#as the white friend when youre willing to go along with this

[irregodless]

cant stop thinking about how there was an episode of louder and prouder where they got mad at zoe for going out with a guy they said only dated white women when two of the girls were willing to dump their boyfriends for the guy with lighter skin and eyes

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

[rafeacs]

Best Friend Rafe x Reader Boat Day

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, yearning

“AH! What are you doing here?!” You screamed in utter fright as you stepped into your room, only to see Rafe lying on your bed. You were fresh from the shower and not at all expecting a presence to be waiting for you. 

“You haven’t seen me in a week, and that’s how you greet me?” Rafe questioned as he sat up, resisting a smirk to rise on his lips as you were only covered by a skimpy white towel. You roll your eyes and sigh, a smile coming to your lips, moving to your vanity to do your after-shower rituals, not at all conscious of your lack of clothing because you and your best friend Rafe were used to such scenes. 

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” You questioned, eyes locking with ocean one through the mirror where Rafe studied you as you lathered your face with differing products. “I haven’t seen you in a week. What? You didn’t miss me at all?” He raised his brow, and you laughed at the pretend hurt on his face. “How were the Bahamas?” You asked and stood, disregarding his question, and instead went to your closet to find something to wear. “Fine. It’d be better if you came,” He shrugged and peaked as you tried to decide what to wear. Catching the way you bent down to wear your underwear and shorts, your body still covered by a towel. Any sense of boundaries in your friendship seemed to disappear after years of knowing one another. Rafe smirked as you stepped out of your closet wearing one of his shirts that you stole from him. 

You sat next to him in bed, “It was a family vacation; I didn’t want to impose.” You shrugged. “So what’d you do while I was away? Sniff my shirts because you just miss me that much?” You scoffed a laugh and rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. “Sure, yeah, I just stared into your picture, counting down the days until you came back.” You went along with his bit. Rafe bit his lip and hoped you were telling the truth, but alas, he could only dream. 

“No, I uh— I mostly just stayed home, baked a bit. And played tennis; there’s a new instructor at the club; he’s cute— really great at tennis, too.” Rafe was quick to grow tense at your words, jealousy quickly spiking in him. “But he’s gay, so…” You added, and that eased the green-eyed monster in him. “Hm, what you wanna do today?” Rafe asked, wanting to change the subject. 

“Mm… I dunno, I kinda want to go to the beach.” You say, and Rafe nodded, “Then let’s go,” he quickly said. “But I also kinda just wanna hang out here,” You said, indecisive. “Then let’s hang out here,” Rafe responded, willing to do anything just as long you were in his company. You sighed and pursed your lips. “I don’t know, you pick!” You exclaimed, Rafe amused by your inability to make even the most measliest of decisions. 

“Wanna go on the boat? We could sail around, get some food, and catch the sunset,” He proposed and smiled as you eagerly nodded. Going to your closet to change your attire once more, Rafe shuffled in your room to get one of your bags and pack some things he knew you would need. “What book do you want?” He asked as he placed some towels in your bag, already anticipating you’d want to bring a book for the day, as you always did. “The one by my nightstand!” You yelled from the closet, trying to decide what color bathing suit to wear. Rafe took the book into his hand and smiled as he saw that you used a photo booth picture of the two of you as your bookmark.

Rafe squired you around town, getting the necessary things for your day in the boat—a lunch from your favorite restaurant and a pint of your favorite ice cream. When you arrived at the marina, Rafe could practically feel your excitement. He was quick to disembark his truck and open the door for you, swinging your bag on his shoulder as he escorted you to his family’s boat. As the sun rose higher and higher and the view of the island drew further, you and Rafe decided to have your lunch, but before the two of you could eat, you stepped and appeared with a giant thing of sunscreen in your hands. 

“I wanna eat,” Rafe grumbled as you sat next to him, placing sunscreen on his face. Your soft hands sent chills down his spine no matter how blaring the island sun was. He kept on complaining, saying he didn’t need sunscreen, but it did nothing to hinder you from traveling your hands along his chest and back as you applied for protection from the sun. “Men don’t need sunscreen,” Rafe grumbled as he watched you apply more of the lotion on his forearms. “You say that, but even men are not immune to melanoma,” You chirped, “Okay, all done!” You said you applied sunscreen to yourself as well; Rafe was waiting for you to finish before he started to eat. 

“Can you get my back?” You innocently asked, handing Rafe the tube. Rafe swallowed as you turned your back to him. Trying not to succumb to his urges because it would surely be obvious from the swimming trunks he wore. Rafe messaged the sunscreen on your back and marveled at how soft your skin was, resisting his urges to ‘accidentally’ pull the string of your bikini top and let his fingers trail further your frame. “Al— All done,” Rafe struggled to say after a moment, taking his time to spread the lotion all over your back, savoring each moment you let him touch your skin. 

You nodded and settled to his side as they both started to have lunch, but first, you took out a baby wipe and cleaned your hands. Rafe smiled fondly as you held his hands to clean them. He just loved how you fussed over him, how you were the only one who genuinely cared about his well-being. 

The afternoon was spent with you and Rafe lounging on the deck of the boat. Rafe pointed your view to the setting sun, and your back was settled against his chest as you read him your book. Rafe had no idea about the words you uttered. All he focused upon was the feel of your frame flushed against his, your voice that soothed his mind, and the fantasy that perhaps one day, you two could be more than just mere best friends. 

[lqvesoph]

She’s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: Quali day in Melbourne also means some secrets are being spilled…

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 3

The flight to Melbourne was only about three hours. Three hours that Daniel spent sleeping while Lando and you talked about god and the world.

He told you a lot about his family, his parents and siblings and his two little nieces. Your heart swelled a little at the pictures of him holding the two girls on vacation last summer.

You glanced over at Daniel and then turned your gaze to the British boy next to you.

"So, I was thinking-"

"So, about today morning-"

The two of you started at the same time, chuckling and looking down. "You go first", you quickly said, wanting to hear what Lando had to say first.

"About this morning, I… I really like you. I feel like I know you, which is pretty strange considering the fact we haven’t known each other that long. But I wanna get to know you more because… I really like you", he spoke, shyly glancing at you, only to find you smiling at him.

"I would love that, Lando", you smiled, reaching to grab his hand and interwind your fingers. "Can we please keep it low when people are around though? Because I really need to tell Oscar first before he finds out from stupid gossip pages and I don’t think his home race is the place to tell him that I’m dating his teammate", you chuckled at the last sentence.

Lando nodded in understanding and pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. "That’s totally fine by me", he smiled, dropping your interlaced hands back into your lap.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"What on earth are you doing here??", your best friend called when he spotted you lingering in the back of the Mclaren garage. He quickly signaled his engineer that he’d be back shortly before walking over to you.

"You’re not even wearing any sort of Red Bull colour", Oscar stated after he looked you over once, mustering the white summer dress and lack of Red Bull hat.

"C’mon, I can’t go ‘round parading Red Bull as an Australian at the Australian Grand Prix, especially not when my best friend who’s also Australian drives for a different team", you chuckled, your eyes finding Lando’s for a second who still stood in front of the computer, looking at data along with his engineer. He sent you one of his adorable little smiles before shifting his attention back to work.

"I think this is honestly the first time you’ve ever stood inside here for more than 5 seconds and without me forcing you", Oscar chuckled.

Before Oscar could drag you to his side of the garage, Lando showed up behind him, a wide grin on his face.

"And who do we have here, Red Bull’s princess in papaya", he smirked. Your smile immediately brightening at the sound of his voice. "Well we’re not as far as me actually being IN papaya, I’m colour neutral today", you replied, making Lando raise his eyebrows before pulling his Mclaren hat off and pushing it down on your hair in a quick motion.

"Heyy!", you protested with a giggle and tried to slap his arm away. "That looks way better, wouldn’t you say Oscar?", the brit laughed and turned to his teammate, whose invisible question mark was getting bigger and bigger.

Thankfully his race engineer called him back before he could pose any of his million questions. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t still keep his eyes on the two of you, catching the gentle squeeze Lando gave your hand, that held on longer than necessary.

📍Melbourne, Australia

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, ybsf

yn.adams: Feels great to be back in Australia and especially at Albert Park!! Quali up next🏎️

comments:

landonorris: Loads of papaya right here🧡

> landonorris: Even a papaya sunset🤭

> fan: How did he convert her over to McLaren???

> fan: That d must me hella good if she’s willing to change teams…

oscarpiastri: How am I only posted once???

> fan: Oscar asking the important questions!!

> fan: Fr tho how did she post Lando 3x??

danielricciardo: I’m sorry, is that papaya I see there??

kellypiquet: You look absolutely gorgeous!!

> yn.adams: Luv uuuu

ybsf: THE BEACH PICTURE!!

liked by landonorris

fan: That’s a lot of papaya for you, miss🤨

fan: Posting Lando 3x in one post…

fan: Daniel with the truck LMAOOO

fan: Not a single photo from the Red Bull/RB garange🫣

> fan: Lando be turning her into a Mclaren fan

load more comments…

*~**~*

Your heart swelled with pride when you saw Lando jump up to P4 on the leader board, your smile just slightly getting bigger. You clapped your hands a few times, celebrating Max’s pole with the other crew members but secretly also Lando’s good starting position for the race tomorrow.

You quietly hushed out of the garage to walk down the paddock to Mclaren, waiting for Lando to arrive.

"Heyy!", he called with a laugh. You giggled and opened your arms for him. His curls were slightly damp from the sweat but you pushed your fingers through them anyway as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I’m proud of you!", you muttered for only him to hear and felt him smile and squeezed your hip. "Thank you", he smiled and pulled back.

"You wanna come inside?", Lando then asked, nodding towards the papaya hospitality. You hesitated for a second but nodded and resisted the urge to grab the driver’s hand.

He smiled for a few pictures and waved at fans before opening the door for you.

"Lando, debrief is at 6", Jon reminded Lando before said boy grabbed your hand and dragged you towards his driver room.

He pushed the door shut behind you and unzipped his orange race suit, the black fireproof coming to show.

"These are so hot", you muttered, letting your intrusive thoughts take over as you trailed your fingers along his chest. Lando chuckled and pulled you closer by the waist. "You wanna take ‘em off?", he joked teasingly but the glint in his eyes told you he really wouldn’t mind if you did.

You chuckled and pulled his lips on yours, his tongue finding its way into your mouth shortly after. Lando pushed you back until the back of your knees hit the couch and he let you down on his carefully, all while letting his hands roam up and down your body.

You whined when he sucked the gentle skin on your neck, his hand coming to rest on the back of your thigh. You put your hands on either side of his face and pulled him back up so your lips could touch again.

"Lando, have you seen- oh wow, that’s why you didn’t come to congratulate me!"

The door opened, making you push Lando away from you and scrambling up to sit straight on the couch.

Oscar stood in the doorway, putting his hands on his hips. "Respect, mate. I didn’t think you’d be brave enough", he said, turning his gaze to Lando.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that your best friend would keep his mouth shut.

"Huh?", Lando asked, a confused expression gracing his face. "Just because Mark has always been against his daughter dating drivers, I mean I tried when I first met her but respect mate", Oscar kept talking, now crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Mark?", Lando questioned, his confusion growing as the seconds passed. You silently begged Oscar to finally quit talking but he didn’t catch on.

"Mark, her dad? Mark Webber", Oscar explained, now confused as well.

"Your dad is Mark Webber?", Lando called, turning his head to you.

Just then your phone chimed with a new message.

dad: What’s going on with you and Lando?

taglist

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[gojoest]

COMPETITION — gojo satoru

satoru tries to beat the bad cook allegations and win his girls back

girl dad satoru, established relationship — you’re married & have a daughter (oc), her name is sora, f! reader, reader is referred to as “mama”, mentions of food, this is a silly little thing, not proofread, wc: 1.2k

satoru can be a lot of things — the strongest sorcerer, the most loving and devoted husband, the world’s greatest dad, society’s biggest menace, and according to some “the owner of the most annoying heh”  — but there’s one thing he most definitely isn’t. a good cook.

but ever since you had a family brunch gathering at nanami’s place where the latter had singlehandedly prepared a feast, without letting his wife lift a single finger even when it came to setting the table, satoru took it upon himself to prove that he can be as good of a cook as nanami, or even better.

the way you and your five-year-old daughter, sora, looked as if you’ve just tasted heaven while savoring each bite was a blow below the belt for satoru, while the finishing one was you complimenting nanami and telling his wife how she is the luckiest woman alive to have a husband who’s so skilled and willing in the kitchen because satoru can’t even boil water — to which sora nodded in agreement, “papa really sucks in the kitchen.”

it’s been two weeks ever since and you regret ever making that snarky remark about satoru’s incompetence because you’ve been banned from the kitchen all along, not even allowed to pour yourself a glass of water — all you have to do is ask and your husband will do it for you while you sit back and watch as the state of your kitchen worsens with each passing day.

he would occasionally have sora keep him company and help him prep the ingredients, sometimes even take the first bite if the end product looks edible, but for you the kitchen was completely off limits, he’s got a point to prove — that he is the best husband and you should’ve never said those flattering words about his friend in the first place because he can’t stand it when you acknowledge in any way any other man that isn’t him.

satoru’s determination is strong. he has no intention of letting this matter go, not until he sees that same expression on you and your daughter’s face — this is his life goal right now, he cannot have his two most important girls swayed by another man’s cooking, not even if that man is nanami (and especially because it’s him).

you might be running out of usable plates and pans, as they’re either broken or burnt, but satoru is definitely making progress. all the cooking videos he’s watched and the tips he’s gotten from talking to mothers on online forums are finally paying off because today, for the first time ever, he didn’t burn the pancakes for breakfast.

“papa”, sora looks with disapproving eyes at her dad, her cheeks squished between her tiny palms as she’s leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter.

“yes, my life”, satoru crouches down to her level. even though she’s standing on the toddler step stool her head can barely reach his hips. but whenever satoru talks to her, he always, without fail, either squats down or leans forward or holds her in his arms — because in those moments it’s just him and his little princess against the world, on equal footing always so he can hear her better and never miss a single expression she makes. “what’s with that look, hm?”, he nuzzles his flour covered nose against hers, the action itself causing some of the white particles to smudge on hers too.

“the pancakes look like pancakes this time but mama will not like this mess you made, again” — the sink is filled to the brim, there’s flour and baking powder on every single surface — counter, table, chairs, floor, the butter has started melting because satoru placed it too close to the stove after using some of it, there’s eggshells on the floor — any clean freak’s biggest nightmare.

“the mess i made?”, he gasps, “aren’t you an accomplice in this, little miss?”

“no”, she flatly denies, “i only watched you and broke the eggs”

“on the floor, that is”

“it’s because you said pick three eggs while i can only carry two, look—”, she stretches her tiny hands forward, palms facing up, to prove her point, “i have only two hands and they’re not big like yours, how am i supposed to hold the third one?”

satoru chuckles at her genuinely puzzled face, “you’re right, my life”, he replies through a soft smile after taking her hands into his and peppering kisses on the inside of each, “papa didn’t consider this”

“it’s okay, papa”, sora rests her forehead against her dad’s, “i am a big girl now, i will help you clean after breakfast”

“but you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you get”, satoru whispers softly, lifting her up with just one arm so his free hand can gently caress the back of her head as she comfortably nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, “which is why papa will take care of it”

“but first”, he sits her on the countertop and cuts a small piece of the pancake for her to taste. “say aah”, he holds the fork to her mouth, eagerly observing every gesture on her face as she takes the bite and starts chewing. it’s definitely not the look she made while eating nanami’s cooking but she doesn’t seem to hate it either.

“papa.”

“yes, my life?”, satoru looks at her expectantly.

“can i be honest with you?”

“yes, of course you can”

“uncle nanamin does it better”, she admits to which satoru instantly deflates, “but—”

“but?”, a tiny spark of hope makes it back to his sulking eyes.

“i wouldn’t trade your pancakes for the world”

“YESSS”, satoru triumphantly pumps his fist in the air and spins around beaming with joy, “got one of my girls back on my team — now let’s hear your mother’s verdict… but hold on”, his face painted in concern again.

“hmm?”, sora questions the sudden change in his demeanor.

“sora.”, satoru speaks in a rather serious voice.

“papa?”

“you’re not saying this just because i’m your papa, right?”

“well, it’s partly because of it actually”, sora pauses for a second, trying to pick the right words before continuing, “but it’s because you put so much love and effort to make me and mama happy that it makes anything you do my favorite thing in the world, and i wouldn’t trade it for anything, papa”

“i haven’t tasted the pancakes yet but i must agree with sora on this”, your voice reaches them from behind as you stand leaning on the doorframe. you came following the sweet and warm aroma wafting through the air but found yourself accidentally eavesdropping on their little heart-to-heart talk. “you put your heart and soul for us always — aren’t we the luckiest girls in the world?”, you wink at sora and she nods.

satoru sighs in relief, “if i can’t give you the best of everything that means i am a failure both as a husband and as a father. because you two are my biggest blessing and i only live to make you happy. also — you’re still not allowed in the kitchen, so just stay there and wait for the pancakes.”

[pearlywritings]

'Mom' to his 'Dad'

synopsis: just a collective bulleted drabble of all the thoughts I had about raising Yanqing together with Jing Yuan (yet somehow not being married (yet))

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, modern AU, CEO!Jing Yuan (because why not), dad!Jing Yuan, adopted son!Yanqing, from co-parenting to dating, from friends to lovers

word count: 1.8k+ words

CEO!Jing Yuan who looks hella fine in any clothes, but especially good in gray and carmine red suits. Who absolutely hates wearing ties, but has zero complaint when you, after staying the night before, wrap one around his neck. He feels soft when you lecture him, but in the end say he looks good, smoothing the lapels of his jacket, making sure his appearance is intact before turning around and hurrying to check on Yanqing’s preparations for school.

CEO!Jing Yuan who is a great leader, a nice boss and obviously a great catch, but who also hasn’t shown any interest in any suitor who’s attempted to woo him in the last decade. And he is 33 already. There have been many gossips swirling in the company, most potent about you and him, rumored to be in a secret relationship and raising a kid together. Well… they are not wrong on the second part.

CEO!Jing Yuan who after the passing of his two friends took their eight-year old son under his wing. Who had never dealt with children, especially this young, but who was lucky enough to have you - a dear friend since university, now a coworker, understanding and compassionate enough to leave your house at 3am to drive all the way to his residence after just one frantic call.

CEO!Jing Yuan who will never forget that night - you, running into the house after he let you in, with hair still messy and clearly first clothes you dug from the closet thrown on you. You looked like a cute ruffled sparrow, which quickly transformed into a mother hen when he better explained his troubles about a little kid - now his adopted son - and how he couldn’t get him to fall asleep at the new place. You too didn’t know much about handling children, but you were willing to try and the white-haired man couldn’t ask for more. Both called off work the next day.

CEO!Jing Yuan who since then has a room in his house that belongs to you - over the years it got filled with your personal things, redesigned (twice!) to your tastes, and has been occupied over the years for almost half of each passing week.

CEO!Jing Yuan who adores Yanqing - the boy proved to be feisty, but at the same time he was very sweet and nice to have around. Jing Yuan didn’t think twice about adopting the little guy the moment he learnt of his friends’ passing, turning from a godfather to just a father. He, obviously, didn’t force Yanqing to call him dad, making up his mind that even if it never happens - it’s totally fine. Due to the age the boy could understand why his parents weren’t there and Jing Yuan was making all he could to give him a good life, a normal life. He was so lucky that you tugged along.

CEO!Jing Yuan who almost cried when Yanqing absentmindedly called him ‘dad’. The ten-year old didn’t even notice it, but to the man it meant the world. He spammed you with messages, all in caps and with weeping emojis, and felt his heart about to combust when you sent him a response full of excitement, congratulating him. And then messaged about how you wished to hear the boy call him dad the next time you were around. Damn, he wished so too.

CEO!Jing Yuan, who loves having you around. He melts when he returns to the living room after going to refill the snack bowl only to see Yanqing cuddled closely to you, staring at the screen with his head tucked under your chin. His lips tug into a wide smile when the boy asks you if you can be the one to get him from school tomorrow instead of Jing Yuan’s personal driver (and you always say ‘yes’, even if it means you’ll sacrifice your lunch break). A pleasant shiver runs down both his and the boy’s backs when you walk into Yanqing’s room to check on the two doing homework and gently scratch their heads. Jing Yuan loves the domestic life the two of you created.

CEO!Jing Yuan, who encouraged his son when a couple of years later he wondered if it’s okay if he started calling you ‘mom’. The man told him to approach you the next time you were staying over and ask your opinion on the matter. Which the boy did, shyly reaching out for your hand and when you gave it to him with a smile, dropped a bomb. Jing Yuan remembers the slight hesitation flashing in your eyes, how you lifted him and got him into your lap to be on the same eye level with him.

“Baby, are you sure?”

“Mhm. You’ve always been there. You raise me. And I really love you and want you to be my mom.”

“Even if I am not your father’s wife?”

“Maybe you should become her? But either way, yes.”

CEO!Jing Yuan who now can’t get the boy’s words out of his head. Yanqing is right - you’ve always been there. For them both. His, no, your son is thirteen now - meaning that for five years you’ve helped your friend raise the boy - you were not obligated to be there for his special events, you weren’t paid to take days off and sit with him when he was sick, no one asked you to kiss his forehead and tuck him into bed, there were no rules that said that you have to share his hobbies… Yet, you did. Always. And the man has always been very aware of that, but only his son’s words seem to open his eyes - both of you are his parents. Maybe it’s a shame you are not spouses.

CEO!Jing Yuan who feels kind of bad - you’ve spent 5 years of your life being a family to Yanqing and, admittedly, the man himself. You’ve given up searching for a partner, starting a family of your own just to make sure that the kid who has no relation to you grows healthy and happy. He can’t help but love and appreciate you.

CEO!Jing Yuan who finds out that you’ve been having similar thoughts about him after that conversation with your son. He really didn’t mean to overhear, he just wanted to drop by your office at the beginning of the break and offer to go get lunch together, only to stop at the mention of his name that passed through the door. Apparently, you sought advice from Yukong - the head of the logistics department, a fellow mother and one of the few who knew what your family dynamic was really like. You are concerned that you took the place that wasn’t meant to you - you worry that Yanqing got attached to you so strongly that should Jing Yuan start seeing someone, the boy would be too stubborn to accept.

CEO!Jing Yuan, whose heart skips a beat, when the teal-haired woman asks you, why you are not entertaining the possibility that you can be the one the man seeks a relationship with. The same heart drops into his stomach when you sigh and tell her of him never showing interest. Things seem platonic to you. Well, not to your coworkers, it appears.

CEO!Jing Yuan and you, who freeze in your seats, when at the end of the meeting a new secretary of the man asks if ‘Mrs Jing will also attend the event’ hosted by one of the company’s biggest clients. Confused, you look at your friend, who's equally stunned (but secretly, realizing what kind of mistake it is, fights back a tiny spark of delight). It turns out that the secretary thought the two of you were husband and wife and for that reason gave you the man’s last name. If it’s not the sign, then what is?

CEO!Jing Yuan who goes clothes shopping with you - because you both indeed are going to be at the event and the man insists the two of you buy something matching. When you ask why, he slyly smiles and promises that it’s his way of ‘showing interest’. At first you don’t get it. But when your cheeks heat up he knows the message is clear to you. You do call him a scoundrel and he heartily laughs at that, but you still reach out to his hand and he readily interlocks your fingers.

CEO!Jing Yuan who notices you getting flirtier, one time in particular not leaving his mind. He was comfortably sitting on the sofa, having everything he needed to push through the last bits of work he had decided to take home (‘everything’ being just his laptop and a mug of steaming tea). That’s when you approached him from the back, laying your palms on top of his shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles, working a low appreciative grunt out of his throat.

“Yuan?”

“Mmm?”

“You look stressed,” fingers dug a little rougher into his flesh and the man groaned, shoulder flinching. Only for his whole body to go rigid when your voice fanned right against his ear, ”I know how to fix it.”

And then you innocently proposed to go to the gym together once he’d be done. Honestly? For a stunt like that Jing Yuan wanted to bite you.

CEO!Jing Yuan who does get his teeth onto you as you are trying to escape the trap of his arms after waking up from the cute cuddling session with Yanqing. Only for the boy to be gone upon your awakening (and you hear some shuffling in the kitchen) and a very hot man - your friend? boss?? unofficial-but-everyone-thinks-you-are-together lover??? - pressing your back into his chest with arms firmly circling your waist. When you attempt to move away, he suddenly surges forward and clamps his mouth onto the exposed juncture between your neck and shoulder. And nibbles.

“Jing Yuan!”

“Hufshf,” he mumbles into your skin, before releasing it and burying his face into your neck. “Don’t shout, you’ll alert Yanqing, and I want some more time with you.”

“...why?”

“Why?” He muses, and you feel a smile pressed to the back of your neck. “Because I think we’d make great as a couple.”

CEO!Jing Yuan who comes to an agreement with you that for the longest time it felt like the two of you were indeed a married couple. You share a place, you do most domestic things together, you go to places together, you raise a son together. And together you come to a conclusion that courting is due.

CEO!Jing Yuan who absolutely shares Yanqing’s sweet anticipation for when you will be able to legally adopt him. Which means - marrying his father (just let this man put a ring on your finger already).

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A kiss, soft and open mouthed, to somewhere on your body that made your cheeks burn.

“Baby,” a boy’s voice, as sweet and salacious as his kiss, murmuring into the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. Stubble scratched there, a laugh pressed after it. “You’re not staying still.”

You whined, low and pretty, squirming despite your telling off and you couldn’t find it in you to care. Steve had been torturing you for the last half hour, a whole thirty minutes of slow, wet teasing and you were aching with it all, bones buzzing and skin electric from his touch.

He’d spent the whole afternoon being mean, being too nice, holding your hand and brushing back your hair, nosing and kissing at your cheek and neck when your friends were distracted by the movie, wide and warm hands wandering up your knee and over your thigh until you were too hot.

He’d cooed, pulled you closer and made sure his hand brushed against the curve of your chest before the boy poured and promised he’d make it up to you. You just had to be real good for him.

So you’d nodded, desperate, eager, willing to do whatever he said as long as he fucking touched you. And soon. You’d stripped off as soon as Steve had asked, both of you dragging each other up the stairs and into his bedroom. You’d only managed to shed your shorts and underwear before he’d gently pushed you onto the sheets, your t-shirt tucked up your ribs to show off the lacy edges of your bra.

Steve had kissed his way up your legs and whispered one order, eyes heavy, hair already a mess, his lips shiny from his kisses along the inside of your knee.

“Stay still for me, honey.”

And you’d tried. You had tried so hard. You really, really tried.

But Steve had spread your legs, wide enough for it to make you feel filthy, cheeks warming and stomach dipping at the feeling of being so exposed. It was barely evening, the last of the sunlight shining in between the slats of his blinds and it lit you up with stripes of gold and bronze.

Steve could see everything. All of you.

He didn’t even bother to hook your thighs over his shoulders, something he’d normally do. No, he kept you open for him, palms pressed to the insides of your thighs and you wondered if he’d keep going, if he’d lift your hips up and bend you in half so he could lick you absolutely everywhere.

“M’trying,” you gasped weakly, still wriggling in his hold as you felt his huff of amusement brush over your slick skin. “Steve, I need—”

Steve didn’t let you finish, he just leaned in again, nose trailing over the crease of your hip, groaning as he let his tongue follow. He shifted, easing the pressure on his hard cock, still trapped in the confines of his denim jeans and he kissed just above your clit, lips plush and soft and pliant.

You moaned, lifting yourself closer to his face, needing more, ready to beg for his tongue.

“Baby,” he warned again. “You’re not lettin’ me take my time.” He sighed, world weary and teasing. “I wanna take my time with you, yeah? Look at her, she’s so pretty.” He cooed at the space between your legs, pupils blown wide at the sight of you, open and wet for him.

Steve thumbed over your folds, slick with yourself and his kisses, grinning as he spread you more, opening you up for him so he could marvel at how you keened at him. “She’s so fuckin’ wet, honey. So pretty, so sweet.” He leaned back in to kiss you again, nose bumping your clit qs he pressed innocent, quick pecks down your cunt.

You were dizzy with it, forgetting how to breath until your chest burned and you exhaled with a moan, a sigh, a gasp of your boyfriend’s name. It was dirty, feeling so exposed, open to Steve's inspection, it was fucking delicious. A white hot burn that made your skin ripple, your lips part and eyes close.

“Want me to kiss you here, honey? Yeah?” Steve pressed a finger over your entrance, gently prodding until the pressure made your hips buck up and he laughed again, a pretty, mean sound. “Oh yeah, you’d love that, huh? What about here? Would that feel nice?” He blew on your clit, let his lips part and graze over the swollen button, his tongue just peeking out from his mouth to bump against it.

You nodded, eager and desperate and clumsy, hair messy on the sheets and you wanted to push yourself onto your elbows and push Steve’s head where you wanted the most, you wanted to press him into the pillows and ride his face but the boy saw your movements and yanked at your thighs, effectively making you fall back onto the mattress. He snickered, a sound that made your tummy feel warm and your cheeks feel hotter and you couldn’t even try to hide how you got even wetter still.

“She’s soaked, baby,” Steve whispered. “So wet, all ‘cause I’m bossin’ you about? You’re such a dirty fuckin, thing, aren’t you.”

You groaned, flinging an arm over your eyes and it made Steve laugh again. He soothed the sting of his teasing with a kiss to your tummy, to the bend of your knee and before you could whine again, he ducked his head back to your cunt and licked a thick, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, slow and dragging.

Steve felt his cock twitch as he pulled back to watch your pussy flutter, your little, wet hole clenching around nothing and he tsked, soothing you back down and hushing your whines with soft words and then his lips around your clit.

He spoke between sucks and kisses, flat, slow licks over your pussy that had you crying. “S’okay baby, I know, I know. Gonna make you come now, you’ve been so good for me, you have, I’m sorry.”

[muddyorbsblr]

onyx pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You're stuck in the Avengers Compound because of an injury from your last mission, and you come across an adorable and affectionate little kitten.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language (no i'm not sorry, Rogers); talks of explosions and injuries sustained from explosion [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: one-sided crushing (but is it really…?)

An eerie silence served as your only company in the Avengers Compound the last few days, some of your teammates off to finish the HYDRA mission that left you injured while the others took time off to visit their families over the holidays. With the promise to keep their comms on in case they would be needed until the New Year.

Now all that remained in the Compound with you were a few junior agents that drew the ends of the short stick, Val, and Loki.

Sadly your teammate, friend, and occasional drinking buddy Val was out blissfully spreading holiday cheer throughout New York with her girlfriend.

And Loki? Well, the God of Mischief wasn't exactly on chummy terms with you. Didn't even so much as give you a passing glance when you were at mission briefings.

Which was a damn shame because what you would give just to get lost in those stormy ocean eyes.

You made your way to the pantry in the common room to replenish your stash of snacks, towing along a little wagon to help you on the way back. Every step had you feeling every square inch of bruising on the left side of your body that you got from being unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius of an explosion at the HYDRA base you were trying to infiltrate with Shaun just a few days ago.

Your phone buzzed with a new message. "Speak of the devil," you muttered to yourself, seeing Xu's name on your screen as soon as you pulled up next to the elaborate barista setup, putting a few Lindor truffles in a small bag for your wagon. "Hey FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?" the AI answered immediately.

"Could you make me a white chocolate mocha with peppermint while I raid the latest Costco delivery for uhh…supplies. Yeah, I'll go with that."

"Right away, Agent Y/L/N." The sound of the barista setup whirring to life filled the kitchen area as you checked on Shaun's message.

Thor just mentioned that he'll ask his brother to take a look at your injuries. Maybe get him to kiss it all better. He finished his text with a smirking emoji, along with some hand gestures that painted a less than family friendly picture, making you roll your eyes at the screen.

You recorded a voice memo for him. "You know that he'd need to actually be willing to look at me so that he could see the damage from the blast, right? And last I checked I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Medusa reincarnated and I'll turn his Asgardian ass to stone."

You went on to the ridiculously stocked pantry to rummage the delivery that came just a few hours ago, trying to find a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos somewhere in the mix, when you heard a tiny meow from somewhere behind you. You looked to the ground to find a black and white munchkin cat looking up at you with wide blue eyes.

"Hi there, baby…" you cooed, surprised the adorable little creature hadn't hissed or scratched at you yet. Cats normally didn't take to you, which was a shame because you often found yourself fighting the urge to pick one up or stroke its head whenever you crossed paths with one during your errand runs. "How'd you get in here?"

The tiny kitten caught you by surprise with what it did next, walking up to your feet and proceeding to rub its cheek against your ankle, a little purr emanating from its small fluffy body. You decided to risk the hissing and scratching and bent down to pick it up, your heart melting once he placed his paws on your cheek and proceeded to nuzzle your face with his nose.

"Aren't you a complete darling." He settled into your arm as you carried him out of the pantry, a little whine escaping him when you placed him down on the counter. He stood on his hind legs and made grabby hands towards you, blue eyes wide and pleading for you to pick him back up. "Just a second, sweet baby, I'm just getting you something to drink."

You took out a tiny sauce dish and poured some cream into it, pushing it toward the kitten that responded with a slow blink and a meow before licking away at the rich liquid.

"I'm sure your owner's gonna crucify me for giving you that but I can't help spoiling little fur babies especially when they're as adorable as you are." You took a sip of the coffee FRIDAY had finished making before shouting out a question for her. "Hey FRIDAY, you have any clue who this little bub belongs to?"

It took a second for her to answer. "Negative, Agent Y/L/N. There is currently no other agent on the premises looking for their pet. I also see no collar on them and from a preliminary scan they do not seem to have a microchip on them."

Those words stopped the kitten from drinking to look up toward the ceiling and hiss at the source of the voice. He only relaxed once you started stroking his fur again, going back to drinking and letting out a few purrs along the way. "No owner, huh? Does that mean I can invoke Finders Keepers then?"

"It appears so, Agent Y/L/N. What would be your new companion's name?"

The kitten looked up at you, as if expecting your answer. You wondered briefly if he could actually understand what it was that you and FRIDAY were talking about. "How about Onyx? I know I know it's absolute garbage for originality to name a black cat after a black gemstone but--"

His eyes widened before he climbed up your arm, only stopping once he'd reached your shoulder to nuzzle at your neck again. "It seems he likes the name, Agent Y/L/N."

"Then it's settled." You placed a soft kiss on top of his head. "Hello there, Onyx."

You brought your new kitten back to your apartment, setting him down on your bed while you tried to take off your sweatshirt as gently as you could manage.

"Ah, fuck it," you hissed as you felt the bruising around your ribs, letting out a pained sound when you opted to whip the garment over your head as fast as you could instead. Your reflection revealed that the bruising on the left side of your torso was quickly becoming a frightening deep purple.

Onyx meowed from your bed, again standing on his back legs and making grabby hands at you, eyes wide with evident pain.

"What's wrong, little baby?" He placed his paws gently on your side when you made your way to him, pressing his nose to the skin near where your bruising began. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about those, sweetie. They'll heal…eventually."

He kept on pressing his face to the area, your heart melting for the tiny kitten even more realizing that he was pressing kisses to your wounds.

"You really are such a precious little bub, aren't you?" You picked your new kitten up, placing him on the armchair in your reading nook before setting an alarm for dinner in a few hours and settling into your bed. "Get some sleep, sweet baby Onyx. I'll see you in a few hours."

Your eyes had only closed for a few seconds before you heard another tiny meow followed by a soft thud, immediately making you sit up on the bed looking for the kitten. He'd already made his way to your bedside, standing on his back legs and reaching up trying to climb up the sheets.

"Alrighty then," you mumbled, picking him up and placing him on the pillow beside yours. You rolled over to lay on your right side to remove any pressure to your injuries the best you could, hovering your finger near Onyx's nose once you'd settled in. He leaned up and pressed his nose to your finger, paws kneading on his pillow. "Boop," you giggled. "Sweet dreams, baby."

Just as you'd closed your eyes to try catching an hour or two of rest before you had to eat again and take those pain meds that Banner prescribed you, your phone began to blare Immigrant Song way too loudly by your nightstand. There were only two contacts you gave that ringtone to and one of them was currently out with her girlfriend.

"Talk to me, Thunder," you muttered, groaning when your stretch to reach for your phone made your bruising smart a bit. "You all good over there?"

"Absolutely grand, Lady Y/N," the blond god's voice boomed from the other end. "I was just wondering if you could check on my brother, he refuses to answer his phone yet again."

"That's gonna be a hard pass from me, buddy. I've already been cut and bruised, I'm not too keen to add stabbed to that list. He's probably just practicing spells. Or out on a date." You winced at that last part, an irrational part of you flaring up with unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Loki out with just about anyone. "Just--I don't know, check up on him yourself when you get back. You can take a stab better than me anyways."

Thor sighed loudly, the low rumbling making Onyx step back from his pillow and start hissing at the phone. You stroked the top of his head to calm him down. "Very well then, Lady Y/N. Rest well. We're scheduled to return after nightfall."

"I'll have pizza here waiting for you guys. Bring your own mead." You clicked off and tried to get some sleep, having FRIDAY place an order for pizzas and wings for when the team gets back. Your new kitten padded his way over to you, resting his head on your outstretched arm and letting out a soft purr.

The sound of the Quinjet coming back roused you from your nap, along with the feel of little paws on your arm and Onyx nuzzling your cheek.

"Looks like everyone's home," you mumbled, pressing a few kisses to the kitten's head before making your way out of bed. "Come on, little baby. Time to meet the team."

With a whole lot of discomfort and groaning, you slipped your sweatshirt back on before presenting your hand to Onyx and patting your shoulder, prompting the kitten to climb up your arm and perch himself on the spot, nuzzling his face behind your ear.

The team had already arrived and filled the common area when you made your way there, some of them helping themselves to the pizza. Barnes and Wilson walked in with coolers, probably filled with chilled bottles of beer inside.

"Hey, there she is!" Shaun exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi before making his way over to you and pulling you into an embrace. "How's the healing go--Whoa there." He took a step back as Onyx hissed in his direction. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"

You shh'd the kitten, pressing kisses to his little cheek to calm him down. "It's okay, baby, Shaun is a friend. One of the good guys." You turned back to your mission partner. "Shaun, this is Onyx."

"Always thought you were a dog person, Babes," Natasha spoke up before taking your arm and walking you to the food. "We leave for one day and you become a cat lady. Where'd you even find the time to go to a shelter and get baby blue eyes over here?"

"I didn't, actually," you answered the master assassin. "I just went to the pantry and poof there he was, meowing at my feet. Like the cat distribution system mailed him to me by magic or something." He nuzzled your cheek again before starting to knead at your face.

"And he doesn't belong to anyone? You're sure?" Shaun spoke up, backing up immediately when he tried to pet your new kitten and getting hissed at. "Easy, kitty. I'm a friend, I'm not gonna hurt you." The martial artist turned back to you. "He wasn't collared? Or chipped?"

"Nope. FRIDAY scanned him and everything."

"You wanna think about getting him chipped?"

Onyx hissed again at the question before swishing his tail around to curtain your hair around him, his little body shaking on your shoulder. As if he was silently pleading for you to not take him out to have him chipped.

"Don't you worry, baby. I won't get you chipped, I wouldn't hurt you like that," you cooed, letting out a little giggle as he placed his paws on your cheeks and nuzzled your nose, giving the tip tiny licks. You were so focused on your cat's affections that the bellowing of Thor looking for his brother was a distant muffled noise in the background.

Until he got to where you were standing and his booming voice was impossible to ignore. "What an adorable little beast you have, with you, Lady Y/N." Onyx buried himself in the crook of your neck, shaking at the sound of Thor's voice.

"It's alright, Onyx. It's just Thunder, he may be all big and menacing on the outside but he's just a fluff ball on the inside. Come on, go say hi."

The blond Asgardian approached you, examining your new pet carefully before a knowing grin graced his bearded face. "Hello, Brother."

A chill went down your spine at his words. "What the fuck d'you just say, Blondie?"

He motioned toward the kitten on your shoulder. "This is the explanation for his lack of replies on his phone. His absence from his quarters. Lady Y/N, the little beast hiding himself in your hair…is my brother. That is Loki."

In your stupor, the only words you could manage to say were, "Bitch what?!"

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to the members of SAS, beloved besties, and fellow whores! I've had this idea doing a slow lurky crawl in the microwave that is my writing noggin for the last few months, and I'm so excited that I finally get to share it with y'all! Part 2 is coming in a few days, and then it's a coin toss on whether I'll be trying to end the year with crossing off some things on my writing todo list, or crossing off some titles from my Tumblr TBR 😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[cameronsprincess]

Sharing is Caring — J.B x JJ x Reader

— summary: your boyfriends best friend is going through some shitty times, and John B. knows the best way to cheer him up.

— CW: smut! 18+ only! threesome, oral (fem and male receiving), some hair pulling, lots of praise.

— note: hehehehe hiii. soo i love writing rafe x jj x reader, but.. here’s jb x jj x reader bc why not😈 also, yes. yes i did use a pic of chase, rudy and madelyn… sue me. that’s not me saying reader is white, i just couldn’t find any other pics of two guys n a girl.

You always knew John B. and JJ shared everything. From food, to beds, to clothes. There was nothing those two didn’t share, except for you.

John B. had never been willing to let anyone else touch his girl… Until now.

You remember the conversation clearly, your boyfriend approaching you and saying, “Babe, JJ really needs us both.. He’s been going through it, a lot worse than usual..”

You remember not fully understanding what exactly John B. meant, but he’d made sure to be 100% clear with his intentions, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with his plan before he brought it up to JJ.

And that’s what landed you here, JJ in your arms, tears running down his face as he kissed at the skin of your neck, whispering sweet words to you as you held him, letting him have his way with you while John B. sat behind you, arms protectively wrapped around your middle and stroking the skin of your bare stomach.

“Thank you, thank you both..” JJ whimpered, his lips kissing sloppily at your neck.

You shush him, running your fingers through his messy blond locks. “Shhh, you know we’re here for you, J. Always. Let’s take your mind off everything, yeah?”

He nods his head furiously, bright, teary blue eyes staring back at you as you slowly pull your white tank top over your head. His eyes automatically fall to your bra clad chest, soaking in your perfectly round breasts.

“She’s so pretty, JB.” JJ coos as one of his large palms cups at your tits, kneading the plump flesh softly.

John B. smirks, watching as his best friend toys with your perfect tits. “Yeah, I know. Enjoy it, she’s here to help you.”

JJ harshly yanks at the cups of your bra, pulling them down and letting your tits spring free. His fingers find your hard nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger before he dips his head down and sucks one into his mouth.

You moan softly, JJ’s lips sucking and biting at your sensitive nipple while John B’s hands trail down your sides and into your denim shorts. JB’s fingers push down and into your silk panties, finding your clit and toying with it, pulling another soft moan from you.

“Fuck, John B, need more, please.” you beg, bucking your hips upward.

John B’s lips land on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses up and down your arm and neck as his fingers rub through your slick pussy.

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, mama. Let’s let JJ taste this sweet pussy though, you okay with that?”

You bite at your bottom lip, staring back at JJ as he lets your nipple fall from his lips. He’s breathing heavy, lips slightly parted as he eyes you cautiously. “You ain’t gotta let me if you don’t-” JJ begins, but you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth.

“No, I want you to. Please, JJ. Please eat my pussy.”

JJ grins, pushing himself back and watching as John B slowly works the button and zipper of your shorts. JB slowly pushes the material down your legs, your panties going along with them, baring your soaked pussy to JJ who sucks in a sharp breath.

“Damnit. She’s so fucking wet, JB. You sure this is okay?”

John B nods his head slowly. “Course. We’re here to help you, JJ. Go on. She’s so fucking sweet.”

JJ cautiously settles between your legs. His large hands grip at your thighs, spreading them open wider for him as he lays on his stomach and dips his head down, inhaling the sweet scent of your arousal.

A low hum of satisfaction fills the air, and you gasp when JJ leaves soft, slow kisses on your inner thighs. He works his mouth up the smooth flesh, sinking his teeth into the soft skin occasionally. When his mouth reaches your soaked core, he pauses, blue eyes looking up to find John B’s deep brown ones. John B. is busy toying with your hardened nipples, pausing his actions to meet his best friends stare, a small crease in his brow. “You good, Jay?” JB would ask.

JJ would nod his head, shaking the intrusion of thoughts that swarmed his head. John B. said it was fine, he needed to stop stressing that this would cause a strain on his friendship.

He dips his head back down, his tongue darting out to lick a long, hot stripe through your arousal slick folds. He curses under his breath at how fucking sweet you taste, “Fuck, she is so sweet.” He murmurs before diving in and devouring your pussy like it was his last meal.

Your chest heaves up and down, fingers tightly gripping John B’s thigh as JJ licks, sucks and fingers your sensitive cunt. John B. slowly lifts your head from his lap, removing himself from his position on the bed. JJ halts his actions, two thick fingers shoved deep inside you while he warily eyes his best friend.

John B gives him a small grin, “Just gonna flip her over so I can fuck her pretty mouth.”

JJ pulls his fingers from inside you, shoving them in this mouth and licking them clean as he watches John B effortlessly flip you onto your stomach. John B lands a harsh slap on your bare ass cheek, “Ass in the air baby, let JJ make you cum while you choke on my dick.”

You quickly obey your boyfriend’s demand, shifting onto your knees and placing your ass up and in the air. JJ smirks at the sight of your soaked pussy, ass swaying back and forth, waiting on his lips and tongue to reclaim their place on your swollen clit.

John B. quickly works his basketball shorts down his legs, boxers following closely behind. Your eyes watch intently as his long, hard cock springs free, precum already leaking from the tip. You’d never get over how big your boyfriend was.

John B. situates himself back on the bed, his hands gripping tightly at the back of your head and shoving your mouth down and on his cock. “That’s it, baby girl, choke on my dick. You know how I like it.”

You suck in a breath of air through your nose, hollowing your cheeks and begin sucking and licking every inch of your boyfriend’s length. You gag around him when the swollen head hits the back of your throat, but you quickly begin breathing through your nose and focusing on the pleasure JJ’s tongue was giving you once more.

The room is filled with the sounds of grunts, moans and all three of your heavy breathing. Your pussy clenches around JJ’s fingers as he continues to finger you and suck fervently at your clit. “I- ‘m gonna cum, J, shit!”

You moan loudly around John B’s cock as the band snaps, an earth shattering orgasm rushing through you and soaking JJ’s tongue and fingers.

John B continues harshly thrusting himself in and out of your mouth while JJ continues to finger fuck your pussy, his tongue licking and sucking at your clit, pushing you to a point of overstimulation.

You feel John B’s cock swell inside your mouth, a few more harsh thrusts and a deathly tight grip on your hair, you feel his cock twitch before the warm, salty taste of his cum coats your tongue. You continue to suck him furiously, helping him ride out his high as JJ’s tongue and fingers work you toward your second orgasm.

“Fffffuck! Always know how to make me feel so good, princess. Such a good girl.” John B praises, stroking softly at your cheek with his fingers.

You let out one final moan as JJ has you coming undone around his fingers again before pulling them from you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You fall limp in John B’s lap, allowing him to softly stroke your bare back.

“Thank y’all… I feel.. A lot better.” JJ says softly.

John B smiles at him, nodding his head once. “Of course, you know we’re always here for you man.”

You let out a hum of agreement, your eyes fluttering shut, the sound of your boyfriend and his best friend conversing the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

JJ AND JB TAGLISTS: @princessslutt //@thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles // @rafesthroatbaby //@sturnioloshacker // @starkeysprincess // @rafescurtainbangz // @atorturedpoetx // @redhead1180 //@maybankskiss // @jjsmarijuana // @romaescapes //@kisses4angel // @lovelysturnioloos // @maybankslover // @simars3 // @urbimom // @antagonize-me-motherfucker // @princesssuki21 // @ijustwanttoreadlols // @baennied // @hyperfixationgirl // @chiaraanatra // @chimindity

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[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

my angel

part 2 to angel

words: 3.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, reader is a stripper, reader also gets called a bitch and assaulted but its not very graphic or "bad", f receiving oral

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @spear-bearing-bi-witch @ghostlycrystobalove

“there’s my favorite regular.” you smile, plopping down on rafes lap before he even pays. you know that he’s good for it.

“angel.” rafes hands land on your hips, rubbing his thumbs over the bare skin there. security already knows that you consent to his touches.

as promised, rafe has become a regular at your strip club. some days he comes with his friends, who you have learned are named topper and kelce, but it’s usually just him, alone in his regular seat, eyes not drifting from you, ignoring all the other strippers who try to get his attention, especially after seeing how much he tips.

you sometimes take him in back, depending on the day and how long it’s been since he’s last been in. he’s always more needy, willing to pay for more when he’s away for a couple nights, but you stick to your original rule of mouth only.

“lap dance?” you ask, watching rafe pull a bill out of his shirt pocket.

“how about i pay you for a lap dance and you sit here and talk to me instead? just for five minutes, i want to get to know you better.” rafe has been trying to get closer to you every week, and as he spends more time there, you start to let him, but still say no politely every time he asks you out.

“mmm, fine.” you hum, letting yourself relax on his lap, feeling your core press against his thigh. “stick it here.” you pull on the cup of your bra, allowing rafe to slot the folded up bill against your breast. he lets his fingers skim down the soft white fabric, teasing over your nipple briefly before dropping back down to hold onto your hips.

“where are you from?” rafe asks, and you respond with your hometown, about an hour further inland.

he continues to ask you basic questions, like your favorite color, food, and so on. you feel so natural talking back and forth that you forget that you’re even at work, until the stripper right before your set comes on stage, and you know you have to go in back to get ready.

“well, thanks for that chat, rafe.” you stand up, his hands hesitating to leave your body. “i’ll be watching you while i’m on stage.” you give him a wink and walk away, making sure to sway your ass, knowing he’s watching.

you don’t perform solo every night, so it’s a real treat for rafe when you do. you prepare backstage, putting on a few more layers and your favorite accessory, a small white befeathered pair of angel wings, to go along with your stripper name.

when your music starts, you head out onto the stage, dancing slowly to the music, keeping the act up by pretending to be shy and demure as you slowly strip off the layers of clothing that you just put on until you’re in a simple pair of white lingerie.

you twirl around the pole, every time turning to keep your eyes on rafe in the crowd, although you do try to glance at the other men, you just can’t help but be drawn to your most loyal regular.

the song changes to the last one of your set, the one where you will strip off that final layer of clothes. you’ve danced topless, but tonight is your first night going fully nude, and you feel some excitement rise over the nerves at getting to do this for rafe specifically.

you shed your top, covering your nipples with your fingertips while the crowd cheers. you finally raise your hands up, hips still moving to the beat of the song, dollars being thrown onto the stage.

you turn your back to the audience, finally ready to reveal the final part of yourself. you pull your underwear down your legs, keeping your movements as innocent as you can while dancing fully naked.

you meet rafes eyes, a look of lust in them that you hadn’t seen before. you smile, just for him, as you finish your dance before moving off the stage. 

you take a deep breath, pulling on your second look of the night, only having to perform one more time in a group later on, but you were just in the back for that. you take a minute to eat some food before heading out onto the floor for lap dances.

you head straight towards rafe, wanting to get his reaction to your final dance, when your wrist is suddenly grabbed by an older man.

“hey!” you shout, tugging your arm away. “no touching.” 

you know he knows the rule. everyone gets told it a thousand times before they’re allowed to enter. no touching the dancers without express permission, anywhere on their body.

“sorry, sweets, you just keep going to pretty boy over there.” the man says, and you glance up to see rafe watching the interaction with his jaw locked.

“would you like a dance?” you ask, flicking your eyes back to the man, his entire body reeking of alcohol. it’s one thing you like about rafe, he always orders a glass of whiskey, but he’s never drunk when you dance for him.

the man pulls out a $20 bill, and you snatch it out of his hand more rude than you should for a paying customer, but he put you off by grabbing your wrist, and the $20 gives you a good reason to keep it short, it doesn’t pay for a lot.

you turn around, keeping yourself hovering over the mans lap as you dance half-heartedly, letting your mind drift elsewhere than what you’re currently doing. you eventually lower down so you’re just barely touching him, but when the song ends you pull away.

“you’re not done yet, bitch.” he grabs your hips, pulling you back down as you let out a squeal, losing your footing and falling against him.

rafe is over to you quicker than security is, pulling you off of his lap and into his arms. you turn in his hold as security grabs the man, leading him towards the door as he screams about how much of a bitch you are.

“are you okay?” rafe asks, rubbing your arms, walking you to the outskirts of the room as the final number hits the stage, something you’re supposed to join in the next couple minutes, but you know security already relayed it to your boss what happened.

“yeah, i’m fine.” you shiver, glancing at the door to double check that he is actually gone. “thanks for rescuing me.”

“no problem, angel.” rafe says softly, pulling you into a hug, that you graciously accept, surprised how natural the intimate touch feels, especially considering all of your previous interactions have been sexual.

“i need to get backstage.” you sigh, forcing yourself to step away.

“of course.” rafe squeezes your hand before letting you go. 

you complete the final dance of the night, body working on autopilot as you try to forget the sound of the mans voice calling you a bitch. you finish the dance and head backstage, only glancing briefly at rafe as you leave the stage.

you chat idly with the other dancers, but you mostly keep to yourself tonight as you wash your face free of makeup, change out of your lingerie for a comfy sweat set, and to your biggest relief, take off your heels for a pair of crocs.

“bye, girls!” you call, making sure to have counted your money and cleaned up your locker before leaving. 

you head out the back door, swinging your car keys in your hand as you head towards your vehicle. you get the feeling of being watched, your step quickening when you hear the one voice you don’t want to.

“hey, bitch!” you don’t turn to look, breaking into a run, but the man, even in his inebriated state is faster than your tired legs, grabbing you and shoving you against your car. you hope security is watching the footage of the parking lot as you leave like they’re supposed to, but even then it will take them a full minute.

“please, let me go!” you shout, trying to force the mans hands off of you.

“hey!” you turn your head to the side, coming face to face with your savior once again as rafe shoves the guy off of you and onto the ground, his head smacking against the pavement, but he stays conscious as rafe shouts at him to never touch you or come back here again.

security runs out as you sink to the ground, dropping your head to your knees as you cry. you can tell just from the scent and feel that it’s rafe who wraps his arms around you.

“shh, you’re okay. i got you.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you wipe away your tears as security escorts him away, bringing him back inside to do who knows what. you’ll let your boss handle that.

“i’m okay.” you whisper, not sure how much you actually mean it as rafe helps you up off the ground. 

you stand in silence for a minute, just holding his hand as you calm down.

“thank you for rescuing me. i guess you’re my angel.” you giggle, making rafe smile. “what were you still doing here anyways?” “well…” rafe trails off, looking guilty. “i always stay until i see you get into your car. just to make sure that you’re safe. you really shouldn’t be walking out alone.”

“rafe, oh my god.” you pitch yourself forward, wrapping your arms around his torso. “you really don’t have to do that, that’s so sweet.” “i wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, angel.” he squeezes you against him.

“y/n.” you pull away to look rafe in the eye as you tell him. “my name is y/n.” 

rafes mouth breaks into a wide grin. “nice to finally meet you, y/n.” 

you turn to look at your car before turning back to rafe. “i really don’t want to be alone tonight.” you tell him, hoping he gets the hint, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he understands exactly what you want, lacing your hands together and leading you towards his car.

you keep quiet on the drive, not even sure how long it is, focusing on the music and rafes hand on your thigh to quell the negative thoughts of if it’s a bad idea to go back with someone who you’ve never seen outside of the strip club.

rafe pulls up to a huge house, and you gape for a moment, but you knew he had money, so it’s not too much of a surprise as he heads around the car to open the door for you.

“thanks for letting me stay over.” you say, admiring how beautiful rafe looks in the moonlight.

“of course, y/n.” rafe smiles, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. you kiss back instantly, keeping it sweet but still passionate as you enjoy the moment before rafe pulls away to lead you inside, and up into his bedroom, not wanting to waste any time.

“did you like my dance today?” you ask as rafe sits on the bed. you stand in between his legs, letting his hands run over your hips and thighs. 

“i loved it.” he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach over your hoodie. “such a pretty pussy.”

he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down and letting it fall from your shoulders, leaving you in a thin tanktop, clearly not wearing any bra. rafe smiles, cupping your breasts. “i may see these every week, but i still am breathless every time i see your body.”

you pull your top off, rafes hands quickly taking the same place without the layer of fabric in between. you moan as his thumbs rub over your nipples.

“fuck, it feels so good.” you moan as rafe leans forward, his lips wrapping around your nipple and giving it a suck. you press your chest into his mouth as his fingers toy with the other nipple, giving you equal stimulation before switching to taste the other one.

rafe pulls away to take his shirt off, and your eyes widen at the muscles revealed. you could tell he was fit, but seeing him shirtless has you in awe.

“take your pants off and get on the bed.” rafe stands when you take a step back to pull your sweatpants and underwear off all at once, no point in hiding it when rafes seen it all before. you lay down on the bed, not sure what position rafe is going to want to fuck you in, all you know is that you want him.

rafe pulls his pants off but leaves his underwear on as he climbs onto the bed. you expect him to continue up and kiss you, but he drops to his stomach in between your legs.

“rafe-” you gasp when he presses kisses to your thighs, trying to get him to stop by closing your legs.

“shh, no.” rafe says gently, pushing your legs back open. “you’ve given me blowjobs with nothing in return, let me eat you out.”

“you paid me in return!” you argue back, feeling your wetness grow at the thought of rafes mouth against your cunt. you’ve never had such an intimate moment with a man before, all of the ones you’ve been with in the past just wanting to use your pussy for their pleasure then leave.

“those were pennies compared to what you deserve. come on baby, let me taste this pretty pussy.” “i’ve never…” you sigh, ashamed to admit this, “i���ve never had someone eat me out before.”

rafe is silent for a moment, and you worry what he’s thinking. “i know i’m a stripper and everything but i’m not super experienced and i’ve just never-” “baby.” rafe says softly, getting you to shut your mouth. “i am only mad that no man has ever done this to you before. you absolutely deserve the pleasure i am about to give you.”

and with that, rafe leans forward, going straight for your clit as he licks broad strokes over the most sensitive part of you, making you see stars from the sudden pleasure he brings you.

“oh my god, yes!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure overwhelms you. rafe drops his mouth lower, tongue lapping against your entrance and greedily tasting your wetness, gathering it all into his mouth.

he swirls his tongue along your folds, touching new parts of you with every movement, keeping his focus on your pleasure as he darts back to your clit to press kisses to it, your back arching off the bed as you cry out.

“you’ve had a hard day, y/n.” rafe says, barely pulling his mouth away from your pussy, letting his words vibrate. “just relax and let me make you feel good.”

you take a deep breath and settle into the bed, bringing your hands to his hair as you push his head back between your spread thighs. rafe juts his tongue out, letting you move him as he licks obsessively over your pussy.

he brings his mouth back to your clit, kissing and licking gently as one of his fingers prods at your entrance, easily being able to slip in due to how wet you are.

rafe moans against your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you. you want to squeal at the movement, but you manage to control yourself to just moans as you feel your high getting closer, never having it come so quickly with a partner before.

“fuck, rafe, i’m close!” you warn, but he doesn’t pull away, doubling down on his efforts until you burst, flooding his mouth as you squirt onto the bed sheets, but it doesn’t phase him as he continues to eat you out as you ride out your orgasm.

he finally pulls his face away from your soaked cunt, wiping his mouth against a dry part of the bed sheets. 

“oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was gonna squirt.” you cover your face with your hands.

“y/n.” rafe says gently, draping his body over yours and pulling your hands away from your face. “you have nothing to be embarrassed about. that was the hottest thing ever. look how hard you made me.”

rafe presses against your core, and you moan out from your oversensitive clit being stimulated so soon after an orgasm, wishing the fabric of his underwear wasn’t in the way so rafe could plunge inside of you.

“can i fuck you now or do you need a break?” rafe smirks when you scoff, you need him immediately and you think your body might just explode if he isn’t inside of you soon.

rafe tugs his underwear off, revealing his cock that you’ve had in your mouth so many times, now about to cross the final boundary. rafe grabs a condom he must have tossed onto the bed at some point, rolling it over his cock before getting back into position, hovering over you.

you don’t bother to argue about letting you ride him after he ate you out, knowing rafe is focused on your pleasure right now, not like guys you’ve been with in the past wanting you to ride them and then bust within minutes.

“god, i’ve wanted this so bad since i first laid eyes on you.” rafe mumbles, mostly speaking to himself as his cock presses against your entrance. 

you connect your lips in a kiss as he pushes inside, both simultaneously moaning as he sinks deeper into your cunt until he’s completely nestled in your heat.

“you can move.” you whisper after a moment, not needing anymore time to adjust, craving his quick thrusts into you, but while rafe starts to move, he keeps it slow and passionate, rolling his hips against yours in a steady motion. 

“heaven.” rafe kisses your forehead, then both your cheeks, before connecting your mouth in a kiss. “your pussy is heaven.”

you blush under the praise, not used to something so intimate, used to sex being impersonal, being seen just as an object.

“god, you have to keep letting me fuck you after this, angel, i’m never gonna get enough.” rafe moans, grinding against you to give your clit some stimulation.

“you can fuck me whenever you want if you-” you gasp at a particularly deep thrust from rafe “move faster.” rafe smiles, hips starting to buck into you with earnest now, his cock pressing so deep that it has you seeing stars.

“fuck, that’s good.” you whine, squirming underneath rafe as he ignores your movements underneath him, focusing on thrusting into you.

rafe grunts as you feel his cock move against your walls, his face twisting in pleasure. you grab his shoulders, needing to feel connected to him.

“this…” you pant, moving your body on the bed to match rafes thrusts, bringing your hips up despite the burn in your stretched thighs. “is the best sex i’ve ever had.” you tell him honestly.

the side of rafes lip quirks up in a cocky smile, bending to press your lips together as he keeps his rhythm. you regret not agreeing to this earlier. you would have fucked rafe the first night he came to the club if you knew he was this good in bed.

“sounds like you should be the one paying me.” rafe jokes, making you slap his shoulder gently, unable to really laugh as he keeps you moaning with his cock touching every part of you, his pelvic hitting your clit with every thrust.

“close.” you tell rafe, feeling your orgasm building up again, hoping rafe is also close because you’re not sure how much longer you can hold back.

“me too, baby.” rafe groans, his cock swelling inside of you. you’re unable to hold back the rush any longer, entire body shaking as rafes cock forces your orgasm from you, again a rush of liquid being expelled as your arms tighten around rafes shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, wanting to feel as much of him as possible.

you barely even notice rafe pulling out and tugging the condom off, rutting against your stomach until he cums, covering your torso. 

you breathe deeply as you let go, letting rafe flop to the side to lay on the bed next to you, both recovering from the activity, heartbeat slowly coming back to normal. when you’re able to move your body again, you turn on your side to come face to face with rafe.

“hey.” he smiles gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“hey.” you giggle.

“i knew you wouldn’t regret coming home to me.” rafe says, rubbing his hand over your back.

“i made a mess of your bed though.” you feel a flush of embarrassment, looking down at the wetness that has soaked into the sheets.

“we will just shower than sleep in one of the guest beds. you can make a mess of all of them for all i care, anything to have you again…” rafe pauses for a moment, letting you enjoy his rough hand smoothing over your skin. “you will let me have you again, right?” “yeah.” you nod, there’s no way you can give up rafe now that you’ve gotten a taste. “you can even take me on that date if you still want to.”

rafe smiles, positioning himself on top of your body, pressing kisses all over your face, hands tickling at your sides as you squirm with laughter underneath him. “my angel.” rafe sighs happily, pressing a kiss to your lips.

[ilovejoostklein]

heyy idk if you like ski aggu too but could you write a reader x ski aggu x joost fic with the reader being a rich, spoiled groupie who wants to hook up with them? tysm 💕

i love this omg.

-

I Want It All

You’re a rich, spoiled international student who wants nothing more but to meet your favorite musicians

nsfw: smut

-

You were bored, with too much money to know what to do with. You were an international student in Germany, spoiled rotten your parents hoped that being in a new country and acclimating yourself to a new environment would teach you some independence. In a way they were right, you’d come to this show completely alone, just telling your friends you’d done it spontaneously as a white lie. 

The truth is you’d planned to go to the concert for weeks in excruciating detail. Obsession was an understatement for what you felt for these two singers, Ski Aggu and Joost Klein. Your studies had bored you, school was always too easy thanks to your private school background and rigorous expectations set throughout your life, hard work came naturally to you and became more like a routine than a conscious effort. Spring was turning to summer, the heat, the flowers in full boom, vibrant green trees, and endless possibilities excited you to no end. You had your daddy’s money to waste, the world was like your playground and you’d become accustomed to getting what you wanted no matter what. 

You’d gotten tickets on a balcony to avoid getting overly crowded and to be under the bright lights for too long. You wanted to keep your distance from others, watching closely, singing along to some songs, and recording half the concert to have something to watch back on and show your friends. When the concert ended, you were probably the only one who wasn’t upset it was over.

You carefully snuck past the crowds and approached a security guard who was by the backstage area. After a bit of failed negotiation, it took slipping a few hundred euros into his hand you asked him if he could do you a favor and see if he could get you backstage. You embellished, saying that you were a huge fan and just wished that you could get a few of your CDs signed. It was partly true, you were a fan and had the CDs in your ridiculously expensive purse, but you had other intentions, or rather hopes. 

The security guard escorted you to the backstage area. It was quiet, the walls making the sound of the music that continued to play as people left muffled. All you could hear besides that was your footsteps and the heavier ones of the security guard, who was one of the tallest and scariest men you’d ever seen. It failed to intimidate you though, money always worked wonders to make a scary man sweeten up and tuck his tail between his legs. 

“What do you work as?” The man’s accent was a bit thick and he was forward, you noticed he was eyeing down your outfit

“My dad owns a company.” You answered with a smile, making the man chuckle and shake his head. “But I’m just a student.”

“You are wearing very expensive clothes, so forgive me.” He explained a bit apprehensively, worried he’d accidentally offend you, “Are you sure you just want CDs signed?”

You could tell he was asking as an offer, not over suspicion. You can see that he was willing to pull some strings for you, but you were confident you didn’t need extra help. You only smiled, nodding your head innocently before he led you to a door, knocking three times. You could hear the commotion coming to a halt, the loud conversation of two men, and the sound of a football match. 

“There’s a fan here for you.” The security guard announced loudly. “Very beautiful.” He winked. 

You felt your heart fall to your feet. It felt like an elevator crashing, dramatic and terrifying you stood there motionless as you saw your distorted reflection in the colorful glass the man across from you had. They were up on his forehead now, exposing his eyes that he’d kept hidden for the show. They were beautiful, murky blue like the middle of the ocean. 

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” He asked immediately, you shook your head a bit embarrassed. “Oh, so sad.” He frowned. 

You introduced yourself impulsively before asking your question, “I was wondering if you could sign some things for me.” You asked nervously, pulling out the CDs and a sharpie, one meant for Joost and one for himself. “Please.”

He hesitated for a bit, “Ja, sure.” He took his CD, signing it quickly. “Joost!” He called loudly out over his shoulder. 

Joost sat up from the couch, he had a cigarette between his fingers, grey smoke lingering around him. He looked better up close, taller than you’d expected, His eyes lingered on you, they weren’t invading or judgmental, but slightly confused. You didn’t speak and just gave him the CD just as nervously, watching as they scribbled their signatures. 

“You smoke?” Joost asked, as he handed you back the CD you felt his fingers graze yours. 

“No.” You felt that you were already disappointed, seeing his face make the same expression that Aggu’s had. “Sorry.” 

“Oh no, that’s good.” He suddenly smiled, stepping aside you felt your heart begin to race, blood rushing to your face and ears. “Do you want to come inside for a bit?”

You felt yourself enter almost a trance as you stepped inside the dressing room, smelling of expensive men’s cologne, pungent tobacco, and beer. You glanced over to see the security guard had since left, leaving you completely alone. You didn’t understand why you were so apprehensive now, regret creeping in confused you, after all, this is exactly what you wanted. 

“Did you come here all alone?” Joost asked, walking over to one of the couches and beckoning you over. 

“Yes.” You answered, smoothing down your skirt as you sat down, with both men at either side of you. The couch was warm and plush under your skin, you tried to relax by leaning back as you faced one of the handsome men seated next to you. “I got a ticket last minute.”

Joost smiled again, his eyes looking you up and down before settling on your purse. “You must be a rich girl.” He joked, “Are you studying here in Germany?”

You nodded, distracted by Aggu reaching over your thigh and putting a beer bottle in your lap. You winced at the coldness, holding it in your hands as he opened it for you and pushed it to your lips. 

“Here, you must drink if you don’t smoke?” Aggu asked, you felt his arm settle near your waist, his fingertips hardly touching your exposed skin. “It’s good, German beer.”

You hated beer, but you felt you were already starting on the wrong foot, making how spoiled you were too apparent. “I’ll try it.” You took a sip, grimacing a bit from the bitter, earthy flavor. “It’s fine.” You said when you realized they were anxiously waiting for your response. 

They chuckled, eyes fixated on you to the point it almost felt like you were naked. They looked down at your figure, wrapped away inexpensive, pristine clothing you looked completely out of place. They thought of their cheap CDs stuffed in your bag worth thousands, the blush on your cheeks, and mascara brushed on your lashes probably from luxury brands. They wondered why you of all people were at one of their shows. 

“You must have a boyfriend, no?” Aggu asked suddenly. “Why would he let you come here alone?”

You shook your head, and just like that a shared fantasy began to manifest itself. Aggu nodded with a strained smile, instinctively looking at Joost who was focused on his beer and crushing his cigarette, then at the door to tell him that he needed a moment of privacy. 

The two men excused themselves as politely as possible, saying that they wanted to go out to have a smoke instead of doing it rudely in front of you, but to help yourself to any more beers in the meantime. Joost shut the door quietly, leading Aggu to the closest exit. 

They stood outside, the night was a bit eerie, hardly any stars were visible as they were in the middle of Berlin, nothing was heard but the rustling of trees, and all they felt was the cool and against their skin that was quickly heating up. They were nervous, desperately needing a moment to gather themselves and decide what to do about you. It seemed like an opportunity fell into their laps, but it didn’t mean that it would be wise to take it. 

Even if there was tension between them, almost a sort of unspoken desire that they wanted the same thing, no one spoke. They smoked in silence for a while, the only sound of their breathing. 

“I want to fuck her,” Aggu said suddenly. His tone was shockingly, almost offensively casual as he lit his cigarette. 

Joost hesitated for a moment, flicking the lighter over and over as his cigarette burned and wasted between his fingers. He thought of you again, wondering what you were doing in the room all alone, and what thoughts were racing through your mind. He was strung out tonight, the show allowed him to get pent-up energy out, but never all of it. He smoked until he couldn’t bare it and drank enough to calm his nerves, but he realized that nothing would make him feel better than to fuck someone, it’s been so long, and seeing that you, how beautiful you were, and knowing you probably had enough money to buy him made you more attractive.

“I do too.” Joost finally answered, taking a short drag from his cigarette, wondering if Aggu was serious or just saying it as a vulgar compliment.

“We can fuck her together.” Aggu’s tone was still overly casual, it intimidated Joost as much as it began to excite him. “I think she’d like that.” 

It was subtle, his face was still as he felt overtaken by disbelief and reluctance as he’d never been in this situation before. He thought of it, a spoiled girl like yourself getting fucked by two men was beneath you, and knowing that only made him desire it to the point it was almost torturous. He didn’t realize he could want something this much, the fantasy replaying in his mind was tempting, and he didn’t want to let you slip through his fingers.

“How do you know that?” Joost questioned, his demeanor becoming standoffish. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation he’d feel if you turned them down, or worse preferred Aggu over himself. 

“Don’t be stupid.” Aggu threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. “Let’s go, I’m getting cold.”

Joost did the same with his half-smoked cigarette and trailed behind Aggu, watching from just outside the door as he entered back into the room. Your eyes lit up immediately, looking up at him with stars in your eyes he began to suspect that he’d been right about you. Closing the door behind him, he still stayed in the same spot, his back leaning against it.

What came next shouldn’t have surprised him. He watched as Aggu sat down beside you, a drunken smile on his face, hands smoothing down on your arms before he leaned over and kept his face close to yours. 

“Are you sure you don’t have a boyfriend?” Aggu’s voice had softened, his hand grasping your thigh making you instantly grow cold. “You’re too pretty.”

“I don’t.” You mumbled, staring directly at the floor you couldn’t find it within yourself to face him. 

You were allowed a moment away from his burning gaze but soon felt his fingers hold your chin and force you to turn your head. It was a bit jarring to see him without the ski goggles, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he’d willingly cover up such gorgeous eyes.

“Did your parents pay for your ticket?” Aggu questioned, your chest ignited with a combination of shame and excitement, you knew exactly what he thought of you.

“Kind of, they send me money often.” You admitted the look on his face made you instinctively squeeze your thighs together. Lust had completely taken over any sense you had.

“That’s cute.” Aggu’s hand squeezed down on your thigh, his thumb tracing circles against your soft skin. 

Everything about you was begging to be ruined. Your skin was almost unrealistically soft. He couldn’t imagine how high maintenance you were, how expensive your self-care products and your trips to the spa were. All for him to be able to hold you and eventually have his way with you. As he continued to touch your thigh, his eyes hadn’t left yours, leaning over he finally caved into his desires.

Joost couldn’t help but stare. He watched as your glossy lips parted and your eyes fluttered shut.  Aggu’s lips were plush against you, he watched as he brought you closer, his lips parting from yours only for his tongue lying flat against your neck the feeling made you squirm in his arms. The sight entranced him, he wanted to touch you but couldn’t find it in himself to move.

“Joost,” Aggu spoke against your neck making you squirm. “Stop watching, come here.”

He sat down next to you nervously. Aggu stopped kissing your neck for a moment to position you perfectly in the center so that Joost wouldn’t just have your back turned to him. 

You felt too many hands on you, squeezing your breasts, grazing over your waist, caressing your thighs. You couldn’t hold in the sounds you were making, the feeling of getting your neck kissed and their strong hands touching you was too much all at once. 

You couldn’t tell whose lips were softer, a minuscule detail you forced your thoughts to center on so that you had some sense of control. It was an empty effort, you were taken over by need and found yourself leaning towards one of the men for a kiss. 

You peeked through and saw you were kissing Joost, but the way his mustache scratched against your upper lip had given it away at first. The kiss didn’t last as long as you’d hoped, Aggu, impatient and a bit jealous moved your cheek so that you’d kiss him instead. 

“Don’t make us fight.” Aggu teased, one strong hand squeezing down on your breast as he kissed you.

You felt Joost press his lips against the corner of your mouth, the two men had become so desperate it intimidated you how strongly they were coming onto you. You began to wonder if you could handle going any further, two men kissing you at the same time was already overwhelming. 

You watched as their lips accidentally grazed each other’s, hearing them chuckle before they took turns kissing you on the lips. It cooled the tension for a moment, you were surprised that they could get along so well. 

You felt Aggu kiss your neck as Joost held your chin in his hand and brought you into a much softer kiss. Aggu was the first to begin to undress you. He carefully slid down the strap to your shirt, as eager as he was, when he saw that you slid the other down for him he took it as a sign to continue. 

You practically felt your clothes torn off your body by them both, stripping you bare as if you were teasing them for hours on end. Joost had left your lips puffy from his greedily passionate kiss, and the delicate skin on your neck throbbed from how many love bites Aggu left. They took everything off except for your stockings. They were black, slightly sheer, and sitting atop your lingerie. It wasn’t blatant with garter and intricate designs, but it was clear you’d made an effort.

“This is very nice,” Joost remarked as he squeezed down on your breasts, you felt yourself burn at the slight smirk on his face and the way he glanced at Aggu. “It’s very nice, isn’t it?” 

“I feel bad for your boyfriend, waiting at home for you.” Aggu teased, “Do you always wear things like this under your clothes?”

You couldn’t answer. You felt Aggu rest his hand on the back of your neck and guide you down so that you were now lying on your side. Your cheek rubbed up against the rough fabric of his dark jeans, you could smell the faint cologne and cigarette smoke, it nauseated and excited you.

Joost’s hands held your waist, gently moving you to the side so that you’d be lying on your stomach. He heard him sit up, the blood abandoning all your limbs to rush towards your head. You felt the room spinning as Aggu played with your hair, alternating from smoothing it down his gently to twirling a few strands around his fingers and tugging at it.     

Joost was behind you, his hands running down your back like stones skipping in the water, you shivered under his touch with anticipation. His fingers grazed against you softly, soon settling on your ass and grabbing and kneading down. You heard the two men share a laugh, Aggu leaning over to spank you a few times. Internally, that was the final moment of sanity you had left. You were never so desperate to be touched, you felt like it was almost cruel and were moments away from begging them. 

“Are these stockings expensive?” Joost asked softly, his hand rubbing down to soothe where Aggu had slapped.

“Uh,” You began, trying to remember where they were from, “I think they were a hundred euros or something.”

The room fell silent for less than a second before erupting in soft laughter. It was mocking, you felt ridiculed but strangely from the way they held you, Joost’s hand rubbing down on your back as Aggu continued to gently pet your hair the shame excited you. 

“You’re crazy.” Joost chuckled, staring down at the stockings he felt an intrusive thought naw at him. “You can get them for 5 euros at any store you know?”

Of course, you knew, and of course, Joost did as well. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise how fixated he was on your stockings when after a while of his hands running up and down the sheer, thin material he bunched them up as his hands and soon you heard the first sound of the threads snapping loose. 

The sound of tearing had again silenced the room but was intertwined by Joost’s first sound of pleasure. He groaned softly as he watched the fabric tear and split, like a present revealing your soft skin underneath. It invigorated him, relinquishing the power you had over to him and having complete freedom to make you a part of his fantasy. 

“I’m sorry.” Joost offered the apology, not necessarily regretting it but he didn’t want to upset you. “I’ll get you new ones.”

“The ones that cost five euros?” Aggu chuckled, getting a slap on the side of his arm in response. 

Joost finished undressing you completely, and soon everything had completely settled into reality for you. The coolness of the room should’ve helped to prevent how you burned up inside, a fire deep in your stomach and rushing over your body. You had lost a bit of sense, positioning yourself in a way that better to be fucked, and with your free hand, you tugged on Aggu’s belt.

“Zo wanhopig, so desperate,” Joost mumbled, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you back. “Are you comfortable like this?”

You looked back at him over your shoulder, nodding a bit apprehensively. As much as you wanted it you didn’t feel quite ready, but it was as if Joost heard and granted your internal wish. As Aggu continued playing with your hair and letting you palm him through his jeans, you felt Joost’s breath against your backside. 

He drew apart your thighs gently, leaning down, he kissed the backs of your thighs before he began to lick against your pussy. You couldn’t help but become immediately vocal. You whimpered with every movement, writhing your hips against his mouth selfishly. He didn’t seem to mind if anything he encouraged it as his fingers dug into your hips and kept them in place.

Aggu could only see Joost’s head from behind, but the only way thing he wanted was to watch the blissful expression on your face. As nice of a sight it was, paired with the sounds you were making soon made him grow impatient. It was like his body had a mind of its own, before he knew it his clothes were thrown messily in a pile near the couch and he was pushing his cock into your face.

He nudged it on your cheek to encourage you to open your mouth. You couldn’t describe the feeling that completely engulfed your senses. It was as lustful as it made you feel overly exposed. You’d never experienced anything close to this, and the fleeting thoughts of what your friends and your family would think if they knew. You couldn’t help but feel invigorated by the fact that it was so wrong and unlike you. 

Aggu could tell you were trying to maintain whatever poise you had left as you sucked him off. It was cute at first, you felt as he smoothed your hair out of your face and softly praised you, but as you withdrew too often as Joost eating you out was too overwhelming. Just like Joost held your hips in place, Aggu’s hands pulled your hair and shoved his cock into your mouth as softly as he could. 

The way you gagged against him drove him wild, it took every bit of constraint not to fuck your mouth as hard as he could. He relinquished some control, letting you take the lead. It soon dawned on him, from the look in your eyes that was far from begging but satisfied that he was just feeding into how spoiled you were. You came for CDs and now had Joost on his knees eating you out and Aggu aching for when it was his turn. 

As much as you didn’t want this to end, you felt your orgasm build steadily and you leaned desperately into chasing that feeling. Your legs grew unstable, you pushed yourself against Joost’s mouth and felt the enthusiasm reciprocated from how he hummed against you and sunk his fingers into your flesh. 

You cried out incoherently, Aggu’s cock hanging out your mouth as he let you ride out your orgasm against Joost’s tongue. He didn’t stop, the overstimulation sending electric bolts through your spent body. Your body ached with pleasure, every muscle relaxed, your heart pounding into your ears as your mind settled into a heavenly state. 

“You taste so good.” Joost’s face was now next to yours, you felt his breath against your neck making you shiver. “Give me a kiss.”

He brought you into a quick, sloppy kiss. His tongue shoved into your mouth, filling it with the taste of you. It was strange, not unpleasant but you’d never had anyone kiss you directly afterwards, especially like this. 

“Let me see.” Aggu pulled you up and kissed you a bit most gently, tasting remnants of yourself on your soft lips. “Get back on your knees and help Joost out.”

He was authoritative, yanking your hair and manhandling you before he spread your legs the same way Joost had, 

“Wait-“ You protested, overwhelmed, your head foggy and confused as you felt Aggu press a kiss against your sensitive clit. 

You were melting under their touch, your lips wrapped around Joost’s cock as Aggu ate your pussy just for the sake of tasting you. Once he was satisfied, you heard the sound of plastic tearing which made you burn with anticipation. 

“You want me to fuck you, Schatz?” Aggu cooed, his hand delicately smoothing down your back. “Hm?”

“Yes,” You withdrew from Joost’s cock before he guided your head back to pleasuring him. “Please, I need it.”

It was quick and sloppy. You felt completely used and you loved it. Aggu’s tip stretched you out, it burned with pleasure with every movement, matter how much you winced and grunted from the discomfort it was all worth it when he bottomed you out. He filled you up perfectly, the way his big hands felt against your hot skin made you grow weaker. The two men had made indentations of your hips, their infatuation with you, your body, the way you were like a little gift from the universe dropped into their lap.

You were an absolute dream. Joost watched as you gave him head, not being able to focus completely on the obscenities in the room. He listened to you spit on his dick and suck him off, the sound of your groans entertained with his own, and skin slapping from Aggu pounding into you. It was nothing less than a fantasy. He wondered how many people would kill just to get to watch.

“I’m gonna cum.” Joost sighed, breaking the tension momentarily, “Just like that, such a good girl.”

You felt it was almost rewarding to have them both in the palm of your hand. It was better than your climax to bring them both to that point, the two men panting and mumbling incoherent praises as they fucked you. They took turns kissing you just to see how you tasted. You began to truly believe there wasn’t anything in this world you couldn’t have. 

Joost came in your mouth without warning, bringing you back harshly to the reality of the room. Hearing his groan and cry out your name as he desperately bucked his hips into your mouth was the most incredible feeling. You swallowed without a second thought, eagerly licking against the shaft and tip as he watched a bit dumbfounded. 

“Oh, god.” Joost sighed, his eyes and voice weary. “You’re perfect.” He pinched your cheek lovingly before giving you a tired smile. 

Aggu’s pace at first was controlled, he didn’t want to make you overwhelm you as you took. care of Joost, he was a good friend after all. He wished he wasn’t so close, but seeing you suck Joost off and lap up his cock when he was done was too erotic, he wished he’d looked away, but the sounds alone could’ve gotten him off.

He tried to last longer, thinking of something to turn him off,  like the hangover he’ll have the next morning, the thought of packing up all his shit to get on a plane to the next show. It was all an empty effort when you looked over your shoulder. The way your eyes met his immediately, big, pleading with your eyebrows knit together in bliss. He put you on your back, with a few quick motions treating you like a doll so he could finish himself off. 

Aggu’s hands molded into yours, like hot glass,  so delicate and vulnerable. You didn’t notice how many hands were on you, Joost helping Aggu and positioning himself at the side of the couch. His lips suddenly pressed against your nipples, drawing out a pathetic sound. Two fingers pressed onto your clit, rubbing down as Aggu’s pace became punishing. 

Your body moved with his, staring up into his eyes you never wanted to look away. Your body was no longer yours for a few seconds, you’d completely surrendered to their touch and pleasure. Your orgasm had built up as quickly as it washed over you. Your body convulsed with pleasure, unexpedelyh which made it that much more intense. Aggu felt you clench around him, watching your blissful expression and feeling you soak his cock he couldn’t take it. 

He soon followed after you, being far more vocal than both you and Joost. His moans were deep and drawn out, pumping himself inside of you a few more times before he practically collapsed beside you. 

It was a tight fit, Aggu’s body was muscular, warm, and a bit tacky with sweat. Joost’s hands rubbed up and down your body to soothe you. Their tenderness was comforting, despite the fact this was all purely out of lust. 

Your body felt heavy, wrapped in Aggu’s arms you watched as Joost got up and went over to the corner of the room. You watched a bit confused as he took some crumbled bills from his wallet and stuck them in your purse, not before leaning down and kissing you. 

“Sorry about the stockings.” 

-

guys i’m sorry for being inactive! i had some summer courses i was finishing up. i’m working on recs so ty to everyone for ur patience :)!

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

a member finding your nudes - 97 line

95 line, 96 line, 97 line, maknae line

wc: 1985

materlist

seokmin -

flustering seokmin was one of the easiest things in the world. at least for you, that is. one wink or suggestive whisper in his ear and he folded like a lawn chair, willing to give you whatever you wanted. this was something you frequently took advantage of, enjoying the ego boost his reactions would give you.

many of the times in which you did this manifested themselves through the form of dirty text messages while seokmin was away at work. something about knowing you could affect him even at a distance made you giggle to yourself as you awaited his almost immediate responses.

today was one of the many times in which you decided to send an unsuspecting seokmin a few pictures you had just taken in the one of the new sets he had bought you a few weeks back. giggling to yourself, you wrote a filthy message and followed it with an even filthier picture, setting your phone down as you awaited his response.

unbeknownst to you, the receiving end of that message wouldnt be your sweet seokmin, but the evil gremlin that was your boyfriend's best friend, yoon jeonghan.

jeonghan was, for lack of a better word, a very silly man. he always did whatever he believed would gift him the most instant entertainment (without ever harming any unsuspecting people, of course). he'd throw out white lies for fun, discreetly stick his nose in other people's business, instigate silly arguments, you name it. today, his newest form of entertainment took form as he picked up seokmin's phone while he had stepped away to the restroom, unlocking it and seeing notifications from seok's girlfriend, someone who he also considered a friend of his own.

at first he planned to send you some funny texts in seokmin's behalf, with the plan of letting you know it was all him after he had a bit of fun. his plans were swiftly ruined, however, when he opened up the notifications only to find pure filth in the form of words he never imagined you'd utter to his pure and innocent friend seokmin. along with that, he was now privy to the inner workings of the body you kept hidden under your clothes.

despite being a very self-controlled man, he could not help the slight sense of thirst that was now in the back of his head at seeing seokmin's pretty girlfriend showcasing the softness of her curves, inciting seokmin to ditch dance practice and go take care of her (that is, paraphrasing, of course, as he refused to utter the filthy words you'd typed out even in his head).

breaking out of his trance, jeonghan attempted to put the phone away before seokmin arrived, but had been too late. seokmin was now standing over him, seemingly having seen the whole five minutes in which jeonghan had his eyes glued to the phone, lip gripped by his teeth as his knuckles had tightened around the phone. seokmin was used by now to the dirty messages he'd receive from you at inopportune times, which led him to assume this mightve been one of those cases (at least going off of his friend's reaction). flustered while also a little smug at seeing his friend lose his composure for once in his life, seokmin grabbed the phone while looking at a wide-eyed jeonghan, speaking up for the first time since walking in, "we keep this to ourselves, okay?"

uncharacteristically, jeonghan swallowed, not at seokim's intimidating demeanor, but at the thought of you implanted into his head, knowing he wouldnt get this out of his head for a while, "y-yeah, okay."

mingyu -

as roommates and friends for over 10 years, mingyu and wonwoo had close to no secrets between one another; their privacy practically nonexistent. this was not something that either of them minded, being too used to each other's constant presence in the other's life.

having the title of mingyu's girlfriend, wonwoo had grown used to you quite easily, hanging out with you and enjoying your company whenever you visited the apartment to see mingyu. you could even call the two of you friends at this point. wonwoo liked and respected you, and you did the same in return. mingyu felt lucky and at ease at the friendly dynamic that had formed between the three of you, allowing the trio to hang out at the apartment quite often.

today had been one of those times. the three of you sat together in the living room, watching a movie wonwoo had recommended a while back. you and mingyu sitting side to side, your leg halfway across his lap as wonwoo sat to the other side of mingyu, keeping a bit of a distance from you two.

the movie had left your minds pretty quickly, as mingyu had brought up some pictures he and wonwoo had taken while in japan, wanting to show you the editing he and wonwoo had done to them. wanting to see the pictures up close, both you and wonwoo scooted over closer to mingyu while he held the phone at an angle where the three of you could see.

your boyfriend excitedly explained the creative process of taking the photos along with the details behind the editing, all while wonwoo added a comment here and there. it went on like this as mingyu scrolled through each picture. the excitement at sharing something he was passionate about with two of his favorite people must've gotten to him, as mingyu forgot that if he swiped one too many times, he'd end up landing on a few of the pictures you'd sent him due to missing him while in japan.

in a very unpredictable turn of events, mingyu did just that. his thumb froze, along with the rest of him, as he swiped past the pictures taken in japan and his phone began to display a picture of you in his bed, bra off and sheer panties barely hiding anything under them. all three of you stopped your breathing, realizing you were now all looking at a very explicit picture of you, simultaneously ruining what was a nice bonding moment between the three of you.

the three reactions out of you varied in severity.

you, for one, knew wonwoo had already seen you in some compromising states during your multiple stays at his and mingyu's apartment after many nights of intimate activities behind mingyu's door. you were slightly embarrassed, but thought, hey, it couldve been worse.

mingyu, now, mingyu was a hard one (literally). if you hadnt been sitting next to him, he mightve paid it no mind and uttered a quick 'sorry' to wonwoo for showing him a explicit picture without meaning to. but since all three of you were together, he felt beyond embarrassed at putting you in such an awkward situation. it also did not help that he was starting to feel turned on at the memory of the call that followed those images.

wonwoo .. now, wonwoo did not know how to react. his breath hitched as soon as he took notice of what was staring back at him on the screen. he had seen you in some vulnerable states due to mingyu's insane libido and his lack of intention of hiding his usual rendezvous with you. he, however, had never actually seen you in the nude. he felt like a bit of a pervert at the way his body began to heat up at the image of your naked body. it did not help that you were in the room at the moment, fully aware that he was still looking at the image in front of him.

a few seconds after the initial shock, mingyu cursed loudly at his mistake and threw his phone on the table in front of him, turning it off in the process. the three of you sat there saying nothing to one another. eventually you lifted your head, making eye contact with a beet-red wonwoo who looked away immediately after meeting your eyes. you weren't sure how the night would proceed, but there you all were; flustered, wordless, and slightly turned on.

(a/n: here's a continuation to gyu's part due to a few requests c:)

minghao -

minghao is not an easily fazed man. even as he moved to a foreign country as a teenager, not many things could ever really get a reaction out of him. you, however, were one of his only weaknesses. anything that had to do with you, really.

watching you hang out with his friends as he rehearsed warmed his heart insanely, rendering him unable to fully concentrate as he watched you from across the room, mid conversation with chan and jun. recently you had taken the habit of coming by pretty often, much to minghao's delight. you had made it a point to befriend his friends little by little, deciding to begin by his unit; chan, jun, and soonyoung. today was rehearsal for the performance unit's new song, which meant only the four members (plus you) were present. as he practiced the short solo he shared with soonyoung, you took the opportunity to chat with jun and chan on your own.

minghao watched you for a bit while soonyoung stretched, eventually taking his eyes off you to concentrate on the man next to him. it went calmly for a while, occasionally switching his gaze over to you to make sure you were having fun with his friends and that things were running smoothly for the three of you. at some point your laughter combined with that of his two friends, which made his heart warm up, enjoying the background noise as he focused on the choreography.

across the room, chan, jun and you giggled incessantly at your phone screen as you showed them some silly pictures you had taken of minghao the last time you had been with the man. chan, feeling comfortable with his friend's girlfriend, started to joke around with you, at some point even teasing you by taking the phone from your hands, giggling as you tried to get it back. it was all light hearted as he and jun played hot potato with your phone while you laughed at their antics, trying to get it back.

the fun cut itself off short, however, when chan somehow eventually ended up going too far up your gallery, accidentally opening some of the pictures you had sent minghao last month. the same ones you had meant to delete seeing as they had already served their purpose. embarrassed at the consequences of his actions, chan swiftly apologized, bowing quickly as he handed your phone back, avoiding eye contact. unfortunately for you, jun had also been made privy of the images as he had been standing next to chan when he'd seen them. and even more unfortunately for you, a suspicious minghao was now approaching you before you could even react to what had happened.

minghao had quickly halted his practice with soonyoung as soon as he took notice the stark silence that interrupted what was previously loud laughter. taking notice of all of your flustered states and inability to meet each other's eyes, he walked across the room over to the three of you, soonyoung's nosy self following close behind.

"did something happen?", he asked, nearing you as he stood opposing the two members you had just been playing around with.

"oh. i-uh it's nothing hyung," said chan, convincing not even himself.

minghao looked back at you, noting the lit up phone screen in your hands, immediately recognizing the picture on screen.

"i- what were you doing? did you-" you interrupted him, wanting to salvage the situation.

"it's nothing, minghao! it was an accident. chan was messing with my phone and i forgot to delete the pictures, so he just-"

"he what?! you- they- we have to go," let out a very exasperated minghao as he grabbed your hand and marched you both out of the room, regretting his previous desire to merge his love life with his silly friends. this had, funnily enough, been the biggest reaction you had ever gotten out of minghao to date.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the  box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.  

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning?  Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

 There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?”  You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch  it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you  methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink,  hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very  difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked  me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy  making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning  and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you.  "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

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@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

[jolapeno]

met you once, saw you thrice

lucien flores x f!reader

summary: the first time, he kissed you. the second time, you found yourselves in a bathroom. the third time, well, the third time.

warnings: 18+ smut, fingering aka hands go inside underwear under a tree. not-friends to not-lovers. tension. lots of references to past debauchery. slight mention of lucien's sobriety. lots of plot for some sexy rewards. wc: 5.3k an: this is my submission to summer lovin', brought to you by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy. i got Lucien, and this gorgeous moodboard. im a touch nervous about this man as i usually need the source material to write, so be kind. huge thanks to @pedgito for hand holding and to my circle for lifting me when i kept falling.

You shouldn’t be here.

That’s what you think, hovering under the white canopy away from the sun, surrounded by expensive bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets, their labels catching the flickering candlelight strategically placed around the sprawling garden.

Another bead falls down your glass, the ice in your drink melting. Thick rolls of condensation drip over your knuckles, along your hand, and down your wrist. Each one falls like rain, landing on the flowy skirt of your summer dress.

It's a new purchase, far too expensive, the label tucked inside, hidden away—pressing and cutting into your skin when you move—doing so each time you nod and over-pronounce a hello to those draped in designers and silk, while the grill sizzles and steams as more is added to it.

You shouldn’t be here because you don’t belong.

Not an actor, not someone on stage; not a writer or a producer. Not the girlfriend of one either. Just a friend of a friend—one ditched, left to ferment with the salad wilting in the warm temperatures as Smith flits between flirting with a waiter and the one he really wants.

You’re not sure why you let him convince you to come. Even as you take another sip, glancing at the time on your wrist, the free food and drink are slowly becoming less worth it. Assessing through sideward glances where the hand needs to be before you can dismiss the worries of being a bad friend and hail a cab.

Not that Smith would notice.

To him, you had completed your role, and earned your accolade in his eyes—the role of not allowing him to come to this alone. It would be criminal to do that. To let him arrive at a house tucked into acres, with Dom Perignon on tap and a grill larger than your kitchen.

You know you should be grateful Smith hadn’t traded you for his new friends. The ones who walk red carpets and call him Smithy. You suppose you should also be thankful he brings you so you can take home stories that make you not hate that you live in a studio apartment and work a 9 to 5.

It’s hard not to be bitter right now. On your own. Exhaling and staring around, wearing that plastered-on half-smile perfected from shitty customer service jobs.

Bringing your glass back to your lips, doing one last sweep before you sneak out, fighting the scent of split open apricots and pungent flowery perfume, you see him. Spot him. The crowd practically parting for him to come into view, creating a gap that would make a romantic swoon.

But, you’re no romantic—more thrillers and mysteries on your nightstand than meet cutes and midnight kisses. If anything, you’re more a cynic, a twisted-up, poisoned hater of hand-holding and Sunday mornings.

Especially when it comes to him.

Lucien Flores.

His name echoes around your skull in the same way it did when it was first introduced to you. Dropped to you, honeyed and elongated as though by stretching it out, you’d fall under some spell as he seated himself beside you—a deck of cards in hand.

Tipping the glass, your mouth fills with lemonade, holding his gaze—willing to do so until your eyes burn, until it feels impossible. All stubborn to a fault. Obstinate and arrogant.

You’re saved as a group moves in between the two of you—breaking it for you.

And you decide, rather quickly, it’s time to move—hoping the sight of your back will be enough for him not to press further.

You’re not counting—but he waits an hour.

Crosses the garden, where the tables have moved into standing groups around various points of the green. Some have stood to mingle, to mill around with their flutes and their tales of marriage, honours, and complaints once the grilling finished and the bubbles got to some of the louder women. Others begin the garden games, the ones which had no rules but also had some, as though the aim was to confuse rather than create fun.

Smith had returned between the salad being offered and the grilled steaks. A leaf between his fingers, he whispered he was going back to his tennis match. A twinkle in his eye, a kiss to your forehead, a promise there but one that never really seals itself or makes itself solid. Just confirms that your use was done—You don’t have to wait for me, pumpkin.

A nickname which had once made you smile and now just makes your heart lurch when you let go of his hand and watch him vanish into the house.

One person who hasn’t vanished is Lucien. It surprises you that he’s waited so long to make his approach. Almost as surprising as it is to see him, having heard rumours he’d landed a role in a movie—something British, remote, taking him overseas.

But he’s here. All brown eyes that attempt to drown you, pull you under—dig into you. You feel you should be used to them; they’ve been fixed on you for so long. Soaking you in deep chocolate, thick enough to make it feel like it’s hard to move, to fight it—akin to sludge, mud—as he begins to smirk as he nears.

And maybe he remembers too.

Able to recall a time similar to this. Not the first, but the second. When instead of barbecues and setting suns, it had been wine, cheese and a much later evening. Card games having caused outrage, shrieked words from a woman who should have been cut off a while ago, having caused you to slip out, escape to the first-floor bathroom. Finding he followed.

Don’t think about him—

The opposite sprouts so easily, you have to wonder what soil lives in your mind.

Because, of course, you had thought about it, about him. More than you should. Heat gliding up your neck now, making you shift your shoulders as the straps of your dress cut in, as you do. You think about how his lips felt on the juncture of your neck when you sit in conference calls, and how his hips had dipped before you felt his hardening cock slide over your covered ass. At night, you think about how it feels to have his thick fingers sliding open the button and zip of your pantsuit, how they’d slid inside your new lace undies and collected your slick to enjoy a taste.

The more you stopped yourself, the worse it became. Craving him when the moon was at its highest, hand delving between your thighs as you tried to replicate all the places he touched. Wanting, needing—desperately desiring until you arched from your sheets, sprinkled in sweat as you hissed his name out between gritted teeth.

That’s all you allow.

No second-glances passing newspaper stands when he makes the front page, no secret Google searches when you were frustrated and impossibly lonely. Knowing, and comprehending, that if you did, it would only lead to further disappointment. It would land you somewhere close to remembered disinterest, like those times when you’d found yourself sat across from charm and wit—making you disassociate when your palm rested on white linen with a candle flickering in the middle as you hoped, prayed, internally begged for a comment on how nice you’d looked.

Not again.

Never again.

So, you placed him where you suspected he had placed you. Out of sight, out of mind. Yours a box, right at the back of your mind—the lid sliding free when you needed release, and only then. It marked in thick Sharpie: a good time, even better cock, but comes with baggage.

It’s why you stand as he takes the final steps to you, your hand retrieving your glass, only to find it empty, drained, with only the little bits of fruit and a smidge of ice at the bottom. But his hands were not.

Extending one to you, one that looked close to the one you’d been enjoying—all mint leaves and lemon slices swimming in lemonade.

“What are the chances?”

You snort, taking a sip. “You’ve used that line.”

“Have I?”

“The last time.”

It’s his turn to snort. Staring. Looking you up and down in a soft drag that makes your stomach flip and your skin prickle with heat.

“Next you’ll tell me your name, tell me that you’re a movie star and that you’ve not seen me around.”

For a second, he gives you a silent stare, eyes speaking volumes that you couldn’t hear as he chews his tongue, and flicks his eyes from your chest back to your face once, twice. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

Swallowing, wrapping a hand around your middle, you smile—cold, wickedly. “No.”

“S’that why you won’t look at me?”

You eye him, as he does you. Despising that he looks good—that it’s another silk shirt, slightly unbuttoned, similar gold chains hanging from his neck. Hating that he looks so broad, that you remember how it feels to have them spreading your legs, how his chest feels pressed to your back with his cock in your pussy.

Loathing that right now, as you will a quip, a response, your thigh remembers how his palm felt on it as he held it and speared into you. How much of a mess he made of you, that you’d come so hard you’d seen galaxies and not just stars.

“Never known you to be this qui—”

Scowling at him through your eyebrows, you slide your lips into your cheek and straighten your spine. “Do I still look nervous?”

Your pulse quickens as he takes another step closer. His aftershave smothers you. It’s wooden and earthy this time, it flooding your senses as blood hammers in your ears. Every muscle in your frame going taught, tight—so close to snapping that you expect with one breath you’d play a tune like a harp.

Scoffing, a roll of his eyes and he’s taking a long drink of his water—a pebble of it remaining on his lower lip, it commanding to be stared at, to be wiped, to be noticed and applauded like the rest of him as he replies no.

You’re quick not to react, to let pride flood your expression. Something warning you against it, telling you not to—especially when he places his bottle down. The sound echoes out in the quietness of the moment.

“You do look fucking miserable though.”

There it is. Expecting it, the doorway to show itself so he can use a line to cheer you up, to have you smiling, as though he’s a gift. His cock might be, not that you’ll admit it—not even if he begged, if he pleaded.

“Maybe that’s because this asshole keeps staring at me.”

“You think I’m an asshole?”

Eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side as you shrug. “I don’t think you’re not an asshole.”

Rolling his lips, pursing them, before they flatten into a line—hand stroking the hair along his chin, his jaw, he bathes in it, your insult. Let it simmer, cook, before clearing his throat. “Is that why you gave me a fake number?”

Your mouth falls open. Your eyes quickly widen—all cards gone, knocking the air out of your lungs as your heart slams into your stomach for different reasons as he sneers, and shakes his head.

“Enjoy your drink.”

“I—I…”

But, he’s already turned his back.

While a perfectly good exit window had cracked itself open for you, you don’t take it.

Even if it would have allowed you to bid the ache in the arch of your foot goodbye, slide out with the people moving into the house to avoid the chill and those making their own escape.

But, guilt gnawed, chewed. It there ruminating when you catch sight of his silk shirt between other guests. When the scent of his aftershave lingered in the air when you stepped inside to catch your breath from having to re-explain what it is you do to the same people you had done hours ago.

You know he’s presenting a chance to leave, yet your hand grabs another glass bottle of water, the lemon slice bobbing around as you venture down the lit path no one else seems to be trekking.

The one you know he escaped down earlier, seeing it after you’d heard some of them talking about him—the man who doesn’t settle, the one who’s clean but not really clean, the one who has talent and charm, and they wonder in their hushed voices if his cock is really as big as it’s rumoured.

It took all you had to bite back that it is, wanting to point out you’d discovered it in one of their new bathrooms only three months ago.

You pause when you reach the end of the path as it morphs into perfectly manicured grass. Feet sliding from your shoes as you grab the straps, wondering what you’re doing—cursing yourself as your chest heaves and presses roughly against the too-expensive fabric as you question all life choices.

Because you wouldn’t survive him.

A man too big for you, who wouldn’t fit in your world. There’d be no farmers markets and Chinese takeout boxes in bed; no quaint coffee shops and sharing of woes of the day. It would be unbalanced, wrong, awkward, in the same way, it would be if you let him step into your shoebox of an apartment and battle feeling smaller than you do when you’re alone.

Adventure, you think.

He’d said that the first time—when his fingers had wrapped around your wrist and tugged you further into someone's hedge you didn’t know. All green leaves and the scent of flowers sticking to your skin as his mouth pressed to yours. He’d repeated it in the bathroom, your palm flush to the white tiles above the sink—clawing at grout as he hissed it in your ear, filling you, making your mouth contort around a moan of his name as he dragged his cock in and out of your puffy, needy hole.

You suppose adventures are fleeting, not ever after.

Something momentary, nothing serious.

You wonder if he’s actually an adventure or if he just thinks he is. Whether he struggles to leave the fun of who he plays or whether it bleeds into him—a patchwork personality of who he’s had to morph into. It gives him the tools to be an escape, becoming a pause from the mundane, but nothing that stretches itself out passed an evening into the daytime.

When you spot him, your adventure has his phone in hand—spinning it, round and around. Lit cigarette between his lips, the tip burning, paper crisping.

“You seem like trouble.”

Lucien doesn’t turn, but he hears your announcement.

The phone pauses in its 180—it catching the light flickering in the tree above, making the leaves and branches more ominous than they do surrounded by the vivid oranges and reds of the sunset, all fiery intensity. As though the horizon itself had caught fire from the tension, the sun sinking slowly into it, leaving a trail of molten gold and crimson streaks.

“Trouble?” he asks, deep, guttural—caked in smoke and disbelief.

“Trouble.”

Taking another step closer, you stop close to his side. Handing him the bottle, feeling him take it as drop your shoes and stare in the same direction he is—taking in the shades as they deepen before the sun bids the day goodbye.

“That realisation come before or after you came on my cock?”

Nostrils flaring, you regret finding him almost instantly. Shame blooming, filling you from stomach to throat. “A-after.”

He makes a noise, and leaves you in the cold of his mood. To the point, you question again what it is you’re doing. Why you fucking care. Because you don’t. Not really. There’s nothing to know, to latch to—no feelings that could become anything more than a crush.

Incompatible, you think. Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible—

“You brought me water.”

His head turns, takes you in—and sweeps you in the familiar brown from earlier. And this time, you let it hang on your shoulders like a sweater. Let it warm you, and bring you comfort. Allow it to smother the shame and force it to seep away as he blows out rings of smoke.

It quickens in its retreat when he pushes off from the trunk, pocketing his phone—it stretching the pocket of his dark jeans as you will yourself not to stare at the bulge already there.

“I did.” It’s matter of fact, no further questions—head dipping, a tightness forming as you shake your head and exhale. “I… I just don’t think your sobriety is a joke.”

You feel his gaze snap to you as the words hang—stringing themselves together like twinkling lights. Unwilling again to meet him, wondering if he was thinking about it, that first time. When a sentence was said in response to a casual joke as the two of you hid out of view. It was made by someone you didn't know, at a party where people pretended to be friends when really they were trying to belittle one another, and Smith pretended he wasn’t in love with the older man he’s vying for.

His cigarette is almost out when you look at him, the lit end illuminating his face in some ways, and casted shadows in others. But, you could see his eyes searing—likely able to even in the darkest night. It etches into you as he takes another drag, as your nose tries to capture the scent of it, it so him, a thing which comes to you when you’re close from your own hand, blotched by it.

“Do you have a collection of silk shirts or something?” 

Smirking, blowing a smoke ring between the two of you. “Do you not like my shirts?”

Breathing, you fight saying I do. Not enjoying that you think of how they feel between your thighs when he'd spread you with his thumb when his tongue had licked from clit to hole and made you sob.

“They’re okay.” 

“Liar.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “Says you.”

“She miss me?” Stuffing the cigarette under his shoe, leaning the water against the base of the tree as his chains catch the light as he straightens. “Bet she’s missed me.”

“She?”

His lips curl, eyes flicking down to the place your thighs meet, before he hauls them back up.

And it’s instant, the way heat floods your cheek, pussy fluttering around nothing—remembering.

The noise is first, recalling whispering sweet nothings as he slid inside you in one thrust. Next is the feel of him, the stretch, how impossible it had felt as he kept going, and going, until those fingers, thick and dexterous slid over your swollen nerves. Then, there’s the aftershave, the same as he’s wearing tonight. How it mixed with smoke and liquor, and roses and expensive hand soap—

“D-don’t flatter yourself.”

But you swallow, give it away. Shaky on two legs as you try to look unfazed.

Because you’re pulsing between your legs, starving, aching. Trying to blink back memories of his tongue, of his thigh, or his crooked smile in the mirror as he repeated your name, over and over, like it held weight—like it lived on his tongue and in his mind—

“Parched, are you?”

“Parched?” you hiss. “Who the fuck even are you? Who the fuck says parched—”

Snorting harshly, leaning in his stance as he shrugs, “Oh, you know who I am. I’m baby, baby, right there, baby, I’m gonna come, Luci—”

In a step, your chest is flush with his—hands steadying you on your hips as your palm flattens to his words. You’re aware of him smirking, gloating, right against your skin; feeling the wiry hair around his mouth scratching at you, the same one that left your skin raw and irritated from lapping up the taste of you both before sending you back out to smile.

Lowering your hand, you become conscious of how close you are and how his fingers spread out, holding you tighter, keeping you pinned against him as you descend into his web all over again. Embers spreading out, electricity pulsing out from where his fingers touch you over your dress, as your body recognises, identifies.

“I’m trying not to be an asshole.”

“Is that what you’re doing…”

His hand reaches up, stroking your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip as you take in a deep breath. “Tell me you don’t want me to make you come.”

You should. But, you don’t.

Instead, you close your mouth around his thumb, swirling the tip of it with your tongue as he grunts, right in the back of his throat before he slips it out with a pop. A second brews, and then another before his mouth crashes to yours, all impatient, hungry—rough. Lips parting for him as you feel him lick into your mouth, tasting cigarettes and lemon, at the same time as your back meets bark.

And you’re desperate, yearning.

Tugging him close, palms sliding over silk as you make a note that it’s softer than the faux-paint-splattered one. More velvety, smooth. Hooking your hands around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, practically feeling each breath as coolness slides up your leg, the heel of his hand gliding behind as he bunches the fabric in his hand, his jean-covered thigh coming up between yours as you hiss into his mouth at the contact. Lost in it, in him.

In how intoxicating he is, how wrong it is, clawing at him to come closer, to touch you, whining as he teases you by rocking his knee and slides his palm to cup your breast through your dress. Thumb expertly hardening your nipple, tongue lathing over a spot on your neck that has you keening.

You forget, for a moment, blissfully allow yourself to until he’s pulling at it—tugging at the label as you try to pull his face up.

“Shit, Lucien, no.”

He grunts. Not mockingly, but not full of surprise either. “Planning on returning this?”

Clenching your teeth, you take a breath—needing air to fill your brain to help you think. To ignore the way your lips are swollen and your underwear is already soaked and pressing to his thick thigh.

“Yes.”

“You look too fuckin’ good in this dress to return it.”

“Well unless you’re going to buy it, I have no other choice—”

“I’ll buy it.”

“No you fucking won’t.”

Because it would be wrong.

More than an exchange of your body, more than a mutual appreciation and hunger and need. It would be a gift. A something more. A thing that would fester in your closet and make you hope when you see it, make you dream when your finger slides over the fabric.

“Lucien.”

His fingers drop it, let it hang—the tag. Both your embarrassment and the price of it, just there, as his lips slide down your jaw.

“You won’t want to return it. You’ll want to see it hung in your closet—bury your fingers in your underwear as you stare at it, thinking of this.” Teeth grazing over your pulse, tongue swirling a signature you suspect is his own. “You’ll think of me when you stick that toy in your pussy, wishing it was me, turn it on right between your perfect fucking thighs and—”

You blame his fingers ghosting over your upper thigh for what you let escape, let slip free. “Already think of you.”

Pausing, his shoulders bow—somehow becoming even broader before his head comes up from his place buried in your neck. You see it, words, kindness—a bunch of things he could likely reel off that would make you ruin the wet patch on your gusset even wider.

But he ingests them, consumes them like they never existed. A different offered kindness, you suppose—as though he knows, can see, and begins to understand.

“Be rude of me not to say hi to her then.”

“Why do you…”

His thumb hooks into one side of your underwear, dragging it from its place. Aware of it, the way he’s gentle in shifting the fabric down, handing you the bunched-up dress with a pointed stare, before he’s teasing your lace from between your slick, soaked core. Tugging it down your thighs, eyes not breaking from yours, exhaling as he licks his lips at the sight of you bare to him in the middle of someone's fucking garden.

“Lift?”

And you do, without question. Taking a deep inhale in, closing your eyes, hand covering your face as you lift one foot, then the other.

Finding him staring when you look down. Ogling. Admiring you like what is there between your thighs is some art piece, an exhibit, a thing he’d queue for—as he pockets your panties.

“I’m keeping these.”

“Lucien…”

His hand urging yours to take the balled-up fabric of your dress as he rises, places kisses on your outer thighs, dragging his face slowly up your frame—breath fanning out, somehow feeling it under your layers.

“I’m. Keeping. Them.”

You swallow, silently surrendering. Back of your head flat against the tree as his hands nudge your thighs to part.

“Gorgeous.” He whispers. “You’re so gorgeous—prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

A protest readying, but stolen as one of his thick fingers slides over and through your folds. Knowing you, understanding you. Standing as he drags your slick to your desperate, swollen clit, swirling it, massaging it as you hiccup his name and forget all about his compliment and chase his lips instead. Instead, your hips move on instinct, desiring—determined to find more friction even as he just slowly draws a circle.

You know he’s grinning. Cockily. Frame pressing to you as you feel his hard cock against your thigh—hips keeping you pinned. Fixed.

“You want my fingers? Let me give you my fingers, baby.”

Nodding, fingers tangling in his curls you say it, more in a whisper, something close to a whine: yes, please, yes—

Aware of the heaviness in the air, how thick it feels, even in the breeze. In the same way, you’re aware of the way he breathes good girl. It makes you shudder, yearn, more so when he slides his fingers down from your clit and works two into you.

You gasp. Almost crying out. Unable to stop yourself when he curls them inside of you, bearing down on him, squeezing him, hand releasing your dress as your fingers grip his forearm.

“Want me to stop?”

Shaking your head, no, no, no—

“Good,” he breathes, kissing the side of your mouth. “She’s the best pussy I’ve ever had my fingers in.”

You almost hiss your bet that he says that to all the girls. But, your teeth grit. Not wanting him to stop. Not as your head tilts, eyes opening to see the navy blue smothering burnt orange, blurring the afternoon into the night through your lashes. Shh, he coaxes, as your nails dig into the bark, as he finds that spot inside of you that makes you dizzy, makes you pant. He works it, makes you roll your hips and his palm catches your clit in teased movements—

“Feel so good clenching down on me.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, and buries it right into your neck as he nips, as he grazes his teeth over your skin. “You tell me one thing but she’s giving you away, baby. Telling me all your secrets.”

Your hand tightens around the fabric in your palm, mouth falling open, paused around words that won’t appear—

“Said you’d tried to make your fingers feel like mine. But they just, wouldn’t, do.”

Each word is punctuated by his fingers fucking into you, crooked, making you messier, wetter, hearing the evidence of it, all filthy, obscene. Enough to get you barred from one of these events again.

Good you almost think, until his mouth slants over yours. Then, it’s bad. Very bad. Each flick of his wrist, and curve of his fingers solidifies it. How bad it would be to lose this, to lose him. The man who has your vision spotting, darkening in the corners.

“Fuck me, Lucien. Please—”

“Not tonight.”

Blinking, hearing it over and over: not tonight, not tonight, not tonight. Your body is lit, more electric than skin and muscle. Thrumming, vibrating bone against blood as he drags his moistened lips against your cheek.

“That’s it. Give it to me, can feel you squeezin’. I know you’re close, baby. So, soak my fingers, want you to stain them, make—”

You come somewhere amid his sentence—right when he kisses you properly. When he presses his vulgar words to your mouth and curls his fingers to meet that spot that has you arching, tensing and chasing. It’s maddening, and everything else before that. Hitting you, and exploding out—something like liquid fire erupting through you as you bear down on his fingers. Each cry and whine muffled by his mouth, by his tongue licking past your teeth and his hips being flush to yours. Pinning.

Because he doesn’t slow or stop even as you tremble. Not doing so until you’re gasping, frayed, all shaking nerves and splintered edges. Lucien swallows each heaved and hissed version of his name until you’re nudging him with your forehead, face scrunching, fingers pushing on his forearm until he retracts.

And, like it does in the movies, your dress falls back down into place. Creased, likely ruined. But nonetheless perfect to anyone who may glance.

Not that you care. Not as you chase normal breaths, as you blink and he comes back into vision, all ridiculously handsome and wide, brown eyes.

Because he’s watching you, seeing his lips curl into his cheek, fingers being brought to his mouth before he wraps his tongue around them. Licks and sucks you clean from them—

It makes you breathe heavier. Want more.

Even on shaky legs, you take a step closer to be flush to him. Arms sliding around his neck, finding your mouth glues back to his as though it should be there. Tasting yourself now, discerning it from the other things he’s enjoyed tonight.

“You do make me nervous when you stare.”

He gives a short laugh, hand on the back of your neck, tugging you back so he can stare into your soul. Something there. Something hurt that has healed all wrong, left things poisoned and rotten as you.

“You know I’m too fucked to be anyone’s anything, right?”

You smile, fingers teasing the hair on the back of his neck. Swallowing, seeing it shift back—the usualness of the two of you.

“See, this is where I think you’re an asshole.”

“For being honest?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head—lips ghosting over his. “Because I think you’re a liar. I think you’d kill to be something, never mind an anything.”

Smirking, but you suspect he stops it from being a smile. Offering silence, instead of a lie—a thing that’ll hurt and sting.

“You going to keep the dress?”

Shrugging, offering a roll of your eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“You think I could have your number now?”

Biting your lip, you tug on a particular curl. Hearing a dull yelp, watch him narrow his eyes. “I think you can have an email address and take it from there.”

Snorting, he tilts his head back as the both of you hear a commotion from the other end of the garden. Private time likely ending, his name called out in confusion by the same high-pitched voices you’re sure were comparing his inch size earlier.

“I fucking hate these things.”

“Yet you come to them every time,” you reply.

And then his head moves; stares at your side profile as you pretend not to notice. “So do you.”

So you do, you think.

hope you enjoyed! this was so much fun, and also so scary. but i did it, wahayyy. now, i should admit, i may have fallen for him...

npt's [added from the liked post]: @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @janaispunk @sawymredfox @angiewatson

@survivingandenduring @saradika @purplerain04