#cynthia is my slowing rolling muse right now

[the-insomniac-emporium]

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...

[blackmissfrizzle]

Don’t Make Me Say It

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel takes care of you after one too many drinks.

Warnings: it’s me so smut, duh 😂

A/N: Shoutout to my muse, my enabler, my lending ear @starrynite7114 for helping me brainstorm this!

If you like what you read, here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.

Gif credit @xxrouxx

“I can’t believe me you got me to wear this.” Angel pulled at the crotch of his costume, but you couldn’t stare at him for too long or you’d jump his bones and that wasn’t appropriate best friend behavior. “You could’ve chosen the other costume,” you whispered in his ear and ran away before he could catch you. Now he really had to readjust his pants as he watched your dress flap against your bottom showing a bit of the booty shorts you wore under.

“Damnnnn, Y/N!” Coco whistled while he twirled you around.

“You couldn’t have chosen another costume?” Angel snatched you back from Coco. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, “I thought you liked it? You said I look like a total badass.” Angel kissed your forehead, instantly feeling bad at poking at your self-confidence. “I do like it and you are a total badass. It’s just even with the booty shorts, your ass is hanging out. You’re lucky I can fight.”

“Coco is harmless.” Angel looked over your head to his brother who caught another glance at your backside. “Yeah, he’s gonna be harmless in a few.” Angel was making his way to the bar when Cynthia stopped him.

“Hey, Angel,” she gave him shameless head to toe once over and stroked his arm. You cleared your throat, there was no way you were gonna let this hoe ignore you. “Oh hey, Y/N. What are you? Supergirl?”

“No, dumbass, you’re thinking of Wonder Woman and you would still be wrong. I’m Xena.” Cynthia just looked at you with an open mouth and blank stare. “Warrior Princess?” You added, hoping it would help her out. “Nope, never heard of her.” She dryly stated but pepped back up when she turned back to Angel. “What are you, Angel?”

He looked down and smirked at you. If Cynthia didn’t know who you were then it was doubtful, she would get Angel’s. “I’m Ares.” She got that blank look again. You and Angel had to try your hardest not to laugh at her. “God of War.” Same blank look stayed on her face. “Okay, well catch you later,” he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and made a smooth getaway to the bar, where EZ had shots waiting for you two.

You took a group shot with the boys and immediately after told EZ to rack em up again. “Uh, chiquita you sure about that? We got that good shit.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Johnny!” You rolled your neck and took your shot. “I can match you shot for shot.” A sly smile crossed Coco’s face as he slid a twenty on the bar. “Wanna bet?”

Angel grabbed your wrist when you went for your wallet. “You sure you want to do that? Coco can drink.” You jutted your chin towards your opponent. “Him? See how skinny he is…man I’ll drink him under the table.” Angel threw his hands up in surrender as he watched you put your twenty down. “Okay, but I’m not holding your hair later.”

You overestimated yourself. You lost twenty dollars and to top it off you got a hangover.

Last night, Angel cut you off when you were dancing on the tabletop with Xiomara. And he’s glad he did, because as soon as you got to his house you ran for the bathroom.

“I told you so,” Angel sung while holding your hair. However, you didn’t have the energy to get smart, you were too busy throwing up your stomach lining.

Angel lived up to his name. He held up your hair until you were done vomiting, he started the shower for you. While you were showering, he got your clothes out since you kept some at his place for these types of occasions and before you went to bed, he made you drink some water and take some Tylenol.

But when you woke up the next day, Angel wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. “Just one more shot, Angel.” He mocked you, he made his voice higher to match your pitch. “Okay, okay you won. I should’ve listened to you.” Groaning, you roll over and grip a pillow for comfort.

Angel came and sat next to you and rubbed your back, making your back heat up from his touch. “Nah, but for real, you good?” Turning back towards Angel, you intertwined your fingers with his. “Better now, thanks to you.” Taking your conjoined hands, you turned them to kiss Angel’s. You missed the smile that graced his lips when yours met his hand. It was an asshole thing to think, but he wished he could get you drunk like this all the time, so he had an excuse for you to be laid up in his house.

“I got you, Warrior Princess,” he patted your thigh and got up, giving you a perfect view of his dick print in those damn sweats.  “I’ll make you some breakfast. Don’t want you puking all over the place again.”

“Fuck you, Angel!” You threw a pillow at him. “Promise?” He clasped his own hands together and bashed his eyelashes like a schoolgirl. “You wish,” you scoffed. “Then no food for you.” Angel walked away, his wide back disappearing into the kitchen. “No, Angel come back! I was just kidding!”

Angel popped his head around the corner with a big ass grin on his face. He came back to you, his dick print at the arm of the couch, making it eye level to you when you lean your head back. “I know, querida.” He kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

The whole time Angel was cooking you tried to wipe every impure thought of him. Currently, you were watching Lion King, hoping the children’s movie would cleanse you, but it didn’t. Angel kept interrupting your viewing by talking to you, his deep timbre leading you to daydream about how he would sound deep in your guts.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” Angel repeated your name until he finally clapped in front of your face to get your attention. “Huh?” “I said, did you like the food?” “Uh huh, yeah it was great, thank you.”

Angel eyed you warily as he took your plate to the kitchen. “Okayyyyy, imma get you something to drink because you’re still out of it.”

Fuck it, you thought. The worst thing that could happen is that he rejects you and all you have to do is blame it on the alcohol. “Cum or water,” you asked boldly. Angel came out bugged eyed with a glass of water. “Excuse me?” Sitting up, you tried to make yourself as presentable as possible. “Do you want me to drink your cum or water?”

This had the be a cruel joke, Angel thought. “Shut up, you’re still drunk.” He shoved the glass of water in your hand and tried to walk away, but you stopped him. “No, I’m not Angel. I’m very sober right now and I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Angel asked, keeping his back towards you. Taking a hold of Angel’s bicep, you turned him towards you. His eyes were downcast, trying his best to avoid yours until you lifted his chin. “I want you Angel Reyes, but if this is not what you want, we can pretend this was a drunken mistake.”

His silence scared you and caused you to back away. Leave it to you to make a fool of yourself and possibly ruin your relationship with your best friend. “Alrighty, then, imma get my things and go home.” Dejected you bent down to grab your purse and went for the door, but Angel grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. His name barely left your lips when his was on yours. At first it was soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters, but once he felt you kissing back it became harder, like he was making sure he never forgets the feel of your lips.

He gripped the back of your thighs and carried you until the back of his knees hit the couch. He only backed away, so you two could get an inhale of breath. Taking advantage of him releasing you, you slid down his body onto your knees. “I need you to hold my hair again,” you told him before you pulled down his sweats.

Good god almighty. Xiomara told you that the other girls at Vicki’s said that Angel’s dick was big, but you weren’t expecting this. How would he fit all in your mouth? And then who goes around not wearing any underwear around their best friend? “Scared, querida?”

“No,” you crossed your arms and pouted. “I was just wondering what kind of psycho doesn’t wear boxers with their best friend around?” Angel laughed and cupped your face to kiss you. “Maybe deep down I was hoping this would happen. Now are you gonna keep stalling or you gonna suck this dick, mami?”

Whew, you can do this Y/N. Taking a deep inhale, you rolled your shoulders and cracked your neck side to side. What was the first thing Xio said? Oh right, lube it up. Gathering the moisture in your mouth, you spit on Angel’s dick. In no way this could be sexy, you thought, but then you heard Angel mutter, “Oh fuck.” You gripped his dick and you didn’t expect it to feel so warm, smooth, and heavy.

His red, swollen tip was leaking precum and now you had to get a taste. First, it started with a little lick of the mushroom head, then it led to a lick from the underside all the way to the tip, then from his balls in your mouth while you jerked him off, and until finally your head was bobbing up and down from sucking him off.

“Yeah, just like that, querida.” Angel hissed, his hand wrapping around your hair. “Slow down, baby or I’m gonna cum.” You hopped off his dick momentarily. “That’s the point,” you smiled and went back to work, picking up speed. “Fuck, baby.” Angel grabbed your head and drilled his hips, fucking your mouth until his hot seed exploded in your mouth.

“Open up, baby. Lemme see,” he pulled your chin down to see his essence in your mouth. “Swallow,” he ordered, pushing your chin back up.

When he saw that you swallowed, he leaned down and kissed you, pulling you up with him. “Good girl. Let daddy return the favor.” He laid you on your back and pulled your shorts down with his teeth. “Mmm, you smell delicious, baby.”

The anticipation was killing you. His heated breath could be felt against your covered core, sending tingly sensations throughout your body. “Pretty ass pussy. Can daddy get a taste?” He snapped back your panties with his teeth.

“Mmhmm, please,” you whimpered under his touch. “But these panties are so soaked, mami. I think I should dry them out.” Angel fixed your panties into their rightful place and clasped his mouth right where your clothed clit was at.

Even through the fabric, you could feel Angel’s tongue and the man could work magic. Your vibrator paled in comparison to him. “Angel, please! I need the real thing.”

“You sure you can handle it?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, brace yourself.”

“Angel, shut th- OHMYGAWD!” Your back lifted from the couch and you clawed at it. Angel should’ve given a better warning than that. How were you not supposed to lose your mind?

‘Fuck’ was the only word you seemed to know. “Come on, mami. Cum all over my tongue.” You followed Angel’s command with screams and quivering. Never before had you experienced such a strong orgasm and Angel took notice.

“Damn, you good? Nobody made you cum like that before?” Angel murmured against your neck as he started to finger you. “Nope.” Your answer was breathy due to Angel’s ministrations. “Cause you’ve been fucking with little boys. I’m a man and imma take care of you, mi dulce.”

He ran off to his room to get condoms. Should you tell him? Would it be bad if you didn’t? But what if he stops if you do tell him? But Angel would want to know. What if he laughs at? Would he laugh at you? Nah, he wouldn’t, not your Angel.

“None of them made me cum, because I haven’t fucked any of them.” You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

“Huh?” Angel stopped rolling the condom on and looked at you through fallen strands of hair. “What do you mean, Y/N?” Angel knew what you meant, but he needed to hear you say the words. He needed to hear it come directly and unmistakably from your mouth.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” Angel looked at you patiently with raised eyebrows. Evil bastard. “I’m a fucking virgin!” You yelled and then covered your face with a pillow, hoping you would be able to disappear.

“Fuck, Y/N!” You peered from behind the pillow to see Angel rub a hand over his face and your heart dropped. Of course, Angel didn’t want to screw a virgin. What sex god wants to be with one?

“I’ll go now,” you tried to roll off the couch, but Angel stopped you with a hand on your hip. “Where you going?”

“Home, Angel. You clearly don’t wanna do this now.”

“Did I say that?” Angel pinned you beneath him, his face getting closer to yours. “No,” you whimpered, feeling yourself getting wetter at the waves of his dominance. “Then how did you get to that conclusion?” “Because you fucking blanched when I told you!”

“I fucking blanched, because your first time doesn’t need to be on my couch! You deserve the candlelight dinner, the wine, the flowers, a better fucking place than this!” He outstretched his hands around his home. “So, don’t you ever fucking presume that I don’t want you. I want you so damn bad that it hurts.” His voice croaked a bit, revealing his true feelings.

Cupping his cheek, you kissed him. “But I don’t want all that, Angel. I just want you. My first time will be perfect because it’s with you.”

“You sure?” He kissed the palm of your hand. “There’s no going back after this. I’m making you mines.”

You lifted your shirt and unhooked your bra, fully exposing yourself to Angel. His wanton gazed made you feel desired and a bit stupid for doubting Angel’s attraction to you. “Make me yours, Ignacio”

Angel growled and lifted you from the couch to carry you to his room. “Wait a minute,” he stopped in the middle of the hallway and pushed you against the wall. “How the fuck did you learn how to suck dick like that if you’re a virgin?”

“I had Xiomara teach me,” you nuzzled your face in Angel’s neck to escape the embarrassment. “Vicki’s Xiomara?! What the fuck, Y/N? Who the fuck was he?” He gripped your chin, fury covering his face until he saw you laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You,” you gasped between laughter, wiping away your tears. “Xio had me practice on a dildo, not on a john.”

“Oh,” Angel had that adorable little pout on his face when he got stunned. “So, did she wear a strap orrrr…” You slapped Angel against his chest. “None of your fucking business.” “Well, next time I see her I’m tipping her. She did a damn good job.”

He continued walking to his room and went to get a towel to lay you on. At first, he didn’t join you in the bed. Angel just stared down at you in disbelief that he finally had you naked in his bed. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Smiling up at Angel, you gripped his wrist to pull him down to you. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.” Angel kissed you once more while he reached out for a condom.

He was trying to open the condom packet with his mouth when you snatched it out and threw it to the side. “I’m on the pill.” Angel had to remind himself that he couldn’t jump on you like he really wanted to. There would be plenty of that later once you got use to him.

“God, I love you.” He bent down to kiss you, to distract you from the upcoming pain you were about to experience. You hissed and bit on Angel’s bottom lip when he finally began to stretch you out. “You good?” He lifted up to check on you. “Yes, please keep going.” Angel continued pushing until he felt something pop and checked on you once more. “Angel, I swear I’m good.” You strained, clawing at his back.

Angel didn’t know how he was keeping it together. “Querida, you feel good. You were made for me.” He whispered against your lips. “Can daddy move? Can daddy make you feel good like you did to him?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded your head, tears pricking your eyes from the delicious pleasure Angel was giving you. Angel pulled almost all the way out, just leaving the tip in then slowly slid back on. “Angel,” you gasped. “Louder, baby. I want my neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Harder!” You were not beneath begging. Angel was going slow, almost pulling all the way out just to fill you back up while he laid his forehead against yours and gave you praises. “No, not yet. I gotta savor you baby.”

Angel pushed up on his arms allowing him to reach new depths and watch him slide in and out of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, especially with my dick inside of it. Don’t you think?” He grabbed the back of your neck to make you watch. It was glorious, a marvel to look at. “Oh my god, daddy. Please fill me up.”

“You want my cum? You want me to fill my pussy up so much it is leaking down your thighs?”  Angel prayed you said yes because he couldn’t hold out much longer. “Fuck, yes! Please!” At your cries, Angel gave you controlled snaps of his hips and thumbed at your clit. As you screamed Angel’s name, he screamed yours, both of you cumming together.

Angel looked down at your conjoined bodies and admired his work. He did that to you. He made you cream like that, that it was dripping down your legs. But his eyes also caught the sight of blood, the evidence of him taking your purity and your well-being was back at the forefront. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He cradled you, scared that he hurt you. “No, worrywart. Actually, I was thinking next time you can go a little harder?” You shrunk yourself, scared that Angel might think you were weird for wanting it rougher.

“Alright, be careful what you wish for,” Angel warned you with a sly smirk.

--

Coco watched you limp across the yard all day. He knew it wasn’t with exercise because you told the crew you spent the weekend recovering from the Halloween party. But then he caught the little smile you gave Angel and the one Angel returned back and there was only one explanation he could come up with. “You hit that?” Coco tapped Angel’s knee and then pointed to you helping Chucky spread out some desserts.

“Y/N, come here.” Angel yelled from the picnic table. He watched you hold up one finger to Chucky and then run over to him. “What do you want, Reyes?”

“Come closer,” he ordered. You stepped in between his legs and he buried his hands in your hair and brought his lips to yours. The kiss was supposed to be sweet and chaste, but Angel couldn’t help himself. One taste of you and he couldn’t stop.

“Okay, we get it!” Bishop yelled, slightly disgusted at Angel tonguing down the young woman he considered a daughter. “You finally got your heads out of your asses and got together.”

Angel pulled away from you and both of you had silly, goofy, ‘I’m in love’ smiles on your faces. “Reyes you hurt her feelings and I’ll bash your knees in!” Bishop threatened, even though he could tell it was useless by the way Angel was looking at you.

“Yeah! You’ll be a no knee having ass bitch!” You teased, pretending to bash his knees in with your air baseball bat. Angel mushed your face, “I got it, Prez!” He yelled over your forehead with no worries about being a no knee having ass bitch.

Taglist: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​

[kumeko]

Title: Snow games

A/N: For @not-emmeryn for the  @nagamas exchange! I’ve never considered Lucina/Fjorm before, but since it’s a rarepair, I thought I should try my best to fill it for you. Hope you like it! (keep an eye out for another fic later this week, since I liked your other prompts quite a bit and wanna try to fill them too)

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The snow crunched as Lucina walked, packed powder crumbling as her heel dug into it. It was a strange sensation, almost like walking on the sand, and she could feel her feet threaten to slip out from underneath her. There wasn’t snow like this in her homeland, not for decades at least. At least the kingdom of Askr had provided her with a warm coat; Lucina wasn’t sure what she’d have done otherwise. Even through the coat, she felt cold. Without it, it’d be instant death.

 “Need any help?” Fjorm asked, standing in front of her. As expected of the princess of a snowy kingdom, she had no difficulties at all reaching this spot. If anything, she seemed to be completely in control of both herself and the slippery snowbanks.

 “No, I’m fine.” Lucina smiled but whatever reassurances she gave were undermined by the slight sway of her body as she tried to stay upright. Chuckling nervously, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I’m not used to snow.”

 “I can tell.” Fjorm giggled, offering Lucina a hand. “You don’t have any, where you come from?”

“No.” Lucina grasped Fjorm’s hand gratefully, intertwining their gloved fingers as she struggled to maintain her balance. “My home…a dragon took over it all. Burned everything, everyone. There hasn’t been snow there in ages, though I think the northern territories occasionally gets a dusting. I just haven’t ever been able to visit them.”

 “Fire…like Sutr’s home?” Fjorm mused aloud. She slowed her pace so she could walk next to Lucina.

 “Not quite.” Lucina shuddered at the thought of Muspell. If there was one thing she’d learned since she’d been summoned here, it was that the universe was bigger than she’d ever imagined. An entire world of ice and snow, another one of fire and ash—lands of such extremes existed, and somehow people lived in them too. “There isn’t that much fire, fortunately.”

 “Oh.” Fjorm scratched her chin, trying to picture it.

 Changing the topic, Lucina gestured at Fjorm’s clothing with her free hand. “Aren’t you cold?” It had been bugging her for weeks now. Back when they were Askr, it wasn’t quite as much of an issue—Askr was more like home, a place with varying temperatures and weather. Now that they were traversing Nifl, where it seemed only ice and cold existed, Fjorm’s light clothing and bare skin were worrying.

 “Me?” Fjorm blinked, glancing at her outfit. Flustered, she shook her head. “Oh no, I can see where you get the idea, but I am fine. It’s a family trait, we don’t really feel the cold anymore.”

 “Really?” Lucina stared, eyes wide. Then again, that made sense. No one from Muspell seemed to have a problem with the heat. Maybe it was like the emblem on her eye, a hereditary magic.

 “Yes.” Fjorm let go of Lucina’s hand and knelt on the snow. With her bare fingers, she scooped a handful of snow and compressed it into a ball.  She held it up, a proud smile on her face. “We are very good at snowball fights because of this.”

 “Snowball fights?” Lucina cocked her head, confused. Delicately, she picked up the ball from Fjorm and rolled it in her palm. The cold stung her skin. “You fight using this?”

 “You’ve never had a snowball fight before?” Immediately, Fjorm stood up and clasped Lucina’s hands, knocking the snowball to the ground. “What about snowmen? Snowangels?”

 “I don’t know any of that,” Lucina admitted sheepishly. “Are those all real things? Monsters?”

 “Monsters? Of course not!” Fjorm shook her head, appalled. With a determined expression, she turned around and started to drag Lucina back the way they’d come. “We will have to fix this mistake.”

 “What?” Helpless, Lucina trailed after her. Fjorm’s grip was like a vise and she couldn’t break free. “Where are we going?”

 “Back.” Fjorn frowned deeply. “I will have to enlist my siblings to help. A snowball fight is not nearly as fun with just two. It’s hard to get a stockpile or make a decent fort.”

 It almost sounded like she was preparing for a war. Maybe she was—Lucina didn’t know enough about the terms she was tossing about. All she could do was hold on tight and cross her fingers. Maybe she should have brought Cynthia or Owain with her. They were always better in situations like this.

 “Don’t worry.” Sensing her nervousness, Fjorn turned to her with a reassuring smile. “You’ll like this.”

 Lucina wasn’t so sure about that but she nodded anyways. “Right.”

 If worst came to worst, she could always use Falchion.

[amazingmsme]

Mission Gone Right

AN: I got a lot of feels over Spies Are Forever, so I wrote what I think would’ve happened if the mission hadn’t gone wrong. So, yeah here it is.

Owen couldn't fool Curt. How stupid did he think he was? Seriously, was a hat and a fake mustache the best he could do? And Russian really wasn't his best accent. But as soon as he saw his friend walk in with his very own dumb henchman, he knew he had to play along. It was like a game to them; they would always play the part of a villain while the other was caught only to reveal their true identity and bust out.

So he cracked jokes and one liners and flashed a smile here and there, even when Olog nearly crushed his balls. He wasn't going to lie, he did get a little nervous when he saw the metal bat so close to his crotch. He was relieved when it knocked against his chair and hit Olag between the legs instead of him, and he shook his head in mock sympathy.

Curt had never seen Owen so into a character ever since he had been strapped to a spinning wheel and the Englishman had been posing as an "evil magician" who was "practicing his aim" by throwing knives at him when he refused to answer his questions. Owen was seriously lucky that he was a good shot or else Curt would've killed him. Evil magician, Russian interrogator, Owen sure had a thing for cliché disguises. He bent down close to his face, and he could feel his hot breath on his shoulder. It smelled minty. Of course it did. He always had mints or gum on him, and he was thankful that he had chosen the former because he really didn't want to hear him smacking in his ear. Instead he heard him ask, "Where do you get off?" Oh he should know better than to use such wording...

He rattled off various places where the two of them had hooked up and felt him back up in shock. Curt liked this. He liked that he still had a sense of power even when tied to a chair. His smug smile was quickly replaced by a look of fear when he saw Owen pull out a long white feather and ran it over his neck. Damnit he was pulling out the big guns and if Curt kept up with his tough guy act who knows how long his friend will torture him for, so he easily gave in. But he still swiped the feather from his ears to his jaw, but finally backed off.

Finally Owen said the line that always indicates it's him before he tears off his disguise: "Personal history does have its benefits, Mega."

Curt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and watched as he shot both of Olag's kneecaps, sending him crumbling to the floor. In a swift motion, he rips off his mustache and hat, shaking out his hair. "Owen Carvour you limey bastard, I knew it was you all along. That accent sure could use some work though."

"Oh sod off, it fooled 20 Russian security officers and our dear friend Olag over here," he said with a smirk. After knocking him out and running and gunning their way through the building, Curt answered the call from his boss. Only to have Owen grab his wrist so that he could talk to her instead. He swore she liked him better, and he wasn't even part of their agency, but he couldn't blame her. He was very charming, even after letting a poor excuse of a bad guy "rough him up a bit."

And since the rocket shoes were a no go and the watch was boring, it was time to blow up the building. They were heading down the stairs and Curt just finished his healthy on the job snack and tossed the banana peel on the ground. At Owen's incredulous look, he explained, "What? The whole place is gonna be garbage in a few minutes anyway, who gives a shit?"

"Uh, I do because you just knocked off that safety rail, and that is a very bad place for a banana peel. They are slippery you know, it's not just in cartoons."

"Well do you see a trash can anywhere?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." Curt didn't like that look in his eye, and punched him in the arm when he grabbed the peel and tossed it on his head. Owen laughed and turned around, and no sooner than he did he started mocking him behind his back, pretending to hold a teacup with his pinky up and silently repeating what he said, shifting his jaw to the right to match his crooked smile. Owen sensed something was up but when he looked back at Curt he seemed to be doing nothing.

"Y'know, I think you were exaggerating when you said that accent fooled 20 security guards. You sure you didn't mean two?" he teased with a smirk, jabbing him with his elbow. He shot him a glare, "No you twit, I know how to bloody count." Curt held his hands up defensively, "Hey all I'm saying is it needs a little work." They then reached the bottom of the stairs, setting the timer.

"Atta boy, three it is." He knew they were pushing their luck by setting the timer so low, leaving no room for error. Lucky for them they don't often have those, and he has to admit it's an exhilarating game they share. They both live for the thrill of the rush, the adrenaline coursing through their veins. They were about to leave when suddenly they were surrounded.

They froze like deer in the headlights, standing back to back, their hands in the air. Well, they've been in worse situations... The ground beneath their feet began to shake and their captors fell to the ground, but they were able to keep their footing. They needed to get out of there immediately or else they were gonna blow.

"That's our cue, love," Owen shouted and grabbed him by the wrist. They ran up the stairs and rounded the sharp turn, where Owen almost lost his footing. Curt grabbed his arm and pulled him close before continuing their daring escape. "Told you that would've been a bad place for a banana peel!"

Curt huffed out an irritated breath, "Yeah yeah, can we just get out of here and do the I told you so's outside when we're not about to die?"

"Sure thing love, I'll get right on that. Say, how much time do you suppose we have left to get out with our bodies intact?"

"I'd say about a minute and 15 seconds."

"Christ! Cutting it a bit close, aren't we Mega?"

"Which is why it'll feel even better when we make it out!"

"You better be right about this!"

"Relax, I'm always right."

"Oh get off your high horse, clearly that interrogation did nothing to humble you."

Curt found the exit and kicked down the door. They ran as fast as they could through the parking lot and turned around just in time to see the building explode. They let out triumphant cries, jumping into the air and high five-ing each other. They hugged one another in a tight embrace, relishing in the flames and shrapnel. Curt let out a sigh of relief, "That was close."

"I'll say." Owen turned to look at him and locked their gaze, reaching out to grip his shoulders tightly. "But there will be no beating this record. We barely made it out with time to spare, and I for one am quite pleased with this time. I mean three minutes, that's quick."

"Under three minutes," Curt corrected him.

"That's barely the length of a song," Owen mused.

"Cynthia's going to be very pleased I'll say and- oh no."

"What do you mean oh no?"

"The blueprints, I must've dropped them!"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Owen yelled in shock and anger. "We just nearly died and you're telling me that they're now destroyed because of your butterfingers?"

Curt tried his best to keep a straight face, but the upturned corners of his mouth gave him away and he couldn't help but to start laughing. He was doubled over as Owen placed his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his own smile under wraps. He wagged a finger at him, "You're luck I didn't punch you in the face."

"Oh no, you'll leave that to our dear friend Olag, won't you?"

"Don't be so sore about it, it was all in good fun. And you held your own very well I would say, it's always best to have practice. Besides, I made sure to grab the least competent person I could find."

Curt narrowed his eyes, studying his friend. "How did you know he was the least competent?"

"Because I saw him follow seven men through a push door and when he reached it he still tried to pull," Owen said with a laugh, and his partner couldn't help but join.

"No wonder you were the better interrogator. Even if your accent was bad."

"You're still hung up about that fucking accent?Next time I'll be sure to use my Cockney one instead since you're so critical."

"Hey, I'm sure anything else would be better than "real-rerearelreareally nice"," he said doing his best impression of his terrible accent, and even Owen had to chuckle.  "In this business you need to be on your A game." He flashed him a grin and winked.

Owen scoffed, "Says the secret agent who caved to a little tickling." He smirked as Curt's face fell, "I only did because you were wasting time and Cynthia wants these blueprints ASAP." He started walking to where his car was but Owen just walked with him, even stepping in front of him and walking backwards so he could face him. He hoped the smug bastard would trip.

"You sure that's the only reason Mega?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Curt looked away, trying to hide his blush. Only when he looked down, he saw what Owen had in his hand and a nervous smile found its way onto his face and he held a hand up defensively. "Because personal history does have it's benefits." He reached out and Curt tried to duck away, but was a second too slow. He immediately burst into high pitched giggles, trying to swat his hand away.

"Now what was it you said earlier? That you're "deathly ticklish behind your neck and ears"? Because that's what I seem to remember. I wonder what good ol' Cynthia would say when she finds out the great Curt Mega surrendered to a feather."

He finally managed to wiggle free of his grasp and panted, "She will never find out, because I'll kill you if you tell her. I'd never hear the end of it! She'd kick my ass and fire me before I could even defend myself against your lies. 'Cause for some reason she believes just about anything you say."

"Not a lie because that's how it happened. And good to know about Cynthia. Totally not going to use that to my advantage. Say, you wouldn't mind if I left this with her would you?" he questioned, twirling the feather between his fingers.

Curt rolled his eyes, "As long as it's not in your hands I'm fine. And I was serious when I said she wanted these ASAP, because the longer you keep me the longer I'll get chewed out for how long I took," he emphasized.

"Don't worry, I'll use my new found knowledge to protect you from her lecture. I'm sure as soon as I say that you had to wait on me she won't be mad."

It turns out Owen was right. As always. And the next day when he was called into her office, he wondered why she seemed so... he wouldn't necessarily say happy but, amused. It wasn't until he tried to leave and he felt something light and fluffy brush over his neck did it all make sense. He whipped around to see a smiling Cynthia holding the white feather. She tilted her head to the side, feigning innocence. "Was there something else?" He knew from the teasing look in her eyes that she was never going to let him live this down. He was going to kill Owen.

[hide-in-imagination]

“What if” - Simbar One Shot

“What if Simón hadn’t found the handkerchief that day? What if they had had their movie date like they planned to?”

NOW A MULTICHAPTER! 

You can find the other chapters here: (2), (3), (4), (5), (6) & (7) ❤️

Hi! Cynthia here. So um, this is my first fanfic ever. These two have so much potential I just couldn’t resist. Originally it was gonna be “Netflix and Chill” inspired (cause let’s be honest, they were totally giving each other bedroom eyes) but it ended up being T rated at most hahaha. It’s rather long, sorry about that. Hope you like it and have mercy on me, English is not my first language ♡

THE WHOLE FIC HAS BEEN REVISED AS OF OCTOBER, 2020 ♡   CHECK IT OUT!

Simón was trying to focus on the movie.

He really was.

After all, Ámbar had said that it was her favorite and Simón was very keen on knowing every single thing about Ámbar Smith. He liked her after all, and he wanted to know her better.

But the more the time passed by, the sun settingon the horizon, the light through the windows turning slimmer, he became moreand more aware of the fact that they were alone, in her room, with her bed justone meter away from where they were sitting.

To say Simón was nervous would be an understatement. The worst part being that Ámbar didn't seem affected at all by this situation while he was dying inside.

After some painful minutes, Simón decided to set up the mood by doing the only thing that came to mind: the ‘I'm totally just stretching- Ups, my arm is now on your shoulder’ cliché.

It was so not original, but it would have to do.

Ámbar, of course, noticed what he was doing and rolled her eyes at his move. Well, that much he expected. What he did not expect, however, was for her to actually bring her chair closer to his so she could lay her head on his shoulder and pass her arm through his torso.

She was totally trying to kill him.

Not only was that the cutest thing he had ever seen and felt in his entire life, but also, now that she was this close, he could actually smell her perfume and damn, even her hair smelled like heaven.

Whatever shampoo she used was doing things to him. Or maybe it was just her. Her presence, her own natural scent and her body heat so close to his.

Simón just kept staring at her eyes, illuminated by the screen they were so fixated on, and then dropping his gaze to her lips, the memory of their kiss still fresh on his mind. He totally wanted to do that again.

He must have been staring too long because Ámbar turned around to face him, an annoyed expression on her face. She wasn't really mad though; he knew her. This was her acting like she was mad.

"Are you gonna watch the movie at all? Because if it is that boring you can just tell me, I'll put something else."

He decided to feign ignorance.

"What do you mean? I'm totally watching."

"No, you're staring."

"No, I'm serious. Look, the guy is gonna declare his love for the girl."

She rolled her eyes. "That happened like ten minutes ago."

"Really? Then I must have been distracted."

"Yeah, by staring."

"Staring at what?" he asked. It was just so fun to mess with her, he couldn't help himself. Every time, her cheeks would turn this shade of pink... beautiful.

Ámbar, never the one to back down from a challenge, just kept watching him straight in the eye, a little teasing smile growing on her face. "You were staring at me."

"At you?"

"Mhmm."

"Mmm nope, I don't recall. You'll have to be more specific."

They were facing each other now, the movie long forgotten. The TV was like background noise, their eyes dancing with each other, creating their own small world.

"You were staring at my face," she said. Her eyes held both amusement and challenge. Simón brought his right hand up and caressed her cheek, leaning in a little closer.

"Your face?" He mused for a little moment. "Yeah, I guess you have a pretty nose," he said nonchalantly. Everything about her was beautiful of course.

Ámbar could've left it at that, but she didn't. She seemed to be enjoying this little game just as much as he was. She moved just a little closer too. Now they could feel each other's breaths on their lips, could almost hear their hearts beating.

"No, not that," she refuted softly, her voice almost a whisper. They were so close though that he could hear her perfectly. "You were staring at my eyes, just like you are now."

"You do have beautiful eyes," he murmured back, leaning just a little bit closer. The most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, in fact. He had told her before, and he had meant it. They reminded him Cancún's sea. He felt like he could drown in their blue and get lost forever.

Another thing was drawing him in at the moment though.

"So... just your eyes?" He asked after what felt like hours but were probably just seconds. His eyes were now fixated on her lips. They were just a breath away and they looked so enticing he had no idea how he was holding himself back from crashing them against his own. But for some reason, he wanted her to say it first.

Ámbar's eyes were also looking directly at his mouth, hooded by her long eyelashes. She was so close he could count each one of them if he wished to. She licked her lips in apparent anticipation. The small gesture almost did him in right then.

"No," she replied slowly, and he swore he could feel the faintest brush of her mouth on his. "You were also staring at my lips... just like you are now."

The space between them had shrunk so much and gotten so charged that for Simón it was like his gulp could be heard all around the room. He felt like his heart was trying to leave his chest, and when he spoke, he thought his voice sounded an octave lower than usual. "You got all that while watching the movie?"

This time their lips were definitely touching when she answered, her voice the smallest of whispers. "I have a perfect peripheral vision."

All of you is perfect, he thought, probably said it out loud in one eager exhale- He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he couldn't hold off any longer.

Simón grabbed her face and kissed her with passion. The moment his lips were fully on hers, it was like fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. It was soft, but also harder than their first kiss, like he just couldn't get enough of her. On his mind was only the feeling of her: of her lips, soft against his own, of her scent filling his nostrils and surrounding him, of her hands moving from his shoulders to the nape of his neck. Everything was Ámbar, and he was drowning in it.

His hands delved into her hair as he moved even closer, forcing her to back up against her chair. Every place where they were touching felt like it was on fire. He was pouring everything into this kiss, all the pent-up emotions from their previous one when he had been left wanting more. Now they had all the time in the world and he was determined to hold her close for as long as she let him. He could hardly breathe but he didn't care. Who needed air when you could kiss Ámbar Smith?

At some point, Simón noticed he had her so pressed up against the chair that its back was painfully sticking to her shoulders. He had been so lost in all the feelings she evoked in him that he hadn't notice. He let go of her lips for a second and caressed her cheek, looking into the eyes he adored so much.

"Ámbar, let's move to the bed."

Ámbar's eyes went a little wide, and it wasn't until her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red that he actually realized how that sounded. He automatically started to panic.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean— I mean, I did— but not like that! It's just— I noticed that the chair's back is hurting you, so I thought it would be more comfortable for you if we laid on the bed. I wasn't thinking about— I mean, I was, you're beautiful, of course I was— Not that it's all that I want! Not at all! I like you for you, for who you are, and I really just wanted you to be more comfortable and—"

Ámbar saved him from further embarrassment by strongly crashing her lips into his. She literally knocked the air out of his lungs.

He was totally not complaining.

After some seconds, she pulled back and smiled at him. There was a special glint in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. Without a word, she held his hand and guided him over to the bed. They stood there for a moment, at the feet of it, just staring at each other. Simón thought he would be more nervous, and he was, but Ámbar's eyes were like a magnet, and her lips were pulling him in. So, when he leaned into them, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Everything in him came alive the moment their lips met, and Simón knew he'd never get used to the effect Ámbar had on him. He laid her down gently on the bed, never breaking the kiss. The feeling of her body beneath his was invigorating and soon he was running his tongue along her bottom lip, silently asking to deepen the kiss. Ámbar gladly parted her lips for him and then they were exploring each other's mouths, Simón's hands on Ámbar's hips and hers on his hair, pulling him close.

It had started slow, tongues running along each other like a dance, but soon it turned harder, unbridled. Each moan that came out of Ámbar was music to Simón's ears, like a melody composed just for him, and he was determined to hear it forever. The heat of her mouth was making him dizzy, the breathless gasps and her soft lips throwing him into a frenzy. A groan escaped him when she pulled his bottom lip with her teeth and he wasted no time in reciprocating. His hands were trying to make its way under her clothes, eager to feel her skin against his skin. He was totally regretting helping her pick asweater earlier— God, this thing had to go.

As if reading his thoughts, Ámbar moved her hands to the hem of her sweater and pulled it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to take it off over her head. The hem of her blouse was still tucked under her shorts but Simón made quick work of that and soon his hands were on her waist, the smoothness of her skin turning him on even more.

For her part, Ámbar's hands had finally left his hair (he was sure it would look like a rat's nest afterward but he couldn't care less at the moment), slowly traveling down his neck and to his shoulders, the feeling of her nails making him moan. She started pulling on his shirt and Simón made haste of taking it off, her hands automatically going to his bare arms and under his t-shirt. His lips went to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses all along the exposed skin. He wanted to be able to kiss it properly though, so his hands went to the buttons of her blouse. His eyes asked for her permission. She gave a small nod.

Simón opened the first buttons, moving the neck aside so he could kiss her collarbone. He licked and bit on the conjuncture between her neck and shoulder, making her moan loudly, a breathless "Simón" escaping her lips. A shot of electricity ran down Simón's spine at hearing his name like that. Everything in him screamed. Again, closer, more.

Ámbar's nails were digging on his back. His t-shirt was already halfway up so he sat up a little to take it the rest of the way off. Ámbar's eyes automatically went to his chest and Simón felt a little self-conscious. He was kind of well built, mind you, but he had been eating a lot lately and maybe he should've done more sit-ups this morning and—

Ámbar hands stopped his train of thought. She had sat up as well so they both were on their knees, facing each other on the bed. Her hands went from his chest to his neck and down again, like getting used to the feeling. Simón closed his eyes and focused on the sensation, letting her hands explore him freely. Had she done this before? Because it felt way too good.

A thought suddenly struck him. Did Ámbar and Matteo ever..?

Ugh, don't go there.

Whatever had happened in the past was none of his concern. Though he did a mental note to ask her later. Just for curiosity's sake.

Ámbar started kissing his neck while her hands went down and up his arms slowly. Simón groaned when she started licking on his pulse point just like he had done to her a moment earlier. His hands were itching to touch her, to pull her close, but he allowed her to keep her pace, the feeling of her lips on his neck way too good to make her stop. However, when Ámbar's hands ran down his abs, sliding dangerously low, he just couldn't hold himself back anymore.

Simón grabbed her hands and pushed her down on the bed. With her hands pinned on either side of her head, strongly held by his, he kissed her with everything he had. This kiss was passionate, raw. Their teeth tugged and their tongues tangled, trying to gain the upper hand in an endless war. A little voice in his head was telling him to slow down, that they were going too fast, but he just couldn't find the strength to pull away.

He was nestled between her legs now and nothing had ever felt more right. They fitted together perfectly and Simón couldn't believe he had lived this long without this other piece of him.

Letting go of one of her hands, he brought his left hand down to her right leg, securing it on his hip. Simón's hand went all the way up her leg slowly, from ankle to thigh, and he felt her shiver under his touch. Simón couldn't help but smile into the kiss knowing the effect he was having on her. Ever the competitive, Ámbar moved her free hand to his neck and slowly ran her nails along his spine making him shiver.

He was going crazy. Her hands on his bare skin, her hot tongue dragging along his lips slowly, sinfully— it was intoxicating. His hands were on the edge of her breasts and he was eager to keep going, to touch her more and have her touch him in return, to show her just how much she was turning him mad... but he also wanted to stop.

He never thought they would end up in that position so soon— definitely not just after their first kiss. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and he was functioning on pure instinct because- honestly? He had no idea what he was doing. How had this even happened? There were so many things he wanted to do first. He wanted to take her on romantic dinners, share long walks while holding hands, have training sessions full of sneaky glances and laughter, make her a thousand milkshakes and juices just so she could choose one...

Another very specific part of his anatomy though was screaming, Fuck romantic, she's right there!

Thankfully for him, or unfortunately, a high pitched shriek stopped them both.

"OH MY GOD, MY EYES!"

They both jumped upwards, Simón instinctively covering Ámbar with his body even though she was wearing more clothing than him. He was too shocked to do much else though, so he just sat there staring wildly at the figure on the door. Ámbar was quicker to recover and wasted no time on calling said person out.

"Oh my god, Luna, don't you knock?!"

Standing there in front of the door with a hand over her eyes was indeed Luna. Poor, poor Luna, who seemed way too mortified.

"I did! I knocked two times! How didn't you guys hear m- NEVER MIND, DON'T TELL ME."

At that, Simón and Ámbar turned to each other, the same expression of confusion on their faces. She did?

"Look, guys, never mind, okay? I'm sorry," Luna said, still looking at anything but them. Her whole body-language screamed that she would rather be anywhere else at the moment. "I just came here because my mom sent me to ask you, Simón, if you were staying for dinner."

Finally, Simón recovered his ability to speak.

"Um... no, uh..." He cleared his throat. God, his voice sounded like gravel. "I probably should go. The guys must be waiting for me at the loft."

"Okay, I'll tell her then..."

With a very awkward "bye", Luna exited the room, closing the door on her way.

Simón was kind of worried about her; she had looked totally startled. He knew though that the moment she got over her initial shock, she would tease him to no end and he would never live it down. Now that sounds like something to look forward to, he thought sarcastically.

Suddenly, a laugh erupted from the silence of the room and brought him back to reality. He turned to Ámbar and found her staring at him as she laughed her lungs out.

"I can't believe you covered your chest with your shirt!"

Simón looked down. Indeed, he was still holding his shirt to his chest in a lame attempt at decency. He must have grabbed the first piece of clothing he could reach in the middle of the moment.

"Hey, I panicked!" He defended.

"You're such a girl!"

"Stop laughing, it's not funny! Luna saw us! She is mortified!"

That just made her laugh harder though.

God, she looked so beautiful when she laughed that he couldn't get mad at her even if he tried.

He figured it was better to get ready to leave so he stood from the bed, grabbed his t-shirt and put it back on. Ámbar's laughter finally died and she too stood from the bed. She moved to collect her heels, which had gone flying at some point.

He had just finished putting on his shirt when Ámbar came closer. Passing her arms around his neck, she kissed him softly on the lips— Nothing like the kisses they had shared just moments ago, but wonderful nonetheless.

She pulled back seconds later, a content smile on her face that he knew was reflected on his own. She kept her arms around him and he wasn't even near to complain.

"You sure you don't want anything before you leave?"

"Nah, it's okay," he assured. "I'll have dinner with the guys."

"Okay. Just let me go to the bathroom real quick to fix myself and I'll walk you out. Wait here."

With another okay from his part and a quick peck from hers, Ámbar moved away in direction to the door. Right before she left though, she turned around to face him.

"Oh— and don't worry. I'll make sure to lock the door when the time comes."

With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Simón just stood there staring at it, his brain processing.

... Did she just say "when"?

Yep, she was definitely trying to kill him.

...

..

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Feel free to tell me what you think! <3 To anyone reading this thank you for taking some minutes of your time :)