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d-z20 · 7 months ago

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A Favour Owed (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You get caught in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin, when Rio Vidal comes to the rescue. In exchange for her help, she asks for a favour with a mischievous glint in her eyes -OR- Rio walks you home in the rain and later cashes in the favour to take you home and fuck you silly (Modern AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, more smut, a little bit of fluff at the end, Top Rio, Dom Rio, bratty(ish) reader, even more smut, R receiving: fingering, strap, bondage, blindfolding, light choking

Words: 4.0k

A/N: I planned out the rest of my Agathario backstory and it’s broken my heart so I've countered it by writing this. It is a healthy way to cope and you cannot tell me otherwise.

AO3 link my loves <3 | Master List

It’s pouring rain by the time you leave work, the sky dark and brooding as you step outside. You don’t even make it half a block before the downpour hits, drenching you in seconds. You duck under the awning of a nearby café. Already soaked through, hair dripping, you curse yourself for not checking the weather before you left the office. The wide-legged jeans cling uncomfortable to your legs, heavy with water, and the cropped olive cardigan you thought would be perfect for the chill now feels like a poor choice, offering little protection against the rain. Your white tee, once neatly tucked, is now plastered to your skin and slightly see-through. Cursing the cheap fabric, you glance around at the empty street, your teeth starting to chatter as the cold settles in.

As you stand there shivering, you notice someone approaching through the sheets of rain—a figure in all black, moving with a confident stride. It’s only when she steps closer that you realise it’s Rio Vidal, her umbrella held high above her head. You’ve seen her at the gym more times than you can count, occasionally sharing a class. You’ve exchanged a few nods and maybe a smile or two, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone. You don’t expect her to stop now, not in this weather. But then she sees you, and for a moment, you think she’s just going to walk on by.

But she pauses when she spots you, her expression unreadable as her eyes flick over your drenched figure. You can tell she’s about to keep going—there’s a split second where she looks away, like she’s debating whether she cares enough to stop. Then she rolls her eyes, heaves a dramatic sigh, and steps under the awning with you.

“Really?” she drawls, tilting her head as she looks you up and down, eyes lingering at the sight of your bra showing through the now definitely see-through top. “No umbrella?”

You shrug, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t realise I had to expect a monsoon today.”

Her lips twitch into a smirk, and she shakes her head. “Clearly.” Without another word, she shifts under her umbrella, angling it so it covers both of you. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

You fall in step beside her, matching her pace as you make your way down the rain-soaked street. It was awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm without bumping into each other. You make a bit of small talk, mostly about the weather, but then Rio starts teasing you, throwing out little jabs at your lack of preparedness, and you find yourself laughing despite the rain soaking through your clothes.

“Do you always go out unarmed in a storm?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I like to live dangerously,” you grin.

“Oh, is that what this is?” she retorts dryly. “Because it looks like poor planning to me.”

You snort, bumping into her playfully. “Careful, you might actually sound concerned.”

Her smirk softens into something warmer, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing you for the first time. It’s disarming, the way her eyes linger, and you suddenly realise how close you’re standing.

As you walk, the rain intensifies, pounding against the umbrella. Rio adjusts it, stepping even closer until her arm presses against yours. You glance at her. She had chosen to shelter you with the umbrella more even though it meant she was getting caught in the downpour; the scent of her perfume mixing with the rain is intoxicating, and you can’t help but shiver.

“You’re getting wet,” you murmur mostly to yourself, voice softer than you intended.

She looks down at you, her smile widening into something almost predatory. “You have no idea, darling,” she says, her voice dropping low. The look in her eyes is heated—a flicker of something you’ve never seen before—and it makes you shiver for a completely different reason.

You hold her gaze, the world fading away around you. The rain, the city noise—it all melts into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart. It would be oh so easy to lean in, to close the gap between you. But then she clears her throat, stepping back just slightly, and the moment breaks.

“We should keep moving,” she says, almost too casually, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Right. Yeah.”

Soon enough, the conversation picks up again and you’re back to casual teasing.

“You know, they do sell these things called coats,” she says, glancing sideways at you with a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah?” You play along, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “I’ll have to look into that.”

She laughs—a low, husky sound that makes your pulse skip. “You probably should. You look like a drowned rat.”

“Rude,” you shot back, but you’re smiling, warmth spreading through your chest despite the cold rain.

By the time you reach your street, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. She stops, tilting the umbrella back as she looks up at the sky. You quickly steal a glance at her neck, imagining what it would be like to trail kisses down her throat, to nip at the soft skin just under her collarbone, to take her ni-

“Looks like you’re safe now,” she says, a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.

The words snapped you out of your daydream.

Shit. She had caught you staring. And oh fuck, your mouth had dropped open slightly as you fantasised about her. Your clothes weren’t the only thing that was wet now. “Uh, um, yep. Thanks for the rescue,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, trying to play it cool. “I owe you one.” You offer her a weak smile.

She cocks her head, considering you for a moment. “Yeah, you do.” There’s a flash of something playful in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her easy agreement. “Oh? Planning to cash it in?”

Her smirk widens. “Maybe,” she says, voice low. “But I like to keep people guessing.”

Before you can respond to invite her in for a drink, she steps back, giving you a small, almost imperceptible wink before turning on her heal and walking away, leaving you standing there, wetter than you had been when she first found you but not from the rain.

You’re still thinking about your little encounter with Rio the next day at the gym. You’re in the locker room, towelling off after a particularly gruelling class, when you hear the familiar sound of a certain teasing voice. You glance up and see Rio leaning against the row of lockers, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with that same smirk from the day before. It was only then you noticed just how attractive you found her hands as they gripped her bicep.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she drawls, arching an eyebrow.

You chuckle, tossing your towel into your bag. “It’s almost like I come here at the same time every day or something.”

She doesn’t reply straight away; instead, she pushes her tongue into the cheek of her mouth, shaking her head at your retort. She pushes off the locker and steps closer. “Almost,” her gaze flicks over you, lingering just a moment too long. “You remember that favour you owe me?”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your belly at the way she’s looking at you—dark eyes glinting with mischief, like she’s got a secret she’s about to share.

You swallow hard, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I remember. You planning to cash it in?”

“Oh, definitely.” She takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Your body seemed to be absorbing all of her heat and sending it straight between your legs. She reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and her fingers linger against your cheek, a teasing caress that makes you ache with need.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Her smirk widens, and she leans in, her lips brushing yours as she whispers, “You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart.”

You shiver, your breath catching in your throat as she pulls back, giving you one last lingering look before she turns on her heel and saunters out of the locker room. Your heart is racing, anticipation thrumming through your veins. For a split second, you stand there frozen, unsure if you imagined the intensity in her gaze.

But then, just as you start to gather your things, you hear her voice call back from the doorway, rich and teasing.

“Well, are you coming? And remember to pick your jaw up off the floor on the way out.”

Your pulse spikes at the challenge in her tone, the words hanging in the air, heavy with desire. You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You grab your bag, rushing to follow her out of the locker room, silently cursing yourself for being caught gaping at her once again

She’s already halfway down the corridor, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that sends a thrill through you. “Hurry up,” she calls, her voice low, almost like a command.

You catch up to her as she pushes through the gym’s exit, the cool night air hitting your skin. Without missing a beat, she heads straight for the parking lot, her steps purposeful. You fall in line beside her, curiosity and desire mixing in equal measure.

Her car is parked near the back, and before you can say anything, she’s unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat with an easy, confident motion. She looks over at you as you approach, her eyes dark and inviting.

“Get in,” she says, low and charged.

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you know it, the engine roars to life, the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel as she drives with purpose. The ride is quiet but thick with anticipation, the only sounds coming from the hum of the car and the occasional shift of your bodies as you both settle into the journey.

When she pulls into the driveway of her place, you can’t help but feel the electric charge in the air—there’s no mistaking the unspoken agreement between you. She parks and turns off the engine, unbuckling her seatbelt, leaving the silence to stretch between you, thick and expectant.

You wait for her to make the first move, and she doesn’t disappoint. Without a word, she reaches across the console, her fingers brushing yours as she unbuckles your seatbelt. “You’re going to see just how much I care,” she whispers in your ear, remembering your teasing comment from yesterday.

You just look at her, mouth going dry, searching for any hint of hesitation, but there’s none. Just an almost predatory stillness to her gaze. She leans down, her lips brushing the side of your neck, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“You wanted to know what I had in mind,” she murmurs against your skin, her breath warm, sending goosebumps over your arms. “I think it’s time you found out.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and before you can even respond, she’s kissing you—hard and hungry, her hand tangling in your hair, pulling you close. It’s urgent, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment, the tension from yesterday finally snapping.

Her lips move against yours with a feverish intensity, her hands already tugging at your clothes, exploring the heat between you. There’s no more teasing, no more games. Just the heat of the moment, the rush of desire, and the feeling of her body pressing against yours, claiming you as much as you’re claiming her.

She pulls back for a moment, breathless, her eyes scanning your face with a satisfied smirk. “You wanted to know,” she whispers again, her voice thick with desire, “now you’re going to learn exactly what it means to owe me.”

Before you can respond, she’s already round by your door, pulling you out of the car, her grip firm and unrelenting as she leads you towards her front door. The way she moves is confident, like she’s done this a thousand times, and it sends a thrill of excitement straight to your core. You stumble slightly, half from the urgency, half from the anticipation buzzing through your veins, but she doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath.

Rio unlocks the door with swift precision, shoving it open and tugging you inside. The moment you cross the threshold, she’s on you again, pinning you against the closed door with her body, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip.

“Do you need me to do everything for you?” she murmurs, her voice full of mockery as she tilts your chin up with a single finger. There’s a taunting gleam in her eyes, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and it’s infuriatingly effective.

You try to muster a cocky retort, smirking up at her. “Maybe I just like making you work for it.”

Her laugh is low and dark, vibrating against your skin. “Oh, you think you’re in control here?” She presses her knee between your legs, pinning you firmly in place. The pressure is just enough to make you gasp, your bravado faltering for a split second. “That’s cute,” she purrs, leaning in until her lips are brushing against your lips. “But we both know who’s really calling the shots tonight.”

Before you can react, she captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, her hand threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make your scalp tingle. It’s a claiming kiss, like she’s determined to make sure you remember this moment, to imprint herself on your body.

You try to push back to regain some semblance of control, but she’s not having it. She breaks the kiss with a sharp tug of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. “I don’t think you understand,” she says, her voice a husky whisper as she drags her lips down the column of your neck, nipping at your skin. “You owe me. And I’m going to take exactly what I’m owed.”

You shiver, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it. You hate how easily she turns you on and how she seems to know every spot that makes you melt. “What if I don’t want to pay up?” you manage to taunt, your voice breathy.

Rio’s smile is slow, scheming. “Oh, you will,” she says simply, stepping back and yanking you by the hand, dragging you down the hallway to her bedroom. You barely have time to register the surroundings before she’s pushing you onto the bed, her body hovering over yours, caging you in.

She pauses, looking down at you with a smirk, her eyes dark and half-lidded with desire. “Do you need me to do everything for you?” She repeats, and this time there’s a distinct edge of command in her voice.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to look away. “Maybe I do.”

She chuckles, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Fine,” she breathes, leaning down to kiss you again, softer this time but no less intense. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Her hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, stripping you bare with a skill and efficiency that leaves you breathless. Every touch feels like it’s setting you on fire, the anticipation building to a fever as she takes her time, teasing, testing your limits. When you try to touch her, she grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with a single hand.

“Ah, ah,” she chimes, her grin sharp. “You said you needed me to do everything for you. So keep your hands to yourself, and let me take care of you.”

You want to argue, to push back, but the look in her eyes makes you hesitate. There’s a thrill in giving in, in letting her take control, and you realise with a pulse of excitement that you want this—want to see what she’ll do when she’s given free rein.

Rio doesn’t waste any time. Her mouth is on your skin, lips and teeth and tongue, exploring every inch of you. She’s relentless, drawing out sounds from you that you didn’t even know you could make. When her hand slips between your thighs, you arch into her touch, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.

“Already?” she teases, her fingers teasing along your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where you want her most. “You talk a big game, but look at you now. So eager, so needy.”

You glare up at her, trying to muster a retort, but it comes out as a whine instead when she finally touches you where you need it most, her fingers sliding against your slick heat. She smirks down at you, clearly enjoying the way you react, your back arching off the bed, your hips bucking into her hand.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice soft but edged with dominance. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? You’re going to give me everything I want.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan. “Maybe,” you say, aiming for defiance but sounding breathless instead.

Her smirk widens. “Maybe?” she repeats, leaning down until her mouth is at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “That’s not good enough.”

With a sudden, purposeful movement, she shifts, sliding two fingers inside you, her thumb pressing against your most sensitive spot. You cry out, your hands instinctively trying to reach for her, but she tightens her grip on your wrists, keeping you pinned down.

“Say it,” she commands, her voice low and insistent. “Say you’ll be good for me.”

You struggle for a moment, clinging to the last shred of your pride, but when she curls her fingers just right, the pleasure shoots through you like a lightning bolt, and you break.

“I’ll be good,” you gasp, your voice almost a sob. “I’ll be good for you, Rio.”

She hums in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your mouth. “Good,” she murmurs, her lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Now let me show you what it means to really owe me.”

Once again, you are gaping at the woman before you, and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. Your moans are gradually growing louder and more unhinged with each stroke of Rio’s fingers, and you’re about to cum when she pulls away completely.

You whine at the loss of touch, but this only spurs Rio on more. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” she asks, now running her hands up and down your sides. “I’m going to undress for you now, and you need to look at me the whole time, okay?”

You’re not sure if you should answer. Not sure if you can answer. The questions seem rhetorical, but you’re so eager to get her touch back that you nod enthusiastically, hoping it’s the right thing to do.

Rio chuckles softly at your desperation and starts to strip. It’s slow and deliberate. She starts by shimmying her shorts down, kicking them into the corner with a flick of her foot. Next she peels off her top, crossing her arms at the hem and pulling it over her head slowly. Very slowly. The action pushes Rio’s tits together, drawing your eyes to her cleavage. It’s all too much, and you bring your hand down and start to touch yourself, your eyes fluttering shut. Feeling your wetness on your fingers for the first time, you let out a soft pathetic whimper.

Big mistake. Rio is on you in an instant, tugging your hand away and securing your wrists to the bed frame with ropes you had failed to notice until now.

“If you can’t behave, I will make you behave.” Rio snapped, her voice wasn’t malicious, no, instead, it almost came out as a moan and you realised just how turned on she was.

Disappearing into her closet briefly, she quickly returns, holding something behind her back and an innocent smile plastered across her face, but her eyes hid something more dangerous. “Shut your eyes,” she demanded. “Now.”

You obliged and then felt as the mattress dipped with her weight. You could feel her straddling your waist, gently lifting your head to put something over your eyes.

“Since you clearly didn’t want to watch,” she clarified, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You strain your ears trying to get some sort of idea of what was going on but you cannot make out any distinct noise. That’s when you feel her start to caress your legs again, trailing light, teasing kisses right up to your core.

She was kneeling between your thighs when you felt the tip of something cold and hard push in to your entrance.

“Fffuuuuccckkkk,” you moan, drawing out the word as Rio’s strap fills you completely.

Her movements are slow at first, easing you in to it. “You’re being so good for me, darling,” she coos. “Taking me so well.” Then her pace starts picking up, thrusting in to you harder each time.

It’s a relentless pleasure, and you can feel yourself barrelling towards an orgasm. Rio must sense it too as she grasps her hand around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Ask for it.”

“Pl-please. Please Rio. I need to cum,” you try your hardest to get your words out between moans, unsure if you could actually stop yourself from climaxing if she denies your pleas.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to find out as Rio hums her agreement, tilting your hips to reach another angle. “Good girl. Cum for me, I want to watch your beautiful face as you cum,” you hear her gasp out, clearly working herself up as well.

You climax with a flurry of moans and gasps, arching further into Rio. The woman fucking you shows no sign of stopping, drawing out the pleasure. You feel her leaning over to her nightstand, picking something up with a grunt, when the stap rubs just right against her clit. Just as you start to wonder what an earth she had picked up, you hear a faint click, and suddenly the strap starts vibrating inside you.

This time it’s both of you moaning and gasping with each thrust as Rio guides you through another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” Rio is panting. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming.” Rio collapses into you, breathing hard. She stays there for a while before slowly pulling out and removing the blindfold, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

She ducks into her bathroom, grabbing a cloth to clean you up. Her touches are gentle and soothing. “You did so good, sweetheart.” Rio’s voice is soft as she lies down next to you, scooping you into her arms.

You look up at her, blinking slowly, the adrenaline draining out of you. “That was not what I had in mind when I said I owe you one,” you sigh, coming to rest your head on her chest.

“Oh yeah?” One of Rio’s hands comes up to play with your hair, the other stroking up and down your arm. “And what were you thinking of, hmm?” She whispers softly. “Because your staring was definitely not subtle.”

All you can do is huff out a small laugh, her hands coaxing you into an easy sleep. With another kiss to the top of your head, Rio wishes you a good night and holds you as you drift off peacefully.

remember to like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

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adelliet · 23 days ago

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Bob Reynolds x f!reader

DREAMY VACATION

Summary: You've been sent on vacation to take a break from saving the world, but there's no hiding from your emotions that will eventually take over.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, alcohol consumption, body insecurity, Sentry awakening (just for a second), erection, breast play, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hickeys

A/n: Hii! So uhm this is LONG AS FUCK, like a literal novel so I am warning you. Anyways I wanted to thank you for 1k followers?! How?! You have no idea how much this means to me. I am grateful for each and every one of you and I will try my best to improve my writing. Hopefully you will like my future projects as much as you've liked the ones I have done so far. Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

You and the rest of the Thunderbolts had been deployed to Spain on what was supposed to be a critical mission. The briefing was vague but urgent, something about a potential global threat developing near the coast.

On the plane to Alicante, you sat down next to Bob. He looked tense. Really tense. He was gripping the armrest like it might fly off on its own. His face was pale, and his shoulders stiff as stone.

“Hey,” you said gently, nudging him with your elbow as you got settled. “You okay?”

Bob didn’t answer right away. He blinked, clearly trying not to throw up, and then murmured, “Um… do you maybe wanna sit by the window instead?” He didn’t look at you, just stared straight ahead like a man facing death.

Without missing a beat, you nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

You stood up and let him shuffle over into your seat. The second he sat down, he let out a deep belch, followed by a hoarse, “Oh God…”

You were already leaning closer, scanning his face with concern. “You good?”

Your hand found his knee, giving it a comforting rub. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands now gripping the tray table for dear life.

He nodded slowly, jaw clenched. “I’m okay. Just… hate flying.”

You offered a soft smile and stayed close. “I’ll be right here the whole time, okay? Just breathe.”

He nodded again, and despite how miserable he looked, his posture softened slightly, just enough to tell you that your presence was doing what your words couldn’t.

“I’ll go get some water and a bag, just in case,” you told him gently, already sliding out of your seat. Bob gave a tiny nod, eyes still shut, lips tight as if even opening them would invite disaster. You made your way down the aisle, stopping a flight attendant with a polite smile and a quick explanation.

She gave you a knowing look. “Nervous flyer?”

“Something like that,” you chuckled.

A minute later, you returned to your row, holding a small bottle of water and one of those crinkly, shame-colored paper bags. Bob looked slightly less pale than before—his hands weren’t as white-knuckled on the armrests, and his breathing had calmed a little. But he still had that I-might-hurl-any-second look going on.

“Here,” you said, sitting back down and offering both the water and the bag. “Just in case. Don’t worry, it’s only a few hours.”

The moment the word “hours” left your mouth, Bob visibly tensed. He choked on his own spit and shot you a wide-eyed stare like you’d just told him he’d have to wrestle an alligator.

You raised your hands defensively. “Okay, wrong choice of words—ignore me.”

Before either of you could say more, the engines began to roar and the plane started rolling forward. Bob immediately slumped into his seat like a melting popsicle, shut his mouth and eyes, and gripped the tray table as if it were the only thing anchoring him to this dimension.

You couldn’t help a soft smile. He looked a bit ridiculous and miserable at the same time.

“This is the worst part,” you said soothingly, glancing out the window as the runway sped beneath you. “It gets better after takeoff.”

As the plane began to lift from the ground, your heart fluttered with excitement. A new mission in Europe. A whole new landscape, new memories. Even if you weren’t saving the world, part of you loved the thrill of the unknown.

You inhaled deeply, a soft smile on your lips… until you felt a touch.

You turned your head just in time to see Bob—eyes still closed, jaw clenched—reach out blindly and grab your hand in his. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look at you. He just held on. Tightly.

You looked down at your interlaced fingers. He was basically crushing your hand, but you didn’t pull away. If this helped him even a little, you weren’t going anywhere.

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles in quiet reassurance. You didn’t say anything. He didn’t either. But something in the weight of his grip, the vulnerability of that small action, felt more genuine than a thousand words.

Sure, your hand might be useless for the next few hours, but somehow that didn’t matter. It was Bob. That’s what made it okay.

The flight dragged on peacefully, and at some point, exhaustion won.

By the time the pilot announced the descent, both you and Bob were fast asleep. The flight attendant’s gentle voice over the intercom was what stirred you.

“Excuse me—we’ll be landing shortly.”

You blinked groggily, and as your senses slowly returned, you realized that you and Bob were still holding hands. The entire flight. Neither of you had let go, not even in your sleep.

You turned your head at the same time he did, both of you blinking at each other in a dazed, half-dream state. Then you both released your grips at once, slowly, carefully.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Bob straightened his seat and adjusted his hoodie like he could hide in it.

“…Feeling better?” you asked softly, keeping your voice low enough so only he could hear. He nodded, and for the first time that day, smiled at you—not the nervous, half-broken kind, but something real.

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.” His voice was quiet, but sincere.

You smiled back before you even realized it, heart tugging in that dangerous, stupid way it did whenever he looked at you like that.

Sometimes you wondered if Bob Reynolds was even real. Maybe he was a highly advanced hologram, or worse, a social experiment where you were the test subject. Because if he was a trap, a trick, or an illusion… well, you’d already fallen in pretty deep.

The moment you landed at the airport in a sunny seaside city called Alicante, your adrenaline was high, ready to face whatever was waiting for you.

But instead of military vehicles or local agents waiting on the tarmac, there was a giant banner reading “SURPRISE!” flapping in the Mediterranean breeze. An agent, smiling way too much for someone who usually briefed on extinction-level events, greeted you all with the bombshell: “There is no mission. You’re here on vacation for one full week. Fully paid. Mandatory.”

Everyone had a different reaction. Some of the team burst out laughing. A few gave each other looks of disbelief. Alexei screamed, “HELL YES, BEACH TIME!” and fist-pumped the air. Yelena already had sunglasses on. But not everyone was thrilled.

Bucky Barnes, for one, looked like someone had just kicked his dog. Twice. He crossed his arms and muttered, “This is ridiculous. I don’t do beaches.”

“Well, now you do,” said Ava with a smirk. “Welcome to bonding camp, grumpy.”

You were all told this wasn’t just a vacation, it was a “team-building retreat.” You were going to be forced to relax together, apparently to grow stronger as a unit. And no one was allowed to bail.

Despite the chaos of your missions and all the tension in the beginning, over the past few months of cohabitating in Stark Tower, you’d all grown… closer. There were still arguments, sure—someone was always stealing snacks, using someone else’s mug, or playing music too loud at 3AM—but you knew each other now. Knew who liked what, who needed quiet mornings, who hogged the bathroom, and who cried during certain movie scenes (spoiler: it’s more of them than you expected).

But the bond between you and Bob Reynolds stood out most.

Everyone saw it. From the moment you helped rescue him, you’d never left his side. You were the first to check if he was injured, the first to speak to him like a human being and not a walking nuclear reactor. You made sure he was okay. Like some stray dog the world had tossed aside—and you just quietly decided he was yours now.

And the team followed your lead. Despite what he’d done, despite nearly destroying the world and ripping open old wounds in everyone’s psyche, they welcomed him with open arms. Because you did.

“Vacation?” Bob raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused.

“Yup,” John said with a grin, giving him a playful nudge. “That’s when you don’t do anything and it’s totally fine. You should try it sometime.”

Bob didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked suspicious of the concept. His whole life had been built around duty, damage control, and trying not to explode. The idea of just… existing with no expectations felt foreign. Maybe even dangerous.

“Alright folks, let’s move out,” Yelena called, hoisting her bag over her shoulder with that bossy tone everyone obeyed without question. She might’ve shared the leadership role with Bucky, but she had the charisma of someone who got things done.

Like a herd of reluctant high schoolers on a mandatory field trip, the team followed—grumbling, joking, dragging their feet, but moving.

The drive wasn’t long.

A sleek black limousine pulled up to your destination within the hour. A row of elegant, private beach cottages spread out before you, nestled in a secluded cove just outside Alicante.

The sand was pale gold, soft as powdered sugar, stretching out toward the turquoise horizon. The sea shimmered beneath the sunlight, waves gentle and lazy. Palm trees lined the perimeter, their leaves rustling with every breeze, casting just enough shade to make the heat feel like a pleasant hug instead of a punishment.

The place felt untouched. Quiet.

Not exactly deserted—but exclusive. You could see why no ordinary tourists were lounging here. It wasn’t just the off-hour, it was the price. This was the kind of luxury reserved for diplomats and billionaires. For people who’d seen too much, done too much, and needed the world to shut up for five minutes.

For the first time, you felt the weight of silence around the team. Not the awkward kind—just a collective breath being held, like everyone was realizing at once how damn beautiful it was here.

The agent who’d escorted you out of the airport handed over two keycards with a charming smile. “One cabin for four men, and one for three ladies,” he said, giving them to Bucky and Yelena respectively.

“Enjoy yourselves.”

And just like that, he was gone, limousine and all, leaving you standing under the cloudless sky, surrounded by the scent of salt and coconut sunscreen.

You glanced around, soaking it all in. Then your gaze shifted to Bob. He was already looking at you. The moment your eyes met, he flinched and immediately turned his head, pretending to be very interested in a nearby bush.

You snorted quietly to yourself, lips twitching with amusement.

“This one’s ours, I guess,” Yelena said, pointing toward the cottage just a few steps away. Even from a distance, the place looked like it belonged in a luxury travel magazine. Creamy-white walls, light wooden trim, huge windows, and a little porch with hanging hammocks swaying lazily in the breeze. A dream come true.

You, Yelena and Ava made your way over with your bags. Yelena slid the keycard, and the door clicked open. The inside was even more stunning.

It was like stepping into a Pinterest board. The walls were painted in soft seafoam greens and sun-washed whites. Rattan furniture, pastel cushions, and airy curtains gave the space a coastal, boho vibe. There was a faint scent of lavender and driftwood in the air—relaxing, expensive, comforting.

Sunlight poured through the huge windows, illuminating a common area with plush couches, a breakfast bar stocked with fruits and snacks, and wide glass doors that opened directly onto the beach. You could hear the waves as if the ocean was whispering, You’re safe here.

“Holy shit,” Ava breathed out, spinning in a slow circle like she couldn’t believe this wasn’t CGI. “This is nicer than my actual apartment.”

Yelena dropped her bag on the nearest bed with a satisfied smirk. “This is acceptable.”

You couldn’t help but smile. A real, easy smile, the kind that felt rare lately. Everything about this place felt… right and peaceful.

And as you peeked out the back window and saw the boys dragging their bags toward their own cottage, you knew this week was going to be something different. Maybe even healing.

A few hours had passed since you arrived. You’d unpacked, showered, explored the fridge, which was magically stocked with mouthwatering, chef-level food, and finally settled into that post-travel stillness.

The late afternoon sun blanketed everything in golden light as you lounged on the front veranda of your cottage. Yelena had claimed the hammock and was swinging gently, sunglasses on, arms behind her head, looking like a war-hardened goddess pretending to be chill.

You and Ava had claimed two of the hanging lounge chairs, gently swaying as you soaked in the sun. Both of you had sunglasses perched on your noses, and the soft breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming.

“What are we even supposed to do here?” Ava asked, not bothering to open her eyes. Her voice was lazy, relaxed, a perfect match for the quiet waves in the distance.

It was a simple question. One you should’ve been able to answer. But you paused. Because… you honestly didn’t know.

Before you could respond with something vague, Yelena chimed in with a deadpan comment that made both you and Ava snort with laughter. It was something about team bonding meaning “not-murdering each other in close quarters,” and that this counted.

Then you added, perfectly flat, “I didn’t even bring a swimsuit.”

Ava blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait, me neither.”

“Didn’t expect this,” you muttered. “Was packing for death, not tanning.”

Yelena groaned. “Okay great. Let’s go buy swimsuits now. Or we’ll end up stuck here melting like idiots on a porch for the rest of the week.”

She was right, so without much debate, the three of you grabbed your canvas totes, wallets, and phones. None of you were wearing anything particularly beach-shopping-appropriate, but it didn’t matter. The streets near the coast would be casual, laid-back—just like the air already felt.

Of course, this wasn’t just a swimsuit run.

You were three women, unsupervised, in a beach town, surrounded by potential sales racks, accessory stands, cafés, and tourist traps. There was no way you were only coming back with swimwear.

As you walked past the guys’ cabin, Yelena suddenly veered off toward the door.

“I’m gonna see if any of the boys want to come with us,” she said casually.

You and Ava paused, hanging back by the path and watching her disappear into the house. After a beat of silence, Ava tilted her head toward you, voice sly behind her shades.

“So… are you two dating?”

You frowned, confused. “What?”

She shifted her sunglasses down her nose just enough to raise her brows. “You and Bob.”

Your eyes went wide. Your mouth dropped into a dramatic, perfect “O.”

“What— no, pffft, no! We’re just… friends. Like you and me.”

Ava laughed softly, but her gaze stayed locked on you, way too perceptive for your comfort.

“Then why don’t you look at me the way you look at him?”

The question hit harder than expected. You froze. Your heart did that thing where it picked up speed, like it was trying to run away before your brain could even catch up.

You opened your mouth to respond—but didn’t get the chance. Yelena reappeared, walking toward you like she owned the world, flanked by Johnny and Alexei, who looked far too amused to be joining a swimsuit shopping trip.

“They’re coming,” she said with a smirk. “Apparently the boys need suits too. And they want to pick out something ridiculous for Bucky.” That got a laugh out of all of you.

You glanced past them, half-hoping Bob would be in the group.

He wasn’t.

A tiny sting settled in your chest—nothing sharp, just that quiet flicker of disappointment. Maybe he needed rest. Maybe he didn’t feel like going out. Maybe… you were overthinking again.

You shook the thought away and caught up with the group, quickly weaving yourself into the casual chatter about the town, the ocean, and just how absurdly gorgeous these beach houses were.

Still… you couldn’t help but glance back, just once, at the boys’ cabin. Maybe he was watching. Maybe he wasn’t. But part of you hoped he’d noticed you were gone.

The shop you found wasn’t some cheap tourist trap. It was small, chic, and clearly catered to high-end beachgoers with taste. White walls, light wood floors, soft acoustic music playing in the background, and racks of curated swimsuits arranged by style, not size. It even smelled nice, like sunscreen and coconuts and fresh linen.

You, Yelena, and Ava wandered through the racks like hunters in the wild, each with your own goal. Ava leaned toward white or black prints. Yelena made a beeline for anything tactical-looking or black. You? You didn’t know what you were looking for, until you saw it.

A white two-piece bikini, delicate but bold.

The top had thin, adjustable straps and a soft triangle cut that showed just enough while still keeping you comfortable. The fabric was smooth, almost pearly under the light, and hugged your shape in a way that felt way too flattering. The bottoms were high-cut at the hips, elongating your legs, and dipped just enough in the front to make you feel sexy.

You held it up, biting your lip.

The fitting rooms were individual little cabins with thick curtains and full mirrors, and for a moment, you just stood inside yours, staring at yourself.

The bikini really did fit, almost suspiciously well. The white stood out against your skin like it was made for you. It hugged your waist, shaped your chest, gave just enough curve to make you hesitate. You adjusted the straps, turned sideways, checked again.

You weren’t sure if you felt powerful or exposed.

Still undecided, you pulled the curtain back and stepped out barefoot onto the cool wooden floor. Yelena was standing just outside, holding a one-piece camo-pattern swimsuit that looked like it belonged in some military-themed Sports Illustrated shoot.

When she turned to look at you, her face froze for a second. And then she blinked. Twice.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly. “Bob’s going to get an erection so hard he’s gonna pass out.”

You stared at her, completely stunned. “Yelena!”

She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “What? It’s true. That bikini is illegal. You look like someone who knows how hot she is.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. That loud, shocked kind of laugh that felt like it echoed off your ribs.

“I’m not getting it just because of Bob!” you protested.

“Sure. Of course,” Yelena said, already turning to hang her swimsuit back on a rack. “You’re getting it because of you. Which happens to be the same you that wants Bob to think about you every time he blinks.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because maybe she wasn’t totally wrong.

You looked back at yourself in the big mirror. Your fingers lightly touched the strap on your hip. Yeah, part of you wanted Bob to notice. And part of you was absolutely terrified he would.

“…Okay,” you said quietly. “I’ll take it.”

The walk back from town was filled with laughter and light teasing. John and Alexei were leading the way, both proudly swinging shopping bags, one of which contained a ridiculous pair of swim trunks Alexei had picked for Bucky, covered in pineapples and flamingos, while Bob’s were thankfully simple and classic.

You held a bag in one hand and kept your eyes on your feet, but no matter what, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting.

What’s Bob gonna do when he sees you in this bikini?

You hadn’t meant to obsess over it. The idea had just settled in your mind. Naturally. Like it belonged there. And now it was stuck. Even as Ava was telling a story about how she accidentally bought three identical sarongs, your mind wandered right back to Bob.

The moment you and Ava set the bags down on the porch with a thud, Yelena clapped her hands like a general calling her troops.

“Alright, troops! Try on your swimsuits, we’re playing beach volleyball in ten!”

You exchanged an amused glance with Ava. You were all tired, even Yelena was complaining on the way back how well she'll be sleeping. Guess that thought was gone now.

Still, the energy in the air was contagious and none of you had the heart to say no, so Yelena texted the guys while the rest of you headed to change.

When you stepped outside, the sun was warm on your skin and the sound of the ocean made everything feel like a dream. Bucky and Alexei were already out there, stretching and tying up the net between two poles. John stood nearby, casually tossing the volleyball between his hands.

But Bob wasn’t there.

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could spiral, Ava appeared behind you and gave you a sharp slap on the butt.

“Relax, your loverboy probably just got distracted picking the perfect outfit,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes with a groan, but your heart was beating just a little faster. You walked over to the group, the sand soft under your feet.

Bucky noticed you first. His eyes lingered for a second longer than they probably should have, but he kept his expression locked down – soldier mode. Alexei, on the other hand, had zero filters.

“WOW, GIRL, LOOK AT YOU!” he shouted across the beach. “YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDESS! AND YOU TOO! AND YOU TOO!!”

He even stumbled into the net and collapsed dramatically, like your beauty had physically floored him. All of you burst out laughing. It was ridiculous, but sweet.

Walker stood back, saying nothing, just calmly observing like always, the ball still rotating between his palms.

“Let me help you with this,” you offered, moving to Bucky’s side and helping him secure the net to the post. You worked silently for a moment until he glanced at you and said, in his typical stern voice: “You look good.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Then, behind you, you heard the soft click of the cabin door opening. Your head instantly turned.

Bob stepped out. He wore a plain green T-shirt and simple black swim shorts. His hair was a little tousled from the wind, and the second his eyes landed on you, he froze.

You gave him a small, friendly wave.

He just stood there. His brows twitched. His jaw tensed. Then, as if his legs had remembered how to move, he took a step forward and tripped a little in the sand. Your heart did a backflip.

“See?” Yelena appeared beside you, slapping your shoulder. “Told you he’d be wrecked when he saw you.”

You laughed, half in embarrassment, half in disbelief, and shook your head. “Shut up.”

“Alright, LET’S GOOO!” Alexei yelled, clapping loudly before peeling off his shirt in one dramatic motion. The dude was built like a Greek statue.

Then Bucky followed suit, revealing defined abs and a torso clearly sculpted through years of combat training. All of you fell into stunned silence for a moment.

Even Walker, who hadn’t said a word, took off his shirt and casually joined the group. His body was lean, defined, quiet strength. Bob arrived near the group, awkwardly raising a hand.

“Hey,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. All eyes slowly turned to him waiting. Expectant.

He looked around nervously. “What? Did I—?”

And then he realized. He looked down at his own shirt, then back up at the group.

“Oh! Uh… I think I’ll keep the shirt on. I’m kinda cold,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked. Cold? You didn’t believe him for a second, and you were pretty sure no one else did either. Still, no one pushed him. It was Bob. If he needed to keep his shirt on, he could.

Yelena turned to split the teams. “Alright, someone from the guys can join us, but anyone except Ale—”

“GOING WITH MY GORGEOUS LADIES!” Alexei yelled, cutting her off and dashing over to your side like a golden retriever on espresso.

Yelena let out the longest, most defeated sigh and rubbed her temples.

Teams were decided, and as fate would have it, you and Bob ended up on opposing sides. The game was lighthearted at first, filled with laughter and playful banter. But then John raised the stakes.

“How about this? Winning team gets treated to a round of rum by the losers!”

A collective cheer erupted, and the game intensified. The air buzzed with laughter, the sounds of sneakers shuffling and palms slapping against the volleyball echoing across the beach.

You were focused, at least, you were trying to be. But every time your eyes met Bob’s across the court, something fluttered in your chest. It wasn’t just the look he gave you, it was everything about him.

The way his green shirt clung to his chest, damp from sweat, outlining the gentle definition of his torso; the way his dark hair was slightly tousled, sticking to his forehead; the way he kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

And he was looking.

Almost every single time you looked over at him, his eyes were already on you. And every single time, without fail, he’d catch himself and look away. Fast. Like a startled animal. His Adam’s apple would bob slightly as he swallowed hard, clearly rattled by something—by you, maybe.

But then came the moment he didn’t look away.

You looked across the net, searching for Bob again, and there he was, watching you. He didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t look down or pretend to scratch his face. He stared. And you, feeling just a little bold, gave him a playful wink.

That did it.

Even from across the sand, you saw the way his face lit up red. Not just a hint of blush, but full-on, ear-to-ear crimson. His lips curved upward in a tiny, embarrassed smile—so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching for it.

And of course you were watching. The next serve came. Fast. Too fast. You turned just a moment too late, the ball whizzing past your shoulder and hitting the sand behind you.

Point lost.

Your teammates groaned in playful frustration, and you raised your hand apologetically. “My bad,” you laughed, even though inside, your stomach was doing backflips. Bob was still watching. Except now, he looked like he was having a different kind of crisis.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously. His jaw clenched. His chest was visibly rising and falling faster than it should. His arms were tense. His fingers curled into fist, his knuckles white. His eyes were definitely not on the ball.

They were on you.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath and bent slightly forward. “Uh—sorry! I just need a… quick break!” he blurted out, turning so fast he almost tripped on his own foot. Without another word, he jogged off the court and toward the cabins, his shirt bunched up slightly at the back and clinging tighter at the front than before.

Everyone kind of paused.

“Everything alright?” John called after him, spinning the ball on his finger.

“Yeah! Yeah, all good!” Bob replied quickly, too quickly, his voice cracking slightly as he disappeared around the corner.

The group exchanged glances, some shrugged, some laughed. Yelena rolled her eyes. “He probably has bad stamina.”

But your heart dropped just a bit. Something felt off. You didn’t even think, you tossed the ball aside, murmured a quick, “I’ll go check on him,” and broke into a quick jog, sand kicking up around your ankles as you made your way toward the cabins.

Bob barely made it into the room before slamming the door shut behind him, chest heaving, face flushed and mind spinning. He pressed his back to the wood as if trying to barricade himself from the outside world, from you. His breathing was erratic. He glanced down.

“Oh no no no…”

The situation in his swim trunks was unignorable. His erection was pushing painfully against the fabric, a direct result of the way you looked—sweaty, flushed from the game, laughing with your hair a mess, skin kissed by sunlight. The way your bikini hugged your curves. The way your chest rose and fell when you ran. The way you winked at him.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. This was not supposed to happen.

He tried to steady his breath and think about anything else, but it was useless. All he could think about was you. How close you’d gotten. How dangerous it felt to even have you in the same game, let alone within touching distance.

Then came the knock.

“Bob?” Your voice was gentle, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He froze. Your voice was the last thing he needed right now. It sent a fresh wave of heat through him. His hands curled into fists.

“Yeah! I’m—uh—I’m fine. Just a headache,” he called out quickly, praying you’d leave.

But you didn’t.

“I can come in, I’ll bring you water or—”

“NO!” he shouted. Too loud, too harsh. The silence that followed was gutting. You stood on the other side of the door, frozen in place. “…Bob?”

He could hear it. The confusion in your voice. The hesitation. He hated himself instantly.

“I just—I need to be alone, okay?” His voice was muffled now, pressed into the crook of his elbow as he paced the room. He could feel his heart pounding, his frustration mounting—not just with the situation, but with himself. “Just leave. Please.”

You didn’t speak. He imagined your face, how hurt you probably looked, how your brows might have creased, how your mouth might’ve opened to argue before you stopped yourself.

Then… footsteps. Soft. Fading. Gone.

He felt the loss immediately. Like something had been torn out of him. He let out a heavy breath and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the door.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, too late. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell.”

No answer.

“Please don’t be mad… I just—I didn’t know what to do, okay? You—you do things to me, and I panicked. Please, come back.” But the hallway was empty and the only response was silence.

As you stepped out of the cabin, your eyes burned with unshed tears. You quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand, forcing a shaky breath through your nose.

“Hey, is Bob okay?” Ava asked, glancing toward the cabin you’d just exited.

You hesitated for a second, then nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “He just said he had a headache,” you replied, your voice carefully even.

You walked toward the volleyball net and joined the opposite team—the one now short a player with Bob gone. “Let’s keep playing,” you added cheerfully, hoping no one would question it further.

To your surprise, the game was good. Fast-paced. Fun.

Even with the ache in your chest, you gave it your all. Maybe even because of it. Every hit, every run across the sand, every cheer was your way of forcing yourself to focus on something else—anything else.

And in the end, your team won.

Yelena, Ava, and Alexei groaned in dramatic defeat while you, John, and Bucky raised your arms in victory. “Winners get the drinks!” Walker grinned.

“Fine,” Yelena rolled her eyes. “But we’re picking the place.”

The sun had dipped lower in the sky now, casting a soft golden glow over the beach. The heat lingered though, a warm comfort against your skin. Everyone decided to freshen up a bit before heading out, and you slipped into something light—a black fishnet-style dress over your swimsuit, barely-there but airy enough to keep cool.

The girls whistled playfully at you as you walked out, and you returned their teasing with a twirl and a wink. But your heart still felt heavy.

The bar you ended up in was cozy, loud with laughter, music humming low in the background. The lights were warm and soft, casting shadows across everyone’s faces. You weren’t drunk—just a little lightheaded from the rum, the kind that made your thoughts buzz and your limbs a bit too loose.

Yelena stuck by your side most of the evening. She laughed with you, poked fun at Walker, and even made a show of challenging Alexei to a drinking contest. But at one point, she leaned in, her gaze a little too knowing.

“You’re smiling,” she said gently, “but your eyes are somewhere else.” You blinked and looked away, sipping from your drink.

“I’m fine,” you murmured.

Yelena sighed and gave you a long look. “I’m gonna go talk to Ava for a bit, okay? You good here?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I need some time alone anyway.” She gave your hand a light squeeze, then disappeared into the crowd.

You sat in silence for a while, swirling your drink, the taste of sugar and burn lingering on your tongue. Your gaze drifted around the room, but you weren’t really seeing anyone. The voices blended together. The laughter felt far away. Until one voice didn’t.

“Hey…”

You froze. Slowly, your eyes shifted to the side.

Bob.

He stood just beside you, looking awkward, guilty, and entirely out of place. His hair was a little messy, his green shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been sitting in one place too long before deciding to come. His voice was soft. Tentative.

“…Can I sit?”

You just nodded faintly and let out a small, wordless hum of agreement.

He took the seat next to you, cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he really had the right to be there. You could feel his nervous energy radiating off him. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. His leg bounced subtly beneath the bar. It was obvious he’d been overthinking every second since earlier.

There was a long pause before he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice strained but sincere. “About before. I didn’t mean to—” He hesitated, sighed. “I panicked. That’s all. I didn’t want to shout at you like that. I don’t even know why I did. I just… freaked out.”

You were still leaning against the bar, your head tilted slightly sideways, cheek resting on your folded arm. With your other hand, you absently played with the rim of your empty glass, turning it slowly between your fingers. You didn’t look at him, but your shoulders rose in a small shrug. It wasn’t cold—it just said I hear you. But I’m still processing.

He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly frustrated with himself, then tried again.

“I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Can I… can I buy you another drink? Something strong, maybe? Vodka?”

That finally got a soft sound out of you—a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. You sat up properly, brushing your hair back and meeting his eyes, just briefly.

“No thanks,” you murmured. “I don’t wanna get drunk.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands, embarrassed. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

The quiet between you stretched again, but it didn’t feel quite so heavy now. Just… tentative. Cautious. Slowly, your expression softened, even though the sadness still lingered. You could see how hard he was trying—how guilty he looked, how much he regretted that brief flash of temper. And even if it still hurt, you knew it hadn’t come from a place of cruelty. Just fear.

You sighed gently, then gave him a tiny nod. “It’s okay,” you said at last. “I get it.”

His eyes flicked up to you in relief, and he nodded eagerly. A beat passed before you tilted your head slightly. “Are you having anything?”

He blinked. “Uh… no. Acohol— I don’t really— It doesn’t go well with me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shyly. “I’m not exactly the fun drunk type. More like the ‘embarrass myself and then cry about it later’ type.”

That finally earned a genuine smile from you. A small, honest one. “Alright,” you said.

“What if we uh…drink something sweet? Like juice?” Bob suggested cautiously and you nodded with a hum.

Bob grinned sheepishly and waved at the bartender, ordering two fruity, alcohol-free drinks. When he slid yours toward you and caught the way you looked at him, smile soft, eyes warm, his ears turned a little pink. You raised your glass and clinked it gently against his.

As the conversation carried on, whatever tension had existed between the two of you earlier slowly dissolved, like mist in the morning sun. You laughed together, genuine, unguarded laughter, and it felt easy again. Comfortable.

Before long, you completely forgot why you’d been upset in the first place. Bob was being his awkward, charming self, and it was disarming in the best way. He made a silly comment about the drink being too fruity for a “manly guy like him,” and you rolled your eyes so hard it made him laugh. You teased him back, and time began to slip by, unnoticed and unchecked.

Eventually, Bucky appeared at the entrance of the bar, a little sweaty, clearly ready to call it a night. “We’re heading out,” he called over the soft hum of music and clinking glasses. “You two coming?”

You glanced at Bob and then shook your head with a smile. “We’ll stay a little longer.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow knowingly, gave a short wave, and disappeared with the rest of the group. That “little longer” quickly became several hours. The sky outside deepened into full night, the noise of the bar gradually quieted as the crowd thinned out, and you and Bob were still there, talking and laughing like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Then, suddenly, a voice broke through the moment, gentle but firm. The bartender leaned over and said something in Spanish, “Cerramos.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a soft gasp. “Oh! They're closing.” You jumped off the barstool with a flurry of movement, grabbing your things quickly and tossing an apologetic smile toward the bartender. You replied: “Lo siento!” then turned to Bob.

He was still sitting there, watching you with a puzzled look on his face. Then he glanced at the bartender, and back to you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You speak Spanish?” he asked, a bit of awe in his voice.

You laughed and shook your head. “Nooo,” you admitted, grinning. “But it’s not that hard to guess what he said.”

Bob smiled as the realization hit him. “Right… yeah. That makes sense.” He stood up, stretching a little, and pulled a few bills from his wallet to leave on the counter for the drinks. Together, the two of you stepped out into the warm night.

Outside, the air was rich with the scent of saltwater and distant blossoms. The sky was a canvas of stars, crisp and clear, glittering like tiny diamonds. The moon hung low, casting a soft silver glow over the beach. The waves rolled in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, their gentle crash against the shore creating a peaceful, natural soundtrack that filled the quiet spaces between your laughter.

You walked side by side along the sand, your bare feet leaving prints behind you that the tide would soon claim. Every so often you’d bump shoulders slightly, accidentally-on-purpose, and Bob would smile that sweet, crooked smile of his. Conversation flowed as effortlessly as the breeze around you.

Then, your tone shifted—just a little softer, more curious. “Can I ask you something?”

Bob glanced over at you and gave a small nod, already bracing himself for whatever was coming.

“Why didn’t you take off your shirt?” you asked gently. “Back when we played volleyball?”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, then scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. His fingers tugged slightly at the fabric of his shirt. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and he avoided your gaze.

“I guess I’m just… not that confident. About my body, I mean.”

He let out a soft, nervous snort through his lips, something between a sigh and the sound horses make when they’re annoyed, and looked down at the sand as if it had the answers.

He paused, then looked up at you, his eyes full of something vulnerable, raw, and honest. “But I’ll get there. One day.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just… not yet.”

You nodded slowly, not saying anything at first. You looked down, watching the way your feet pressed into the sand, how your steps left soft imprints that trailed behind. You understood. Completely. And more importantly, you respected it.

Your silence wasn’t judgment, it was empathy. And as the two of you walked on, bathed in moonlight and ocean air, it was clear that even unspoken things had a way of being heard between you.

Bob walked you back to your cabin, the two of you moving a little slower than before, as if neither of you truly wanted the night to end. When you reached the steps, there was that moment, an awkward little giggle shared between you as your eyes both dropped to the ground, trying to avoid the tension hanging in the air. But it was there, unspoken and electric. You felt it in your chest, and judging by the way Bob was fiddling with his fingers and nervously rocking on his heels, he did too.

Maybe it was the rum still lingering in your system, or maybe it was the feeling of confidence bubbling up from the hours of honest conversation and gentle laughter. Either way, you found yourself standing a little taller, just bold enough to speak your mind.

“I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of,” you said, your voice soft but sure, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him. Bob lifted his gaze, eyes wide with something between surprise and fragile hope, like a puppy waiting to be told it’s a good boy.

“I think you have a beautiful body,” you added gently.

The moment the words landed, his eyes locked with yours, and the connection was intense. Warm. Heavy. It hung in the air between you like a string pulled tight.

You could see it in his face that he felt it too. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then his nervousness took over again. He let out a small, breathy laugh, looked to the side, and scratched the back of his head. His cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, and his voice came out unsure and stammered.

“You too… you have a nice body. Not like—in a creepy way or anything! Just, uh… like, you know…”

He was tangling himself in his own compliment, flailing to land it gracefully, and it made your heart melt just a little more. Smiling softly, you lifted both hands in a surrendering gesture, giving a single nod with a calming expression.

“I get it,” you assured him gently. “Thank you.”

Relief washed over his face, and both of you started to laugh again, this time more naturally, more connected. The night felt sweet, even a little magical. You didn’t want to go inside. You didn’t want this to be the part where he left, where things faded into goodnights and what-ifs.

Something in you, maybe the remnants of courage, maybe the warmth still blooming from that last drink, refused to let him go. So, you decided to take a risk. A brave one.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words came out direct, sincere, without apology or hesitation. They hit Bob like a thunderclap. His eyes went wide and fractured with shock. You could see his heart stop and start again just by the way his chest moved. Goosebumps appeared along his arms, his breath caught in his throat, and his entire face flushed deeper than ever before.

“I-I… I mean—I… um,” he stumbled, blinking rapidly, completely overwhelmed.

You didn’t push, but you did move closer, stepping into the space between you, your hands slowly, carefully, rising to his chest. You placed them there gently, barely a touch, more of a whisper than a grip, and you could feel his heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingertips, pounding like a wild drum. The moment you touched him, he froze. His whole body stiffened, eyes locked on you, his lips slightly parted in stunned silence.

You tilted your head up, catching his gaze with a bold, flirtatious glint in your eye. Then you bit your lip, slowly and deliberately, giving him that look—the kind that stripped away all doubt.

“May I?” you whispered again, your voice lower, breathier, your fingertips brushing against his shirt as your palms moved slightly over his chest.

He inhaled sharply, the sound trembling through his lips, and after a second that felt like forever, he nodded—quickly, wordlessly, his entire body trembling with anticipation.

A sly, satisfied smile crept onto your face at his permission. You rose onto your toes as he instinctively leaned down to meet you halfway. And when your lips finally met his, it was as though the world simply fell away.

The background noise, the wind, the waves, the sound of cicadas, melted into silence. There was only warmth, only him.

His lips were soft, tinged with sweetness from the drinks you’d shared, and you felt a wave of heat roll through your body.

At first, he kissed you carefully, cautiously, almost as if he wasn’t sure if this was real. But the moment you leaned in hungrily for another kiss, something shifted in him, he melted into you completely.

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him in closer, anchoring him to you. He responded instinctively, his hands finding your waist with gentle hesitance, holding you like you were delicate and precious, like the wrong touch might break the spell. His fingers traced small circles against your back, sliding slightly higher as he began to kiss you deeper, more surely.

And then you started to sigh—soft, involuntary little sounds escaping your lips, muffled between kisses. That was it. That was all it took to make Bob shudder slightly against you, his grip tightening just a little as he buried himself more completely in the moment.

For a man so shy, so careful with his words, his body was now telling you everything you needed to know. Your lips danced together under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies.

The kiss between you and Bob deepened quickly, the heat building with every brush of lips, every inhale that seemed too sharp, too needy.

Bob began to let out these quiet, helpless little moans—soft, desperate sounds that made your heart stutter and your core clench with hunger. His breath was hot, uneven, as if he couldn’t quite keep up with what he was feeling.

But then, just when things began to slip into something hotter, more dangerous, you pulled away.

Your lips left his with a quiet, breathy pop, and Bob’s eyes fluttered open in confusion, his brows furrowing as you took a small step back. You reached into your bag, rummaging clumsily, fingers searching for your keys. His expression was adorably baffled—eyes wide, lips parted, his chest still rising and falling too fast.

He didn’t even get the chance to ask what you were doing. Before he could speak, you found the keys, turned, and unlocked the door with a soft grunt of effort. The handle resisted for a moment—just long enough to make you curse under your breath. But then it gave way, and without a word, you grabbed a handful of Bob’s shirt and yanked him inside with you.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And then you were on him again.

You pushed him up against the wall before he could even blink, your lips crashing onto his like you’d been starved of him for hours instead of minutes. He let out a muffled gasp, taken completely off guard, but your mouth, your touch, the fire burning through you, it overwhelmed him. It shut off whatever part of his brain had been trying to stay grounded.

He melted into you, hands clinging to your waist like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. But you weren’t slowing down.

You pressed your body hard against his, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, pinning him to the wall with a surprising strength, despite your smaller frame. Your kiss was ravenous, unrelenting. Every time his breath hitched, it only drove you more.

But Bob still had some part of him trying to be responsible.

“Wait—wait, what about the others?” he asked, panting between kisses, his voice shaky, his lips still brushing yours. His hands remained at your hips, uncertain but not resisting.

“They’re asleep,” you breathed without hesitation, already leaning in again.

You kissed him hard, and he let out a startled noise in the back of his throat, half protest, half surrender. But just as your hands started trailing lower down his sides, he gently pulled back again, his eyes wide, his whole body trembling like he was barely holding on.

“I-I mean, I—” he stammered, clearly overwhelmed, caught in the tug-of-war between nerves and need.

But you were on fire. Every pulse in your body throbbed with want, and the heat between your thighs was unmistakable, impossible to ignore. You leaned in closer, placing a hand flat against his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. Your eyes locked on his and your voice dropped into something sultry, something that made his breath hitch.

“Do you want me?” you whispered, your words low, teasing, soaked in longing.

Bob’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He was frozen, wide-eyed, staring at you like you were made of fire and he couldn’t decide whether to run or let himself burn.

So you stepped in closer. Your bodies were touching now, pressed chest to chest, and your mouth hovered barely a breath from his. You tilted your head, eyes fluttering half-shut, your voice dipping into a softer, flirtier murmur.

“Do you want me, Bob?”

This time he nodded. Hard. His breath caught in his throat, and a deep, shaky sound escaped him. His hands clutched tighter at your waist like he was afraid you might vanish.

Then you gave him the final push—the one that made everything else fall away.

“Do you want me… right now?”

His answer wasn’t words. It was a low, desperate sound from deep in his chest and another frantic nod, his eyes burning with need. That was all the answer you needed. All the answer he could give.

And then your lips were on his again, fiercer this time, hungry and hot, and whatever doubts had been in his head melted away with each breathless kiss.

But the kisses between you and Bob grew messier, deeper, more desperate. There was no longer any hesitation, only raw, breathless need. Soft, pleading moans slipped from both your lips between every frantic brush of your mouths, and each sound only made the other crave more.

Bob’s hands fumbled at your waist, your neck, your hips, trying to be everywhere at once but still so careful. His swim trunks were starting to grow tight again, and the heat in your own body was unbearable. Your swimsuit clung to you, soaked through with arousal, even tho all you had done was kiss.

Stumbling into your room was chaotic, clumsy. Bob bumped into the wall, you tripped on your own feet, giggles and gasps filling the space between frantic kisses. But somehow, with limbs tangled and hearts racing, you made it to your room. You barely managed to shut the door behind you before dragging both of you toward the bed.

With one firm but gentle push, you toppled Bob onto the mattress and let yourself fall with him. You landed on his chest with a bounce, both of you breathless and grinning, and then, before he could even process it, you rolled off and stood quickly. You turned back toward the door, locking it with a soft click. Then, you turned around again and froze for a beat.

Bob was sitting at the edge of your bed, completely still, his chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. His hair was messy from your fingers, his lips red and swollen from your kisses and his eyes were glassy with lust, with longing. His pupils were huge. His face was flushed. And lower down, his erection was unmistakably visible.

You had never felt like this about any man before. Not like this.

You let your purse fall to the floor without a second thought, fingers slipping under the hem of your fishnet dress. With a slow, deliberate tug, you pulled it up and over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor.

Now, standing there in only your swimsuit, you began to approach him. Slowly, like a predator circling prey. The hunger in your eyes was impossible to miss.

Bob didn’t move. He couldn’t. He watched you the entire time, mouth slightly open, hands resting on the bed like he needed the mattress to ground himself.

You stopped in front of him and brought your hands up to cup his face, leaning in to kiss him again—but this time it was slower. Gentler. A soft, intimate prelude.

His hands found your cheeks too, fingers stroking your skin, and he tried to pull you back down onto him. But you resisted. You pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Can we… get rid of this?” you asked with a playful smile, tapping a finger against the center of his chest.

His eyes dropped to your finger, then flicked back up to your face. He swallowed hard, clearly nervous.

“We don’t have to,” you whispered, your tone low and teasing. “But how about a deal?”

You licked your lips slowly, letting your gaze drop to his mouth before lifting it back to his eyes.

“If we take this off,” you said, finger still resting on his chest, “then we also take this off…” Your hand drifted up, motioning briefly toward the top of your swimsuit.

That was all it took.

Whatever fear had still lingered in him melted away instantly. His fingers gripped the hem of his shirt and, without a single pause, he pulled it over his head in one swift, fluid movement and tossed it aside. No hesitation. No second-guessing. He wanted this. He wanted you. Badly enough to show you a part of himself he’d just admitted he was ashamed of.

But the moment your eyes dropped to his now bare torso… your jaw practically hit the floor.

He was stunning. Broad chest, strong shoulders, abs like something sculpted by a god, toned arms with just the right amount of muscle, exactly how you liked it. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. Not from someone as shy and self-conscious as him.

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed with a mix of disbelief and awe. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Bob sat there, half-nervous, half-burning, unsure how you’d react—until he saw your expression. And even though your reaction was silent, it told him everything. The look on your face said it all.

You knelt down slowly, your eyes still locked onto his body as if mesmerized, and began showering him with a cascade of kisses. They rained down over his skin, his chest, his stomach, his sides, each kiss playful, some lingering, others accompanied by soft, teasing licks or the occasional gentle bite.

It tickled him a little, making him laugh under his breath, his abs tightening instinctively. He wanted to reach out, to touch your hair, cradle your face, pull you close—but he hesitated. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to break the moment or push too far. So he kept his hands behind him, gripping the mattress like an anchor.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured in between kisses, your lips brushing against his skin with every word. Your hands rested firmly on his thighs, fingers splayed out, grounding yourself as you explored him with both touch and mouth.

“So beautiful,” you repeated, almost breathless with admiration. You couldn’t get enough of him. You kissed every inch of skin you could reach, tasting the warmth of his sun-kissed body, losing yourself in the way he squirmed slightly beneath your lips.

Eventually, the hunger in you built beyond just kisses.

You looked up at Bob, meeting his eyes. He looked dazed, utterly blissed out, but beneath the surface, there was something else. He was waiting. For your part of the deal.

A mischievous smile curled on your lips.

Still on your knees, you slowly straightened up and reached behind your back, fingers deftly untying the knot of your bikini top. With a small motion, you let it slip off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him.

Bob’s jaw literally dropped. His eyes widened and locked on you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hands dug into the mattress, and through his swim trunks, you could see the very visible twitch of his hard-on as it reacted to the sight.

He wanted to touch you so badly. You could see it. The craving in his eyes. But he still held back, being a gentleman, respecting your pace, refusing to make a move without permission.

“Wanna touch?” you asked, tilting your head and giving him a knowing smirk.

His face lit up like you’d just handed him the keys to heaven. He nodded eagerly, licking his lips, his hands already twitching to move. He slowly reached out but paused again, eyes flicking to yours, searching for that last bit of reassurance.

You gave him a small nod.

And then he touched you.

Gently, reverently, like you were something sacred. His hands cupped your breasts with a mixture of awe and need, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. His touch was warm, tender—curious yet careful.

He didn’t grope. He explored. Played. Worshipped. One hand cradled the underside while the other traced slow circles around your nipple, sending delicious shivers down your spine. He was in heaven, and judging by the way his breath caught every time you so much as sighed, he wanted you to feel that same bliss too.

Bob looked up at you, his hands still cradling your breasts as if he were holding something fragile and precious. Then his gaze flicked to your face, a bit hesitant.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, voice low and tender.

You smiled, nodding, and that smile alone seemed to ease something in him. You weren’t just okay—you were glowing. It felt good, the way his fingers explored you with such care, and the look in his eyes made it all the more intense.

And it definitely did something to him. You could tell from the way his chest rose with every breath, how his eyes occasionally fluttered shut like he was overwhelmed. Still, after a moment, he pulled his hands away, clearly not wanting to get too carried away without your lead.

You leaned in again and kissed him.

It was slower, deeper. Your hands roamed his body, savoring the shape of him, the tension in his muscles, the way he melted under your touch. His hands were verywhere. Moving over your back, your hips, your sides, as if trying to memorize every inch of your body.

But you remained on your knees, just slightly lower than him, even as the kiss grew hotter.

Then one of your hands started to travel—leaving his neck, gliding down over his chest, his stomach, until it reached the waistband of his swim trunks. You paused there. Not moving or rushing. You stopped kissing him and looked up at his face.

Bob’s eyes followed your hand, then quickly returned to yours. There was a storm behind those eyes—desire, definitely, but also uncertainty.

You gave him a slow, sultry smile, tilting your head ever so slightly as if to say, It’s okay. I want this too. He exhaled shakily, his lips parting, and after a moment, he nodded.

With the same care he’d shown you earlier, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and began to pull them down. Painfully slow. Your eyes never left his face, watching his expression shift—excitement, nervousness, and that unmistakable tension of anticipation.

As the fabric slid down his thighs and hit the ground, your breath caught audibly. You gasped so loud that even Bob flinched a little, startled. You hadn’t expected… that.

There it was—thick, veined, heavy, and already so hard it twitched in the cool air. The way it stood against his toned stomach, pulsing gently, made your pulse echo right along with it.

You couldn’t help but whisper in disbelief, “And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?”

Bob let out an awkward little laugh, clearly flustered. His cheeks flushed deep red, not just from arousal, but from your stunned compliment. He looked away for a second, bashful, and mumbled something incoherent.

Carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against him. The moment your skin made contact, his body jolted, just a little, and he let out the softest whimper, almost a sigh.

You looked up again, eyes wide and a little wicked, and bit your bottom lip.

Slowly, your hand began to move, gentle at first, as though you were still getting to know this part of him. He trembled beneath your touch, trying to stay quiet, but his hips shifted involuntarily, betraying how sensitive he was.

His hand gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles pale. He was trying so hard not to make a sound—to keep still so he wouldn’t wake the girls in the next room—but you weren’t making that easy.

The pressure, the rhythm… it was enough to undo him. But then, before he could fully process what was happening, you leaned forward and kissed the tip. Bob let out a strangled sound and tensed, as if his whole body was about to short-circuit.

You looked up at him, holding eye contact the entire time. At first, you were teasing—pressing soft kisses to the sensitive head, letting your tongue glide around it lazily, deliberately. His thighs trembled. He bit down on his lip so hard it turned white.

Then you got more serious.

You took him in slowly, still holding his gaze. Bob’s lips parted, his eyes fluttering half-shut, and a shaky breath escaped him like it had been trapped in his chest for hours. His entire body tensed as if overwhelmed by the sensation.

He tried to stay quiet, tried to keep his hips still, but sometimes his body moved on its own, bucking up just slightly, and he immediately muttered a breathless apology every time it happened.

You didn’t rush. You let the anticipation burn slowly, letting him feel everything.

“God—” he whispered under his breath, hips twitching slightly, and then—“I’m sorry,” he added instantly, as if ashamed of reacting too strongly. You didn’t mind. In fact, it made your heart race.

The way he melted for you, how his body surrendered so easily, he wasn’t trying to be dominant or in control. He wasn’t trying to hide how much it affected him. And that vulnerability? It was intoxicating.

You could hear how much it meant to him in every breathy sound, every shaky exhale, every stifled moan. He whimpered again, high and desperate, and the sound echoed in your mind like a reward.

His fingers were digging into the mattress, every muscle tight with restraint. He whimpered again, soft and broken, and your innocent gaze stayed locked on his, only intensifying everything he felt.

Then slowly, deliberately, you reached up and took his hand—guiding it to your head. He hesitated at first, breath shaky, eyes wide with uncertainty. But you gave him a sweet calm look that said it’s okay. That you trusted him. That he could touch.

His hand accidentally tangled in your hair, gripping a bit too tight, and when he realized, he gasped and immediately loosened his fingers.

“Shit—I’m sorry—are you okay?” he stammered, guilt flashing in his eyes.

You looked up at him again, lips still wrapped around him, and gave the tiniest nod, reassuring him you were fine. More than fine. You loved seeing him like this. Raw, undone, his tough exterior peeling away one soft moan at a time.

And it hit you, too. That fluttering heat in your chest. That ache between your legs. The feeling of being wanted this much. Of making someone feel this good. His reactions lit a fire inside you. Every twitch of his thighs, every tremor in his voice—it all made you feel powerful and delicate at the same time.

Bob’s hands were restless now. One gripped the sheets, the other hovered near your head again, as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch. You leaned into it, and he gently threaded his fingers through your hair, this time softer, more reverent. But his voice was breaking. Little, helpless gasps.

Whispers of your name.

And once or twice—a shaky, choked-off moan that sounded like he might cry if you kept going. But you didn’t stop. Not yet.

Because the way he trembled under you, the way his stomach clenched and his legs shifted, the way he sounded like he was falling apart, that was everything.

Bob was right on the edge, his whole body was trembling, his hands clenching the sheets like he was holding on for dear life. And when he finally came, gasping your name like a whispered prayer, you didn’t pull away.

You stayed with him. Took everything he gave you.

He let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, overwhelmed beyond words, his hips twitching from overstimulation as you gently helped him through the last waves. You even cleaned the rest of him up with soft, careful kisses, and that alone nearly made him whimper again.

“Jesus…” he breathed out, barely able to speak, a hand running through his tousled hair as he looked down at you with wide, dazed eyes. “I– I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprised. “What for?”

His voice was small. Fragile. “For… everything? For that being too fast? For—” he swallowed, looking embarrassed, “—for not lasting longer. I didn’t mean to be so…”

You climbed up to him and silenced him with a kiss. Not hurried, not demanding, just soft. Tender. Full of comfort.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking his flushed skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling good,” you whispered against his lips. “That was perfect.”

His eyes closed, his breath catching. He looked like he might cry for a whole different reason now.

You gently straddled his waist, not quite there yet, but close enough that the shift in energy was obvious. Your thighs pressing lightly against his sides, his hands flew instinctively to your hips. Not in a needy grip, but gentle, hesitant. Your body was warm and ready, and you were preparing to fully connect, but before you could guide him further, Bob stopped you.

“Wait,” he whispered, voice still hoarse.

You paused, blinking down at him, your brows gently furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes met yours, and something was different. The nervousness that had clouded his gaze earlier was gone. What replaced it was soft but firm, confidence built not from ego, but devotion.

“I want to take care of you now,” he said.

A small smile curved your lips, your heart skipping a beat at how genuine he sounded. “You don’t have to, really—”

But Bob shook his head. “No. I want to. I need to.”

There was something so deeply sincere in his voice it made your chest ache.

You gave him a soft nod, and he smiled, one of those rare, crooked, bashful smiles that melted you inside. Then, with gentle hands, he shifted you. Slowly, carefully, he rolled your body so you lay on your back in the center of the bed, like he was positioning you at the heart of a sacred space. His arms hovered around you, cradling your movement so you never felt dropped, never out of control.

He knelt between your legs, just watching you for a moment. You were laid out beneath him, chest rising and falling, hair fanned out across the pillow. He looked awestruck.

His hand came to your side. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, lips parted, your voice caught somewhere between breath and heartbeat. “Yes.”

His hand slid up along your ribcage, following the natural shape of you with reverence. He wasn’t just touching—he was memorizing. Like every inch of your skin mattered. Like you were art.

He kissed you again, slow, coaxing, warm. And as the kiss deepened, he murmured against your lips: “Can I take these off?”

His fingers were resting lightly at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms.

You nodded. “Please.”

Bob peeled the fabric down slowly, as if every inch was a treasure to be revealed, not a secret to be rushed. His eyes never left your body, and his hands trembled just a little.

Once the swimsuit was off, he let his fingers trace lightly along your inner thighs, but never without looking up at you first.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath brushing over your bare skin.

You nodded again, heart pounding. “Yes.”

And then he lowered his mouth to you.

The moment his lips met your most sensitive spot, your whole body arched. But it wasn’t just the touch—it was the tenderness, the intention. Bob wasn’t careless or clumsy. He listened. He adjusted every motion based on how you sighed, how your breath caught, how your fingers curled in the sheets.

His movements were soft, exploring. He let his tongue move in long, unhurried strokes, drawing out your reactions—your sighs, your tiny gasps, the way your fingers curled into the sheets. You felt your body start to unravel under the attention, your hips shifting instinctively, needing more.

His hands held your thighs, steadying you but never trapping you. He let you move against him. Let you guide him with nothing more than the sound of your breath. His tongue moved slow, experimental, reverent. And as he began to read your body, he grew more confident.

Every flick, every gentle suck, was delivered with the knowledge that he was giving you pleasure, not taking it. He wasn’t doing this to prove something. He was doing it because he wanted to worship you.

“God, Bob…” you whispered, voice cracking as your fingers found his hair.

He hummed at the sound, and the vibration sent another shiver racing through you.

He learned quickly. How you liked it slower, how a certain flick of his tongue made your whole body twitch. How your voice caught every time he sucked softly at just the right spot.

“Yes… yes—so good,” you breathed, your hips moving almost without permission.

The way he reacted to your pleasure, how eager he was to see you fall apart, made everything more intense. He was moaning softly too, like just tasting you made him dizzy with need. He liked knowing you wanted him there. That you trusted him there. He never once looked away from you, not even when he grew bolder, more confident.

He explored every inch of you with his mouth like you were something to be adored, not conquered. And every sound you made, every shiver in your body, only spurred him on.

Your breath started to catch, your thighs tightening around his shoulders as the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter. He felt it. Saw it. Knew it.

And he didn’t let up.

His hands squeezed your hips gently, anchoring you as he focused entirely on giving you what you needed. He stayed right there, lips and tongue working with delicious rhythm, sending shockwaves through you with every stroke.

You were close. So close it scared you.

“Bob,” you gasped, voice breaking. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate. He wanted this for you.

The wave crashed over you so suddenly, so completely, it stole the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you came—shaking, pulsing, everything unraveling under his touch.

Bob held you through it. Never pulling away, never letting you feel alone. Even as you trembled and gasped and whimpered his name, he stayed with you, riding the waves with the same quiet patience he always gave you.

And only when your body finally relaxed, chest heaving and limbs limp, did he slowly lift his head.

His mouth was glistening, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and shining. And when he saw you looking at him, completely undone and breathless, he smiled the softest smile you’d ever seen.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing along your thigh. You nodded, dazed and glowing, trying to catch your breath.

Bob slowly crawled back up your body, leaving a warm trail of kisses across your skin. He moved as if afraid to disturb the peace settling over you, like he was returning to you from a place of worship. When his face hovered above yours, he looked into your eyes for a long, quiet moment.

Then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

His hand came up to your hair, brushing it back with slow fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Your heart squeezed.

You reached up to cup his face and pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss—sweet at first, but quickly deepening. The electricity between you hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger now that there was nothing between you but skin and trust.

Still breathless, you moved, shifting your hips just enough to push him onto his back. He let out a surprised little laugh as you rolled with him, your bodies twisting together until you were on top of him, straddling his hips. The heat between you flared instantly.

He looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes, his hands resting gently on your waist as if asking silently for permission to hold you there.

You leaned down and kissed him again—slow, deep, melting into each other with every heartbeat. Your fingers ran along his chest, down his sides, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his body. You could feel him against you, hard and throbbing, and it sent shivers down your spine.

This was it. The moment you’d both been tiptoeing toward.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Are you ready?” you whispered.

Bob nodded, cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Only if you are.”

“I am,” you said softly, and meant every word.

Your hand found him again, guiding him with care, your breath hitching as the tip pressed against you. You moved slowly, lowering yourself with a careful rhythm, taking him in inch by inch. Both of you gasped—Bob’s hands gripped your hips tightly, trying not to buck up into you.

The stretch made your whole body burn, but it was a sweet, full ache, one that had been building from the first time he looked at you like you were the sun.

Once he was fully inside, you stilled, letting your body adjust, both of you panting softly. Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his jaw clenched, as if overwhelmed by how deep it all felt—emotionally and physically.

“You okay?” he asked, breathless, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your hands braced against his chest, your body trembling slightly. “You feel… amazing.”

A shaky laugh left his throat. “So do you. God, so do you.”

You started to move—slow, steady, your bodies learning each other. Every thrust, every sigh, every soft gasp between kisses told its own story. It wasn’t just sex. It was connection. It was trust. It was two people baring everything, souls and skin, just to be close.

You moved together in perfect rhythm, hips rising and falling in sync, his hands mapping your body like he never wanted to forget a single inch. And with every moan, every whispered name, every breath you shared, love wrapped tighter and tighter around you both.

Your rhythm picked up—slow and deep giving way to something needier, hungrier. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, breaths turning to gasps, gasps to moans. The sounds of skin against skin, the creaking of the mattress beneath you, the soft rustle of sheets, it all blended into a symphony of desire that filled the space around you like firelight.

Bob’s hands roamed your back, your hips, your thighs—desperate to hold you, ground you, memorize you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were glowing. You were everything.

And then he sat up, his arms wrapping around you as you stayed straddled on his lap. Your chest pressed tightly against his, your lips meeting his in a fevered kiss. He held you there, anchored you to him like he was terrified of letting you go.

You clung to him just as tightly.

Your mouths moved together like you were breathing the same air. His tongue tangled with yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you even closer. But then his grip on your waist tightened.

Hard.

You gasped softly at the pressure, your hips pausing. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead still resting against his, trying to catch your breath. And that’s when you saw it.

For a split second, just a flash, his eyes glowed. Golden. Not metaphorically, a actually glowing. And then it was gone. Blink, and you might’ve thought you imagined it. But you didn’t.

Bob froze. His arms loosened immediately, and panic flooded his face. “Shit—did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey,” you said gently, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He was breathing fast, his brows drawn tight, clearly shaken by the moment. “I felt something… I didn’t mean to grip you that hard.”

You nodded slowly. “It's okay.”

He winced. “I- I'm sorry, I don’t want to scare you, or—God—I don’t want to lose control around you.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his again. “You didn’t scare me, Bob. You trusting me with that… it means more than I can say.”

His breath hitched and before he could say anything else, you kissed him again, before guiding his hands back to your waist. This time, his grip was steady. Gentle. Confident.

And then you moved again.

The pleasure hit like a wave crashing into shore, harder than before, deeper. His hands gripped you tighter, not in fear this time, but in raw need, in love, in reverence.

You kissed his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, whispering his name like a prayer.

You rocked against him, and he met every motion, your bodies tangled in something that went beyond skin and muscle, it was soul-deep. The sounds coming from him, breathy moans, quiet whimpers, your name, drove you wild.

And then it happened. You felt your climax building again, hot and fast and unstoppable.

“Bob,” you gasped, nails digging gently into his back.

He was right there with you, sweat beading at his brow, jaw tight, voice strained. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you breathed.

You crashed into release together—messy, overwhelming. You held each other through it, limbs trembling, lips finding each other again and again, clinging to the moment like it was all you’d ever need.

You collapsed against his chest, your limbs heavy and warm, your cheek pressing into the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder. Both of you were still catching your breath, chests rising and falling rapidly in sync. His arms wrapped around you protectively, and you let yourself sink into him, feeling completely safe and full.

There was a moment of perfect silence, just the sound of breathing, soft and human and real.

Then you shifted slightly, curling up beside him and resting your head against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, still racing, but slowly calming beneath your ear.

You smiled lazily. “Okay… serious question.”

Bob tilted his head to look at you, already smiling like a complete goof. “Shoot.”

You looked up at him with narrowed, mock-suspicious eyes. “Where did you learn to do that with your tongue?”

Immediately, Bob’s face flushed. He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked. “I—uh—I watched a couple things.”

You squinted. “What kind of ‘things,’ Bob?”

He swallowed hard. “Just like—like, y’know. Tutorials.”

You pulled back, eyebrows rising. “You watched porn?!”

Bob’s entire face turned bright red. “No! I mean—it was educational! There were diagrams!”

You blinked. “There were diagrams in your porn?”

He let out a strangled sound and covered his face with his hands. “Okay, I regret everything.”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet room. “Bob Reynolds, you little nerd.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, totally mortified but smiling. “I just wanted to be good at it. For you.”

You leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “You were.”

A comfortable silence settled over you again, warm and soft like a blanket. You traced idle shapes on his chest with your fingertips, still smiling, still glowing.

Then Bob’s voice broke the quiet, a little more cautious this time. “Hey… do you… remember the volleyball game? When I kinda bailed and told you not to come?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. “Well… I sorta… had a situation. In my swim trunks.” He exhaled, long and painful.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You got a boner?!”

Bob winced, covering his face again. “I’m sorry! It just—happened! You were in that swimsuit and laughing and I don’t know, my brain just… betrayed me!”

You were quiet for a moment. Not judging. Not laughing. Just watching him squirm. Then you reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Bob.”

He looked at you through his fingers again, completely sheepish.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’s totally normal.”

His eyes widened a little. “It is?”

You nodded. “Yeah…and honestly, kind of sweet.“ You smiled teasingly. He laughed, relieved, and pulled you close again, resting his chin on top of your head. “God, I like you so much.”

You nestled into him, your fingers laced together on his chest. “Good. Because I really, really like you back.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, tangled together, breathing slower now, hearts lighter. The night was quiet, soft, and full of something that felt a lot like the start of forever.

The golden morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, dancing lazily over tangled limbs and a rumpled blanket. You and Bob were still wrapped around each other—bare skin against bare skin, your head on his chest, his arm draped protectively over you. Your legs tangled, breaths slow, hearts steady.

A knock. Sharp. Three times.

“Hey, you coming to breakfast or are you dead?” Yelena’s voice chirped from behind the door.

Your eyes snapped open in panic. You bolted upright under the blanket, your heart immediately in your throat. Bob groaned quietly, still groggy, eyes not fully open yet.

You whispered, “What time is it?!” your voice barely audible and full of dread.

Bob blinked, looked around helplessly, and shrugged. “I—uh… no clue.”

You covered your face with both hands. “We’re dead. We’re actually dead.”

Yelena knocked again, softer this time. “We're going now, just letting you know.”

You scrambled to respond, “Yeah! I’ll be there! In a sec!”

Bob turned to you, now slowly realizing the situation. The blanket slid down his chest, revealing faint marks from your mouth the night before.

You stared at him. “We need to get dressed. Now.”

It was mayhem. You both jumped out of bed, frantically looking for clothes. You grabbed your swimsuit top, which had ended up halfway across the room, and pulled on a hoodie over it. Bob, on the other hand, was still stumbling, holding only his swim trunks in one hand, his shirt nowhere to be found.

“You can’t go out the door!” you hissed. “Someone could see you!”

“Then what do I do?!”

You gestured to the window. “Jump out.”

“Are you serious?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Bob. You’re a superhero. I think you can survive this.”

He groaned dramatically, pulled on his swim trunks and shirt, then paused before the window. You rushed over, stood on your tiptoes, and gave him a rushed, smiling kiss. “Go. Before someone sees you.”

He opened the window, one leg already out, then looked back with a crooked grin. “You’re chaos.”

You grinned. “You love it.”

With that, he slipped out and disappeared into the early morning light.

Later that morning, everyone gathered at a nearby rustic café for breakfast. You sat at a corner table, sipping coffee, trying not to look suspicious. Yelena sat beside you. Bob was diagonally across, seated next to John. The chatter around the table was casual—about the lake, someone’s forgotten towel, who burned marshmallows last night.

You and Bob exchanged occasional, brief glances. Not long. Just enough to pass a message between you. A silent, thrilling electricity. You could still feel the echo of last night under your skin, and judging by the way Bob nervously rubbed the back of his neck, so could he.

“Dude…” John leaned closer to Bob, squinting. “What the hell happened to your neck?”

Bob blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve got like, bruises or something. All over here.” He pointed.

Bob’s brows furrowed and instinctively reached for the spot. “What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head, clearly unaware. Your fork froze mid-air. You looked straight down at your plate. Yelena turned to you. Her eyes widened slowly. Then, lips barely moving, she mouthed with a dramatic grin:

“You. Fucked. Bob.”

You nearly inhaled your scrambled eggs. Your face heated like wildfire. You avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Bob’s. Meanwhile, Bob was trying to deflect. “Maybe I slept weird or—uh—bug bites?”

“Mmhmm,” John muttered, unconvinced.

You dared a glance at Bob. And that was it—your eyes met, and he knew. His brows lifted just slightly. His lips parted. You both quickly looked away.

Yelena leaned into closer to you and whispered, “I knew it. I heard really weird noises last night.” “Yelena, shut up.” She just chuckled into her cup of tea.

As the conversation drifted elsewhere, your face still radiated heat. Across the table, Bob leaned his elbow against the table and rested his cheek on his hand, sneaking one last look at you. You caught it—and gave him the tiniest smile.

This week was going to be… very interesting.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

HAVE A LOVELY DAY,

BYEEE📙🦋

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gabseyoo · 2 months ago

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A WEDDING NIGHT — SAKUSA KIYOOMI (1)

content: female reader, pro volleyball player!kiyoomi, brother’s best friend!kiyoomi. word count: 1,3k.

links: masterlist | part two | part three

note: i giggled like a teenager writing this <3

You twisted your arm behind your back for the third time, fingers blindly clawing at the zipper of your dress. No luck. Again.

Today was your brother’s wedding—honestly, you were still trying to figure out how that weirdo managed to land someone that lovely and sane—and you were supposed to be downstairs in fifteen minutes to take pictures with the bridesmaids for the wedding album. Which was, of course, the perfect time for your dress to stage a personal attack.

You sighed and dropped your arm, stepping back from the mirror. The dress really was beautiful. It fit like a dream, skimming your waist and hugging your hips like it was made for you. The color made your skin glow, and with your makeup and hair done, you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant. Grown-up. Pulled together.

Too bad your zipper disagreed.

And the worst part? You knew this would happen. You’d tried the dress on last week, remembered how impossible it was to zip it up on your own and still chose it anyway because your mom had waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you put it on.”

Naturally, Ms. I’ll Help You Put It On had vanished twenty minutes ago to “check on the bouquet” and was now, according to the family group chat, sipping wine at the hotel bar with one of your cousins. Classic.

After taking a few breaths, you tried one more time, clearly without success. God, you’re desperate at this point, maybe you should just go downstairs with your dress unzipped and tell one of the girls to help you. Who cared if half the hotel caught a glimpse of your bare back and—well, let’s be honest—half your underwear? Nobody. Or well, maybe you could throw a coat on, or a…

At that moment, the door opened.

You spun around fast, startled, the back of your dress still gaping open. You almost froze in shock at the sight of him.

Your brother’s best friend.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

In a black suit that looked ridiculously good on him. The jacket sharp, the collar open just enough to show the edge of his throat. His tie was loose like he’d just undone it, or maybe never tightened it properly to begin with. His dark hair just a little tousled like he’d run a hand through it out of habit.

His eyes widened the second he registered the scene. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I thought your brother was here.”

“He’s in the room across the hall.” You said quickly, arms instinctively wrapping across your torso.

“Right. Sorry.” He backed up a step, already half-turning like he was going to leave.

Impulsively, before he could close the door, out of your mouth came a “Wait!” that definitely sounded more desperate than you would have liked.

He paused with one hand still on the doorframe. “Tell me?”

You almost laughed at how formal that sounded. What was he? A butler? Well, he looked like one with that suit.

But today you decided better to swallow the comment and save the sarcasm for later because now you needed to blurt out a question before you regretted it.

“Can you help me with my zipper?”

Kiyoomi was silent for a few seconds before slightly leaning his head out of the door opening, revealing his confused face. “What?”

“My mom was supposed to help, but she ditched me for a drink.” You said quickly. “And I need to go take photos with the bridesmaids. I’m out of time.” You rubbed your hands together to distract from your nervous energy. “Can you help me?”

There was a beat of silence. Long enough to make you shift your weight.

Kiyoomi’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes swept down your frame and then back up. Too slowly. Not in a disrespectful way—he’d never been that kind of guy. It was more like he was thinking deeply if he wanted to help you or not.

He pressed his lips together. You thought he was about to say no.

But then, he stepped forward. Quietly closed the door behind him with a soft click. “Okay.”

You turned around slowly, eyes on the floor, brushing with your fingers your collarbone as if to distract yourself. Behind you, the room shifted with his presence, quiet but undeniable. You didn’t need to look to know he’d taken a step closer. You felt him, the same way you always had.

He didn’t speak.

You could feel his gaze on your back, on the half-zipped dress exposing your spine. The air felt warmer. Tighter. Your eyes flicked to the mirror in front of you, catching his reflection standing just behind you. Close. Closer than you expected.

He moved carefully, reaching for the zipper with steady hands.

His fingers brushed the fabric. A flicker of contact that made your skin hum beneath it. He caught the zipper between his fingers and paused— like he was giving you one last chance to change your mind.

Then he started to pull.

Slow. Smooth. Deliberate. The zipper glided upward, the dress cinching to your body with every inch, until the exposed skin of your back disappeared beneath the fabric. But it wasn’t just the pressure of the dress that made your heart race.

It was the heat of him behind you.

The closeness. The silence. The way your eyes met in the mirror.

He didn’t look away.

And just when you were about to, you heard his voice, quiet enough to wonder if he even meant for you to hear it.

“You look beautiful.”

Your breath caught.

The words didn’t sound like they were meant to flatter. There was no teasing edge, no smirk. Just quiet honesty, soft and low—almost reverent.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, lips parted, heartbeat a little too loud that you worried that in the silence of the room he could hear it.

Kiyoomi was already looking at you. Not at your dress. Not at your reflection.

At you.

And then—slowly, without speaking—he lifted one hand, brushing a knuckle gently against your cheek. It was a delicate touch, tentative, as if asking for permission. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. The moment hovered between you, weightless and fragile, like a held breath.

Your gaze dropped to his mouth just as he leaned forward, just enough that you could feel it… the possibility. The electricity in the air. The way your stomach flipped like something long buried had just surfaced.

But then—

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetie? You ready?” Your mom’s voice called through the door, followed by your cousin’s laughter.

You both froze.

Like the world snapped back into focus and the lights had come on all at once.

Kiyoomi stepped back immediately, hand falling from your face like the contact had never happened. His expression shuttered. He ran a hand through his hair, like brushing off whatever had just almost happened.

“All set.” He said, voice calm— too calm. “See you at the wedding.”

Then he turned, walked to the door, and opened it.

Your mom and cousin were standing there, both of them with a glass of wine in their hands. He gave them a polite nod and a faint smile.

“Ladies.” He said simply, before slipping past them and disappearing down the hall.

They turned to you like wolves scenting blood.

“Was Sakusa Kiyoomi stepping out—” Your younger cousin whispered, eyes wide, “or did I just dream of him and his beautiful curls?”

Your stomach flipped with nervousness at her words.

“Yeah, he just— helped me with the dress.” You said, still staring at the now-closed door. “Since someone did not.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Your mom said, distracted as she straightened the necklace around your neck. “But I mean... he helped you? Like, with his hands?” She asked with disbelief in her voice.

You didn’t answer.

Because honestly?

You weren’t sure it had really happened either.

tagging: @anonymity-222

#𐀔 — mar wrote this.#— hq #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa fluff #sakusa imagines #msby sakusa #msby fluff #msby x reader #hq x you #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!

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puppy4vi · 5 months ago

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Jealous Caitlyn and Reader :3

not writing for vi feels wrong lol but it was 3 am and I had a vision ^.^

cw: sexual themes but not super explicit (maybe part two will just be smut if u guys like it..) possessive / toxic Caitlyn, blegh proofreading

Caitlyn doesn’t like seeing you talk to other women, whether it’s to be friendly or not. She doesn’t see a point in you talking to others - she always gives you the attention you deserve, spoils you to your hearts content, and makes sure you are happy, so why do you need other women?

She wanted to be a good girlfriend, treating you to dine at a fancy restaurant as a reward for being so good for her lately. you’re usually on your best behavior for her, it’s the most you can do for your girlfriend who spoils you rotten - though, when one of the waitresses start showing slight interest in you - it causes Caitlyn to raise an eyebrow.

Caitlyn’s hand slides up your thigh at the booth the waitress seated you two in , she lightly taps your inner thigh to get your attention.

She whispers into your ear;

“Did you see how she was looking at you?”

You laugh and roll your eyes. You knew Caitlyn was the jealous type, but you felt like she was over-exaggerating this situation in particular. “Caitlyn, she works here. Do you want her to be rude to m-“ Caitlyn was quick to cut you off.

“I never said that, I just think it’s unnecessary to start a conversation with you when I’m right here. I’m more than capable to answer her myself.”

You just slightly shake your head at her words, which caused her to groan in annoyance. She didn’t like when you didn’t listen to her, especially when she knew she was right (and she always was).

“We’ll see who’s right later on.” Caitlyn whispered into your ear - lightly squeezing your thigh before pulling away. Even though you thought her jealousy was unjustified, you can’t help but feel a slight attraction towards it. The way she wasn’t afraid to tell you what’s on her mind and was so certain to stake her claim onto you made you flustered.

The waitress from earlier returns with refreshments. Before you could say thank you, Caitlyn made sure to cut you off before you could even muster a word. She thanked the waitress in a monotone voice, trying to get her to leave as quick as possible to have you to herself.

Caitlyn spots the waitress slightly ogling you before she left their table, and it just made her eye twitch. She wanted to leave the restaurant right now - to mark you up just to bring you back here - to flaunt her marks she freshly made on you to everyone who works here, but she already drove all the way here. Mind as well get food before you and her even plan on leaving officially.

Caitlyn eyes your short frame as you drink your beverage. She loved how much smaller you were than her, how easy it was to mark you up whenever she wanted. She wished she could get her mind out of the gutter, but when she thinks of any woman ogling you, she can’t help but admire what she makes sure they’ll forever miss out on.

The waitress came back shortly to take their main course order. You clear you throat before speaking;

“ Can I have the-“

“Honey, just whisper your order to me. I’ll say it for you.”

You were going to complain, you really were- but her forceful smile kind of intimidated you (and turnt you on), so you obeyed her command, and she spoke to the waitress afterwards.

“We’ll have the cooked black cod with lobster ravioli please. Apologies for the possible confusion earlier.”

the waitress nods as she writes the order down and smiles

“oh don’t worry if I had cute girl like her around, I’d be a bit protective too” the waitress giggles as she looked at you. It seemed more like playful banter to you if anything -

But oh, did Caitlyn like that. Caitlyn’s blood was practically boiling at the sight of this girl trying to steal you away from her. She wasn’t going to have it. She was about to bad mouth the waitress, though you (thankfully) cut her off.

“Thank you, that’ll be all” you gave the waitress a soft smile before she left the table, but that just made Caitlyn more infuriated. She couldn’t stand this anymore, or just witness this happen without doing anything to her, or you.

“I’m going to have a talk with her” Caitlyn didn’t even eye you as she gets ready to walk over, you grabbed her arm with both of your hands. You didn’t underestimate her strength - she could push you off of her with ease, but you had to try something.

“Caitlyn don’t do anything stupid”

“Everything I do is far from that.”

“Please.”

Caitlyn turnt her head to look at you - pleading for her to not do anything irrational. The mixture of jealousy and arousal running through her body was almost unbearable- she shrugged and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Either I go and take care of that waitress that clearly has a thing for you, or drag you out of this restaurant and have my way with you? Which one will it be?”

Your eyes widen at Caitlyn’s words. You knew how strong Caitlyn was - and how dedicated she is when she’s set on something which can end up ugly. You nod your head yes.

“Okay”

She tries to hold in the grin that’s threatening to slip out onto her face;

“Okay, what? You have to be more specific”

You look up at her. Your doe eyes captivating her as you finally say the words she’s been wanting to hear ;

“I’ll let you have your way with me”

She doesn’t waste any time after that, grabbing you by the arm - making sure to dig her nails into you to leave a mark for later. Caitlyn drags you out of the restaurant and takes you into her car. Once you two get in - she doesn’t bother to talk to you at all - just ready to take you home and play with your body for hours. The car ride is filled with silence and unspoken tension.

Once you two arrive to your shared home - Caitlyn turns to sustain eye contact with you, telling you it’s time to get out of this car before she doesn’t even bother walking into that house.

You both get out of the car and Caitlyn walks over to grab your wrist - leaving her signature painful grip as always. She drags you through the house and straight into her spacious bedroom. Caitlyn doesn’t even bother to close her door and starts to play with the edge of your skirt with one hand, and unbuckling her belt with the other.

“You liked the attention she was giving you, huh? You like seeing me get like this”

“Caitlyn no- I-“

“Save it.”

She successfully takes her belt off and bends you over her legs - sitting on the bed as she pulls your tiny skirt up.

“Gonna bruise your body up so no one will be able to look at you without seeing my mark.”

She teasingly rubs the belt against your butt. You can’t help but shiver at the cold metal against you. She tauntingly laughs at you.

“Should I spank you until you cry, princess?”

#caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #arcane smut #caitlyn smut #caitlyn x reader

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dakusan · 2 months ago

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How skz texts you when you're upset

stray kids ot8 x reader | comfort, emotional support, quiet love, soft boys with warm hearts

🌙 synopsis: you're not alone. not ever. eight boys, eight different ways of showing up when the world feels too loud. some send you memes. some send you playlists. some just send a quiet “i’m here.” when you're unraveling at the seams, they don't ask you to hold it together. they hold you instead—in texts, in voice notes, in the silence between words. this isn't about fixing you. it's about loving you exactly as you are—soft, sad, and still worth everything.

💌 a/n: hi hello yes. i promise i have a job (whilst looking for a new one) but i am also a girl with free time and nothing to do, so i write for you people. plus, i just think everyone deserves to be comforted like this, okay?? anyway. if you’ve had a hard day, I hope this felt like a warm hoodie straight from the dryer. or like… a text that says “u up?” but emotionally stable. as always, thank you for reading my little delusions 💗 p.s. i know it’s a short one but like... short and sweet, right?? i hope it’s sweet??? idk anymore 😭 p.p.s. YES I KNOW MY PIC AESTHETICS ARE WEIRD AND DON’T MATCH OR WHATEVER I’M TRYING… I SEE THE VISION IN MY HEAD OKAY THE EXECUTION JUST BE SUFFERING. leave me alone. smh. p.p.p.s no, i haven't made any songs to match this vibe. lmfao, soz •ᴖ•

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎶 Now Playing: "Star Lost" — Stray Kids

Bang Chan // 방찬 the gentle leader energy

[3:14PM] Hey, angel. I know today’s rough. I won’t push, but I’m here. Want to hop on call? We can sit in silence or talk, your pace. [3:17PM] You’re not alone in this. I promise. (You wake up to a Lo-fi playlist he made just for you, titled: “for when your heart’s tired”)

Lee Know // 리노 silent acts of care

[4:52PM] What do you need? Be honest. [4:54PM] I can cook. Or just sit with you. Or send you mean messages about the universe. [5:01PM] Here. Cat pics. Instant serotonin. (He drops off warm food at your door with a post-it: “Eat. Or I’ll be annoyed. 😒”)

Changbin // 창빈 aggressively loving

[5:03PM] WHO. UPSET. YOU. [5:04PM] I will fight them. Emotionally. And maybe physically. 👊 [5:07PM] Also… I’m proud of you. For just… being you. (He sends voice notes of him beatboxing silly rhythms with your name mixed in. Pure serotonin.)

Hyunjin // 현진 the poetic soft boy

[2:27PM] It’s okay to crumble sometimes. Even stars need to rest. [2:29PM] You are still whole, even when you don’t feel it. [2:34PM] Do you want a drawing? Or a distraction? I can write you a silly haiku. (You receive a photo of a messy sketchbook page with your initials in soft florals.)

Han // 한 chaotic comfort personified

[3:59PM] I see you’re feeling like 🍞 soggy bread. [4:00PM] BUT GUESS WHAT. YOU’RE MY FAVOURITE TOAST. [4:02PM] I’m gonna spam you with memes until you smile or block me. (He sends 17 voice memos. One is a fake commercial for “Anti-Sadness Spray,” voiced by him in 4 accents.)

Felix // 필릭스 human sunshine, through and through

[1:36PM] Hey, beautiful. I felt something was off today… Do you want hugs, words, or just my presence? [1:40PM] You deserve kindness even when your mind says otherwise. (You get a video of him baking cookies, captioned: “Saving one for you, always.”)

Seungmin // 승민 realist with a warm heart

[6:18PM] I know you think you’re being dramatic. You’re not. [6:21PM] Want comfort or tough love? [6:25PM] You’re handling more than most would. Let yourself feel it. (He sends a carefully curated playlist titled: “not okay, but surviving.”)

I.n // 아이엔 the shy but intuitive one

[5:40PM] Hey… are you okay? You don’t have to answer. Just wanted you to know I care. [5:46PM] Do you want to watch something later? I’ll even pretend not to hate romcoms. [5:49PM] You matter to me. Just… wanted to say that. (You later find out he stayed up playing your comfort game just to send you tips.)

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #sundaysoftdrops

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frombookstoretobookstore · 2 months ago

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Call Sign Half Caff: Part Two

(Ok so y'all really liked that and I'm freaking flattered. I'll keep writing if you'd like. I do want to add maybe a small amount of spice later in the series.)

TW: Blood, punctured lungs, medical inaccuracies, broken ribs. Reader was attacked.

Part 1 : Part 3 : Masterlist

Jack’s right leg already throbs. He curses as he and Robby descend the last set of stairs and reenter the ED. They both need to stop starting and ending their shifts on the roof.

“Myrna’s back as well. She’s in a particularly bad mood so steer clear of her.” Robby says as they approach the main desk of the ED.

“Go. I’ll hold down the fort. Just don’t be late tomorrow morning.” Jack laughs as he nudges Robby towards the door. Before he can reassure Robby again, one of the newer med students, Dr. King, bolts past them towards one of the trauma rooms. She pushes aside the curtain, and the panic-stricken face Jack sees sends his stomach dropping.

GiGi, the owner of his favorite coffee shop, sends him a pleading look. Before he can even think, he’s running towards the trauma room, Robby following closely at his heels.

He freezes as he takes in the cursing and battered woman before him. He all but pushes Dr. Shen out of the way as he dodges the flying hands of y/n.

“Half Caff the fuck happened?” He growls as he tilts her head up to inspect her swelling and bruised eye. She coughs slightly and he notices the blood filling her mouth. He’s barking orders even as Robby asks him to stand down.

“Gunnery Sergeant I am fine!” She smacks his hands away, another cough makes her chest feel like it’s full of broken glass. “It’s just a black eye.” He grabs her wrists and pins them to her sides as Robby starts using his pen light to test her pupil reactivity. She squints and turns from the light.

“Female, late 20s, attacked in an alley. Suspected concussion, broken ribs, displaced nose...” Dr. Shen’s voice fades out as Jack doesn’t even see red, he sees the harm covering y/n’s body. He’s trying to swallow his panic and fear. With the damage done to her torso, she shouldn’t even be able to sit up, let alone fight him.

“I found her in the alley, and she fucking asked me to take her home. Said it was just a concussion.” GiGi says, as Jack forces y/n to lay down, her rattling breaths growing more forced.

“Abbot, stop, I’m fine.” She wheezes; her eyes panicked.

His heart sinks. She never uses his last name. Always Jack or some form of army rank. Never Abbot. He doesn’t even need to pull his stethoscope from around his neck to know that one of her lungs is punctured.

She’s gulping for air as she tries to keep her comedy going. He knows as soon as she starts acting serious over her condition, she’ll break and panic.

“Hey, hey!” Abbot says sternly as he lets Robby take over. He’s got her hand clenched between both of his; he tries not to panic as he notices the blood on his gloves. Her blood literally on his hands.

“You’ve got quite a bit of damage there Half Caff.” She smiles weakly at her nickname. “You’ve got way more than a fractured nose.” He pauses as Robby shoots him a look after inspecting her ribs. He shakes his head no, not broken.

“It’s not that big of a deal I’ll be fine I just need to go home…” He’s shushing her as she starts to panic.

“You are not going home right now. In a bit, but not right now.” He tries to keep himself and her sanity anchored as he pulls her attention back to him as she glances around the room.

“You’re Robby.” She coughs out noting Robby’s badge, a sad laugh rattles her lungs. “You should be going home. Sorry to barge in.”

Robby smiles softly, still listening to her lungs battle for oxygen. “We’ll have some proper introductions later, stop talking you’re just going to make your lungs worse.”

Abbot glances up as Dr. King pushes morphine through y/n’s IV, her eyes becoming glassy as the pain med kicks in.

“Private here has told me a bit about you.” She spits the blood out of her mouth into the metal tray Abbot’s placed by her head.

“Still talking.” Robby raises his eyebrows at Abbot. “Someone’s a fighter.”

“Almost fought someone at the meeting today. Another person angry they missed all the action.” Jack says as he listens to Dr. Shen order a round of scans. “Add a CBC and an MRI.” Shen shoots him a look.

“I got beat up, you aren’t looking for POTS, cancel the CBC.” Y/n mumbles, wrinkling her nose as the nasal cannula is placed, supplementing her oxygen. Jack scoffs as she uses her one piece of medical trivia against his orders.

“Respiratory rate is down with a higher oxygen percentage, pulse normal.” Dr. King calls, Jack feels a small amount of relief cool his body and mind.

“Don’t.” He says sternly as he notices y/n about to open her mouth again. “Cut the comedy you’re fine.” She rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow at him. He’s still got her hand clasped.

“Course of treatment for a punctured lung Dr. King.” Robby asks.

“Of course I’m a fucking teaching case. Don’t go into the abbey kids.” He squeezes her hand to silence her.

“If the CT scans show a small puncture, aspirate with a 14-gauge needle, provide pain medication, oxygen therapy if necessary, and ensure the patient rests.” Dr. King recites, her hands clasped in front of her.

“She’s stable, let’s get her to CT.” Robby says as he starts to remove his gloves, Dr. Shen and King begin wheeling y/n out.

“See you in a bit.” Jack says, finally releasing her hand. She gives him a watery smile, clearly feeling the full effects of the morphine.

He rubs the back of his neck as Robby looks at him and GiGi. He doesn’t think he’s showed this much emotion in the ED, or ever.

“What the hell happened?” Robby asks, the question pointed at GiGi.

“I don’t know! I was right behind her but by the time I was out with the recycling she was already on the ground. She wouldn’t let me call an ambulance; said we were only a block away.”

“You have cameras pointed at the back door?” Jack asks, already noting in his head how he wants to police to handle this.

“I already handed the footage over to the sheriff posted outside. Once she’s back he’ll take a statement.” GiGi says, motioning back towards the ambulance bay they’d come in.

Jack’s normal nonchalance and composed demeanor is gone. He runs his hands through his gray curls as his mind starts reeling. Thinking only of Ben at the meeting earlier in the night. He tries to remember if he saw him leave before him.

He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until Robby’s snapping his fingers in his face.

“You going to be able to work this shift? Or should I call someone else in.” He’s got his hands on his hips as he assesses Jack.

“I’ll be fine.” Jack nods.

“Are you sure?” Robby’s tone is stern. “Because I’ve never seen you come that close to breaking before. I’m not sure you can let this go and be competent enough for the next eleven hours of your shift.”

Jack fixes him with his signature neutral face. “She’ll kill me if I don’t.” He may not know all of y/n’s life story, but he knows her well enough to know she’ll be pissed at him if he tries to stick with her while she’s still here. Guilty even if he pulls himself off the shift and she learns he wasn’t out helping people.

Jack clears his throat, “I’ll be fine. After the CT and with the meds they’ll give her, she’ll sleep the rest of the night as she stays for observation. I’ll have someone take over for Dr. King. You both should have left long ago.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, daring Robby to call his bluff.

Robby rubs his hands over his face, digging his fingers into his eyes. “If I hear otherwise, I’ll rip you a new one. GiGi, go the hell home. It’s Thursday and you’re always there for bedtime with your nieces.” She nods, hesitant to leave her friend in the ER alone.

“Go, and tell your brother to pull his shit together, we need his expertise back as soon as we can get it.” Jack says. “Get out of here Gertrude.”

She smiles softly and points a finger at him, “I swear our parents picked the worst names. Frank and Gertrude. Last I heard he’s doing good and in outpatient. Either of you call me by my full name again, I’ll show you how I got my little brother to do my liking when we were kids”

As the elder Langdon leaves, Robby claps Jack’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. That friend of yours is tough, she shouldn’t have been so talkative with the bruising to her ribs. My guess is the pneumothorax is small enough it’ll heal on its own. She’ll be in pain and probably has a concussion. I know we’ve seen worse.”

“She’s a friend though.” Jack only needs to mutter to make his point. Any other patient they’d have been in and out without a second thought. Now all he can think about is what she must have looked like, what she must have felt laying on the ground alone and scared. He knows it’s stupid, but he should have been there. Should have been there to protect her.

He keeps his promise. Sort of. He keeps his head in the game and deals with all the curve balls the night shift sends him. However, there’s that one part of his brain that keeps his worry for her active. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t check on her every so often. He trusts Dr. Ellis’s care, but this case is different. He doesn’t check on y/n because he doubts her care, he checks on her because he cares. And deeply at that.

“She’s awake and I guarantee she’ll kill you if you poke your head in. I saw you counting her breathing reps.” Lena, the night shift charge nurse, looks at him over her glasses. He grunts in response and sits down to chart. His nervousness given away by his left leg repeatedly bouncing.

“Heard she’s a tough one.” He turns to find Lena smiling.

“Don’t start.” He warns. He can smell the gossip and the potential of a new betting board.

“If she’s fighting against care and claiming she’s fine with six bruised ribs and a partially punctured lung, I think she can handle her few more hours of observation.”

“She’s getting discharged?” Jack asks, quickly scouring the board for her file number to glance through.

“Once her ride is here.” Lena’s got a smirk on her face. The news of how he reacted to y/n’s injuries (and the emotion he showed) will be the talk of the nurses’ station tomorrow.

He grumbles again as he tries to make himself look busy while pretending to chart. Once Lena walks away to tend to a patient, he’s up and pulling the curtain aside to check in on y/n.

“Get out of here Sergeant major.” She groans from the hospital bed, a hand raised to shield her eyes (eye) from the light. He closes the door and curtain behind him. He’s logging into the computer to look at her scans again while she continues grumbling at him.

“You were attacked, so sorry for caring short stack.” He smiles as she scoffs at him.

“Jack Abbot I will somehow manage to reach my feet and peel these grippy socks off to throw at you. I swear if you don’t get out there and do something other than watch me, I’ll make sure you never get coffee from GiGi’s café again.”

He only hums in response, his words failing him as he takes in her bruised form. Her eye has fully swollen shut and will probably still be once she’s discharged.

“Sheriff come in?” He asks as he peeks at her meds, fiddling with the saline bag to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve already asked me that. I’m concussed, not stupid.” She goes to cross her arms in defiance, a low whine makes it past her lips before she aborts the movement.

“Your ribs will hurt for the next few weeks. The puncture in your lung should heal on its own. Even though your concussion is minor you need…” She cuts him off her voice low but stern.

“To not sleep for too long and should have someone monitor me for the next few days. You know I was listening when Ellis was talking. I also happen to be able to read so I can peruse the discharge paperwork.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight to his left foot.

“Your leg is bothering you. Go eat something and take some meds. Also get the hell out of my face.” She has a soft smile on her face as she turns the concern back to him. His heart flips as she manages to turn the situation back to him while she lays there injured.

“I’ll try my best to check on you before you’re discharged.” He smiles, his pulse picking up as she winks at him.

“Don’t. Go do your job. Also stick with Half Caff. You call me a stack of short again and I’ll be sure to throw your leg at you at the next meeting.” He snorts at her attitude.

He reaches the door but stops and turns. His pulse thrumming in his ears.

“If you give me your fucking phone number to ‘call you with any questions’, I’m going to throw up.” She wheezes out a laugh as he launches a pen at her.

“I hope you have weird dreams you menace.” He says as he finally leaves the room, a stupid smirk plastered to his face.

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

I'll try to set up my asks if anyone wants me to write some blurbs. Thanks y'all!

#jack abbot x reader #dr robby x reader #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot fanfic #dr jack abbot #shawn hatosy #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo

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jenosbliss · 4 months ago

Note

pls write a smut where haechan looks extra pretty before performing and his makeup artist can’t help but want to fuck him before he goes on stage

pairing. afab!reader x idol!haechan | genre. smut | wc. 1k | mdni!

warnings. hard!dom haechan, unprotected sex (don’t try in real life), slight hair pulling and spanking, mirror, creampie? calls the reader princess but also a slut

a/n: it took me 3 weeks to write this as i had a lot of uni work. Please please pardon me this time if it’s not well written.

Maybe it was the blush that made his cheeks look impossibly soft and warm, or the tiny stickers under his eyes that added a playful touch to his sharp features. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell perfectly in front of his eyes, or how his lips—full, red, and devastatingly distracting—seemed to curve into the kind of smirk that could undo you in seconds. Whatever it was, something about Haechan today had you undone.

You told yourself it was just your work. You’d perfected the art of making him look his best, every contour and color carefully applied, every detail deliberate. But today was different. Today, his presence alone made it impossible to stay steady, his every glance and smirk making your hands falter and your professional demeanor unravel. It was the way his eyes locked onto yours like he could see right through the flimsy wall you were trying to build, the way his fingers brushed too casually against your waist when the room was packed, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of your shirt. It was the way he tilted his head just enough for you to lean in closer, as though daring you to close the space between you.

And you weren’t exactly innocent either. Your fingers lingered too long on his jaw as you blended the last touch of highlighter. Your breath ghosted over his skin when you worked on his eyeliner, your chest brushing against his shoulder in ways you knew weren’t entirely necessary. Then there was the lip tint—your thumb dragging over his bottom lip a fraction slower than you should’ve, your eyes dropping to his mouth, betraying just how much control you were losing.

“Careful,” he murmured when you pulled back, his voice low enough that no one else could hear over the bustle of the staff. His smirk deepened, a flicker of mischief lighting up his gaze. “You keep touching me like that, and I might think you’re trying to make me lose my job.”

Heat flared across your cheeks, but you refused to look at him as you turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up your station. You couldn’t let him get to you, not when the room was still crowded with staff and members. But when you bent down to grab a makeup sponge that had rolled off the counter, his voice came again, soft and teasing.

“Was that for me, or do you just like testing my patience?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words—and the low rasp in his tone—sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins, as he looked right through your little game. Without thinking, you straightened and turned, locking eyes with him as you reached out, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “You smudged your lipstick,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

It was a lie. You both knew it.

His gaze lingered on your face for a beat longer than was appropriate, and for the first time, you saw something shift behind his playful exterior. Something darker. Hungrier. Something that made you feel you won in this game.

Moments later when everyone was leaving for the final mic test, he straightened in his chair, stretching his arms with a casualness that didn’t fool you for a second. “Think I need a touch-up,” he said suddenly, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear as the members emptied out the room. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Before you could process what was happening, he was already locking the door behind you, his smirk gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

If you thought you won the game, you were wrong because in no time Haechan had you bent over the same vanity. Your shorts and underwear were pooled around your ankles and fingers gripping the edges of the wooden table tightly as he pounded into you from behind.

He had one of his hands wrapped around your throat putting just enough pressure on your veins which made you lightheaded while he delivered hard thrusts from behind pushing you more into the table. “Had fun teasing me princess?” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck before sucking harshly.

You let out a low whimper, eyes rolling back to your head as he hit that spot again and again. If the pleasure of him moving inside in that brutal way was not enough to send you into an overdrive, the moment his free hand slid down to press against your clit did break you apart. “Fucking princess can’t go a minute without my dick shoved in her little pussy?”

He moved his hand from your throat to grab your cheeks harshly as he lifted your head to make you look in the mirror in front you, your nose almost brushing against it. “Look at yourself…” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him “...why do i always have to remind you not to behave like a slut at work?”

He thrusted deep with each word making your eyes roll back. “Look at yourself” he whispered, tilting your head up. Your eyes roamed over the smudged mascara and disheveled hair as you met Haechan’s dark ones in the mirror. He leaned down to whisper again “What do brats like you deserve?”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, you knew what he meant and when he stopped his movements you almost cried out “Please… don’t stop.” He chuckled, running his thumb over your lower lip “Don’t worry Princess. I’ll take my time with you after this concert.”

If you weren’t crying before you did now. He moved relentlessly, holding your hips with both hands in a bruising grip as you fell flat on top of the vanity. The wooden frame shaking beneath you due to the intensity as he moved deeper and deeper.

Your orgasm left you trembling even more as he didn’t stop thrusting in you. “Haechan please” you cried and he yanked you up by a tight grip in your hair “Take it like the slut you are.” He groaned and your whimpers turned into the cries of his name pushing him closer to the edge.

And with one final hard push he came inside you, moaning as he pulled out before spanking your cheeks. “Stay like this. With my cum inside you, don’t you dare clean up.” He said pulling up your panties and shorts and zipping up his own pants.

“You know princess this isn’t over, is it?” you managed to mumble a small no as he ran his fingers through your hair. “So be ready when we get back home… I’m going to ruin you so well tonight.”

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

navigation.

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specialgumsock · 6 months ago

Text

//SDV Bachelor's and how they would react to you wanting to be FWB with them// NSFW(kinda…) MDNI !!!

Warnings: Mentions of nsfw, no descriptions. Maybe bad writing, idk I’m tired and I’m sorry if you hate it.

Characters: Alex, Sebastian, Sam, Shane and Harvey. (Sorry elliot lovers! we all know he is too romantic for that, otherwise I would’ve added him.)

Alex would love the idea of friends with benefits, but hate the reality of it. Moreover, the fact that you’re not… Well, his.

Usually, Alex would never even dream about going to the saloon on Fridays, but one day after finding out you would be hanging out with Sebastian and his friends there that night, he his jealously consumed him, therefore causing him to go in. Not trying to make it completely obvious that he was following you-

"Alex! It’s a surprise to see you here, can I get you anything?" Emily seemed surprised to see her sister's longtime best friend, who normally seemed appalled being around a bunch of drunks, enter the establishment. "I- er, no. Just… hanging out." He says hushed, but his focus stays following you. Emily lets out a laugh. "Well, if you do need anything I’ll be over here." She shrugged, and walked back to clean out whatever dishes were left. Alex turns and shifts his whole body towards the back, where you and Sebastian were hanging out. Along with Sam and Abigail, of course. Later in the night, he hangs outside the saloon right by Dusty’s cage, and you catch him on the way out. Ultimately, he tells you the FWB thing isn’t working out and asks you on an actual date.

Sam is not too thrilled to just be friends, but he sees this as one step closer in his plan.

Sam has ADHD, he is an over thinker and an over planner. Ever since he discovered his crush on you, he made out an entire plan to make you his- Which fell apart one night when you unexpectedly, and drunkenly pulled him into a kiss at a concert. Which is fine, he can go with the flow… but your flow apparently means just friends with benefits. It’s a sticky situation, no pun intended, but the blond has found himself in worse. So he’ll probably wait around like a lost dog for you, always wounding up at your doorstep in hopes you would want him for more than sex <\3

Sebastian is cool with it.

He probably understands where you’re coming from, and doesn’t want to leave roots in the valley since he’s planning to leave one day. Yet, he’s also a horny loner so FWB works great for him. You call? He’s at your door, already unbuckling his pants lmao. But he will probably grow attached anyway, calling just to hear your voice. But if you decide to break things off completely, he won’t fight you. He’ll just deal with the pain of it in silence.

Shane suggested it, let’s be real. LMAO.

You guys were both incredibly drunk at his house and hooked up, the next morning was extremely awkward for you two. "Uh- listen, I wouldn’t be… uh, all that great of a boyfriend, let’s just keep this… friendly?" The words took a minute for you to process, considering your feelings for the middle aged drunk. And also you’re incredibly hungover. "Yeah, of course!" You smile, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.

But, it didn’t end there. You two kept "accidentally" hooking up, and well, eventually you’ve grown tired of it- finding yourself in a similar situation to Marnie. You decide to go out on a date with someone new, a date that Shane would inevitably find out about, and show up to your house that night.

"Oh! Shane…" You opened the door, fully dressed up and headed towards the saloon.

"We need to talk."

You step aside and let him walk in. "Listen, shane-" he interrupted you with a kiss, then slowly pulls away, his hands clinging onto your upper arms.

"I know I can’t be an amazing boyfriend, or even guy… but if you give me a chance, I’m willing to try for you."

All that to say… FWB doesn’t work out with him.

Harvey doesn’t get it.

Regardless on if you explain it to him or not, he’s still asking you on dates.

You two just get done going at it, and he’s buttoning up his shirt- "So, what are you doing later? Let’s have dinner-"

Yeah, at that point you two are just dating, but it’s okay because I love him.

( I wish I could’ve made Sam's longer, he’s my husband<<<3 , also hope that you liked!!)

#sdv shane #sdv sam x reader #sdv x reader #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv alex #sdv alex x reader #sdv smut #sdv sebastian x reader #Sdv Harvey x reader #sdv shane x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley sam #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley shane #ok that’s enough

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magic-shop-stories · 4 months ago

Note

hello! i just found your blog, i loooooove the way u write yoongi! could i request yoongi x f!reader boyfriend headcanons? just this, ty in advance!

💌 Reply:

Thank you SO MUCH for this request! 💜 Writing Yoongi is always a joy. Hope this hit all the right notes for you! Let me know which part made you giggle, scream, or melt. And as always, thanks for trusting me with your delulu dreams. I think Yoongi would 100% judge us, but he’d secretly love it.

BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

↳YOONGI (SUGA) × FEM!READER

~ CONTENT WARNING FOR SECOND PART OF THE POST ~ MATURE THEMES | (extra warning in the post)

Possessive behavior

Suggestive themes

Mild NSFW references (kissing, intimacy)

Jealousy Proceed mindfully!

DAILY RHYTHM

Mornings

Night Owl Realness

he’s never awake before 10 AM unless forced by schedules

you’ll find him passed out face-down in bed

one arm slung over your waist (possessive octopus)

his alarm?

a grumbled “Five more minutes…” muffled into the pillow

followed by hissed “새끼…” (“Damn it…”) when reality hits

Quiet Rising

if he wakes first (rare), he’ll slip out of bed like a ghost

careful not to jostle his bad shoulder

returns 20 minutes later with (decaf) iced americano

your favorite placed silently on your nightstand

Breakfast (Sort Of)

he doesn’t "cook"

he assembles

haphazard charcuterie board of convenience store finds

triangle kimbap, yogurt...

sliced apples arranged in a half-hearted star

leaves a note: “Eat. Don’t die.”

Post-Wakeup Rituals

Lap Cat Energy

you find him in his studio

hoodie hood up (glasses askew)

he’ll grunt “Come here” without looking up

patting his thigh

you sit sideways on his lap

legs draped over the chair arm

his right hand stays on his mouse

his left absently plays with your hair

fingertips brushing your scalp in a rhythm matching his beat

Tugging

if you try to leave too soon, he hooks a finger in your waistband or sleeve

“Where you going? I didn’t say you could move.”

voice rough but eyes soft

Shoulder Check

notice him rolling his left shoulder? = a wince he’d deny

“Yoongi, your...” “I’m fine...”

slip a heating pad onto his chair

he doesn’t thank you

his next track samples the crinkle of the pad and your sigh

Coffee & Conversations

Decaf Devotee

sips his americano with a grimace

“Caffeine’s for rookies.”

call him out:

“You’re just paranoid about shaking during recording.” he side-eyes you: “…Maybe.”

when you rant about work, he listens while staring at his screen

you think he’s ignoring you?

he mutters: “Tell your boss to eat shit. Nicely. Or don’t. I’ll write a diss track.”

his advice is always a threat wrapped in a shrug

Midday Moments

Nap Trap

doze off on the couch?

he drapes his favourite blanket over you

wakes you by poking your cheek

“Hey. You’re drooling on my merch.”

just wants attention

Catlike Coexistence

he works; you read

no talking for hours

just the hum of his work and your pages turning

occasionally, he’ll toss a grape at your head

“You alive over there?”

Nighttime

Pre-Bed Grump

2 AM, he’s still coding beats

drag him to bed!!!

“Yoongi. Now.”

grumbles but follows

leaning his forehead against your back in the dark

“…Could’ve finished that bridge.”

Sleeping Style

curled on his right side (bad shoulder elevated)

arm slung over your waist

if you shift, he pulls you closer

sleepy “쳇…” (“Tsk…”)

breath warm on your neck

KEY DIALOGUE

when you nag him to hydrate:

“You’re worse than my manager.”

catch him nodding off mid-edit, glasses crooked

“I’m not cute. Shut up.”

his version of “I miss you.” :

“Come here. Now.” (not a request)

COMMUNICATION

TEXTING STYLE

7 AM: “ㅋ”

translation: “I’m awake. Suffering. Think of me.”

3 PM: Spotify link to “First Love” by Utada Hikaru

no context

midnight: “Come home.”

you’ve been in the next room for hours

Notes

scribbles lyrics on receipts

leaves them in your coat pockets

“Your laugh, B-flat minor. Unreleased.”

PET NAMES

calls you “aggressively average” in public

“야” (Ya) / “너” (Neo) = simple, blunt (default)

translates to: “Hey, you.”

bonus points if he tacks on “-아”

when annoyed: “야-아!”

“멍청이” (Mongcheongi) = “Dummy.”

delivered with a smirk

when you trip over something: “Classic 멍청이 move.”

privately, it’s “my little disaster"

always in Korean

always when you’re half-asleep

“꼬마” (Kkoma) = “Little one.”

used when you’re sick or crying

grumbles into your hair

hands awkwardly patting your back

“고양이” (Goyangi) = “Kitten”

reserved for sleepy mornings when you nuzzle into his chest

“고양이… 너무 떨어져.” (Kitten… quit clinging)

he does not let go

CURSING (HIS LOVE LANGUAGE)

Worried Curses

come home late

he’s pacing

hoodie zipped to his chin

“씨발… 12 missed calls. You trying to kill me?”

pulls you into a crushing hug

sees you struggling with a suitcase?

"Damn it, just give it"

carries it up five flights

collapses on the couch

“…Never moving again.”

Flustered Curses

wear that dress

he stares too long

spills his americano

“…씨발.”

avoiding eye contact (not for long tho)

you know his gaze? like in the weverse live? THAT!

“Change. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

MUTTERINGS (UNFILTERED & UNBOTTLED)

Annoyed Affection

“Why are you so bothersome…"

when he fixes your phone charger (again)

“Ha… wanna die?"

when you steal his fries

pushes the plate closer to you

Sleep-Soft Confessions

half-asleep, face buried in your neck:

“…넌 내 거야.” (You’re mine)

followed by a huff

if you acknowledge it: “I was dreaming. Shut up.”

after nightmares (his or yours), voice gravelly:

“It’s okay. Let’s lie down."

HIDDEN POETRY (FOR YOUR EARS ONLY)

Lyric Leaks

overhear him mumbling into his voice memos

“Her laughter... G major, sustain pedal down.”

when confronted, he snaps: “It’s not about you.” (it is)

find a crumpled note in his jacket:

“Her anger: A minor 7th. Still prettier than my best chords.”

Satoori Slips

stress unlocks his Daegu dialect

he’ll sigh:

"I’m dead tired"

leans his head on your shoulder

"Your hair smells good."

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

Overprotective Tendencies

mention a creepy DM? next day, your Instagram is mysteriously set to private.

“Don’t look at me. Blame Joon’s ‘internet safety’ phase.” (lying)

Passive-Aggressive Love

complain about your slow Wi-Fi?

come home to a $2,000 router installed

“It was on sale.” (It wasn’t)

Services

you’re sick?

he’ll DoorDash three kinds of soup

pretends he “accidentally” ordered too much

“Just pick one. The rest can rot.”

reheats the leftovers for you later

VULNERABLE MOMENTS (CUTS DEEP, HEALS DEEPER)

When You’re Hurt

sees you crying?

says nothing, just pulls you into his lap

chin resting on your head

hours later, he’ll rasp: “Who did it?"

translation: “Give me a name. I’ll end them.”

after a fight?

he’ll slam a peppero box on the table

“Here. Sugar helps… or whatever.”

your favorite flavor

drove to three stores

Drunk Truths

tipsy on soju

he’ll trace your jawline

“넌… 내 비트 같아.” (You’re… like my beat.)

ask what that means?

“Without you, the song’s empty. Happy? Now drink.”

UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

Shoulder Secrets

his bad shoulder acts up?

he still carries your groceries

“I’m fine. Drop it.”

later, you find him icing it

muttering “Fuckin’ hero complex…”

Period Protocol

preemptive strike

tracks your cycle like a NASA mission

stocks the fridge with chocolate

heat pads

your weird cravings

“Don’t ask. Just… take what you need.”

Foot Massages

curled in bed, cramping?

he wordlessly pulls your feet into his lap

thumbs digging into your arches

“You’re tense as fuck.”

you moan?

he smirks “Not the time”

Bad Day Rituals

comes home to find you crying?

silently orders fried chicken

sits on the floor with yo

feeding you bites

lets you wear his favourite hoodie for weeks

“Return it when you’re done being a gremlin.”

buys a duplicate so you never have to

FIERCE LOVE

Defending Your Honor

Karen insults you at the grocery store?

he “accidentally” rams her cart with his

“Oops. Should’ve seen you there… ma’am.”

practiced that line in the mirror

Sacrifices

gives you his expensive headphones during a flight

“Take them. I don’t care.”

spends the trip white-knuckling the armrest

tortured by a crying baby

COLD FRONT

Silent Treatment Master

when hurt, he retreats into a glacial calm

answers in monosyllables

eyes fixed on his screen

“Fine.” “Whatever.” “Do what you want.”

you’d prefer yelling?

this icy detachment is worse

Playful Insults Gone Wrong

joked about his “grandpa music taste” during dinner?

he stiffens, chopsticks clattering

“…At least I don’t listen to nursery rhymes.”

later, you find him scrubbing dishes aggressively

muttering about “disrespect”

his playlist? Full of your Disney favorites

NEGLECTED NIGHTS

Overwork Blinders

he’s been in the studio for 72 hours?

show up with dinner = he doesn’t look up

“Not hungry.” snap: “You’ll die before you finish that track!” he smirks. “Already dead. Ghosts work faster.”

Breaking Point

turn off his monitor mid-session?

he slams his fist, voice shaking

“You think this is a game? I’m building a future.” fire back: “Future’s empty without us!”

he storms out

returns at 3 AM with tangerines (both your comfort fruit) and a USB drive labeled “Track 13: Sorry.”

GIFTS

(NOT YOUR GRANDMA’S ROMANCE)

Practical Pampering

forget roses.

gifts you custom ergonomic keyboard after noticing wrist pain

“Don’t thank me. Just stop typing like a grandma.”

keys are programmed to flash “DUMBASS” if you type past midnight

Sentimental Sleuth

finds your childhood Tamagotchi in a thrift store

resurrects it, feeds it for weeks, then hands it over

“It’s on life support. Your problem now.”

Lingerie? Please... (mostly tho)

buys you noise-canceling headphones

“So you’ll shut up about the neighbors.”

you’ve never mentioned the neighbors aloud (he just knows)

PRETENDS TO HATE SHOPPING

Reluctant Mule

drag him to a flea market

he complains about “dust mites” and “overpriced garbage"

carries your bags without a word

“Hurry up. I’m not your butler.” (he is)

Secret Splurges

catches you eyeing a vintage leather jacket

“Too expensive. Let’s go.”

returns the next day to buy it

leaves it on your bed with a note: “Don’t ruin it.”

Fashion Critic (Liar)

try on a frilly dress

“You look like a cupcake.”

later, texts Jin: “Hyung, where do you get those stupid ... she likes?”

HATES WHEN YOU GET DRUNK

(BUT LOVES YOU MORE)

Gruesome Guardian

catches you tipsy at a party (clinging to a giggling band member)

his jaw clenches

" Let’s go.” (“We’re fucked…”)

throws you over his good shoulder like a sack of rice

ignoring your slurred protests

deposits you on the couch

forces water and aspirin into your hands

“Drink. Or I’ll IV it into you.”

Morning-After Mercies:

wakes you with haejangguk (hangover soup), extra kimchi

“Eat. You look like death.”

when you groan, he smirks

“Next time, stick to soju. At least I can carry that.”

Secret Worry

texts your friends preemptively:

“Keep her at 2 drinks. Or I’ll end you.” Jungkook replies: “Hyung, she’s a grown...” “Try me.”

FAMILY GHOSTS

Dad’s Shadow

mention wanting kids?

he freezes

“I won’t be like him. Ever.”

later, he researches parenting books

leaves one on your nightstand:

“Raising Kids Without Being a Dick.”

Mom’s Voice

calls her weekly

Satoori thickening

hear him whisper, “Mom, she… eats well."

MARRIAGE

(UNLIKELY PROPOSAL)

Fight

jokingly call him a “commitment-phobe” after he dodges yet another wedding invite

he snaps

“Marriage is a corporate merger. Why the fuck would I want that?” retaliate: “Then stop acting like my CEO!”

Ring

he buys it six months prior

a minimalist platinum band etched with “Agust D” lyrics in Morse code

hides it in his guitar case, where you “accidentally” find it

“It’s not... ugh. Just take it.”

Proposal

after a brutal argument about his workaholism

he slams a USB drive on the table

a track titled “Forever (feat. You)” with a voice memo:

“Marry me. Or don’t. I’ll still be here.”

FATHERHOOD = THE GREAT TERROR

Panic

mention wanting kids?

he freezes mid-bite

“…We can’t even keep plants alive.”

buys a cactus, names it “Baby Jungkook” (it dies)

Test Run

fosters a three-legged cat

calls her “Practice"

lets her sleep on his studio chair

“If she survives me… maybe.”

she thrives

he cries when she’s adopted

Revelation

catches you watching a toddler giggle at his concert VLive

mutes the video

“…They’d have your laugh. Maybe that’s… okay.”

ARGUMENTS & FEARS

Fight

you suggest baby names

h scoffs

“We’re not naming a kid ...” snap: “It’s tradition in my family!”

he storms out

returns with a list of “acceptable” names (all Korean, all unisex)

Fear

find him researching “How Not to Screw Up Your Kid” at 3 AM.

“You’re not your dad,” you whisper he slams the laptop “…I know. Doesn’t make it easier.”

THE ARRIVAL

Pregnancy

pretends indifference but learns prenatal massage techniques

“I’m just relieving tension. For me.”

secretly records your belly to sample kicks into a lullaby

Birth Day

stoic until the first cry

then collapses in the hallway

sobbing into Jin’s shoulder

“Hyung, what if I...” “You’ll be great. Now go hold your kid.”

First Night Home

stays awake

baby on his chest

humming “Sweet Night” off-key

texts the group chat:

“She has your nose. And my rage. Send help.”

~ CONTENT WARNING ~

MINORS DNI | NSFW | SPICY INTIMACY/PHYSICALITY AHEAD

doesn’t include explicit descriptions of sexual acts

contains: possessive themes, sensual language, suggestive scenarios, jealousy, explicit intimacy/kissing,suggestive content, kink mentions (marking, power dynamics), body worship, (feral Yoongi™)

PHYSICALITY/INTIMACY

Possessive Holding

his hands are always on you in public

thumb hooked in your back pocket

palm splayed possessively over your thigh at dinner

at home, it’s worse:

pins you against counters

forehead resting on your shoulder like a feral cat marking territory

mutters “Mine” into your skin

breath hot

Jealousy

silent but deadly

catches a coworker flirting with you?

says nothing

later, he’s suddenly shirtless in the kitchen

flexing while making ramen

“What? It’s hot in here.” (AC is blasting)

Staring

watches you while you read

eyes tracking the way you bite your lip

“What?” you ask “Nothing,” he lies

clicking his pen like a metronome

SECRETLY LOVES YOUR SEXY OUTFITS (BUT WILL NEVER ADMIT IT)

Possessive Glances

wear a backless dress

he hovers all night

hand resting on the exposed skin like a human shawl

growls at anyone who looks too long

“Eyes up, fucker.”

Backhanded Praise

“That skirt’s impractical.”

later, finds him staring at your Instagram post in his studio

saves it to a hidden folder labeled “Inspo.”

Late-Night Honesty

after sex, he’ll trace the strap of your lingerie

voice rough

“…Keep this. But don’t wear it outside. Or do. I’ll just kill someone.”

TOUCH

Electric Prelude

his hands speak first

calloused fingertips skimming your jawline

thumb brushing your bottom lip

maps your skin like a composer tracing sheet music

lingering on pulse points (wrist, throat, inner thigh) to memorize your rhythm

Possessive Anchors

palm splayed against your lower back pressing you closer

fingers tangled in your hai tugging just enough to tilt your head

Aftercare Rituals

post-passion, he traces idle patterns on your hip

his touch lingers on scars, birthmarks, stretch marks

“Proof you’re real,” he mutters, as if convincing himself

KISSES

Slow Ignition

starts with closed-mouth presses to your temple, knuckles, the corner of your lips

testing, teasing

when you gasp, he smirks

“Impatient.”

Tongue Technology

deep but controlled,

push-and-pull of heat and restraint

his tongue flicks the roof of your mouth

steals your breath

leaves you dizzy

“Breathe,” he growls, not letting you

Hidden Softness

after fights, his kisses are apologetic

chaste pecks to your eyelids, nose, scars

“Sorry… sorry…” breathed like a prayer

PACE

Deliberate

prefers slow

almost maddening build-up

takes hours to undress you

mouth exploring every inch before letting you fall apart

“You’ll take what I give you,” he warns

eyes dark

Feral Surges

when jealousy or adrenaline strikes, he’s relentless

pinning you against walls

biting your shoulder

“Mine. Say it.”

POSITIONS

Missionary, Modified

your legs hooked over his bad shoulder

his left hand gripping the headboard for leverage

“Don’t hide,” he orders

watching your face unravel

Cowgirl Command

lets you take control

hands squeezing your hips

“Show me what you need.”

the moment you falter, he flips you

“My turn.”

PREFERENCES

Lighting

pitch dark or candlelit

claims he “hates distractions,”

catch him staring at your silhouette in the shadows

Soundtrack

your whimpers

his name gasped like a curse

demands “Louder,”, then covers your mouth

“Too loud.”

Kinks

Marking

leaves bruises where only he can see

inner thighs, under collarbones

“So you remember who you belong to.”

Power Play

lets you bind his wrists with his own belt

then breaks free

“Cute. But I’m still in charge.”

ROUNDS

Quality > Quantity

one meticulous, earth-shattering

wear his hoodie the next morning

he’ll corner you in the kitchen

“You’re asking for it.”

Dawn Encores

wakes you with his mouth between your thighs

voice sleep-rough

“Don’t act surprised. You knew I wasn’t done.”

FAVORITE SPOTS

Neck-to-Shoulder Junction

bites here to hear you yelp

soothes it with his tongue

Behind Your Ear

whispers filth in Korean

grinning when you shiver

“You understood that, didn’t you?”

Inner Wrists

kisses your veins like they’re holy

“Every heartbeat’s because of me.”

TRIGGERS

Begging

“Please, Yoongi..."

cuts you off with a snarl

“Not yet.”

Competence

take charge, riding him ruthlessly

he lets you

until he doesn’t

“Fuck… okay, okay...”

flips you mid-stride

Vulnerability

tears during aftercare

crushes you to his chest

voice breaking

“I’ve got you. Always.”

BONUS

“I Don’t Do PDA”

except when he does

drags you into empty alleyways to kiss you senseless

“Someone could see...” “Let them.”

“I’m Not Cute”

posts a selca of you both

your face visible

his obscured by a heart emoji

caption: “#NoFilter"

ARMY notices his left pinky curled around yours

trends for days

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