer you can last with this much pleasure he continuously gives you. you’ve never had sex this good before. 

“want me to fill up your little pussy?” heeseung grunts above you. 

“yes, sir.” 

“ask me.” 

“please cum inside of me!” you cry out, heeseung’s hand smacks your thigh before returning to hold your leg up, “own this pussy, fucking own it it’s yours!” 

“oh fuck!” heeseung grunts out, your words making him closer to his own orgasm so quickly. 

“oh my god i wanna feel you fill me up so bad, sir.” you were becoming so desperate, so needy. you wanted to cum so bad. you wanted heeseung to cum so bad. 

“fuck me, keep talking, keep talking, darling.” 

“please cum inside of me! i want it so bad!” you tell him honestly. his thrusts making your whole body move with each thrust. you can feel his cock start to twitch inside of you. his moans getting higher, mixing with your own. 

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna fucken cum,” heeseung tells you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster and harder. 

“me too, me too.” you cry out, your eyes closing as the pleasure takes over you. 

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed together as the pleasure became too much for him, too. curses and moans fill up his bedroom– entertain the audience that’s watching you through the camera. he feels your walls clench harder around him than ever before as his cock starts to spurt his white sperm. 

heeseung paints your walls with his cum as you grip his forearms tight. your second orgasm making your body feel numb from how good you feel. his thrusts finally stop as his grunts slow down. his cock rests inside of you as he lays on top of you. both of you catching your breaths and coming down from your highs for one second. 

“fuck,” heeseung curses in your ear, his chest heaving against yours. he finally pulls out of you, both of you watching his cum slowly trickle out of your pussy. “god that’s so hot.”  heeseung reaches down to swipe some of his cum. 

you immediately open your mouth, wanting a taste of it. heeseung rests his fingers on your tongue, letting you taste his salty sperm. you moan around his fingers, sucking them dry of his cum. 

“you’re such a good girl.” heeseung grunts out, “you’re gonna make me hard again.” 

you laugh around his fingers, “i wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

heeseung smirks at you and kisses you deeply. both of your eyes closing as you welcome the other’s lips. the taste of heeseung’s cum not bothering either of you. 

heeseung pulls away from you and is the first to stand up. he reaches over and tosses you his shirt to slip on before he heads back to his computer desk. 

you easily slip on his shirt and pull his sheets and blanket over top of your bare legs. 

“holy shit.” heeseung exclaims, pure shock and what almost sounds like fear in his voice. 

“what?” you sit up in his bed properly, trying to look at his computer screen. 

“there’s 30,000 viewers right now.” 

“holy shit.” you cover your mouth. you had never had that many viewers before in your life. 30,000 viewers, it’s literally like yours and heeseung’s fan bases came together to view your live stream. 

heeseung clears his throat, “uh, thank you guys so much, really. we hope you enjoyed, right?” he looks over at you from his shoulder. 

“right, we’ll see you next time, hopefully. thank you.” 

“right, because there definitely needs to be a next time.” heeseung winks and with a final wave he ends the stream. you notice the red light on the camera turns off. 

you lay back in heeseung’s pillows, feeling tired as your legs gain back their strength. you hear heeseung hum gently as he fixes things on his computer, on his hluvsbabes account. you feel relaxed as you lay in his bed, wanting to sleep so bad. 

“holy shit!” heeseung yells louder suddenly, his humming stopping as he pushes his chair back, standing up in only his boxers. 

“what?” your heart races, concerned from his yelling. “what happened?”

“y/n,” heeseung turns to you with a silly grin on his face, “do you know how much money we made off of that?” 

you sit up straight, leaning closer to him though he’s meters away, “how much, heeseung.” 

heeseung can’t contain his excitement when he states, “15k.” 

“oh my god!” you cover your mouth, not believing what you’re hearing. “you’re fucking lying.” 

“no i’m not! come look!” 

you stand up, legs wobbling a bit, but heeseung catches your arm nonchalantly. bringing you over to sit in his chair again. there, on the computer screen, is the number 15,000$ in tips connected to the livestream you had finished. 

“oh my god, heeseung!” you turn to him, your excitement meeting his. both of you wrap your arms around each other, your squeals filling the room as you rock side to side with excitement. “15k!” 

“15k!” heeseung shouts back as he pulls away slightly, his hands still on your waist. 

“now we definitely have to do it again.” you tease him. 

heeseung smiles, but you notice his shoulders tense, “yeah, but before that,” heeseung swallows harshly, “could we go on a date?’ 

you sit up in his chair, wearing his shirt and nothing else, “wow, the hluvsbabes wants to go on a date with me.” 

“of course, i mean, i recently got a lot of money. so, i can spend it all on you.” 

you shove his shoulder with your hand, “of course i’ll go on a date with you, heeseung.” 

“really?” heeseung asks, his face lighting up so prettily. 

“yeah, but only if you fuck me really good after.” 

“that, i can definitely promise.”

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[yawnderu]

Pornstar!König's cock is a bitch breaker— that much you know by the way he's ramming every single inch of thick, veiny meat into your sopping cunt, his large hands digging on the supple skin of your waist in a bruising hold, his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive clit every time he manages to bury himself all the way in.

His blue eyes are fully focused on the screen displaying your face, the rhythm of his thrusts only getting rougher to drag more whiny moans out of your parted lips, exhaustion written all over your face at having to take his large dick on what was supposed to be a day off— only accepting a job after thousands of comments bombarding your media, begging you to collaborate with König. Perverts, you knew, yet you're more than happy to play into their fantasies.

One of the cameras pans to your face, fully capturing the alluring scene of your fucked-out state, beads of sweat dripping down your warm forehead, half-lidded eyes barely managing to stay open despite the way they're threatening to roll back with each deep thrust, and that famous smile that shows you crave his treatment. A trademark of sorts, something that made you end on the front pages of popular porn websites more than once, the very same thing that caught König's attention months ago.

“Harder.” A command you instantly regret the moment his hips falter, his brow scrunched up in mild disbelief, yet what is the behemoth of a man if not a people pleaser? König lets out a muffled chuckle, his warm hand trailing up to your chest, lazily rubbing your sensitive, pierced nipple with his thumb.

“Harder?” He repeats, his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace, a smirk pulling on the corners of his lips beneath the mask the moment a whiny moan of protest is dragged out of your lips.

“Fuck yourself with my dick.” You can hear your own heartbeat pulsating on your ear, the rate steadily rising at his command. His breath hitches the moment you impale yourself onto his throbbing cock right after his words, his calloused hand giving your tit one last squeeze before moving back down to your waist, his large fingers digging onto the crevice of your warm skin, admiring the thin layer of sweat covering your body, the way your ass jiggles every single time you move on his dick.

His eyes darken with desire, his hands almost itching with the growing need to fuck into you, something he manages to ignore for mere seconds before thrusting back into you the moment you pull away, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the way his bulbous head hits your sensitive cervix over and over, his wide hips slamming against yours, filling the room with a lewd melody of skin slapping against skin and combined moans desperate for release.

König doesn't hold back, his thrusts deep and powerful as your fingers grip the bedsheets, trying to find a way to release the overwhelming sensations. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, the sound of your whiny whimpers only serving to heighten his own arousal, shooting one of the cameras a look that drips pure arrogance— his movements becoming more urgent and demanding.

One of the screens displays the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as your walls tighten around his thick cock, a sense of satisfaction and pride filling him as you cum, only then allowing himself to succumb to his release, his cock throbbing inside you as ropes of hot white cum shoot right into your womb, a loud groan leaving his lips.

Despite how rough he likes to fuck, König pulls out of you, his softening cock coated with your slick and his own cum as your body falls on the bed, utterly exhausted. You can feel his large arms wrapping around you from behind, the sound of fabric rustling filling your ears as you feel his warm lips press a soft kiss to your temple, whispers of praise that have never come out of his lips slip out with so much easiness that it almost surprises him.

[prosypepper]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your – gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”

[shybluebirdninja]

Primal Mark

Summary: Logan jerks himself into your panties and you must keep his cum there.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Note                : cum in panties, masturbation, watching porn together

The dimly lit room was alive with the flickering light of the screen, casting playful shadows as Logan and you settled in for a night of questionable entertainment. The porn movie crackled with tension, explicit moans mingling with the sultry visuals that danced before your eyes, igniting a primal fire within you both.

“Damn,” Logan chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.

“This is getting good.” The way he watched you, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth, made your heart race. You shifted in your seat, aware of the heat radiating from him, practically drawing you in.

As the porn scenes intensified, you felt the air grow thick with unspoken desire. Logan’s gaze never left you, a mixture of hunger and amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice low and gravelly, “we could have a little fun of our own.”

You turned to him, breathless. “What do you mean?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the show. I’ll show you how much I’m enjoying it,” he replied, a smirk spreading across his face.

With a wicked grin, Logan leaned back, his hands slowly moving down his dick as he began to stroke himself.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he commanded, his voice a rough whisper, filled with dominance.

You nodded, your eyes glued to him as he continued. The porn movie faded into the background; all that mattered was Logan—his muscles tensing and relaxing, the powerful rhythm of his hand.

“Stand up,” he growled, the command in his voice making your body respond before your brain could even catch up. You stood before him, the air between you both hot and suffocating, waiting for his next move.

His eyes trailed down your body, dark and intent.

“Open you panties… just enough,” he instructed, his voice raw with need. You swallowed hard, feeling both exposed and exhilarated, as you did what he asked. You slid the fabric to the front, revealing just enough of your folds to him.

Logan’s eyes widened with primal hunger as he took in the sight of your womanhood.

“That’s it, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and rough. “You’re beautiful.”

His strokes became faster, his grip tighter, and you could see that he was close—so close.

Without warning, he stood up, towering over you, his body radiating heat.

“Get ready,” he murmured, and before you could fully process, he was there—his hand around his length, pumping with rough precision. “I’m gonna mark you.”

Your heart raced, a wild mixture of desire and anticipation building inside you as you stood facing him, your panties pulled to the front, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin.

Logan’s release came with a low, feral growl, and he angled himself just right—his hot cum spilling into your panties, splattering directly onto your bare vagina. You gasped, feeling the wet heat as it landed on your folds, a sinful mixture of his cum and controlling behavior marking you in the most intimate way.

He stepped closer, his rough hand brushing against your thigh as he smirked down at you.

“Now, pull ‘em back up,” he ordered, voice husky. “Let my cum stay right where it belongs… against your pretty little cunt.”

You hesitated for only a moment before following his command, pulling your panties back into place. The slick heat of his release pressed against your entrance, seeping into you, and the sensation was overwhelming, a wild combination of filthy and exhilarating. You could feel him against you—inside you—and the thought sent a shudder of pure lust through your body.

Logan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, his essence now tucked intimately against your body. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of your hip before gripping it possessively. “That’s it… now, walk around with me all over you.”

His low chuckle sent a spark of heat through you as his hand lingered, his thumb teasing over the fabric of your now-wet panties, pushing his cum even deeper against you.

“You’ll remember this every step you take,” he whispered against your ear, his hot breath making your pulse quicken. “Because now… you’re mine.”

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 23

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 22 | Series Masterlist | Part 24

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.8k

Chapter Summary: Bucky wants answers from Clark.

Chapter Warnings: Heavy violence, torture, blood, talk of assault, threats, obsession, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), Bucky's POV, more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight. Thank you again for sticking with me, and this is our first chapter from Bucky's POV! This is a heavy chapter, so proceed with caution. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man. He figured that out a long time ago. He believed he had good qualities deep down thanks to his mom, but they didn't surface a lot in his line of work or way of life. They couldn’t, otherwise he would’ve been eaten alive. So he took a page out of his dad’s book, as much as he would never admit it, and made sure he was on top in his world. He thrived as a king, even though he had no queen to share his life with.

Until you came along.

He sighed, gazing at a photo of you on his phone. He brushed his finger along the screen, his heart aching from how beautiful you were. Loving you should've been a weakness, but it made him feel invincible. You were so wonderfully different from the people he surrounded himself with- unafraid to call him out on his bullshit, leading with kindness, and too pure for the world he lived in. He knew that, but he was too selfish to let you go because you brought light back into his life.

He had to be careful not to snuff it out.

“Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky stared at your photo for a few seconds longer. “Hmm?”

“You ready?”

Looking down the hall at his office door, his heart clenched. He logically knew you were safe and sound with Natasha, but he wanted to rush back to you and not let you out of his sight. He wanted to hold you, comfort you, let you know that-

“Buck?” Steve gently asked.

Turning away, he shook his head. He’d have you back in his arms soon enough, and he had business to take care of. “Yeah.” He smirked and tucked his phone away. “I think we let our guest squirm long enough.”

His blood boiled with each step he took, anger etched in his features as he descended to the club basement. It was an area that only select staff and men had access to, the ones he had introduced you to. He’d never bring you down there. You’d already have enough nightmares thanks to everything that had happened and he didn’t want to give you one more.

The men scattered around the room stood silently as he made it to the last step. The tension was thick enough to choke on, most of them likely wondering who Clark was and why he was worth the trouble of shutting down the club for the night. No one asked though. No one breathed a word.

“Gentlemen,” he smiled, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Before I introduce the guest of honor for the evening, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that whatever happens down here stays down here.”

He shrugged his jacket off as he noted a few nods and grunts of acknowledgement. Trust wasn’t easy. Neither was loyalty. He had no reason to doubt anyone in this room though, and there was no reason to threaten any of them.

“Good. Hal, would you mind pouring me a drink?” he asked as if he had all the time in the world. “Jake?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m here,” he said, taking a step forward.

Bucky had to smile. Curtis and Ari stood beside Jake, almost like they were protecting him, but he didn’t need protection. Jake was strong in his own right, and one of the smartest men he knew. He was a valuable asset, even if he didn’t always agree with his methods.

“You get that file I asked about?” Bucky took the glass from Hal while Jake nodded quickly. “Why don’t you tell everyone about him before we bring him out here?”

Jake pushed his glasses up. “M… Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he answered, casually sipping his whiskey.

“Sure.” The former military Captain retrieved a small tablet from his bag and swiped a few times. “The guy tied up in the closet is Kal, renamed Clark Joseph Kent after he was adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent. Only child, and grew up on a farm in Kansas. Been in and out of therapy for anger management.” That may have explained part of why he snapped. “He moved to Metropolis years ago and worked for The Daily Planet. Moved here over a year ago to work for The Tribune.”

Thor chuckled, taking a sip from his own tumbler. “What is this? Did Kent try to write a scathing article about you? I thought everyone at The Tribune was on our payroll.”

Bucky understood why Thor thought that. Just about everyone in the room had done something worthy of attracting the wrong sort of attention, which they always made sure got buried. “Not this one, and we’ll get to why he’s here,” Bucky said, motioning for Jake to continue.

Jake cleared his throat. “He was recently discussing moving to Gotham to work for The Gotham Gazette. Bruce Wayne even wrote him a letter of recommendation before he was hired.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Everyone knew who Bruce Wayne was. Rich, brilliant, basically Tony Stark without the ego. Clark wasn’t kidding when he said he had a powerful friend, but he had been leaning toward Zemo being that friend.

Was Clark planning to drag you to Gotham? The thought of another man trying to take you out of the city made him want to commit violence. And he would soon enough.

“Did you find anything on a woman named Lois?” Bucky asked. You told Bucky that he had recently split with his girlfriend, and you also asked to find out what happened to her. If anyone could find out anything, Jake could, and Bucky didn’t want to let you down.

Jake swiped twice. “Yeah. Lois Lane. Moved here with Clark and also a journalist, but she wasn’t working for The Tribune and she stopped going to work about a month ago. Emailed her resignation notice to her boss. Didn’t even go in to get her stuff.” He looked around the room. “I don’t… I don’t think anyone has really seen her.”

Bucky’s stomach sank a bit. He didn’t know Lois, but he knew it would break your heart if something happened to her. “You still in contact with Pooch and Cougar?” Jake nodded. The men weren't necessarily on his payroll, but they were loyal to Jake. “Send them to Clark’s place. Find out anything you can, and find her.”

“As fascinating as this all sounds, what does this have to do with any of us?” Nick asked, looking as bored as he sounded.

“Well, Clark has also been spotted talking with Helmut Zemo,” Jake said, his face a bit pale under Bucky’s stare. “But I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

Bucky took another sip. So, Clark had been speaking with Zemo. And Zemo was either smart enough not to leave a paper trail, or he spoke with Clark in areas where Jake couldn’t hack nearby cameras. No matter. He’d find out why soon enough. “Good work, Jake.”

“You shut down the club and brought us down here for a guy who was spotted speaking with Zemo? That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Bucky made sure to look at every single one of them before he stated, “The reason he’s here is because he put his hands on my Kotyonok, and you know what that means.”

Bucky briefly closed his eyes, your screams still echoing in his mind. He wasn’t a man who scared easily, but what happened tonight scared him. He could’ve lost you, and you could’ve lost a part of yourself if they had been minutes later. The worst part was that he hadn’t seen it coming, not completely. He knew what to expect from certain players and had to protect you, but he hadn’t anticipated someone like Clark. Someone who wasn’t in the normal circle of enemies.

It nearly cost him, and he would make him pay.

The atmosphere shifted immediately, and Steve had to pull Thor back when he took a step forward. “Unhand me, Rogers,” he gritted.

“She’s not your woman,” Steve reminded him, not letting him go just yet. “And since she isn’t your woman, you don’t get to decide who gets first blood.”

Thor took a deep breath. “My apologies, Barnes.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I appreciate that you’re protective of my girl,” he said sincerely. You needed protection, even if you didn’t want it from them. “Ari, Jax, put him in the middle of the room. I want to talk before we punish him.”

As much as he wanted to make Clark hurt, he did need some answers first.

Jax and Ari didn’t have to be told twice, dragging a tied up Clark out of the dark closet. He had a bag covering his head, but there were no marks or wounds, save for the ones he received in your apartment. His shoes and socks had been removed, too, and his blood would stain the tarp beneath him soon enough.

Nodding to the men, they shoved Clark unceremoniously to the floor before Jax pulled the bag off. Clark’s face was screwed up in fury, his blue eyes blazing as they darted around the room, but his words were muffled by the gag. Part of Bucky hoped he fought. It would make things more interesting.

Looking at the prick in front of him, he told himself that this was all for you. All for the woman who occupied his every waking thought. It didn't matter what he looked at or who was speaking to him, his mind found a way to tie anything and everything back to you. And it wasn't just his mind. Oh, no. Sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell, you ensnared his senses.

Nothing and no one had control over Bucky Barnes except for you.

“Kal or Clark or whatever the fuck your name is, welcome to the basement of The 107th!” Bucky smiled, deliberately slow clapping. “Do you like it? Soundproof walls so your screams aren’t heard upstairs and a tarp underneath you so you don’t get blood on my floor.”

Clark paled slightly, but it didn’t lessen the anger in his eyes.

“Now before my men and I have some fun with you, and it will be fun for us, I have a few questions to ask,” he explained, giving him a dark smile and pushing a button on the far right wall. It opened up to reveal a range of weapons, each one more deadly than the last. “If you don’t answer or if I think you’re lying, I’ll start by cutting off a toe. Is that understood?”

He motioned for Ari to remove the gag. “Go fuck yourself,” Clark growled.

Bucky sighed and ran his finger along some of the weapons. “So many options. What should I choose first?”

“The blowtorch could be fun,” Nick smirked when Clark squirmed. “Though the smell of burning flesh isn't.”

“You could start with the pliers.” Thor elbowed Sam with a chuckle. “Though I prefer a hammer.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Thor, we all know how much you love using hammers to hurt people.”

“You're really going to skip your signature weapon?” Steve asked. The men all knew how fond he was of knives.

Bucky hummed and picked a sharp and sleek blade after careful consideration. “Curtis, since you were the one who got to my girl’s apartment first, I think it’s only fair that you get the first punch.”

Curtis didn’t hesitate to march forward and grab Clark by the hair. The fury in Clark’s eyes paled in comparison to Curtis’s. “You would’ve raped her if we hadn’t gotten there in time, you piece of shit,” he snarled, his fist connecting with Clark’s mouth.

“He what?!” Thor shouted. Steve and Sam both had to hold him back this time.

Bucky felt the same surge of anger. He pushed your limits, but he wouldn’t force himself on you. He wasn’t that kind of monster.

“Stand down, Thor. You’ll get your hits in,” he promised, needing to keep himself in check so he didn’t just outright kill Clark. “First question- Why did you go after my girl?”

To go after you was to go after him, and he took it personally.

Clark spit blood on the tarp. “Your girl? You mean the girl you forced to be by your side?” he laughed, grating on Bucky’s nerves. “Oh, I know all about that. She’s a kind and good person, so you either forced her to be with you or lied to her since she wouldn’t be yours willingly if she knew who you were.”

His nostrils flared. He wanted to believe you were with him because you wanted to be his girl, but he knew the truth. If he hadn’t forced your hand… “Hold him,” he ordered, stepping forward with the knife.

Clark struggled in Ari and Jax’s hold. “I went after her because I wanted her, okay? She’s nice and she needed me to save her from you!” he shouted, his eyes wide when Bucky gripped his ankle. “I answered your question!”

“Save her? Were you planning on taking her to Gotham?” he asked, the blade nicking his big toe.

Clark hissed. “Yes! She’s a florist, she can do that anywhere.”

“If you knew my girl the way I do, you’d know this place is her home and she wouldn’t want to go to Gotham,” he said. Gotham would never be your home. Nowhere else would.

“She would’ve accepted it eventually because needs me.” No, you didn’t. “He said so.”

“Who?” he pressed. “Who said so?”

Clark hesitated before the blade dug in again. “Helmut Zemo!”

Bucky froze. “Why would Zemo tell you that, and how do you know him?” He didn’t want to believe Zemo was stupid enough to set this up, but he’d fight if he wanted a war.

“He approached me, okay? Said he knew I stopped into the flower shop to see her, and alluded to the fact that a dangerous man recently trapped her into a relationship.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He said if she stayed with you it would ruin her, but someone like me could be a hero and help her.”

Clark was no hero. “Do you work for him?” Bucky asked. Was he on his payroll?

“No. Zemo and I talked some more, but I don’t work for him. I’m just a journalist.”

Bucky scoffed, but he believed him. Zemo could stir the pot when he wanted to and feed into anyone’s ego. He knew just what to say to Clark to light a fire under him. “But he told you to help her, and how did you do that? You stalked, scared, and attacked her.” He pointed the blade at Clark’s face, wanting to slice his skin off and carve out his eyes. The irony also wasn’t lost on him that he had stalked and scared you, he was more than aware of that. “You’re a monster.”

“No, I’m not,” Clark said through his teeth.

“Yes, you are because you pretend that you’re a nice guy, but you’re a piece of shit just like the rest of us. You said you wanted to help her, but it was all about you. And you couldn’t accept the fact that she rejected you and your help, and you snapped,” he said. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Zemo encouraged him to go after you. He wanted to gut him for that. “Were you planning to get her out of the city tonight?”

“Yes. We knew she was going to the winery and I thought it was the perfect opportunity, but I also thought she would’ve been a bit more… docile when she came back.” Clark shifted uncomfortably. “I told the driver to slip something in her drink if he had to, but he either didn’t or she didn’t drink it because she was too alert.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t hit him. You had asked about your poor friends, and your suspicions seemed to be correct. He was thankful you weren’t drugged, otherwise tonight would’ve been much worse. “The driver, did you pay him? Promise him anything?”

“That was all Zemo. I’m not made of money,” Clark answered easily.

It made sense. Zemo paid the driver to take off, which gave Clark the opportunity to ambush you. Steve would have to hold Bucky back when he got his hands on Zemo. “Where’s he now?” he asked Nick. He wanted the driver brought to the club.

Nick nodded to another door. “Second closet. Nice and cozy.”

“I’ll be sure he knows you sold him out before I put a bullet between his eyes,” he promised Clark. Anyone who couldn’t stay loyal had no business breathing. Anyone who set you up to get hurt or worse didn't have a place in his world.

A bitter laugh came out. “I guess killing’s easy for a guy who murdered his own flesh and blood.”

“My own flesh and blood?” he asked, holding up a hand when Steve stepped forward. “No, no. I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Your dad. You murdered him. Hid your tracks pretty well, but I know what you did,” Clark smirked, but Bucky didn’t flinch. What happened to you scared him, but this prick didn’t scare him in the least. “I have quite a few articles ready to go about you, your dad, and some of your other indiscretions. You may be rich and powerful, but you can't buy off everyone.”

Bucky laughed this time. Stories never made it to the pages, his men made sure of that. “Yeah. I killed my father. So what?” he said nonchalantly. “I did the world a favor by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

He should've killed his dad a long time ago for what he did to his mom. And if your parents ever hurt you again, he wouldn't hesitate to ruin their lives. It was the least he could do for you.

That was how much he loved you.

Fear flashed across Clark’s face at his indifference. If it was so easy for him to kill a member of his family, it wouldn’t be any skin off his back to kill anyone else. “You-”

“And your plan was to… what? Get my girl out of the city, and you’d release articles about me? The Tribune works for me, and you know they’d never release them, which you probably hate.” He tilted his head. “But The Gotham Gazette doesn’t work for me.”

Clark’s mouth fell open. “How the hell did-”

“This is starting to make a little more sense,” he said, twirling the knife in his hand as he smiled at Steve. “He gets my girl to Gotham where he thinks I have no jurisdiction since it’s Bruce Wayne’s territory and he’s a friend of his. But to make sure I really don’t step foot in the city, he releases articles about me claiming that I killed my dad along with some other indiscretions that’ll spread like wildfire so that I’m either arrested or confined to my city. Makes sense, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Steve replied, crossing his arms.

“Is that right? Am I on the right track?” he asked Clark, who squared his shoulders and didn’t answer. Losing his patience, he made good on his word and brought the knife down on his big toe. The scream of pain only fueled his fire.

Clark screamed and made the mistake of looking at his foot, quickly turning his head away to dry heave. Bucky hoped he got sick. Hoped he choked on it. “You son of a bitch!” he yelled.

“Son of a bitch? My mother was a fucking saint. My girl saved her, and what did you do to my girl?! You put your hands on her. You hurt her!” he roared and brought the knife down again, blood splattering on the tarp. None of the men looked phased by his anger or the violence. “Everyone I’ve killed was a monster and I’m glad they’re dead, but what’s your excuse, huh? Why did you kill Lois? Did she see you for what you really are?”

Clark tried to breathe evenly through the pain. “I didn’t… I didn’t kill her! I just wanted to teach her a lesson for trying to leave me,” he replied. What the hell was wrong with this man? He hoped Pooch and Cougar got some answers. “Same with ‘your’ girl. If she had just grabbed that coffee with me, I could’ve explained, but she just had to fight.”

Bucky was proud that you fought and called out to him for help when you needed it. And he knew you would’ve never gone with Clark if he told you the truth, not even for a chance to escape him. “You know, I almost want to thank you.”

“What?” Clark’s brows pinched.

“I dreamt of so many ways to bring her closer to me, and thanks to you she’s in my home where she belongs even sooner than I planned. You handed her to me on a silver platter, and we’re going to be so happy together,” he smiled.

In the beginning, Bucky debated staging something where he got to be your hero, but he ultimately decided against it. There were too many elements that would’ve been out of his control. Not to mention, the thought of another man putting their hands on you made him see red, and it would’ve frightened you.

He still chose to frighten you instead of courting you correctly. Deep down he knew if he had approached you like a normal person that there would be a chance you’d decide to leave him when you realized what kind of man he was. He couldn’t have that, so he deliberately scared you. Power and control was what worked in his world, and trapping you with fear and subtle threats against loved ones made you join his side.

Now that you were in his home where you belonged, it would be a reset of sorts. He’d pick up the pieces that Clark and Zemo broke, as well as the damage he’d done himself. He’d also have to earn your love and keep it. He would because he was a determined man and there was no one else for him.

“You really are a sick-”

“I get why you wanted her, I really do,” Bucky continued. You were an angel on earth, a woman who could disarm the strongest man with a mere smile, beautiful with a loving heart, someone who deserved the entire world. “And you see, I scare her, I know I do, but you?” He pointed the knife at him again. “Your actions terrified her, and you pushed her right to me. She doesn’t want to see you ever again. She doesn’t even want to remember that you exist.”

Clark’s shoulders slumped. Was he losing his will to fight? “Just let her go. Let me go, and I'll make sure the stories stay buried.”

“You think you're in any sort of position to threaten me?” he asked. Clark was nothing, and he could see Jake out of the corner of his eye working his magic. Wherever those pending articles were, he’d find them and get rid of them for good. “And I’m never letting her go. She’s mine.”

Clark’s lip raised in a snarl. “I think that if the public were to get wind of your escapades, ‘your girl’ would be even less safe than she already is,” he said. Bucky didn’t want to agree with that because he did want you safe. “You don't want that, do you?”

“And now you're threatening my woman? Knowing that releasing those articles could potentially put her in danger?” Maybe he should cut his tongue out. “You may know things about me, but you must really not have done your research if you think I’d let you bring her harm again.”

“I've done more than enough research! Your dad isn't the only man you've killed, you said it yourself, and those victims have friends and family who would love to hurt your loved ones in return,” he snapped, starting to sweat. “You can't keep her safe forever.”

“You hurt her. You threw her to the ground and put your fucking hand around her throat,” he growled. Zemo may have fueled the flames for Clark, but something still wasn’t quite right. “At any point when Zemo spoke with you, did he tell you to put a hand on her or tell you why he hates me?”

Zemo hated Bucky because of what happened to his wife and son, though Bucky hadn’t been the one to kill them or order their deaths. If he gave Clark an order to physically harm you, it would be his death sentence because that was a line no one could come back from. He knew that. Was he that eager to die?

“No. He never said why he hated you and he didn’t tell me to hurt her,” he admitted, with regret on his face for the first time that evening. “In fact, he told me I should be very careful with her because she was innocent and important to you.”

Bucky stared into his eyes. The fucker was actually telling the truth. Jake mentioned he had been in and out of therapy for anger management. Your rejection must’ve overridden Zemo’s warning in his head. Zemo still had a price to pay though. But how?

“She isn’t just important to me. She’s my whole world.” Bucky’s metal hand curled, having to stop himself from stabbing the fucker in the heart. “And you almost took her from me,” he growled.

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Clark whispered, but he did and he couldn’t take it back.

Clark's words infuriated Bucky, his fist connecting with his jaw. He wanted him to suffer until his dying breath for what he did to you. He wanted to send a message to Zemo and anyone else who thought they could harm what was his and get away with it. “Gentlemen, I want you to pay close attention to this audio,” he announced, pushing himself to his feet and pulling out his phone. “There will be a quiz after,” he added sarcastically.

Clark winced when your scream rang out from the device. “Bucky, help! Help me, please!”

It took everything in Bucky not to crush his phone as the audio continued, bile rising to his throat. Hearing your raw fear, being attacked in a place that you made your own, was something that would haunt him until his dying breath. And as he looked around the room, carefully taking in the furious and shocked expressions of his men, he knew they were thinking of their own partners or future spouses and how they’d react if someone did to them what Clark dared to do to you.

The only sound in the room when the audio stopped was Clark’s heavy breathing. He was the pig presented for slaughter, and he knew it. Good.

“How many times did Kotyonok say my name?” Bucky asked his men, his voice calmer than he expected.

“Three times, boss,” Raymond answered right away.

Bucky snapped his fingers. “That’s right, Ray. Three times. So, Clark, I’ll be taking three of your fingers as payment.” Clark thrashed, but his strength was no match compared to Jax and Ari. “And I’ll make sure every bone in your other hand is shattered since you tried to choke her.”

“Y-You-”

“We should castrate you, too, because I agree with Curtis. You would've raped her if we hadn't shown up in time.” He stomped hard on Clark's crotch, and smirked when all that came out was a breathless scream. The thought of another man inside you was enough to piss him off, but someone trying to take you by force? He wouldn't let that go. “We’ll cut your pathetic dick off, too.”

“No!” Clark wheezed, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. It was impressive that he could still talk. “You can’t do that!”

Bucky’s chilling laughter echoed in the room. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes and this is my city, so I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he boasted. Clark couldn’t touch him or escape. “And you fucked with my woman, so I’m going to torture you and enjoy every second of it.”

“You can’t-”

“I won’t kill you tonight, no, but I’m going to make you suffer before I kill you. I’m going to make you suffer for hurting my girl, for making her cry, for breaking the trinkets in her apartment, everything.” He ignored Clark’s shouts and pointed at Steve. “As my best friend and one of the guys who helped tonight, you get the next hit once I cut his fingers off, followed by Raymond.” He heard Thor huff from where he stood. “Followed by Thor.”

“I want to be the one to break his hand,” Thor said before he smirked. “With my hammer.”

“Done.” Bucky gestured to the rest of the men. “You can decide the order after that, but don't kill him. I want him to beg for death by the time we’re done with him.”

And it didn't matter if Clark begged for his life because he’d never leave this basement alive.

“You don’t deserve her!” Clark spat.

Bucky’s heart twisted when he pictured your face, how you flinched at this touch, your tears from everything you went through since he came into your life. “No, I don’t,” he agreed. At least, he didn’t deserve you yet. He had a lot of making up to do when it came to you, but he had all the time in the world since he wasn’t letting you go. You possessed him body, mind, heart, and soul, and he would weave the strings of fate as tight as he could to keep you. “But neither do you.”

His hand shot out and wrapped around Clark’s throat. “Stop,” he gasped, unable to move with Ari and Jax holding him firm.

“You didn't stop, and I can't forgive that. No amount of begging, money, anything will spare you. And when I go home tonight, I’ll wipe away her tears, and kiss her sweet lips, and I’ll slowly put her back together and make good on that promise that she’ll forget you existed,” he smiled, squeezing harder. “I hope when you take your last breath that you imagine her calling out my name, and you die knowing that she’s going to live a long and happy life by my side as my wife.”

Something inside of Bucky shut down when he released his throat and cut off the first finger, feeling numb to the cries of pain as Clark tried to yank his hand away. He hadn't felt a thing when he killed his dad, and he refused to feel remorse for Clark’s suffering. His fingers brought you harm, so he was more than happy to get rid of them.

He glanced at his men by the time he finished removing the third. Steve and Thor saw you as a sister, someone to care for. Ray had a soft spot for you whether he would admit it or not. Jax and Hal harmlessly flirted with you. Nick took any slight against a friend's partner as a slight against himself. The rest of the men knew what you meant to him.

And he wanted them to destroy anything that brought you pain.

“He touched what belongs to me. Hurt him for hurting her,” he ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion as he let them go to work.

Steve kicked Clark square in the face, his nose crunching under the heavy force. Bucky didn't smile, didn't blink. Every drop of blood, every scream, every punch and kick and blow was justified. Thor was right when he said you were the queen of The 107th, and he and his men protected and defended their queen. And none of them showed Clark any mercy.

This is all for you, Kotyonok.

Clark’s cries and screams diminished to whimpers and ragged breaths. His handsome face was hardly recognizable anymore, and he was somehow still conscious. That made Bucky happy. He hoped he felt every ounce of pain.

“Pooch and Cougar may have found Lois! She isn't in good shape, but she’s alive!” Jake called out. He was the only one who hadn't gotten a hit on Clark, but that was okay. He was doing what he had to do. “And those stories won't get released. I made sure of it.”

Bucky didn't react. Instead, he stared at the blood soaking the tarp and thought about buying you flowers. With petals as soft as your skin that smelled just as sweet. That would put a smile on your face, right? He just wanted to make you smile.

And he wanted you to wear his mother's ring. Not the gaudy ring his dad gave her. No, you’d wear his mom's family ring, a timeless and beautiful heirloom passed down from generation to generation. And he’d make love to you after he proposed. He’d make sure you knew how much he loved you.

“Buck?” Steve asked when he didn't say anything to Jake. “Do you want Clark put back in the closet?”

“String him up. Keep it warm enough down here so he doesn't freeze. I’ll decide when he dies.” Bucky’s eyes were still cold when he looked at his best friend. “If Lois really is alive, we’ll make sure she gets the best medical treatment and assure her that Clark will never go near her again.”

That's what you would want for Lois because you were a good person.

“The driver?” Steve asked, nodding to another door.

“I’ll deal with him later.”

Steve nodded. “And what about Zemo?”

“We find him and make him talk,” he said. They couldn't kill him without causing ripples throughout the city, so they had to tread carefully.

“No need to look far, boss,” Ray said, pushing his glasses up. “Yelena followed him and he’s just outside of the club. He hasn't left his vehicle.”

Bucky exchanged a look with Steve before he took a gun from the wall. He couldn't kill Zemo, but he’d defend himself if he had to. “Let’s invite him in and give him a proper welcome.”

Fury filled him all over again knowing you were upstairs, but he wouldn’t let Zemo get to you. He wouldn’t let you down this time. And when he was done dealing with that problem, he’d bring you home, hold you tight, and whisper in your ear how much he loved you when you fell asleep.

Because you were his happy ending, and no one would take that away from him.

Whew! You still with me lovelies? How will the talk with Zemo go? How long before Bucky kills Clark? And I have to say, as fun as Bucky's POV was, I miss Kotyonok! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkmatilda]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer reid tries to focus on work, but keeps getting distracted. first by an unexpected phone call. then by the way you start flirting with another agent right across from his desk. but in the end, why does it even bother him?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spender reid x diva!chemist reader, reader kinda threatens to poison him, but its not a threat, just their silly way of showing mutual affection <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request. heyyy wonderful people, just letting you know that your request was the second-to-last in my inbox, so im opening them again! feel free to send me your ideas for the diva reader series, im already grateful in advance :>

Spencer usually gave out his phone number only to the people closest to him.

That way, he didn’t get unnecessary calls distracting him from more important matters, and he could be sure that if someone truly needed to reach him, they wouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

So, as he walked through the Quantico office, planning to track down Hotch—who supposedly wanted to see him—he was so absorbed in their case that he pressed his phone to his ear without thinking, without even looking at the screen, fully expecting to hear a familiar voice. Someone from the team, maybe.

Instead…

"Hey there, gorgeous."

A slightly raspy male voice. Spencer immediately estimated the caller to be around forty, judging by the subtle rustling sound—whoever it was, they were holding the phone just a little too close to their mouth.

Spencer froze in place.

His first thought—a wrong number.

His second—another one of Morgan’s pranks.

Just in case it was the latter, he didn’t hang up immediately. If his friend had planned something, he needed to find out what—so he could properly retaliate later.

"We met last night, don’t know if you remember," the man continued after a brief silence, caused entirely by Spencer’s confusion. "I hope you do. Because I sure do. Hard to forget a face like yours. You still there, sweetheart?"

In case anyone had any doubts—Spencer was not the intended recipient of this conversation.

He hadn’t gone out the night before, let alone given his number to a stranger. In fact, he had been in an entirely different state.

"Oh, sweetheart, don’t make me mad now. Or maybe you’re staying quiet because you’re curious how much I remember about you? Want me to remind you what you were wearing?"

Suddenly, it clicked.

After a brief second of pure disbelief, Spencer rolled his eyes upward, staring straight into the glare of the overhead lights. He blinked slowly.

His brain was exceptionally sharp that day. Even more so than usual.

Which meant it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. A quick mental chain reaction, linking scattered fragments of information into a single, clear conclusion. 

The man on the other end of the line thought Spencer was the woman he had met the night before.

Spencer had a few female friends, but everything—literally everything—pointed to her.

First of all, he was nearly certain none of the others had gone out last night. They had all been working together, after all.

Second, and somehow more importantly—none of them, except her, would have found it remotely funny to give his number to a random guy.

As a joke? Was that what this was supposed to be?

“There’s no need for that,” Spencer cut in sharply, before the man on the other end could start poetically or less poetically describing her outfit.

This time, the silence came from the other side, laced with clear confusion.

Spencer couldn’t stop the faint crease forming on his forehead, nor the subtle tension drawing his shoulder blades together. The entire conversation left a bad taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t just because the guy was wasting his time.

It was his voice.

Self-important. Smug. Wet in a way that made simply listening to him an unpleasant experience. The kind of voice that could turn an otherwise neutral or even affectionate word sweetheart into something damn near degrading.

Years of experience profiling people meant Spencer had no trouble picturing exactly the kind of man he was dealing with. And the distaste coiling in his gut only sharpened.

“For future reference,” he said, barely pausing for breath, his grip tightening on the phone, “I’d suggest double-checking the numbers women give you when they’re trying to get rid of you. Because this isn’t your sweetheart. This is the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which, for your information, is part of the FBI. And your utterly pointless, time-wasting phone call could be considered obstruction of justice, which, surprise, can land you several years in prison.

A loud silence followed—one that left Spencer with a strange feeling. Satisfaction, maybe.

The man cleared his throat, and Spencer would bet good money that there were one or two silent curses mixed in there.

“This whore must’ve given me a fake number,” the guy muttered, no longer speaking directly into the phone.

The sudden shift from sweetheart to whore was so blatant that Spencer couldn’t hold back a sharp, mocking scoff.

“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t think of her as a whore when you were trying to hit on her last night—”

He barely finished the last word before the line went dead.

For a moment, he remained motionless, the phone still pressed to his ear, analyzing his own reaction. He was completely taken aback by it. Almost immediately, though, he forced himself into a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation at an unwanted call.

Work. Right. Work. He had work to do, he had to meet with Hotch…

…but he had barely covered a few meters when his gaze caught a familiar stride and silhouette crossing one of the hallways. And before his mind could even consciously make the decision, he found himself heading in that direction—despite originally going somewhere entirely different.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked as her hand pressed the elevator button.

She didn’t look at him at first, though she must have heard his footsteps. It wasn’t until he spoke that she slightly turned her head toward him.

“Not too bad,” she admitted casually. Her hands immediately moved to their usual position, arms crossed over her chest, and a small teasing smile danced on her lips.“How about your morning? Any interesting phone calls?”

He opened and closed his mouth, not expecting to be so transparent. He also felt a bit confused by her enigmatic, calm reaction. The elevator stopped, and she confidently stepped inside first.

Spencer followed her.

“I don’t quite get it,” he admitted, furrowing his brows. “Was that supposed to be a joke at my expense, or that guy’s?”

They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder in the small elevator space. He looked at her, and she stared ahead. She slowly shrugged.

“Maybe both,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Spencer clenched his lips, holding back from saying that she could at least spare him the ignorant, irritating attitude for once. “Or maybe I just wanted to get rid of the pushy guy by giving him the first random number I could think of” She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “And maybe I was hoping you'd scare the shit out of him with some long lecture, preferably about the law. Was I right?”

She shifted her gaze fully to him, her piercing eyes locking onto him with such intensity that denial was out of the question. He didn’t even need to answer—the flicker of expression that crossed his face gave him away instantly.

Her short laugh filled the elevator.

He always felt a little humiliated, standing there in silence while she laughed at his expense. So he spoke first, blurting out the first thing that came to mind—the thing that had been sitting there for a while now.

“Does that happen a lot? Guys being pushy?”

She gave him a closer look, maybe because of the unintended seriousness in his voice. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Clearing his throat, he tried to appear more indifferent.

“Well, yes,” she said simply. Stating an obvious fact, a reality she was used to. “Every time. But getting rid of them isn’t hard. A well-placed conversation, and they run off just as fast as they showed up.” She scoffed. “But sometimes I’d rather just, you know, actually enjoy my evening instead of dealing with them. And that’s when the fake number trick comes in.”

Spencer caught himself listening with genuine interest. He was well aware of the effect she had on people—how she drew eyes just by existing, how so many of those looks were filled with nothing but desire. He also had the impression that, for the most part, she regarded them with mild disdain—or maybe even enjoyed being the center of attention.

He hadn’t considered that sometimes she’d had enough of them—so much so that she had an entire list of strategies to get rid of them just as quickly as she attracted them.

He realized he had fallen silent, lost in thought. The elevator stopped at her floor—he hadn’t planned on getting in with her in the first place, which meant he was now stuck pretending he was going somewhere else.

She took a step toward the open doors before his voice stopped her.

“Wait, you’re not even going to say thank you?” he asked. “I did waste some time on that guy. That was a solid lecture.”

She stood in front of the open doors, facing him.

“I have a suspicion,” she began, one brow arching as a teasing smirk tugged at her lips, “that you enjoyed it way too much to actually need my thanks.”

She gave him a small wave—just her fingers, really—before the elevator doors slid shut, cutting them off from each other. Spencer hated to admit—even to himself—that she had a point. Okay, a lot of a point, he realized as he recalled that fleeting rush of satisfaction when the call abruptly ended, punctuated by a hint of panic on the other end.

And maybe that was what ultimately decided it—because from that moment on, on the rare occasions he received similar calls, he always had a long, meticulously crafted, stern lecture at the ready. One that, just before the inevitable abrupt hang-up, sent the smallest, most satisfying shiver down his spine.

*

"You have three hours."

"I can handle it in two."

 "Do it in one."

Spencer remembered these words, muttering a soft shit under his breath. The massive stack of papers that not only needed to be read but also carefully analyzed seemed to be getting no smaller. The hour on the clock, however, kept ticking forward.

"Hm? What's up? Do you have something?"

He slowly shifted his unwilling gaze to the man he was trapped in the room with. Well, not literally trapped, but that’s how it felt. Dean Bradley, an agent who’d been working on the case they’d just been assigned to for years, knew it inside out—naturally, he had been assigned to cooperate with them. His current role, however, seemed to involve nothing more than pretending to write something on the whiteboard and occasionally throwing out a theory that supposedly brought them closer to the solution but, in reality, only pushed them further away. Bradley was incredibly distracting to Spencer.

"No... I just... nothing." Spencer replied rubbing his throbbing temple. That case had been exceptionally exhausting, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and the coffee he had just drunk hadn’t helped at all. "Nothing. Just...can you not say anything to me for a while?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow at him but Reid didn’t really care. Simply buried his nose in the papers again, reading, or rather, devouring the pages with his eyes. There hadn’t been the best atmosphere between them ever since Spencer had ignored his outstretched hand for a greeting. Well, that was because he had seen Bradley leaving the bathroom earlier, and even if he had washed his hands, he had immediately touched the door handle that everyone in the building touched, half of whom hadn’t washed their hands. Honestly, Spencer would have preferred to kiss him as a greeting. It would have been safer.

For a moment, Bradley was actually quiet. He didn’t stay that way for too long, though—just long enough.

"So, where are those lab results? Weren’t they supposed to be here by now?"

"They were. So, I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute," Spencer replied shortly.

"It’s taking a while. Maybe I should just go grab them myself?"

Yeah, please do, Spencer nearly begged. He even opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the door swung open and a woman stepped in, moving with quick, confident steps, but this time with a bit of frustration in her stride.

Completely ignoring the man's gaze landing on her, she stepped up to his desk and dropped the promised lab results onto it with a sharp motion.

"Could you tell me," she began, one hand still resting on the papers, preventing him from immediately going through them. Because she was standing while he was sitting, her figure loomed over him, forcing him to tilt his head slightly to meet her eyes. Naturally, he did, his gaze moving from her hand with neatly manicured fingers to her beautiful face, her bottom lip slightly protruding as she prepared to speak. "When exactly did I become your secretary? Because I don't remember that moment."

Spencer didn't even blink before responding, so used to thir verbal sparring and the fast pace she always set, just like her steps.

"Well, maybe since you started handing out my number left and right," he shot back instantly. Without breaking his gaze, he grabbed the empty cup sitting within arm's reach. "And since you consider yourself my secretary, would you be so kind as to make me a coffee?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agent Bradley watching their exchange with fascination, focused on only one side of the conversation. No need to specify which side. Meanwhile, the woman tilted her head slightly to the side, a certain gleam lighting up her eyes.

"Sure," she replied, to his surprise. There was something devious in her tone. Suddenly, Spencer didn't want the coffee anymore. "But I’m not sure I’d be so kind as to make sure those ten teaspoons of sugar you put in your coffee are actually sugar, and not, say, arsenic..."

Instinctively, he pulled the cup closer to himself.

"Not ten," he mumbled.

"Oh, my eternal apologies, I exaggerated a bit. Five?"

"Well, now you're getting closer..."

Their conversation, or rather their verbal sparring, was interrupted by a cough.

“Reid,” Bradley said his last name much friendlier than ever before, with a mischievous grin on his face. “When you said the chemist would bring us the lab results, I imagined, I don’t know, Einstein with his hair sticking out in all directions. Did you really lock such a treasure in the lab?” he chuckled. “So it wouldn't distract y’all?”

Spencer looked up at the woman in front of him again, who had only just noticed the third person in the room. Her hand slowly slid off the papers she’d been resting on, though it stayed on the desk. She half turned her body toward the new speaker, casually sitting on the desk. There was something hypnotic in the fluid, clock-like motion as she crossed one knee over the other. For a moment, he just watched, realizing after a while that he wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe I locked myself in there,” she replied. Her tone calm, too calm, as it always was before she’d throw words, like precisely aimed darts, at the other person. “So I wouldn’t have to listen to the same tired lines from agents with the same tired faces, thinking they’re being creative.”

For a moment, he completely forgot about the pile of papers waiting to be analyzed. He watched what was unfolding in front of him, a small smile involuntarily starting to form on his lips. However, it faded the moment he noticed Bradley’s expression. He had expected him to be shut down. Speechless, maybe. Hurt in that characteristic, pathetic way typical of fragile male pride. Instead, Bradley was grinning like an idiot.

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh,” Bradley commented lightly, not in the slightest bit put off by her words. In fact, the fascination on his face only grew.

Spencer couldn’t help but glance at the profile of the woman sitting motionless on the desk. Her gaze was now also more focused, following the person across from her. Her eyes seemed even more concentrated, intrigued, and entertained than during their conversation. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, physically making himself look back at the papers. Work, right, work. He had to focus on it, despite how distracted he was by their presence. It was, after all, natural. They were speaking rather loudly, right in front of him. He began reading the text on the page, concentrating only on it.

“You must feel like some princess locked in a tower,”

His ears, against his better judgment, picked up Bradley’s next words. He shook his head. Text. A quick glance at the woman’s face. Text.

“You know, that German fairy tale from the 18th century…”

Spencer, from his own experience, knew that info dumping wasn’t the most effective way to flirt with a woman. Especially when it wasn’t even accurate.

“17th century,” he corrected, unable to stop himself. Both their gazes landed on him, but he didn’t respond to either, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers. He was reading them, but couldn’t grasp their meaning. He started analyzing the same paragraph again, continuing, “Assuming we’re talking about the German version of that fairy tale recorded by The Brothers Grimm. Because, actually, this was developed from the French literary fairy tale Persinette by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force, which itself is an alternative version of the Italian fairy tale Petrosinella by Giambattista Basile.”

A long silence fell. The woman shifted slightly in her seat, pretending to be focused on her work, and he tried not to look at her face. Was there pity or amusement on it? Why did it matter to him so much to figure that out? What mattered was only one thing: they were bothering him. The two of them. With the noise they were generating, to be precise.

The sound that filled the room was probably just a long breath from Bradley.

“Wow,” he repeated, thrown off. “Thanks for the clarification, Agent Reid.”

“It’s Doctor Reid.”

He couldn’t stop himself and looked at her. She closed her eyes when a smile spread across her lips. She didn’t try to hide it or hold it back. It was simply there. Bradley noticed it too, his arms, which had been casually resting on his hips, sliding down along his body.

"Didn't you have some urgent documents to analyze?" he began, trying not to sound confrontational, but he failed. He sounded confrontational. "The ones you kept reminding me about every five minutes since we got here?"

Reid didn't have a sharp retort ready for that one; in fact, Bradley had hit the nail on the head. He did have a lot of urgent documents to go through, but for reasons unknown to him, he'd decided to engage in this pointless conversation instead. His silence only seemed to fuel the satisfaction on Bradley's face, which was broken only by the movement of the woman. Specifically, her rising from the desk.

"You could've just said we’re interrupting," she remarked, stretching one leg after the other, every movement fluid. "Especially if it's something important. Is it?"

"Well, actually, yes..."

"In that case, I suppose we're in the way. Shall we go, Agent Bradley?"

She must have read his last name off the badge pinned to her chest. Both Spencer and Bradley looked at her, but only one of them slowly cracked a smile. The other let out a sigh, pretending to feel relief, though deep down, he genuinely did—finally, he could focus on what he had wanted to from the start.

They both made their way toward the door. Unused to her quick pace, and still a bit surprised by the attention she had given him, the agent trailed after her like a lost puppy. As they crossed the threshold, she turned back to him over her shoulder, looking like a kid bragging about winning a bike race.

Spencer merely shook his head with pity, and when they both disappeared in the same direction, he scoffed.

He returned to his work.

After a while, he found himself thinking that perhaps he preferred their conversation to be within earshot, rather than out of it.

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

[ateezlibrary]

babysitting aniteez! • ot8

pairing: aniteez & their dads x reader

tags/genre: pure fluff, slightly unhinged (especially considering jjoongrami is involved), babysitting, big rugrats energy

synopsis: with their comeback around the corner, the ateez boys don't have much time to spend with their beloved aniteez. luckily, their step-parent is ready to take care of them—if they'll let them ... watch your feet, jjoongrami bites.

notes: just a really cute set of imagines with the aniteez babies and their step-parents! members are listed by age order and pics are all from pinterest.

hongjoong & jjoongrami ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎✧˖°. • hongjoong stares down at the production schedule that flickers across his phone screen and you could already see the cogs turning in his head. jjoongrami sits in his lap, humming with his little feet swinging as he hangs off of his thigh. he glances up as hongjoong lets out a sigh, eyes wide as he tries to read the shift in his father's expression. • "what's up?" you ask, leaning over his shoulder to glance at the schedule. you grimace at the sight of the updated deadline, knowing hongjoong was already working long nights in the studio to get the b-sides of their upcoming album prepared. he gives you a knowing glance, one that you return pitifully as you reach for jjoongrami's underbelly and give him a gentle scratch. • "i can watch him alone tonight," you offer, arching an eyebrow as jjoongrami kicks in protest. he didn't need someone watching him! he was a fearsome captain, after all. he led the aniteez team with strength, and dignity, and— • his little arms outstretch for yours when he notices the ramen you left to steep on the kitchen counter. you and hongjoong shake your heads in unison at the squirrel's antics, your boyfriend pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead as he gets ready to head out the door. jjoongrami settles between your palms and follows hongjoong's every step. • the night starts off a bit awkwardly, jjoongrami surveilling you with an aggressive temper you could only assume he meant to be intimidating. it was hard, given his bright orange fur and the fluffy tail that curled and followed behind him when he moved. you'd spent plenty of time with jjoongrami, but never alone. certainly not alone in hongjoong's apartment. • "how about i split the ramen i'm making for us both?" jjoongrami's eyebrows furrow, the tip of his nose twitching inquisitively. you scoff, lowering yourself to his eye level where he stood on the counter with his hands pressed to his sides. "yes, yes, i know—half and half, exactly, for us both." he nods with conviction, a satisfied squeak escaping him. • jjoongrami is quiet for most of the night, focused on the pile of books hongjoong had collected for him over the past several months. he kicks his legs against the floorboards, just across from where you lay on the couch with your phone in hand. you look over every so often, smiling to yourself at just how much he reminds you of hongjoong. • you're dozing off just past midnight when you feel a tug at the hem of your sweatpants. noticing you don't respond, jjoongrami nips at your ankle and you yelp. he hops onto your stomach, a garbled, high-pitched protest escaping him that you could only interpret as him ordering you to bed. • "i'm waiting for hongjoong!" you counter, earning narrowed eyes from the little creature as he huffs. you know exactly what he's saying—hongjoong would want you to prioritize rest, or at least making it to bed before he was back from the studio in the late hours of the night. with a defeated yawn, you scoop jjoongrami off of you and carry him with you into the bedroom, turning off the lights behind you. • "fine, but stay off of my pillow. last time i couldn't stop sneezing with your tail up my nose."

seonghwa & ddeongbyeoli ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ • "are you okay with watching him for the day?" seonghwa bites his bottom lip as his eyes dart between you and ddeongbyeoli, the blush rabbit's eyes sparkling in response. "you know, i could always ask hongjoong—his schedule's not as busy today. it shouldn't be more than a few hours for the filming ..." • "it's fine, my love," you reply, hands on your hips as you turn to ddeongbyeoli. "right?" he nods enthusiastically in response, ears flopping over his face with every motion. you both giggle at his excitement to spend time with you, even though it would mean time away from his father. "i was just going to spend some time walking around the city today—there's a new pop-up i wanted to check out, near the café that san mentioned i should try." • ddeongbyeoli gasps at the idea of being out and about for the day, and you can't help but laugh. he's definitely seonghwa's child, alright, with the way that he can't help but be out on a stroll until he loses track of time entirely. seonghwa nods, pressing a swift kiss to your lips as he texts his manager that he's preparing to head to the filming site. • "i usually like to listen to music when i walk," you explain to ddeongbyeoli. he hangs over the edge of your tote bag, settled in the side pocket as his pink paws tap against the canvas. it's a quiet day, slightly overcast and perfect for a visit to a café. you offer an earbud to him, watching as he holds it up to his ear to listen along to seonghwa's cover of 'odoriko'. • your café dates goes smoothly, ddeongbyeoli tugging at your sleeve so that you could purchase him a fruit tart from the glass case. his cheeks grew wide as he stuffed his face with bits of strawberry, licking at the cream that sticks to the tip of his pink nose. he even gets excited at the sight of the pop-up shop, encouraging you to pick out a blind box to open later with seonghwa. • "hey..." your steps slow on your walk back home when you realize that your route leads you right past the lego store. ddeongbyeoli looks up at you inquisitively, now sat firmly on your shoulder so that he could feel the rain-kissed breeze. you glance down at him and ask, "should we get him something?" ddeongbyeoli exclaims in a high-pitched squeak, nodding excitedly again so that his ears flopped around him. you steady him on your shoulder with a laugh, heading into the brick store to look at your options. • "you're too small!" you call out, watching as ddeongbyeoli struggles to pull the box you chose off of its shelf—a lego bamboo plant that would match your live plants in the apartment perfectly. the little rabbit nearly tips over with the box between his hands, squeaking for help as you steady him. "how about i take it to the cashier and we can surprise seonghwa with it?" • seonghwa gets home not long after the pair of you, a confused expression gracing his face for a moment as ddeongbyeoli approaches him at the door. he's dragging a gift bag behind him by the strings, the weight of the lego box clunking against the floorboards. good thing it came unassembled. • "what's this?" he asks, peering into the bag as he scoops the rabbit up onto his shoulder. his face lights up at the sight of the familiar red logo, and you gesture to ddeongbyeoli. "he picked it out for you!" • seonghwa pulls you in close, his familiar scent drawing you in as ddeongbyeoli chatters on his other shoulder. you reach for his nose, tapping it affectionately as he nuzzles against your finger.

yunho & tyudeongi ૮ • ﻌ - ა • yunho finally tears his attention away from the spiderman game on his screen when his phone rings. you recognize the tone as the one he'd set specifically for his manager, especially now with an impending comeback and promotion schedule. he answers while continuing to thumb at his controller, committing subconsciously to heading to the studio to record his vocals for the demo. • tyudeongi stirs from his nap, panic striking his face when he realizes yunho is missing. he bounces off of the couch, the tuft of hair that covers his forehead twitching out of place as he runs to you for an explanation. • cradling the small dog between your hands, you brush his hair away from his eyes and back into place. "he's gone to work for a bit! we can hang out for a little while." tyudeongi furrows his brows, trying to follow along when he's suddenly cheerful as usual at the idea that he gets to spend time with you. • tyudeongi runs to the end of the living room where his toy crate is–filled to the brim with balls, rope and other sports equipment. you glance out the window at the thunderstorm that's begun to brew, lifting the little dog back into your arms and peering down at him. "the weather's a bit yucky today. how about we make something yummy and play indoors?" • you're amazed at the speed that tyudeongi inhales his kimchi jjigae with. you spend time rolling his ball along the floor, watching as he darts around the room and retrieves it without missing a beat. the game goes on for some time, tyudeongi even encouraging you to fetch and giggling when you couldn't match his speed. • the two of you curl up onto the couch, rain thrumming rhythmically against the windows as you scroll through the reviews of newly-added movies to netflix on your phone. finding a new animated film that looks interesting, you turn the phone to tyudeongi and he nods in approval. explaining to him how to turn off yunho's game, you offer to make popcorn—and return to tyudeongi about to burst into tears. • "what's wrong?" you ask worriedly, setting the snack bowl down and pressing a hand to tyudeongi's soft cheek. he sniffles, shaking under your touch as he points a hand out to the tv screen. you narrow your eyes, trying to decipher his panic when you finally realize—he'd deleted yunho's progress in the new spiderman game. "honey, it's okay!" • as if on cue, yunho enters the apartment with an exclamation of how he just barely escaped getting rained on and making it home. he sets his coat and sneakers aside, the broad grin on his face faltering when he sees tyudeongi shivering in your palms. "what's wrong?" • "uh—" you glance between tyudeongi and the tv screen, watching as he sobs in anticipation of yunho getting mad. you bring him closer, brushing his tears away with your thumb as you lower your voice gently, almost maternally. "honey, it's better to tell him the truth." you turn to yunho. "he accidentally deleted your save in the new game." • "that's it?" yunho asks, the smile returning to his face as he scoops tyudeongi into his arms. "buddy, i thought you were hurt! it's okay—this is actually a good thing." tyudeongi blinks up at him, confused as he rubs at his eyes. "now, we can start over and play together!" only then, he grins.

yeosang & hetmongi ૮˶• ﻌ •˶ა • the morning sun illuminates the kitchen as you and yeosang fall into your usual routine, reaching for electrolytes and other supplements in preparation for your workout. hetmongi sits at the edge of the counter, humming along to the playlist coming from the living room speaker as he chews on his vitamin gummies. yeosang is just about to reach for his keys when his phone rings. • "ah, i need to do another set of practice runs with the choreographer," he comments, his voice still low from waking up not long before. "i'm sorry! are you okay with taking hetmongi alone with you today?" • you glance up from your phone where you were preparing your gym playlist and offer a small smile. hetmongi looks over at yeosang in question, as if to say how dare he doubt your abilities to hang out with him alone! hetmongi swallows his final gummy, crawling up your arm to stand with a defiant huff on your shoulder. yeosang shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender as he still reaches for his keys. "i see you'll be just fine." • your gym is no stranger to hetmongi, earning a packet of fruit snacks and head pats as you scan your membership card. he follows you diligently, mesmerized as always by the towering machines and endless racks of dumbbells. he follows you to your bench and hops up onto its edge with a cheerful outcry in motivation. you laugh, reaching for his head with a pat of your own. "let's have a good workout today!" • your workout progresses smoothly, falling into its usual pattern as you switch between weights and cheer on hetmongi as he tries to impress you with a series of stretches and push-ups on the bench. he catches his reflection in the mirror every so often, the way he tries to flex reminding you of yeosang and his well-built arms. • your lightest weight, a five-pound dumbbell, is the last you use for your set. you're about to set it back on its rack when hetmongi cries out to you, arms outstretched expectantly. you arch an eyebrow, removing your earbud. "i think that might be a little heavy for you, hetmongi," you start cautiously, watching as he taps his little chest to show you that you've got nothing to worry about. "how about we take it over together?" • just as you're about to help him, a friend of yours comes over to catch up on what you've missed since you'd last seen her. she tells you about her time on vacation, urging you to grab dinner with her sometime soon. you're about to take her up on her offer when a soft, drawn-out grunt captures your attention. • "hetmongi!" you gasp, the little white dog outstretched with the bar of the dumbbell pinning him to the floor. his paws are flayed in every direction, eyes wide as he stares up at the ceiling, defeated. he wiggles under its weight, evidently upset that he had to call out for help. you lift the dumbbell off of him, immediately scooping him up to inspect him. "are you okay? did you try to move that weight alone?" • hetmongi grumbles in your hands and you can't help but laugh at his bruised ego. he crosses his arms over his chest and you shake your head, pinching his arms. "you're so strong, it must have just been your form. how about we ask yeosang to train with you tomorrow?" • hetmongi nods excitedly, the thought of a new challenge with his father immediately erasing any embarrassment he felt from his poor lifting skills.

san & sandeoki ᓚ₍ ^◝ ̫ ◜^₎ • "they're going to do our makeup trials for the comeback today," san tells you, tugging a clean shirt over his head as he steps out of the closet. you glance up at him from bed, the early morning start a clear indication of their comeback around the corner. sandeoki stirs at your feet, kneading the duvet so that he can sleep more comfortably. his purple tail drapes over your feet lazily, one eye barely open as he looks up at his father. • "you'll look beautiful as always," you reply through a yawn, patting his cheek as he leans over to steal a kiss from you. sandeoki glares up at him through his lashes, bitter at the mention of a fun day playing with makeup and skincare that he wasn't invited to. • you spend the day alone with sandeoki, though he's no stranger to you—there's been plenty of times where he's accompanied you while san was busy with work and you had the time to spare. however, this time is different. it seems like nothing puts sandeoki in a good mood, no matter how hard you try. • his favorite rom-com? he barely looks at the screen as he rolls around the couch, dejected. a new pasta recipe? you might as well have left it out for the birds. even taking him out to run errands so that he could stick his head through the sunroof didn't cheer him up. san still wasn't back by the time you'd made it home, unsure of how to handle the situation. • "are you still upset that san is getting to have lots of fun with makeup today?" you finally ask, trying to confirm your suspicion. he huffs once, narrowed eyes peering up at you as he grumbles in that familiar, high-pitched tone. you laugh, the sound only making him more irritated as you pull him into your palms and up to eye level. • "well, why didn't you say so!" you chide, wrapping your hands around his belly and lifting him up high. "sounds like we're in need of a self-care night." the sound of skincare, bubble baths and sweet candles brought a twinkle to sandeoki's eyes, one that makes him kick his feet excitedly in anticipation. • sandeoki sits obediently on the bathroom counter, watching as you pull out a myriad of cleansers, face masks and eye patches. you also reach for a small pair of cosmetic scissors, ensuring that sandeoki's products would be sized just right for him. he fiddles with the product containers, his little pink nose twitching with delight at the floral scents. • nearly half an hour later, the pair of you have returned to the couch with matching sheet masks, gel patches under your eyes, and spa headbands that pull your hair away from your face (sandeoki is sporting one of your favorite pink scrunchies on his head so that he could match). he gladly prods at the remote with his paws, encouraging you to turn on another rom-com so that you two could unwind while waiting for san. • the pair of you are engrossed in the movie, skin cool to the touch under your sheet masks when san walks in. he looks handsome as ever, a deep smudged liner around his eyes and his skin like glass. sandeoki's ears perk up at his arrival, though he's only able to let out a muffled scream of excitement since he can't move around too much without his mask sliding off. • "seems like you two are having a relaxing evening," he teases, pressing a kiss to the top of your head from behind the couch. sandeoki purrs from his seat in your lap, earning a scratch behind his ears from his father. "can i join?"

mingi & bbyongming ૮(•͈ɞ•͈)ა • mingi texts you from the studio to let you know he's running a bit late re-recording his demos for the upcoming comeback. replying that it's alright and that you'll be relaxing for the evening, he points out that you should expect an exciting time with bbyongming as your company. the chick bobs his head to the random music video on your tv, youtube circling through the latest hip-hop releases in your shared playlist with mingi. • "i know you might hate me for this," you begin, reaching for the remote. bbyongming squeaks in protest, gesturing his wings out to the tv in protest as if you were out of your mind to turn off his tunes. you shake your head, chuckling at the way he's bug-eyed and ready to fight as all you do is lower the volume. "i wasn't turning it off! i just want to focus! you know i've been trying to learn how to crochet." • bbyongming crawls over you, to the basket beside you filled to the brim with yarn, crochet hooks, and various books with designs to follow. a series of confused grumbles slip out of him as he pulls apart the yawn in question. when a row of a baby pink falls onto his head, an idea comes to mind. • "actually..." you say, draping more of the pink and white yarn against his bright yellow tufts. "how about you let me practice by making a hat for you? i think mingi would think you look dope." he perks up in approval, never saying no to an opportunity to look as cool as his father. you giggle at their similarities before he reaches for the black yarn. "no, no! why don't we try the pink? i promise it'll look cool." • bbyongming doesn't believe you, and for good reason. the bonnet you've begun to stitch together is a baby pink and ivory combo, one that frills at its edges where you can see the perfect loops for ribbon bows. his attention is captured by the freestyle on screen, squeaking along to the beat in a garbled string of words the way mingi would. he glances over every so often at your work, trying—and failing—to convince you to add some red, some black. • nearly two hours have passed by the time his bonnet is finished and you let out an accomplished sigh, your fingers sore from gripping the hooks meticulously. bbyongming hops into your lap, ready to see what you've created. shockingly, he's excited to try on the pastel headpiece more than you expected. • "oh, you look adorable!" you exclaim, fastening the ties at his neck. he pouts, accentuating his already thick lips at the compliment. "i'm sorry—you look dope." only then does he beam at you, flapping his arms excitedly as he saunters to the living room mirror. he spends more time in front of it than you thought he would. • "how'd you convince him to wear that?" mingi asks as he returns home, watching the way bbyongming proudly strikes a series of poses for his father to admire your work and his good looks. you shrug, packing away your supplies and giggling at the way the little chick darts around the room and settles back in front of the mirror. • "maybe i'll need to make you one next so you can match."

wooyoung & wooyonyang ฅ^• ﻌ •^ฅ • wooyoung darts around the apartment, cursing himself for oversleeping and nearly running late to his schedule for the morning. you and wooyonyang can barely keep up with him, watching his every step as he talks to himself. • "practice room, then filming that appearance with joon and brian hyungs, then—" wooyonyang pounces of the bedroom, peering up at his father with a puzzled expression. why wasn't he planning to spend the day with him? "ah, nyangi, i'm sorry—i'm really busy today. you two can have lots of fun together today and i'll come home later!" • wooyonyang returns to the bedroom to paw at your face as you fall back asleep, expecting his next trusted adult to wake up and spend time with him. you shoot up in confusion, waking up abruptly at the feeling of his soft black fur against your cheek. lifting him by his belly, the sound of the bell on his collar fills your ears. "alright, i'm up, i'm up!" • wooyonyang has you on your toes, from preparing a big breakfast to picking an outfit for you to go out for the day. if you didn't know any better, you'd doubt that he missed wooyoung while he was gone. he knew exactly what he wanted to do, squeaking after you anytime there was a slow in your step. "i'm going!" • there's only one place that the little black cat wants you to take him, and that's the convenience store. you know the routine—honey butter chips for wooyoung, an assortment of candy for yourself, and a big box of vanilla cookies for wooyonyang. the two of you peruse the aisles for a bit longer than usual, convincing one another that you need twice as many snacks. • on the way back to the apartment, the little cat spots a playground—one that's near empty given it was the middle of a school day. immediately, he jumps out of your bag and darts for the slides. "wait!" you cry out, gripping the snack bags in your hand as you run down the sidewalk to catch up with him. his mischievous giggle pierces the air, the sound carrying all the way into the playground. • wooyonyang does a good job of entertaining himself, circling the playground's slides, ladders and rock walls like he'd never been let out of the house. his bell jingles after him, a sound that makes you laugh as you watch his little black shadow zip around the area while munching on your fruit candy. it was as if he were the one on a sugar high. • you can't tell exactly how long you've been at the playground by the time that wooyonyang's pace starts to slow, the jingle of his collar less rhythmic. you watch as he collapses finally from exhaustion on the bench beside you, a yawn slipping out of him as he blinks up at you. "oh, now you're tired," you chide, lifting him into your arms and carrying him back to the apartment. • wooyoung is home by the time the sun's set, wooyonyang fast asleep at the end of the couch with gentle snores. your boyfriend arches an eyebrow, pointing to the little black feline and back at you. "what'd you do to him?" • "me?!" you cry out, retelling the story of how he'd run away from you and straight for the playground. "this was his doing. this is your son, alright."

jongho & jjongbear ʕ´•ﻌ•`ʔ • "i promise he'll be good," jongho encourages you, the little brown bear beneath you peering around his calf. a pair of eyes blink up at you shyly, and you swear you see the faintest sprout at the crown of his head. "he's just a little shy. you know how he gets." • "as long as he doesn't happen to be a mass murderer, i'm sure i'll have a great time with him," you joke, offering a small wave to the bear as he's ushered in slowly. he stares at you, then at your apartment. it was as if he were judging you for your poor taste in interior design. "unless he has your personality. we might be in for some trouble." • "i thought you loved me," jongho jokes, planting a thankful kiss on your cheek as he shuts the door behind him. the bear is frozen in place, trying to adjust to his new surroundings. you sigh, lowering yourself onto your heels and putting a hand out for him to introduce yourself. • "we'll have lots of fun together, jjongbear!" you assure him, earning a tiny smile from him that makes your heart flutter. he widens his eyes as they fall on your kitchen counter where you'd secured some of his favorite snacks as jongho recommended. "ah, jongho told me you love ramen. would you like some?" • minutes later, the little brown bear is perched on your kitchen counter with a small dish in hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. he squeaks excitedly, the sprout from his head shaking with his movements. he looks like a little apple. • it seems like all it took was a meal for him to get acquainted with you, the rest of his time spent observing your bedroom, the stack of books in your living room, the clothes overflowing from your closet. he squeaks and garbles at the sight of each thing he picks at and you can't help but wonder if he's judging or complimenting you. • jjongbear shows particular interest in your gaming pc, the bright led lights and wide screen earning a soft "ooh" from him as he fights to scale up your desk chair. you giggle, reaching for him carefully and helping him up onto the desktop. he pads at the keyboard, exclaiming with every light that reacts to his touch. "i have a lot of games on here," you explain, navigating into one of your favorite games to show jjongbear. "want to learn how to play?" • he nods excitedly, following along with the combat rules and watching as you pick your champion. he grumbles when you pick a character that isn't big and bulky, frowning from his spot in your lap. you shake your head, the warmth of his little paws on your thighs a welcome change as you show him the ropes. he's totally engrossed in the fight you're in, cheering as you finally cry out in victory. • "would you like to hang out with me more often?" you ask jjongbear as jongho scoops him up into his arms for the night. jjongbear nods with glee, the sprout on his head fluttering in approval. "good. i'd like that, too."

[lila-lou]

✨Turning Heads - 4/5✨

Summary: You were just supposed to act. But from the moment Jensen Ackles knocks on your door, the lines start to blur. The chemistry is real, the scenes are intense—and he's... well, he’s married.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 4602

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

You stared at the ceiling, your body stretched across the bed, your mind still refusing to shut the hell up.

You had tried everything—reading, scrolling through your phone, even taking a long, hot shower to wash off the weight of the day. But none of it worked.

Because Jensen was still in your head.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your hands over your face.

Just then, your phone buzzed. You frowned, reaching for it off the nightstand. It was past midnight.

A single name lit up the screen. Jensen. Your breath caught slightly.

For a second, you just stared at it, your thumb hovering over the screen. You hesitated—then finally, slowly, you unlocked your phone.

Jensen: You up?

Your stomach flipped. Fucking shit. You stared at the message, your heart pounding. This was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea. But still, your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You exhaled sharply and, before you could overthink it, you typed back.

You: Yeah.

The response was instant.

Jensen: Can I call you?

Shit. This wasn’t just a late-night check-in. This wasn’t casual. This was something else. Your stomach twisted as your phone vibrated again—this time, an incoming call.

“…Hey”, you murmured, voice softer than you intended.

Jensen let out a slow breath on the other end. “Hey”.

Silence stretched between you for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke again—his voice lower, rougher.

“I shouldn’t be calling”.

You swallowed. “Then why are you?”.

Another pause. Another slow inhale.

Then, quietly— "Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you".

Your stomach dropped. You felt every nerve in your body go electric, your breath hitching slightly.

“Jensen—”.

“I know”m he cut in, voice tight. “I know”.

“I know”, he muttered again, his voice lower now, like he hated himself for even saying it out loud. “I know, alright? I just—fuck, I needed to hear your voice”.

Your chest tightened. He sounded… wrecked. Not just guilty, not just conflicted, but tortured.

You pressed your lips together, heart hammering. “Are you alone?”.

“Yeah”.

Something in you eased. You didn’t know why, but it did.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with everything neither of you was saying. You could hear Jensen’s breathing on the other end, slow and measured, like he was trying to keep himself under control.

"Can we… talk when I get back?".

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t an impulsive I need to see you, or a reckless I can’t stay away. No, this was something else. Something more deliberate. More dangerous.

You swallowed. “Jensen—”.

“I just mean—”. He cut himself off, inhaling sharply, then exhaled. “We work together. We have to work together. If we don’t figure this shit out now, it’s just gonna get worse”.

Your pulse pounded. “And what exactly is this shit?”.

Silence.

Jensen sighed, running a hand down his face. You could hear the frustration in the way he exhaled, in the way his voice came out strained. “Y/N…”.

You pressed your lips together, gripping your sheets tighter.

You could lie. You could pretend this was nothing, pretend you weren’t affected, pretend that what happened in that shower—on that table—wasn’t still running through your mind on a fucking loop.

Or… You could be honest.

You let out a slow breath. “Fine. We’ll talk”.

“Okay”.

That one word held so much weight.

Neither of you said anything after that, just listening to the other breathe, feeling the tension hang between you, unspoken but very much there. Finally, Jensen let out a breath. “Get some sleep, short stack”.

Your lips twitched despite everything. “You too”.

A pause.

Then, in a voice just a little too low, just a little too warm— “Night, sweetheart”.

Three days later, Jensen was back. You had known the moment he stepped on set, even before you saw him. The air just shifted.

But when you finally did see him—hair slightly tousled, dressed in full Soldier Boy gear, coffee in hand, joking easily with the crew—something felt… off.

He wasn’t cold. Wasn’t avoiding you. But he also wasn’t the same Jensen you had left on the phone three nights ago. He was distant. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to.

And yet—he was watching you. All. The. Time.

You caught him more than once—his gaze flickering to you between takes, his jaw clenching slightly when you laughed with Antony, his fingers twitching at his sides during every single kiss.

Because today? Today was long. Nine full hours of shooting. No sex scenes, but plenty of kissing. And fuck, you felt it. Every time.

The first scene had been easy—just a quick, playful kiss, your character teasing Soldier Boy, pulling away with a smirk. But even then, Jensen’s grip on your hip had felt a little tighter than necessary, his lips pressing just a fraction too hard before he pulled away.

The second scene? Not so easy. Because it was longer. Messier.

Soldier Boy was supposed to slam you up against the wall—his favorite move, apparently—his hands gripping your waist, his mouth crashing into yours, the kind of kiss that left you breathless.

And fuck, Jensen felt different. His hands weren’t just acting. His lips weren’t just kissing—they were taking.

And the second Kripke yelled Cut!, he was already pulling back, already stepping away, already putting space between you. Like he was mad at himself.

By hour seven, the tension was suffocating. You were exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally.

And Jensen? Jensen looked like he was about two seconds from either storming off set or dragging you into his trailer just to get this fucking thing over with.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed in this weird middle ground—distant, careful, but still fucking watching you. And when Kripke finally called That’s a wrap for today!, you knew, it was time to talk.

Jensen went straight to his trailer. Not looking back. Not saying a word. Like he was waiting for you to follow.

You swallowed hard, hesitating for a second before sighing, rubbing your hands down your jeans, and finally moving.

You told yourself this was just a conversation. That nothing was going to happen. That this was just about getting on the same page.

But the second you knocked on his trailer door, you knew you were fucking lying to yourself. Because the door swung open fast—like he had been waiting—and there he was. Still in his Soldier Boy gear, hands gripping the frame, his whole body tense. And those green eyes? They were dark. Too dark.

Neither of you spoke. The air was too thick, too fucking charged. Then, Jensen exhaled sharply and stepped aside, jerking his head. “Get in”.

Your stomach flipped, but you stepped inside. The door shut behind you.

You swallowed, standing near the small couch while Jensen paced once, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He still hadn’t changed, still hadn’t even relaxed, like this conversation was the last thing he wanted but the only thing he needed.

“I’m trying real fucking hard to be smart about this”. His voice was low. Strained.

Your heart pounded. “Jensen—”.

He turned fast, eyes locking onto yours. “You can feel this”. It wasn’t a question.

Your breath hitched. You didn’t lie. “Yeah”.

His jaw clenched. “And you like it”.

You exhaled slowly. “Don´t you?”.

Jensen let out a bitter, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s the fucking problem, sweetheart”.

You swore you saw his hands twitch. Like he wanted to grab you. Like he couldn’t. Like he shouldn’t.

But before you could say anything—before either of you could figure out where the hell this was going— Jensen moved.

Not toward you. Not away. Just standing there, breathing hard, shaking his head. “This is a fucking disaster”.

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. This wasn’t just some fleeting attraction—this was something dangerous. Something that could ruin him. Something that could ruin you.

And yet, even knowing that, even feeling the tension thrumming between you like a live wire, you still whispered— "I’m not expecting anything, Jensen".

His head lifted slightly.

You pressed your lips together, voice softer now. “And I sure won’t tell anybody”.

His jaw ticked.

You knew what he was thinking. Knew that somewhere in his mind, he was already worrying about the fallout—about what would happen if someone found out about the way he had looked at you, touched you, wanted you.

About what would happen if you told someone about him texting you in the middle of the night. About him getting hard in the middle of a fucking scene.

You weren’t stupid. Jensen had a lot to lose. And so did you.

His green eyes flickered, scanning your face, searching for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe control. Maybe just a reason to stop this before it went any further.

But he didn’t find it. Because you weren’t lying. You weren’t expecting anything. You weren’t asking him to leave his wife, or to explain himself, or to promise you something he couldn’t promise.

Jensen’s throat bobbed slightly, his fingers twitching at his sides. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he snapped.

"Fuck".

The word came out rough, almost guttural, before he took a step toward you—too close, too deliberate. And then another. Until his chest was nearly brushing yours, until his hands were hovering at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. Until you were standing there, staring up at him, heart pounding, breath caught in your throat.

"You really think that’s the problem?", he murmured.

Your lips parted slightly. “What?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. “You think I’m afraid you’ll tell someone?”.

Before you could say anything, before you could even breathe, Jensen moved.

And then his lips were on yours. Hot. Demanding. There was no hesitation, no slow buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

You barely had time to react before his hands were gripping your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing, hoisting you up onto his desk with ease. Because you were so fucking small, and his back was already screaming after nine hours of bending down just to kiss you on set.

A low grunt left his throat as he settled between your legs, pressing his body into yours, his hands gripping the edge of the desk on either side of you.

“Shit”, he muttered against your lips, exhaling sharply. “I swear, you’re gonna put me in a fucking chiropractor’s office”.

You let out a breathy, nervous laugh, your fingers fisting in his shirt, holding on as your mind spun, while his hands were on your thighs, sliding up slowly, too slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

Your breath hitched, and that—that—made him groan, deep and low in his throat, his fingers digging into your bare skin. “Tell me to stop”, he murmured against your mouth.

You swallowed hard. “Do you want to stop?”.

Jensen exhaled harshly, his forehead pressing against yours. “No”, he admitted, voice rough, strained. “I fucking don’t”.

So instead of stopping, you pulled him closer.

Your fingers fumbled desperately with the edges of his Soldier Boy suit, trying to yank the damn thing off while Jensen’s lips moved feverishly against yours. But fuck, it was impossible.

The thing was practically painted onto him—thick, armored, strapped in everywhere. It wasn’t just some jacket you could tug off between kisses.

Jensen let out a low, breathy laugh against your mouth when he felt you struggling, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. "Yeah, sweetheart", he muttered between kisses, voice dripping with amusement, "this thing doesn’t exactly just slip off".

You groaned in frustration, tugging at the material again anyway. "Then how the fuck do you get out of it?".

Jensen smirked against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before pulling back just slightly, his green eyes dark with something wicked. "You don’t", he rasped. "Not without a goddamn handler".

You pulled back just enough to gape at him. "You need help to get out of this?".

He smirked again, nodding, his hands still gripping your thighs, keeping you firmly right where he wanted you. "Usually", he admitted, voice low, rough. "You sure you wanna waste time on that?".

Your stomach flipped. Because the way he said it—like he was perfectly fine with just taking you right here, suit and all—made your thighs clench around his hips.

His hands spanned your waist so easily, his fingers nearly wrapping around your sides, like he could just pick you up and do whatever the fuck he wanted with you.

And the worst part? He wanted to.

"Shit", Jensen muttered, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled heavily. "You're so goddamn tiny".

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands already tugging his pants down just enough to free him. "And you're… fucking huge", you shot back.

Because even through his boxer briefs, his arousal was obvious. Thick, hard, straining against the fabric.

Jensen felt your hesitation. Felt the way your fingers faltered for a second, your thighs tightening around his hips.

His smirk deepened, one of his hands sliding up your side, his grip tightening just enough to make you squirm.

"That a problem, sweetheart?", he murmured, voice low, rough, teasing.

You swallowed hard, your breath unsteady, your fingers still gripping the waistband of his briefs.

Jensen snorted at your mumbled "Might be", shaking his head slightly as he pushed your dress up, his large palms sliding over your bare thighs.

The contrast between his rough, calloused hands and your soft skin sent a shiver up your spine, making your breath hitch.

"Not like you're a virgin", he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw, hot and teasing.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, pulling them down slowly, deliberately, letting the cool air hit you.

"We’ll make it fit".

Your stomach flipped. Your nails dug into his biceps as he kissed along your jawline, slow and unbearably confident, his scruff scraping against your skin.

The size difference between you two was fucking ridiculous.

His hands completely swallowed your thighs, his body towering over yours, his broad shoulders making you feel even smaller beneath him.

And he knew it.

You could feel it in the way he touched you, in the way his grip tightened slightly, in the way he positioned you exactly where he wanted.

His breath was hot against your skin as he smirked. "You nervous, sweetheart?".

Your fingers tightened in his shirt, your heart pounding as his hand slid higher—closer. Instead of answering, you just tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze, your lips barely brushing against his.

Jensen exhaled sharply, reaching down to shove his boxers lower, freeing himself completely.

Reaching behind you, he grabbed a condom from the small box near the edge of his desk, ripping it open with his teeth like he had done this a thousand times before.

The sheer ease of it, the way he barely paused in his movements, sent a fresh wave of heat straight through you.

Jensen rolled the condom on quickly, his fingers steady, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths, like he was trying to control himself.

Then, without a word, his large hand came down to your knee, his thigh nudging it apart.

“Wider”, he murmured, his voice low, rough with something dangerous.

Your stomach flipped, heat pooling between your legs as you did as he said, parting your thighs even further for him.

Jensen’s lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering down as your dress rode up high enough to leave you completely bare before him.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. His hands braced against your thighs, his fingers flexing like he was holding himself back. Like the sight of you—so small beneath him, spread open, waiting for him—was testing every ounce of control he had left.

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as your pulse raced.

Jensen inhaled sharply, forcing himself to breathe, his hands sliding up, gripping your hips, positioning you exactly how he wanted, before he dragged himself through your slick folds—just once, just enough to tease, to make you squirm.

A strangled whimper escaped you, your fingers digging into his forearms, and fuck, that sound nearly undid him. “Shit”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching as he lined himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing right against your entrance.

Just then, he eased inside.

Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale slipping from your lips as the stretch burned in the best fucking way.

Jensen’s head tipped back immediately, a guttural groan leaving his throat, his fingers tightening so hard on your hips you swore you’d bruise. “Fucking shit”, he ground out, voice thick, wrecked.

You felt every single inch of him as he pushed in. Slow, deliberate, stretching you open with every inch, every shallow breath he took.

His head snapped back down. Because he needed to see your face. He needed to watch you as he bottomed out.

And the sight of you, eyes wide, lips parted, your breath stolen— It was the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen.

His fingers dug into your skin, his knuckles going white as he fully seated himself inside you, his breath coming out ragged. “You feel so fucking tight”.

Your nails scraped against his forearms, your thighs trembling slightly around his waist. You could barely breathe. You had never felt this fucking full.

Jensen let out a sharp exhale, rolling his hips once—just enough to make you gasp—before leaning in, his lips hovering just over yours.

His voice was low, rough, possessive. “You okay, sweetheart?”. His smirk told you he already knew the answer. But you still nodded, your breath shaky, your fingers gripping onto him like a lifeline.

Jensen hummed, his nose brushing against yours, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good”, he murmured. “Because I’m not stopping”.

Right now, you didn’t care. You didn’t care that he was married. You didn’t care that he was older. You didn’t care that he was your colleague, your co-star, someone you had to see every fucking day. None of it mattered.

Because right now, you just needed this. Needed him.

Jensen felt it—the way you arched against him, the way your nails dug into his arms, the way you gasped his name as he started to move. And it wrecked him.

His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled back—just enough to leave you aching—before slamming back in, stretching you all over again.

You cried out, your head tipping back, your body barely able to keep up with the sheer force of him.

Jensen groaned, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath ragged. “Fuck, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice thick, wrecked, filthy. “You take me so goddamn well”.

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your hands gripping onto his biceps like they were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

He set a ruthless rhythm, his grip bruising, his body dwarfing yours as he fucked you against the desk, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

Jensen’s breath was hot against your skin, his lips brushing over your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—but not quite kissing you. Not yet. Not until you broke.

His thrusts slowed, deepened, pressing into you with a purpose now—less frantic, less desperate, but still consuming.

Your fingers gripped at his shoulders, sliding up into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more.

And finally—finally—he gave it to you.

His lips crashed into yours, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped your throat, kissing you like he had been starving for it. His hands slid up, framing your face now, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, his body pressing fully into yours, not leaving a single space between you.

Jensen groaned against your mouth, his pace slowing even more, like he was savoring this—like he wanted to remember every second, every sound, every way your body molded to his.

Your hands slid down, gripping onto his back, pressing your forehead against his, your breaths mixing, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

And for the first time since this started, it wasn’t just heat. It wasn’t just need. It was something else. Something neither of you could name. Something neither of you were ready to admit.

Jensen groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair, his forehead still pressed to yours, his voice low, rough, real— "You feel so good".

And fuck, that was it. That was what broke you. Because this wasn’t just fucking. This wasn’t just a reckless mistake. This was intimate. This was dangerous. And neither of you were stopping.

Your whole body tightened around him, the slow, deep drag of his movements sending you spiraling closer and closer—your breath coming out in soft, broken gasps against his lips.

"Jensen—". You barely gasped his name before it hit you, pleasure crashing through you like a wave, your body tightening, back arching, head tilting back as the orgasm ripped through you.

Jensen groaned, his grip on your hips tightening, his movements stuttering as he followed you over the edge, his body tensing, his forehead still pressed to yours as his own release hit, his breath ragged, heavy, wrecked.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound in the trailer was your heavy breathing, the hum of the AC, the faint rustling of fabric as Jensen let his weight sink into you, his hands still cradling your face, his thumbs brushing absently over your skin.

Neither of you spoke. Because what the fuck could you even say?

Your pulse was still hammering, your mind still spinning, your body still feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened. And Jensen? Jensen was silent.

His eyes were closed, his breathing slowing, his hands still holding onto you—like if he let go, the world would catch up to what you had just done.

Jensen had thought—no, he had hoped—that this would get you out of his system.

That once he had you, once he fucked you, once he pushed himself inside you and finally took what he had been craving, it would stop.

But lying to himself had never been his strong suit.

Because as he held you, his chest still pressed against yours, his hands still gripping your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, he knew the truth. This just made it worse. Because this? You? You were better than he had imagined when he groaned your name while fucking his wife.

You weren’t just lust or fantasy anymore. You were real.

Your skin was still warm beneath his fingertips, your breath still uneven, your thighs still trembling slightly from how hard he had just made you come.

And fuck, that was the problem. Because now? Now, he wasn’t done. He wasn’t satisfied. He wasn’t over it. He was fucking starving for more.

Jensen exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing on your hips, his forehead still resting against yours.

You swallowed hard, your body still shaking, your pulse pounding beneath his hands.

You felt it, too. The way this didn’t fix anything. The way it just made the pull between you even stronger.

The weight of what had just happened sat thick in the air, pressing down on you, suffocating the fleeting high that had consumed you only moments before.

Jensen was still holding onto you, his hands firm on your waist, his forehead resting against yours, like he couldn’t pull away. Like he didn’t want to. But eventually, he had to.

With a slow, reluctant inhale, Jensen finally pulled back, his hands sliding from your waist, leaving your skin cold.

The absence of his warmth made reality come crashing back.

You blinked rapidly, your breath still unsteady, the dull ache between your legs a reminder of what you had just done.

Your stomach twisted as you quickly reached for your clothes, slipping your panties back on, pulling your dress down, avoiding his gaze.

Jensen was quiet, moving slower, his expression unreadable as he adjusted his pants, ran a hand down his face, exhaled heavily.

And you? You were spiraling. Because what the fuck was this? What did this mean? You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you smoothed out your dress, moving toward the door. "I…". You started, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s head lifted slightly, his jaw tight.

You sucked in a breath, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "Fuck, I’m sorry", you mumbled, already reaching for the door handle. You just needed to get out.

But before you could turn the handle, Jensen´s hand shot out, gripping your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

Your breath hitched, your whole body going still. Slowly, hesitantly, you turned back to him, your pulse hammering, your chest tight.

Jensen’s grip on your wrist stayed firm, his thumb brushing over your skin, like he could feel you slipping away, like if he didn’t hold on now, you’d be gone forever.

"Don’t overthink this".

The words were meant to reassure you, but the second they left his lips, you felt the hesitation behind them. Because Jensen was overthinking this. Like crazy.

You could see it in the tight set of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his thumb kept absently rubbing against your skin like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He was trying to play it off, trying to act like this wasn’t huge, like this hadn’t just changed everything.

But it had. And you both fucking knew it.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you’re doing?”.

Jensen’s lips parted slightly—just for a second. Like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to lie. But he didn’t. He just exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening, his fingers twitching against your wrist before he finally, finally let go.

You felt the loss of his touch instantly. You took a slow step back, your throat tightening as you reached for the door again. "I can't do this", you murmured, your voice unsteady.

Jensen stilled. But he didn’t stop you this time. He just watched as you turned the handle, as you hesitated for a fraction of a second—like you were waiting for him to say something, anything, to make this make sense.

But he didn’t.

And so, you stepped outside, the cool air hitting your skin like a slap, your mind spinning as you walked away.

And inside that trailer, Jensen sat down heavily on the couch, dragging his hands down his face, letting out a sharp, frustrated exhale. Because for the first time in his life, he had no idea what the fuck to do next.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 5

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[bowiebugwrites]

My girl

@frankies-girl requested… “i love frank sorry💔💔💔 maybe something to do with… frank and the reader were unlikely acquaintances (she takes care of his wounds, or he’s their bodyguard, something along those lines). reader meets some guy at a bar or something and frank becomes ridiculously jealous of them.

cw: men are creeps all the time forever, you can feel the pining through the screen bro, language

a/n: First of all, never apologize for who you are beautiful I’ve got you covered. And then for everyone else I really recommend you read The Nurse and the Punisher before this, they’re a little tied together.

word count: (637)

You were just the girl who patched up Frank after a rough night of being the Punisher. No more. No less.

One kiss was all it took for his protective instincts to go into overdrive.

He wants nothing more than to make sure that his little personal nurse is safe. Being the Punisher puts a target on his back since he isn’t exactly operating a legal job, but that puts a target on you, who so kindly takes care of him, too. You kissed him once and he’d do anything to make sure that target stays far far away from you and all on him. But there’s only so much he can do, he can guard you from the consequences of being an ally to the Punisher, but he can’t shield you from everything forever.

He was at a bar, not quite drinking away his troubles - he never got that drunk - but just dulling the pain of a night as the Punisher. The guy got a few good hits in before Frank blew his brains out. And to his pleasant surprise, you were sitting there across the bar, running your finger around the rim of your glass. You looked particularly exhausted, probably a rough day at the hospital, probably here for the same reason Frank was. To drown it out the best you could without getting wasted.

He was trying his hardest not to be a creep, but he found himself staring. He hadn’t seen you wear something other than your scrubs given that you usually saw him right after work. It was nice to see you in your own clothes. To Frank’s dismay, a man approached you, leaning against the bar counter. Frank could feel something bubbling up in his chest. An attractive young man, talking to you? God what was this…?

Jealousy.

Pure unbridled jealously.

“Can I offer you a drink, sweetheart?” The guy said, his New York accent coming out thick.

“No thank you,” you reply, trying to scoot away without being obvious.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he said, getting a little too close. Frank was already on his feet. “Any drink you want, my treat.”

“I already told you, no,” you say, a little exasperated now.

“And I’m not buying it-“ he didn’t get a chance to get through a full sentence before Frank had him shut up. Just by setting a hand on his shoulder. And you’re eyeing him like he’s your savior.

“She already told you no, jackass,” Frank says harshly. He’s bigger than this guy by a bit, any smart individual would be packing right now. The guy just shoves his hands in his pockets, rolls his eyes and walks away. Jealous or not, Frank wouldn’t just sit by and let you get harassed. “Want me to walk you home doll?” You nod without another thought, grabbing your bag as he pays the bartender for his drink and you two get out of there.

The walk was quiet, not much needed to be said. Until you were outside your apartment and you just had to speak up.

“Did you tell that guy off because he was nothing me or just because you were jealous?” you ask, somewhere between teasing and genuinely wanting to know his thought process. Frank showing his hands into his pockets, his thumbs sticking out.

“Why can’t it be both?” He replies, keeping the same level of half joking with you. It was truly a bit of both for him. You laugh softly at the answers, looking at the ground then back up at him.

“Good night, Frank,” you say softly. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, before disappearing into the apartment building you live in. And he’s watching and he’s sure now that he’s absolutely bagged you.