#hitting the six month mark with him so

[flock-talk]

Toto had just about three consecutive days of being virtually unhandlable, there was one half a day in there that he was alright then the rest were just a ton of hissing and lunging and even outright flying across the room to attack.

It’s nice to have his sweet affectionate self back today. Whatever he’s been struggling with the last few days I hope he’s feeling safer now.

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending

wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“So, where are you now?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask. 

Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”

Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”

Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.

“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”

“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map. 

“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.

“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”

“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”

Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”

“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”

Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”

“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”

“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.

“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.

“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”

Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”

“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans. 

Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”

“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”

“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”

It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.

“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.

Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.

“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.

Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste. 

“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.

“Hey.”

A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.

“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”

“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”

The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.

“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”

Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”

“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”

Steve snorts. “Of course.”

Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.

“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.

“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”

“It’s never wasted with you.”

“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.

“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.

Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.

“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”

He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.

“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”

Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.

It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.

The phone finally rings.

“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.

“Steve?” the voice croaks.

“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”

“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.

“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”

Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”

“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”

To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.

“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”

“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”

“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”

The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”

“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.

“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”

Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process. 

“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.

“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.

“Promise.”

“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.

“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.

He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.

The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.

Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—

“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.

Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.

Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.

Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”

Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”

Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.

They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”

“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”

[hollyseb]

A COLLISION OF FATE - CEO!BUCKY X ASSISTANT READER (one-shot)

warnings; swearing, minors dni

2.4k words

summary; As an assistant to the powerful CEO Bucky Barnes, you’ve always kept things strictly professional—maybe even a little distant. But when a chaotic morning commute turns your world upside down, you find yourself relying on your boss in unexpected ways.

authors note; this is my first fic in a while so please let me know what you think!

Fuck.

You couldn’t help but pull the bed sheets over your head as your alarm sounded. You’d slept terribly, anticipation stewing in your chest all night long. A huge day at work loomed ahead. Your boss trusted you with organising a client meeting for a massive company project, and despite your meticulous preparations, anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly.

This marks your fourth month as an assistant to Mr Barnes, CEO of Barnes Industries. Your boss embodies power and leadership, standing well over six feet. He has a presence that’s impossible to ignore, although you often find yourself trying to; avoiding his piercing gaze, shrinking away from his broad figure. He intimidated you.

You’d learned to anticipate his needs, not just to impress him but perhaps as an attempt to keep your conversations to a minimum. Although you had managed to settle into your role, growing accustomed to your boss’ high standards, you often felt a sense of apprehension. You were overwhelmed by how important he was. Mr Barnes wasn’t just your boss - he was a force of nature.

The two of you maintained a strictly professional relationship, even lingering towards slightly cold sometimes. You liked to do what he needed you to do, and then get out of his way. However, every now and then, you’d catch him watching you with a look that lingered a moment too long. You’d always assume there was something on your face, or a smudge on your shirt, anything that might explain why he was staring. But when you checked, there was never anything there.

For Bucky, it started with the little things. He noticed how you always made sure his coffee was exactly how he liked it, down to the last detail, even on the most hectic mornings. You remembered the smallest preferences he had, the things he rarely even thought about himself—like the way you would quietly replace the pens in his office with the specific brand he preferred, or how you always ensured there was a bottle of his favorite water in the conference room before every meeting. These weren’t just the actions of a diligent assistant; they were gestures that spoke of someone who genuinely cared, someone who paid attention to him in a way that no one else ever had.

Your snoozed alarm began to sound again, piercing your thoughts like a violent shriek. Just get through the meeting, you told yourself, before ultimately deciding to drag yourself out of bed. The thought repeated like a mantra. Is it normal to feel this worried about disappointing your boss? You thought, before swatting away the idea. You didn’t need to focus on that for now.

A hot shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clinged to you. Your movements were robotic as you went through your morning routine, driven by the pressure of the meeting.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. 7:45 AM. It felt as though the numbers were taunting you. You ran a hand down your face, bracing yourself for the day.

Time to go.

After locking the door to your small, cozy apartment, you made your way down the narrow, communal staircase. The morning air hitting you with a welcomed bite as you stepped outside into the car park.

You slid into the drivers seat of your aging Mini, the familiar creak of the door and worn leather seat beneath you provided a familiar comfort. It wasn't much, but it was yours, the car you'd had since you were 17. You shifted into gear and gripped the steering wheel, the hum of the engine almost grounding you.

Just get through the meeting, you repeated, merging into the flow of morning traffic. You let your mind drift to the day's plans, mentally rehearsing the things you had to organise when you arrived at the office… calling the clients to confirm their attendance, setting up the meeting room, dropping the itinerary off at Mr Barnes’ desk.

As you approached a red light just a few blocks from the office, you felt a fleeting sense of calm. Your heartbeat, which had been a relentless drumbeat of anxiety, finally began to settle into a more regular rhythm. The office was so close, the meeting so imminent. All you had to do now was make it through the last stretch of traffic and face the day.

Without warning, a loud, violent crashing noise shattered the calm. The force of the impact threw you forward, your seatbelt straining against your body painfully. The contents of your bag spilling into the passenger seat footwell alongside the sound of crunching metal. Your mind was blank, struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

What the -?

Your heart raced, your breaths leaving in shallow and quick successions. The realisation hit you like a second wave of impact - you’d been rear-ended.

You gripped the steering wheel like a vice, catching sight of your pale face as movement caught your attention in the rear view mirror. the driver of the car behind you was already out of his vehicle, storming towards you.

Rather than waiting for you to get out the car, he began shouting at you through the closed window. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouted, his voice echoing violently.

He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in a wrinkled suit, face red with anger and eyes practically bulging out his head.

You took a deep breath, adrenaline surging through your veins. Stay calm, don’t escalate. You unbuckle your seatbelt, ignoring the dull pain of where it had dug into you, stepping out your beloved car.

“Do you even know how to fucking drive?” He yelled, arms flailing. “I’m going to be late for work because of you, stupid bitch”

You were taken aback by his blatant profanity. Humiliation rising in your body as bystanders gawked at the interaction.

You blinked, your nerves fraying under his aggression. “I was stopped at the light. You hit me,” you said, voice trembling.

”Bullshit!” He spat, inching towards your face. “You stopped like a fucking moron and now look at my fucking car!”, he pointed in the direction of his vehicle, a sleek black BMW, barely scratched.

The sight of your car, however, made your stomach turn. The bumper was shrewd across the concrete, the metal contorted dramatically. You’d come off much worse than him. You could feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“This is all your fault!”, he spat, voice dripping with venom. “You’re going to pay every cent for the damage you’ve caused.”

Before you could respond, he lunged closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “Do you even realise how fucking pathetic you look right now? Crying because you’ve ruined my car-“

The man was interrupted. A firm, authoritative voice cutting through his ramblings like steel.

“Is there a problem here?”

You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was - Bucky Barnes. The sight of him hit you like a tidal wave. For a split second, you were frozen, breath catching in your throat.

Bucky’s sharp blue eyes were fixed on the angry driver, his expression a mask of controlled authority. Your eyes shifted between the two, noticing how Bucky towered over the man.

The man’s voice was quieter than before, his composure tense. “Who the hell are you?”

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I’m her boss,” he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. “And I suggest you step back before you make this any worse.”

The anger in the man’s stance faltered, replaced by a grudging recognition that he was outmatched. With a final glare towards you, he stormed back to his car.

You exhaled, realising you’d been holding your breath. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice shaky from adrenaline.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening a fraction. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a warmth which contrasted the icy authority he had shown moments before.

You watched the way his eyes trailed down your shaking body for any obvious signs of injury.

You nodded in response. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just a bit shaken”, a forced smile pursing against your lips.

He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your height, his face inches from yours. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “You don’t have to put a brave face on with me. Are you really okay?”

The depth of his concern was more than you expected, combined with the gentleness of his touch, you felt like your head was spinning.

”Thank you, Mr Barnes”, your voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m okay, I promise”.

Bucky’s expression softened even more. “Let me take you to the office. I’ll sort you out and make sure everything’s taken care of.” Bucky said, his voice low and earnest.

His words soothed you. He placed a firm but gentle hand on your mid-back, guiding you towards his car. The warmth of his touch was a comforting contrast to the cold air. You found solace in the protective way he guided you.

When you reached his car, Bucky opened the passenger door for you with a quiet, practiced grace. His movements were deliberate and careful, as if he wanted to ensure you felt as secure as possible.

Bucky closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side. As he settled into the driver’s seat, he adjusted the rear view mirror, his gaze flicking over to you. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes, when it’s just us two. James will do.”

You met his gaze in the mirror, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. You faltered for a split second under the heat of his stare. “Okay, James”, you said quietly.

He gave a small, approving smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “That’s better,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s get you to the office.”

Your boss wouldn’t let you know, but the way you trembled when that man was yelling at you, the way his words reduced you to feeling small and insignificant, made Bucky’s blood boil. His usual calm and composed demeanor was barely holding back the fury simmering beneath the surface. The sight of you being treated so harshly, so unfairly, sparked something primal in him—something protective and fierce.

Arriving at the office, Bucky parked with a practised ease and opened your door, offering a supportive hand as you stepped out. Eyes glazing over you again to see if you were moving with any discomfort.

As you walked into the building, you were met with a flurry of activity. Bucky led you to your room, settling you into your office chair with a soft, reassuring hand on your back.

“Take a moment to breathe,” he instructed, his voice a mix of warmth and authority. “I’ll handle the meeting for now, okay? You’ve had a rough morning.”

You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bucky made a few quick phone calls and sent some emails, managing the meeting logistics with the efficiency and competence that defined him.

Throughout the morning, Bucky periodically checked in on you. Each time, his concern was evident, his questions simple but genuine. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” he would ask, always with that soft, protective tone.

By lunchtime, Bucky made sure you had something to eat. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and relief as you ate, noting the gradual return of color to your cheeks.

As the workday wound down, you wrapped up your tasks and prepared to head home. Bucky had been a steadfast support throughout the day, ensuring that you felt taken care of and that everything went smoothly despite the morning’s chaos.

As you gathered your things, Bucky approached with a rare, genuine smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” you said, returning his smile. “I really appreciate everything today.”

”Well I would love to drive you home, but I still have a few more things to wrap up. One of my drivers will take you, okay?”, your boss said, leaning against the door frame of your office.

You opened your mouth to politely decline, feeling that he had already done enough for you today. However, you faltered when he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression, you knew there was no point in arguing.

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he said, satisfied, a part of him wanted to grin at your obedience as he circled back to his office.

The ride home was quiet, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You were exhausted, but there was also a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t quite explain.

When the car pulled up outside your apartment, you thanked the driver and stepped out. The cool evening air was refreshing after the long day, and you were eager to wash the day away with a hot shower and a bottle of wine.

But as you approached your apartment building, something caught your eye. Parked in your usual spot was a familiar-looking Mini, only this one was brand new. The gleaming paint, the spotless interior—it was unmistakably the same make and model as your beloved old car, but this one was perfect in every way.

There’s no way, you thought.

Your heart pounded as you took a hesitant step closer, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. There was no mistaking it—this was a gift, one that had been carefully chosen to replace what you had lost earlier today.

A note was tucked under the windshield wiper. With trembling hands, you pulled it free and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unmistakable.

You’ve had a rough day. I hope this makes it a little easier. – James

A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You never expected something like this. Bucky hadn’t just replaced your car—he’d chosen something that he knew would mean something to you, something that was a perfect reflection of who you were.

As you stood there, staring at the car that now felt like a symbol of so much more, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you and Bucky had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone.

A collision of fate.

————————————————————-

TAGLIST!

@sashaisready @matchat3a @writingpastmybedtime @melsunshine @lex-the-flex @himawariizephyr @jbbarnesgirl @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sagebarness @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @selella @armystay89 @globetrotter28 @iwritewithpenandpaper @casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @buckydarling09 @kandis-mom @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90

[leclerced]

my girl | op81 cs55

summary: mafia!oscar is possessive over his best friend who he hasn’t seen in months due to his work. he has to step in when a rival tries to ignore his city wide ban on her. inspired by this brainrot from j about mafia oscar

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. possessive oscar, degradation, carlos being tied up, reader getting fucked in front of carlos, mentions of violence (its a mafia au what do you expect?) unprotected sex, marking, etc.

author’s note: will eventually write about them talking. but wanted to post and am too tired. this is 7.7k worth of smut. please let me know what you think 🫶🏻

Carlos has always known about the protective order, it’s part of what makes the chase so fun. He’d seen her around town and asked about her and his men told him she was off limits, deemed so by the leader of his rival gang. Many told him they’d tried hitting on her and were later threatened by someone to stay away from her, usually when they went for a drink or a piss. Carlos wants to laugh at the idea of someone scaring his men away from a woman, but then someone says they know people have been beaten half to death for getting too handsy in a club, people who disappeared when they didn’t listen to the warnings.

Carlos is the one she’s dancing with when Oscar finds them, Lando had pointed out her presence in his club when she arrived and he’d been searching for her. It would have been preferable to find her with anyone except his rival, but there she was, in a slinky black dress with her arms around his neck and his thigh slotted between hers. He’s sure his rival is here just to bother him, but he has a rule where no business is conducted on club grounds, so if Carlos is just here to party, he won’t start trouble. But this- he knows Carlos knows that she’s off limits by his own word. He can’t help the way his possessive side comes out when she sees her grinding against his rival.

Oscar doesn’t think twice before he sandwiches her between them, his hands resting over Carlos’s and the man’s eyes flutter open. He grins wickedly at Oscar, the very man who has a do not touch order on the woman he is very much touching right now. Carlos pulls her closer and presses his thigh up and she whimpers, her head falling back to rest on the shoulder of the new body behind her when the smell of his cologne hits her. It makes sense why the touch felt so familiar, why she felt so comfortable when a stranger joined them. Oscar.

She would have frozen if Carlos wasn’t guiding her body with his, she suddenly feels exposed as her best friend trails his hands down her hips. Suddenly, he tugs her back against him and at the same time, he pushes Carlos’s leg away and replaces it with his own. “Really? Didn’t think you think you had it in you to be riding a thigh in the back of some club.” The alcohol coursing through her veins prevents her from thinking clearly enough to remember he’s her best friend and best friends don’t do this; ban others from touching them and then interrupt their would be hookup, but it feels so natural she doesn’t think twice about rocking her hips down on his thigh.

His lips brush against the shell of her ear and he feels his rival try to guide her body back to his but he tightens his grip and holds her to his chest. “Don’t fucking think about it, Sainz.” Her mind splinters as she realizes they know each other, that Carlos definitely knows about the rule she didn’t know about until a few nights before when one of her best friend’s new buddies told her of it. She wants to ask him where he went, where he’s been for the past six months, but he presses his thigh into her pussy and she can’t do anything but gasp. She can feel him smirk as he rocks his body against hers, and she leans into him unconsciously.

His next words send a shiver down her spine, “Were you planning on taking her home?” Carlos nods and her stomach tightens, pussy fluttering at the thought. Oscar’s fingers twitch against her hips and he presses her down against his thigh. She lets out a moan as her clit rubs his thigh and he asks her, “You think he could make you cum? Is that why you’re here tonight, looking to get fucked?” She can’t help but nod, her hands tugging Carlos’s hair as she rolls her hips against Oscar’s thigh desperately. Carlos tries once again to pull her back to him and Oscar snaps, “You’re in my fucking club, Sainz, remember that. My girl, my club.” His sharp tone causes Carlos to stop pulling on her. He’s never called her his girl before and it makes her moan embarrassingly, in shock and satisfaction at hearing the words she’s always longed to hear. Oscar directs his next words to her, “Did you know that, doll? You came to my club, looking for cock.” She gasps at his words, wondering how her childhood friend could own a club, but he doesn’t give her time to ask for clarification before one of his hands slips between her thighs and presses against her panties. “You came to the right place, baby, I’ll give you what you want.” She grinds against his hand as Carlos glares at them, her eyes lock with his and she can see the hatred burning in them as her lips part in a moan when Oscar’s fingers slide her panties to the side and find her clit easily.

She doesn’t know where he’s been, what happened to him, hadn’t heard from him other than occasional texts or flower deliveries. She doesn’t think this is her Oscar, the sweet boy who picked daisies for her on the playground, or the one who makes her soup when she’s sick. No, this is someone she doesn’t know. This is an Oscar she hasn’t met before, one who bans a city of men from dating her because she’s his. One who owns clubs and claims her like this in them. She wants to know where her Oscar went, but she doesn’t want this Oscar to leave her. She’s drunk on him, soaking in the feeling of his middle finger swirling around her clit as his lips begin working at a mark on the side of her throat. Her head lobs to the side, and his lips drift further south. It’s like he’s searching for something when he pulls her hair back and ghosts his lips over the nape of her neck. Then he’s whispering in her ear, “Where is it?”

Her mind spins with confusion and she mumbles, “What?”

He nips at the lobe of her ear then growls, “The necklace. Where. Is. It?”

She shivers at his tone and one of her hands leaves Carlos’s neck to reach for the bare spot on her chest, where his initials have hung for years, but finds nothing. She almost panics before she remembers how she specifically took it off, not wanting his initials branding her when she went out looking for another man tonight. She doesn’t have to say it. He knows, and it makes him angry. The fact that she’s worn that necklace every day since he gifted it to her, but chose tonight to take it off. He bites her throat, really bites it, she think there might be a bruise tomorrow in the shape of his teeth, but the thought turns her on instead of angering it the way it should. The possessive gnash of his teeth on her flesh hurts, digging in enough that the momentary pleasure turns to pain and she’s clamping her thighs around his and whimpering.

Carlos watches the act, doesn’t know what Oscar whispers to her, but he sees his lips move, feels her hand leave his hair and meet her blank chest, lips parting in a silent gasp. Then Oscar’s giving Carlos a look that should scare him, as he sinks his teeth into her flesh. Her eyes flutter shut and he sees a grimace of pain on her face as Oscar releases his hold. Then, he bares his teeth at Carlos as he slides the strap of her dress down before sinking his teeth into her shoulder, and her other hand leaves Carlos to reach and tangle into Oscar’s hair. When he releases the second bite, he grunts, “We’re leaving.” He says it to Carlos, and something about it tells him to follow, that Oscar wants him to follow. She looks at Oscar like she’s in love, turning her head to him and brushing her nose against his cheek affectionately.

She’s not expecting Carlos to follow them or Oscar to let him follow and climb into the backseat while Oscar opens the passenger door and ushers her in. He even buckles her in, pressing a kiss to her hand before he ducks out of the car and shuts the door before rounding the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. She assumes they’re going to Oscar’s, she isn't sure where that is anymore, she tried going to visit and it was up for rent, and he didn’t return her texts to hang out. It sends a pang of hurt to her heart, the way he’s ignored her for months, and the anger she should have felt earlier begins to set in as she realizes he’s been ignoring her until he saw her with another man. He seems to sense her unease and rests and hand on her knee, she wishes it didn’t, but his touch immediately relaxes her and the thoughts fade away.

Instead of Oscar’s mysterious new place, she finds herself recognizing the route back to her apartment. She stays silent the entire ride, wondering what Oscar’s planning in his head. Once they make it inside her apartment, Oscar grabs a dining chair and begins walking towards her bedroom, so she follows him, Carlos in tow. Oscar sets the chair in front of the bed and she waits behind it, Carlos by her side, as he begins looking through her dresser. A moment later, he pulls out a tie, an old one either he or an ex left behind. “Sit, Sainz.”

The older man rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest, “Like hell you’re tying me up.”

Oscar glares at him through the vanity mirror as he begins searching through the jewelry box on top, “Sit down, or get the fuck out.” She glances between them and Carlos looks at her, probably expecting her to speak out for him, but she does nothing. He sits. Oscar turns a moment later, a gold chain in one hand and the tie in the other. She recognizes it instantly, and her hand drifts back up to the space just under her collar bone where the gold letters always sit. He doesn’t have to ask her to lift her hair when he moves behind her, she does it automatically and he clasps his initials around her neck like a collar, brushing his fingers over the still darkening teeth marks on her skin. He nudges her aside and crouches behind Carlos, tugging his arms behind the chair and tying his wrists together. Carlos instinctively tries to pull his arms away when Oscar finishes to test the knot, but it holds. Oscar pats his shoulder as he stands and mockingly says, “Good boy. Now stay.”

The order makes Carlos see red, and he begins to react, to jerk up and out of the chair and smash his fist into Oscar’s jaw, but the knot fights his strength and the position he’d tied in holds him back against the chair so he can’t even stand up. He slumps back after a moment of writhing, Oscar’s hand burning a hole through his shirt. He realizes then he’s about to be made to watch them fuck, not partake like he’d foolishly thought at the club. He should have known, should have let them leave and found someone else to sink his cock into.

He can hear lips smacking and then they’re in his side view as Oscar pushes her towards the bed. His cock twitches in his jeans as he watches Oscar unravel her with a kiss, her hands grasping at his shirt to pull him closer as she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him harder, moaning into his mouth. He can feel his heart pumping faster, can feel the blood pumping through his entire body as he fights the restraints. Oscar easily lifts her onto the bed and her legs wrap around him automatically, grinding her pelvis against his and she moans again. It’s easily the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he can tell Oscar is putting his all into the kiss and she’s taking it all and giving herself to him. He’s never wanted to be anyone other than himself, but in this moment be would kill to be Oscar.

The instant Oscar’s lips are on hers, the man she met earlier in the night vanished from memory. She can’t get enough of him, if she thought his lips on her neck earlier felt good, this was euphoric. He keeps biting her lip too, nipping and sucking at them before slipping his tongue back into her mouth. She’s never been kissed so good before, she never wants to stop kissing him. Then he pulls away, tugs her lower lip between his teeth before letting it smack against her upper lip and diving in for another sweltering kiss. She can feel how wet she is in her panties, the feeling of soaking fabric would be annoying if the ridge of his cock wasn’t pressed against her. She wondered if she was soaking through his jeans with how wet she was, if he could feel how hot she was for him down there.

It’s as if he can read her mind, his hands on her hips pull her closer and he grinds his hips against hers as he pulls back from the kiss. He brings one hand up to curl around the dainty letters hanging at her throat and she imagines him twisting the chain around his fist to choke her with it. The image makes her whimper and she looks up at him, awaiting.. something. Oscar licks his lips, can taste her strawberry lip balm on his own lips, the same one she’s used since she found it a decade ago and hailed it as her personal holy grail. He knows the taste well from having borrowed it over the years, but it’s much better coming from her own lips. He keeps the chain hanging from a finger as he lifts his hand to her jaw and squeezes lightly, “Open.” She blinks slowly at him and it reminds him of her cat, he wonders where it is, he didn’t notice the orange pest when he walked in, and then forgets about it again as her jaw falls open and she blinks at him again, just as slowly as before. He leans down over her and gathers saliva in his mouth before spitting onto her awaiting tongue. She flinches as he spits but doesn’t close her mouth, just blinks a few times in quick succession as her cunt throbs with need. She’d expected him to press the necklace into her mouth, not spit. She’s too turned on by the possessive act to be grossed out, and then he tells her to swallow it and she can’t help but moan as he presses her jaw closed for her.

Carlos has never heard something so erotic as the sound that leaves her when she swallows Oscar’s spit. The sound is so needy, he can feel precum dribble out of his cock as he squeezes his eyes shut and imagines she’s making that sound for him. He opens his eyes again when he hears her gasp and finds Oscar on his knees between her legs. She’s blushing and staring right at Carlos like she’s forgotten about him in the time that Oscar was kissing her. He clenches his jaw then teases, “Forget I was here? You look surprised to see me.”

Oscar laughs from his place between her thighs, “Haven’t even touched you yet, and I’m all you can think about, hm? I told you she was my girl, Sainz.” Carlos growls at the words but doesn’t deny them. Neither does she. There’s no point, not when her cheeks flush more at his words and she looks down at him fondly as she pushes his hair back off his forehead, leaving her hands curled in his hair. He watches as Oscar leans into her touch momentarily, imagines he’s letting his eyes flutter shut as he relaxes into her. Then, his hands are on her legs and he’s pressing a kiss to her knee before stands back up. He tugs at them hem of her dress, and she lifts her hips so he can pull it up. She automatically raises her hands above her head so he can lift it off, then lets her hands fall to his chest as he drops the dress behind him on the floor, his hands finding new purchase on her thighs. They teasingly slide up until they meet her panties and he hooks his fingers into them and tugs. She lifts her hips again so he can pull them down her legs. He kneels like before, pressing her legs apart so he can fit between them. Her hands find his hair again, running through it before stopping halfway through and resting on the crown of his head.

Her eyes meet Carlos’s again, briefly, before he looks down to take in how bare she is. The gold letters glint at Carlos as his eyes rake down her body. They’re the only thing remaining on her, marked with bite marks on either side of the gold chain and a hickey further up her throat. Her tits are as nice as he imagined, as plump as they looked in her dress. He wishes he could touch them, kiss them. Disappointingly, Oscar’s blocking the view of her pussy with his head.

Oscar’s lips find her thigh and he begins trailing kisses up her thighs until he meets her center, her hips unconsciously shift to meet his mouth. She keeps her eyes on him as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and brings his hands up to part her lips. He groans at the sight, and his warm breath against her makes her shiver. He lets his lower lip fall free as he leans forward and presses his lips to her swollen clit. The action makes her stomach twitch and she whines, pressing her hips forwards again for more contact. He pulls back and she huffs impatiently, but before she can complain he leans back in and flattens his tongue against her, licking from her entrance to her clit before sucking the bud between his lips.

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth as she lets out a moan and Carlos groans, wishing he was the one tasting her. Her hands leave Oscar’s hair to press into the sheets and her head falls back between her shoulders as a louder moan spills from her lips. He tries again to slip out of the tie around his wrists, but doesn’t feel it give, doesn’t hear the fabric begin to tear. The skin around his wrists is sore already from his attempts to get out, he doesn’t know what will happen if he does get out, but he needs to touch her like Oscar is. She looks delectable as Oscar pushes her legs up to rest on his shoulders and nuzzles his face into her pussy. She arches her back as she falls back on the bed, catching herself on her elbows at the last minute. Her hands find her tits and she whines blissfully. Carlos watches as she pinches and tugs at her nipples while grinding her hips against Oscar’s face, her brows scrunching and lips parting each time a moan slips out. He would do anything to touch her right now, he can’t think straight because of how good she looks. His mouth is watering, he keeps licking his lips and swallowing down the spit that gathers in his mouth. It’s unfair. Carlos has never been more turned on his life, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Oscar moans against her pussy, he’s never tasted something so good in his life. This is where he’s meant to be, between his best friend’s legs with his tongue fucking inside of her. She sounds like an angel above him, whimpering his name and grinding on his face. When he flutters his eyes open and looks up at her, he’s blessed with the sight of her glossy eyes staring back at him. Her perky nipples are pinched between her fingers and she twists them as he moans against her again. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as her head tips back and she moans, but then she licks her lips as she reopens them and cries, “Feels so good Osc, ‘m so close.”

He really can’t help but moan again as she clenches around his tongue and he shakes his head to the side, his nose bumping her clit. He suddenly pulls his tongue from her hole and he licks flat up to her clit before mumbling, “Cum for me.” At the same time, he slips two fingers into her entrance and curls them. He reattaches his lips to her clit and sucks softly, gently nipping it with his teeth. He’s rewarded by her thighs clamping around his head and a warm gush around his fingers as she moans sweetly.

Carlos can hear the slick squelching noises coming from Oscar’s fingers in her as she cums, mixed with the sounds of their moans. He wants to mock Oscar for moaning into her pussy, but knows he’d be doing the same in his position. He can’t believe he’s fucking drooling watching his rival eat the object of his fantasies out. At this point, if Oscar told him he could touch her if he begged, he’d get on his hands and knees and kiss the floor at his feet for a chance at tasting the nectar between her thighs.

Oscar doesn’t stop lapping at her pussy until her thighs relax around him, then he suddenly releases his hold and kisses his way up her body. A moment later, his wet hand is grabbing her jaw and pulling her in for a hot kiss. Oscar’s hips grind against her’s as he kisses her, licking into her mouth as he moans. She can feel her pussy clenching around nothing as his cock rubs against her through his jeans. She detaches her right hand from her now sore nipple and drags it down his chest to slip under his shirt and press to his abdomen. “Fuck me, please, Oscar.” She pulls back from the kiss and whines, rubbing her nose against his softly.

He grins and stands to look back to Carlos. He looks angry and turned on, Oscar can see his cock hard in his jeans, and can feel the anger radiating off of him. He can’t help but tease, “You look fucked.”

Carlos snarls at him and tries to fight the restraints again and Oscar laughs. Laughs. He looks fucking gleeful, his slick mouth opening wide as he squeezes his eyes shut, his head falling back. Carlos tries to stand and can’t, and it makes Oscar laugh harder. Then, suddenly he goes quiet and his face softens, but he looks at Carlos with pity, not fondness. “Be good, and I might let you cum.” The idea that Oscar has any control over Carlos makes his stomach twist, and he spits at Oscar. It lands on his shirt and the older man smirks. The younger man returns it and leaves his place between her legs and grabs Carlos’s jaw. He can taste her on Oscar’s fingers when he squeezes his jaw and shoves two inside.

Carlos gags as they hit the back of his throat and pants, his tongue unwillingly pressing out. Oscar smirks as he spreads his fingers and forces Carlos’s mouth wider, then spits on his tongue. Anger flares through Carlos and he tries to yank his arms free, tries to jerk his face out of Oscar’s hold, but it only hurts his wrists and forces Oscar’s fingers back into his throat. He hears her gasp behind Oscar and feels humiliated at the thought of her witnessing this.

Oscar groans at the feeling of his fingers spreading his spit over Carlos’s tongue. “Can you taste her? Does she taste good?” He’s surprised the older man isn’t biting his fingers off when they press into his throat and he fucks them into it twice. He retracts them at the idea and the man’s mouth snaps shut, he can feel his jaw tensing under his fingers as he grits his teeth and swallows. He lifts his knee and presses it into the man’s crotch, softly, and is rewarded with his eyes fluttering shut and his head tipping back as his jaw relaxes and his lips part. Then he seems to catch himself and his eyes jerk open and he kicks Oscar away with a grunt.

Oscar releases his hold and turns back to find she’s made herself at home in the pillows. He strips himself quickly before joining her on the bed, grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the center. She lets out a surprised squeal and his stomach flutters at the grin that briefly takes over her face. He trails his hands up her legs and taps at her thighs. “Sit up for me.” His voice is soft and she instantly follows the command. She pushes herself up with her elbows, then hands, and tucks her knees under her as he slips behind her.

As soon as he moves, she locks eyes with Carlos and her entire body flushes as she takes in the way he looks. She can see his chest rapidly rising and falling, can hear the pants falling from his lips as he stares at them. He’s not glaring anymore, his eyes have glazed over and he just looks starved. Or fucked, as Oscar said. He meets her eye and she almost wants to ask Oscar to take pity on him and untie him, but then he’s lifting her hips and she can feel his cock against her ass. She wishes she had taken a look at it when he was in front of her, but she was too preoccupied thinking about her best friend spitting in Carlos’s mind. She breaks eye contact with Carlos to look down as Oscar’s hand sides from her hip to between her legs and watches as he swirls them around her clit before slipping two back inside.

Carlos finds himself following her gaze down and is met by the sight of Oscar’s fingers dipping inside of her. He looks back up to catch her reaction and finds she’s tipping her head back on Oscar’s shoulder as she gasps. He watches as she lifts a hand to curl it in Oscar’s hair behind her, to pull him impossibly closer. Her other hand wraps around his wrist to keep it between her thighs. He can feel Oscar staring at him and he meets the boy’s eyes.

Oscar curls his fingers as Carlos looks at him and she whines. “She’s so pretty, yeah? See why I won’t let anyone else touch her?” Carlos nods stupidly, he wouldn’t let anyone touch her either. Oscar smiles a little as he continues, “Haven’t done this before, y’know?” He presses a kiss to her neck and she sighs, tilting her head to the side to give him more room but he leaves it at one chaste kiss. “She’s so perfect, I didn’t wanna ruin her.”

She arches her back and presses her hips down on his hand, his fingers brush deeper inside her and she mewls. “Want you to ruin me, Oz.”

He snickers at her words, “I’m going to, and he’s going to watch. Gonna enjoy it too, aren’t you? You’re going to love every minute of it, watching me make her mine.” Oscar pulls his fingers from her cunt, she tries to push his hand back into place but he shakes her off and brings his hand around to wrap around his cock. She relaxes when she feels his hand behind her and realizes he’s about to replace his fingers with his cock.

He sighs as he guides the head of his cock to her entrance, dragging it through her slick to bump her clit. “Can’t believe I waited this long, can you, baby?”

She tugs his hair as she shakes her head, “Too long, Osc.” He slips his cock back to her entrance and she feels him press inside slowly. A whine leaves her lips at the instant stretch and she reaches behind her to grasp at his thigh, “Oh god, you’re big.” He presses further in and moans into her ear. He lets her adjust for a moment, his hands find her hips and he strokes his thumb across the skin soothingly as she pulsates around him. Then, he suddenly tugs her flush against him. She screams at the sudden intrusion, she can feel him in her stomach as he bottoms out. It burns, her cunt clenching around him helplessly to accommodate him. She almost falls forward but he catches her before she can, his hand quickly sliding up her body and wrapping around her throat to hold him against her. He doesn’t put any real pressure on her throat, just holds her.

Carlos can’t tear his eyes away from the pair, he can see her pussy stretching around Oscar’s cock, can see her slick soaking his cock. His own cock twitched at the sound of her scream and dribbled precum at the sight of her taking the other man’s cock. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t kicked Oscar’s momentary touch away. Her entire body is stretched out for Carlos to see, Oscar’s hand keeping her in place around her throat. The pretty gold necklace taunting him. She looks so fucked out just from Oscar being in her, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering open and closed like she can’t keep them open but she wants to see. The idea that she wants to see Carlos in front of him makes him groan.

The sound piques Oscar’s interest, distracting him from the feeling of her squeezing him. “She feels so fucking good, mate.” He shifts his hips, barely drawing out before pushing back in, to see if she’s ready. When she moans and it doesn’t sound pained, he repeats the action. “Feel good, baby? You like taking my cock?”

She sighs and nods, “Feels so good.” His hand on her hip moves between her thighs, skimming over the soft patch of hair there before he finds her pussy. He presses two fingers to her entrance around his cock, slicking them up before her drags them to her clit and begins tracing his name into her clit one letter at a time. Her entire body convulses on the R shape, so he repeats it and he feels her thighs twitching against him.

Carlos looks defeated to Oscar. He’s slumped over in the chair, head hanging limply as he watches them. He keeps licking his lips and swallowing, but that’s all he’s doing. Watching Oscar’s cock slowly thrust in and out of her. He decides to give him a show. He picks up the pace of his thrusts and the room is filled with the sound of her moans and his pants, the slick squelching of his cock entering her eat time and his skin slapping against hers. Her back is arched beautifully, probably painfully, as she tugs on Oscar’s hair and presses herself back on his cock each time he pulls out.

It doesn’t take long for her to come unraveled, he can feel it before she tells him, the way her cunt flutters and her stomach contracts. It almost does it in when she tells him, whiny and breathless, “‘M gonna cum.”

He brings his lips down to her ear and says, “Cum around my cock, pretty.” She moans at his words and he presses harder on her clit, fucking into her harder. He sinks into her neck again, just under her ear, and the pain sends her over the edge. He holds her against him as she tries to pull away with the force of her orgasm, he wants Carlos to see it all. He keeps his eyes on the man as he fucks her through it until she finally goes lax in his grip and he lets go, of the bite and his hand around her throat and she slumps forward. He feels bad when she doesn’t even catch herself, lets herself fall face first into the plush mattress. Her body shivers once more from the sensitivity of her orgasm as Oscar leans over her and his cock shifts again. He looks Carlos in the eye as he says, “She’s my cockdumb whore, got it?” Then sinks his teeth into her shoulder. She whines and tries to jerk away but he bites harder and she stops squirming. Her pussy flutters around him blissfully and he groans against her skin. When he releases the bite, he flicks his tongue over the indents of his teeth and kisses it before pulling back to admire it. He brings his hand that was around her throat to press into it and she whimpers. His voice suddenly goes soft as he softens his touch and traces the outline and coos, “You want me to stop? Is it too much, honey?”

She shakes her head, spit slick lips dragging against her duvet as she mumbles, “Feels good.” She knows he can’t understand the muffled words as soon as they leave her and she quickly turns her head and presses her cheek into the sheets and repeats it clearly.

He presses down on the mark, “Yeah? You like it when I bite you? Mark you?” She repeats herself again, and he grins. His hand trails down her back until it rests on her hip and he pushes himself back up. “You’re so fucking wet, baby, all for me. Soaking my cock.” He wants to fuck her like this, with her face buried in the sheets, staring at her pretty ass, but he has a better idea. He pulls himself out of her, his grip tightening on her hips as she pushes back to chase his cock. He taps her hip with one hand, “Roll over, on your back.” She huffs but follows the order, rolling onto her back then shuffling underneath him. She automatically lifts her legs and wraps them around him to pull him closer. He allows it, brings his hands to rest on her hips and lifts her, holds her to her chest and shifts them closer to the edge of the bed then drops her, her head hangs off the edge and Carlos has the perfect view of her face and the necklace sitting pretty between her tits. He hadn’t realized his grip had tightened so much when she was cumming, but there’s a pink imprint of his hand. He wants Carlos so watch him fuck her like this, in the perfect position for her mouth to be fucked by him, but restricted from doing so.

Oscar lines back up with her entrance before he places his hands on her thighs and buries his cock in her in one swift movement. She chokes on a moan, and Oscar finds himself jealous of the sight Carlos gets when she arches her back and claws at the sheets. He tightens his grip on her hips to hold her steady as he sets a bruising pace, eyes locked on where her pussy stretches around his cock. He hears her whimper and casts his gaze up to see she’s playing with her tits again, squeezing them with both hands before pinching her nipples and repeating the action. He releases his right hand and grabs her hand to press it into the sheets, then dips down and wraps his lips around the abandoned nipple. Her hand fights his grip and he releases it out of curiosity, and she tangles it in his hair as she moans, “Oscar, more.” He lets go of her nipple and mouths at the flesh of her breast before he sinks his teeth into it. Her legs tighten around him and she moans sweetly, he releases the flesh before he cups the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss.

She whimpers into Oscar’s mouth as his cock brushes her sweet spot on every thrust. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders for a moment before she curls them around his neck to hold him against her. His nails scratch against her scalp as he licks into her mouth. She can feel him all over her, fingers digging into her hip and scalp, his cock in her stomach, sweaty chest pressed against hers. She drops her head back to gasp for air and his lips find purchase on her throat, nipping and sucking harshly. She meets Carlos’s eye again and licks her lips as she thinks about his cock in her mouth. His lips are bitten red and she wants to taste them, see if she can taste herself, taste Oscar, on his tongue.

She’s suddenly overwhelmed by pleasure when the hand on her hip moves and he presses his thumb to her clit. Her back arches as she moans his name, fingers slipping into his hair and tugging as he nips at the column of her throat. Oscar moans softly before teasing, “G’na cum around my cock already? So good for me.” His words push her over the edge a third time and she tightens her legs around him so he can’t move as her orgasm rocks through her. He resigns himself to grinding his cock into her, apparently perfectly so because her moans suddenly get pitchier and she writhes beneath him. Her pussy is hugging his cock so well, pulsating around him as her orgasm rolls through her body. She collapses underneath him after a moment and gasps for air. He pushes himself up to look at Carlos, his own cock twitches at the sight of his rival. He kind of looks pretty the same way she does, red lips and glossy eyes. His cheeks and nose are flushed and his hair looks soft, nice to run his fingers through. He looks down the other man’s body, to the obvious bulge in his jeans and feels his stomach stir. It probably hurts, he almost feels sorry for him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes the thoughts aside, refocuses his attention on his best friend beneath him when he reopens his eyes. Her tits are bouncing with every thrust, the necklace shining in the light. He leans down and captures the pendant between his teeth then drops it into her own mouth, hanging off the bed. She instantly closes her mouth around it and whines. “That’s my girl. You look so fucking good like this. Doesn’t she Sainz?”

Carlos lifts his head slightly and groans, “Fucking incredible.” He wants to ignore Oscar, tell him to fuck off and untie him, but he’d agree to anything right now. She whines at his words and he instinctively bucks his hips up in search of friction and moans pitifully when he finds none.

Oscar dips his mouth back down to wrap around her right nipple, tugging on the bud with his teeth before sucking on it. She pets the back of his head as she sighs and presses into his touch. He’s so fucking close, he’s barely holding himself together as he quickens his pace to bring her to the edge with him. He stops circling her clit with his thumb and traces the letter R again, and she begins trembling around him again. “You almost there, baby? Gonna fill you up, mark you as mine.” A long, drawn out moan falls from her lips and she grips him so tight he almost explodes, but then she gasps, “Please, ‘m so close.” He groans against her skin and drags his lips from her breast back to her throat and skins his teeth into the flesh. Her body seizes under him as her orgasm crashes over her and the feeling of her gushing around his cock again sends him over the edge. He releases his bite to moan against her skin, pressing his lips to the indents his teeth made. His entire body shudders as he spills his seed inside of her, he can’t help but press his hand into her stomach to feel his cock bulging out.

Carlos has never been harder in his life as much as he would like to protest it. His jeans have a dark spot where his cock has been steadily leaking precum and it aches with a need to be touched he hasn’t felt before. He groans as he watches Oscar empty himself in her, his ears burning from the sounds of their mixed moans. It’s a sinful sight, Oscar rolling his hips into hers and her blinking dazedly at Carlos as her orgasm crashes through her. He finds himself moaning as he grinds his hips into nothing, feebly searching for satisfaction. She finds it in herself to grin at him, before her mouth falls back into an O as a moan spills past her lips and her eyes roll back.

Oscar pulls back from her throat when he’s sure he’s done cumming, but the sight of the marks on her throat and chest force another ribbon of cum out of him and he hisses. He slowly pulls out of her and immediately moves to Carlos, pressing his knee into the man’s crotch again. He doesn’t fight it this time, so Oscar curls a hand in his hair and forces him to look up at him. “She’s mine, got it?” Carlos nods as best he can with the hand holding his hair. “Say it.”

Carlos grits his teeth before admitting, “She’s yours.” Oscar nods, pleased. He maintains his hold but steps away from Carlos, turning back to his friend. “Darling, come to me.” She whines but rolls over and sits up, crawling to the edge of the bed before she swings her legs off the edge and stands. She wobbles and tips forwards into Oscar, he catches her then lowers her to the floor between Carlos’s legs. Oscar presses her face down with a gentle hand on the back of her head and she immediately places her hands on Carlos’s thighs and leans in. She lets her mouth hover over the wet spot before Oscar gives her another nudge and she begins lapping at his cock through his jeans. The moan he lets out goes straight to her cunt and she clenches around nothing, Oscar’s cum dripping out of her to the hardwood floor beneath her. She moans at the taste of him on her tongue and sucks at the fabric, earning another moan from Carlos.

Oscar’s once again struck by the thought that Carlos looks pretty when his eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a moan. He lightly tugs on his hair, not to be mean, just because he wants to, and is rewarded by a soft sigh and Carlos pushing his head back against Oscar’s hand. He tightens his grip and pulls harder, drawing a moan from the other man. “Look at her,” he coos and releases his hold on Carlos so his head drops again. He moans at the sight of her mouthing at him through his jeans, at the feeling. “She’s only doing it because of me. You get to cum because of me.”

Carlos groans at his words, his cock twitching at the bare mention of an orgasm. He’s worryingly close already from watching, from not being touched for so long. She looks up at him as she finds the head of his cock and begins sucking at it through his jeans and he can’t do anything to stop his orgasm from crashing over him. His head tips back as he moans and shudders, fighting against the restraints to tangle his hands in her hair and the pain of the fabric rubbing his wrists raw makes his mind spin.

Cum seeps through his pants and she eagerly laps it up, much to Oscar’s enjoyment. “How’s it feel to cum in your pants? Can’t say I’ve done that before.” Carlos starts to retort back to Oscar’s teasing, but then her teeth skim his sensitive cock through his jeans and he whimpers instead. It causes Oscar to snicker and pull her head back, “That’s enough, I think.” Carlos sighs and slumps into the chair, sucking in air as he stares down at her slick lips. The golden necklace is shiny as ever on her throat and he wishes he could rip it off and replace it with one of his own.

She looks up at Oscar and smiles like she didn’t just suck Carlos’s cock through his jeans, and then leans forward to press a kiss to Oscar’s bare hip. He ruffles her hair like a pet before stepping away, behind Carlos. He feels cool hands on his wrists, then a moment later his wrists are being massaged by cool fingers. He wants to jerk back from the touch but he doesn’t have it in him, too relieved to finally be released from his confines to care that his rival is doing something caring. A moment later, his arms are let go and he immediately brings them to his face to investigate the damage. His wrists are red and chaffed, sore, but nothing too bad. As he’s studying his wrists, he feels a nudge to the back of his chair, “We’re going to shower. You can let yourself out.” Carlos frowns at the words, jealousy burning in his stomach as she stands and he takes in her bare body again, hopefully not for the last time. Oscar’s hand finds her waist and he takes her hand and guides her to the bathroom. The door shuts, and he hears the lock click behind them.

He spends a few moments collecting himself, running through the last few hours, before he pulls out his phone and calls his friend Lando to come get him, hoping he doesn’t notice the wet spot on his dark jeans when he arrives at the sent location.

[nadvs]

better off (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary your split with rafe left its mark. when you feel like you’re finally getting over him, he pulls you back in. you decide that break-up sex is the best way to say goodbye once and for all.

warnings substance use, smut, toxic relationship

» masterlist

You have to remind yourself of his temper. Of his need for control. Of how fucking mean he can be.

Because when you’re at a party in a beach house on the north side of the island and your phone flashes with a text from Rafe, your drunken instinct is to reply to him.

It’s been a month since your last explosive fight. That argument in his car was the final nail in the coffin, the wake-up call that whatever you were trying to put back together was unsalvageable.

It ended abruptly. Your mind has replayed your last screamed words over and over again. This isn’t working, you shouted, your throat burning. Fuck it then, he shouted louder.

And you got out of his car and haven’t spoken since.

Despite its end, it’s not like your six-month relationship was all bad. Between great dates and even greater sex, you two had formed a real friendship. Because of those good times, you’ve been holed up in your bedroom since, grieving, crying your eyes out.

But when it was bad, it was toxic. You yelled at each other. Called each other names. Played mind games.

The worst was that you were both fuelled by spite when you were angry. He purposely hit you where it hurt, validating your insecurities just to crush you.

Although you exchanged some vile words, you think you’ll always regret when you told him he’s just like his father. His face fell. He went quiet. You’d never seen someone’s eyes lose their light quite like that.

Your eyes travel over Rafe’s text. You at Dec’s?

Your mutual friend Declan is the host of the ridiculously loud party you’re standing in the middle of. This is the first time since the break-up that you’ve felt okay enough to go out. And your stomach turns with anticipation that Rafe is somewhere here in the crowd.

At first, you wanted to text back that you are. But as your mind flashes through everything he did to you, every time he called you sensitive like it was ridiculous of you to be hurt by his mistreatment, making you feel crazy, you angrily respond: why tf do you care??

Your phone buzzes within a few seconds with his message. Lol calm down

It’s downright incredible how quickly he can piss you off. With that text alone, your blood is boiling.

Calm down. It’s what he always said whenever you brought up a valid reason you were upset. You would be completely collected, but he’d still tell you to calm down. He wanted to frustrate you.

You reply: fuck you. And you want to find him simply to chew him out.

You tell your friends you’ll be right back. You leave before they can ask where you’re going. After all the venting you did about Rafe, about what a toxic asshole he is, you know they’d give you shit for seeking him out.

Rafe’s heart is racing. From the coke, from the booze, from the way that missing you is still such a heavy fucking weight on his chest that isn’t going away.

It’s been weeks and he’s still pissed off about it. Life feels unliveable. When the argument started, he thought it was just going to be another bad night. You had threatened breaking up with each other a million times before. But this time, it was real.

And every time his phone vibrates, he hopes it’s you. He looks at your photos in his camera roll, wallowing in the hole you left in his life. He still has videos of you two fucking and he watches them late at night, touching himself and letting himself pretend you’re still together.

He even puts extra care into getting ready every time he comes to these parties so you’ll think he looks good if you run into him. But you haven’t been going out. At least, not that he’s seen, and he purposely searches every crowd for you.

So, when he saw you in the distance tonight, a sight he’s been dying to see, his heart stopped. And he texted you, pretending he didn’t already know you were here, because it’d be too much of a hit to his pride if he approached you and you brushed him off.

Good thing. Because your response told him what he needs to know.

When you find Rafe in the crowd, he’s knocking back what’s left of a beer. He had told you he was hoping to slow down on the booze back when you were together, but he continued to get shit-faced at every party.

He would disappoint you time and time again, and even now, as your ex-boyfriend, he still manages to do it.

You cross your arms as you approach him. One of his friends notices you, slapping Rafe’s arm to get his attention.

At that moment, you wonder what he told his buddies about you. Probably that you were a crazy bitch. He certainly didn’t have any problem calling you that to your face.

Rafe looks at his friend in confusion. Then, his blue eyes land on you. The same eyes that used to slowly flutter open after you kissed him, as if he was waking up from a good dream. The same eyes that pierced into you when he screamed at you.

“So much for cutting back,” you shout over the music.

Rafe swallows the bitter alcohol and the shock of your sudden presence. He was certain you wouldn’t talk to him tonight.

And of course you look stunning, like an angel that came down from heaven deciding it was worth the sin to torture him.

“Why the fuck do you care?” He’s wearing a self-assured smirk, purposely saying exactly what you said in your text just a few minutes ago.

You roll your eyes, remembering why you came over here in the first place.

“Can I not come to a party without you annoying me?” you mutter.

“You’re the one who came to find me.”

“Because you texted me.”

“So, you’re here to tell me not to text you? What happened to blocking me?”

This is exactly what it was like dating him. Infuriating, petty arguments that only go in circles.

“You didn’t this time, huh?” he adds just to embarrass you.

You had him blocked so many times before, but after the break-up, you just couldn’t do it. Because you had hope he’d reach out. And now he’s making you feel like an idiot for it.

It feels like he’s winning this argument. You shouldn’t care. But you do.

One of the things he said the night of your break-up was that no other guy would deal with your bullshit. So, you decide to lie just to hurt him back.

“I have someone else dealing with my bullshit now,” you say. “Blocking some asshole isn’t a priority.”

Your words have an effect on him. You can tell from the way his jaw tightens. You sink into this feeling all over again, the sick familiarity of playing mind games with him.

Rafe feels his chest twist with anger. Is that where you’ve been lately? Not showing up to parties because you’re with someone else?

He steps closer, ducking his head so that only you can hear his words. His familiar cologne washes over you.

You realize he’s wearing a button-up you bought him and you wonder if he doesn’t remember it was a gift from you, or he does and he doesn’t care to place any sort of sentimental value on it.

“Since when?” he asks.

“Since when what, Rafe?” you say his name with a sharp coldness.

“Since when have you been with someone else?”

You decide to provoke him and let the lie build.

“A while.”

Rafe’s lips thin. He takes your hand and you should pull away, you should want to, but you let him lead you through the crowd into a dark, quieter hallway.

You’re soon against a wall, looking up at him, his eyes darting across your face as the softened music reverberates through the air.

“What’s a while?” he says. “Did it start when we were together?”

You sigh and glance away.

“Don’t look away from me,” he orders. “Answer the fucking question.”

“For the millionth goddamn time, I am not a cheater,” you say. He used to accuse you of unfaithfulness all the time. You meet his angry gaze. “I met him after.”

“Who is he?”

“You don’t know him.”

Rafe plants his hand on the wall next to your head, leaning over, his intensity burning through you.

“I know everybody,” he mutters.

“What, ‘cause you’re so popular?” you scoff.

“You’re lying,” he says. He hopes.

“Sure, whatever, I’m lying,” you reply indifferently with a shrug. “Believe what you want. I’m going now.”

You start to turn, but he boxes you in, his other hand firm on the wall. You knew he’d stop you. It’s why you pretended to leave.

You look up at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown. Your entire body is buzzing.

You miss him. Of course you do. As toxic as you were, as many times as you told yourself this relationship was unhealthy, you miss him.

“Who is he?” he rasps.

“Why?” you say through gritted teeth. “You want to ruin another thing for me?”

“What the fuck have I ruined for you?”

“I lost friends because of you,” you say.

A smile of disbelief grows on Rafe’s face.

He always loved you more. He knows that. And you accused him of isolating you from your friends when all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

It’s not his fault you don’t know how a relationship works. You should want to be with your boyfriend more than your friends. Especially when those friends try to get it in your head that your boyfriend doesn’t deserve you. That you’re too good for him.

What guy wouldn’t want his girl to stop hanging out with friends who just shit-talk him?

“Those weren’t friends,” he says. “What kind of friends want to fuck up your relationship?”

“It was already fucked up,” you respond. “They just helped me see it. But I still cut them off. For you. For nothing.”

Rafe blinks a few times before parting his lips to speak again. Nothing. That’s what he is to you?

His chest aches. He wants to return the favor. He wants to hurt you back.

“You’re so fucking weak,” he says, tapping your temple. You slap him away. “You’ll believe anything.”

It’s a slam to your heart.

“There’s something wrong with you,” you say. “Anyone who can tolerate you for as long as I did is the farthest thing from weak.”

You managed to hit him back just as hard. The way he pauses is a clear sign of it.

“That’s all it was, huh? Tolerating me?” he mutters.

You nod, your breath unsteady.

“Was it tolerating me when I bought you every single fucking thing you wanted?”

“I never asked you to do any of that,” you counter. Your voice has lost its edge. The reminder of how he used to spoil you with gifts and spa days and getaways has cracked your armor a little bit.

“You loved it, though, didn’t you?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “And you loved thanking me for it.”

Your skin pricks with the reminder. The way your lips pressed against his, limbs tangled together in his bed, kissing and fucking and breathing out dirty praise.

He’s thinking of it, too. You can tell because when he brushes up against you, he’s hard. It makes your body go even hotter.

Rafe’s been wondering what you did with all the gifts he got you. His eyes sweep over your body, half-hoping he’ll see a piece of jewelry he bought. But he comes up empty.

He fucking loved it, the way your eyes lit up whenever he got you a gift for no reason. But right now, your eyes are full of hatred.

You still haven’t said anything. Your chest is rising and falling quickly. He struck a chord and he’s going to keep pulling the string.

“Gave you that princess treatment shit, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You said that whenever he bought you anything or did something sweet. It had become a joke between you two. It’s almost unbelievable that the man towering over you right now is capable of doing anything sweet.

“What, you can’t talk now?” Rafe taunts in his typical frustrating way.

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“Yeah?” he laughs. “You said the opposite the last time I saw you.”

You tense up. It’s true. Albeit angrily, you had said you loved him after he accused you of not giving a shit about him during your last argument.

He didn’t say it back. He hardly ever did. He used his body and his credit card to show you his love. It was always a dark cloud that hung over you, the way he couldn’t just say those three words nearly as much as you did.

Even now, he can’t even say the word. He said the opposite. Because he’s so damn emotionally stunted.

You try to regain whatever power you have left.

“Things change,” you respond. “And I’m better off now.”

Rafe leans closer, eyebrows just slightly raising as he stares at you.

His heart is pounding. His legs are weak. He’s panicked that you’ll reject him, but he can’t control the pull you have on him. The fact that you’re walking around and existing and not being with him is agony.

He feigns confidence, his nose gently nudging against yours, his lips less than an inch away now.

“Can he fuck you as good as I can?” he asks. Your core aches with a hard craving for him.

“I just said I’m better off, didn’t I?” you reply.

Rafe’s stomach curls in pain. The thought of another man tasting you, hearing you moan, being inside of you… It actually fucking hurts. You’re his. You’re not supposed to be anybody else’s.

“You need a reminder,” he says tersely, “of how good I make you feel.”

Your breath catches. You’d be stupid to do this. You just bring out the worst in each other. Having sex will undo all the healing you’ve done.

But, because of this sick effect he has on you, you listen to the voice telling you that one last time will be a proper goodbye.

“You’re wasted,” you say. You already felt his hard-on brush against you, but challenging him is too addictive not to do it. “You sure you can even get it up?”

Instead of being pissed off, Rafe does the most attractive thing he possibly can. And it’s infuriating. He smirks, grinding up against you, his hard lust pressed right between your legs.

“When have I ever had a problem with that?” he murmurs.

And finally, finally, he leans forward, pressing his warm lips on yours, and tasting him is like coming home after a trip you never wanted to go on.

You sink into his touch, letting yourself enjoy this temporary high, letting yourself give into the impulse to drag your hands up his hard torso, palms running over the expensive fabric you bought for him.

You tightly cup the sides of his neck. He pushes you by your waist, up against the wall so hard that your back tinges in pain.

This is what this will be. A hard, angry, rough goodbye. One last struggle for power.

You push him off, your lips parting with a smack.

“Find a room,” you order him.

His grip on your wrist is tight as he takes you to a guest room near the back of the house. He shuts the door and pushes you down onto the bed, chest heaving as he looks at you on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching him as he undoes his belt.

You gaze up at him as he breathes heavily, unzipping his pants and letting the buckle fall to the floor with a thud. He palms himself over his boxers, shaking his head at you.

“You can’t take your own damn clothes off?” he mutters.

The fire in you blazes hotter when he leans over you, pulling the button of your jeans out of the loop, zipping down, roughly tugging the waistband down your legs.

Part of the reason you waited for him to do it is because you’re so struck by the way he looks, angry and horny and handsome. But mostly, it’s because if he undresses you, it’s proof of how badly he wants this, how badly he wants you, and you miss that feeling.

Rafe is light-headed simply at the sight of your bare thighs. How can you make him feel like this and not be in his life anymore, just like that?

Once your pants are off, you tug him down to you by his hips, using all your strength to pull yourself up over him.

Rafe could easily withstand you, but he doesn’t want to. This was the best part of your relationship. The battle for control. It’s always been intoxicating.

He’s on his back while you’re propped up on your knees, straddling him, looking down at him, at the way your fingers look splayed on his chest.

He dreamed about seeing you on top of him again. His ex-girlfriend, the only person who’s just as fucked up as he is, the only one who challenges him in such an infuriatingly perfect way. Now, you’re just another person who’s given up on him.

“I know you missed this,” he says with a craven refusal to admit that he missed it himself.

“Feels like you missed it more.” You grind against him, but your middle is hot and wet, and you’re sure he can feel it.

You tug at his shirt, undoing buttons but eventually getting impatient enough to rip apart the last two that remain.

Rafe expels a pissed off tsk. This is his favorite thing you gave him. It’s typical, your recklessness, your refusal to care about the consequences he’s left to live with.

Some of his anger dissipates when you bend to kiss him, your tongue running over his. He grips your ass, fingers dipping under your panties as your kisses grow in roughness, starting to nip at each other’s lips, rushed and hungry.

You pull at the sleeves of his shirt, tugging so he’s left in his boxers only. He pushes your shirt up as you remain bent over him, squeezing your tits over your bra. You hate to give him the satisfaction of your moan, so you keep it in, scrambling to take your shirt off.

His fingers move expertly as he unhooks your bra just like he always did before. You hate that your mind jumps to wondering if he’s taken off any other girl’s clothing lately.

You lied about having a new boyfriend. You know he’s not above lying, either. You wouldn’t dare ask if he’s done this since your break-up. Because it’ll show you care. And because his answer, lie or not, could destroy you.

Your bra is thrown onto the floor and rough hands dip to the backs of your thighs, pushing you so that your chest is right over his face, giving him a chance to put his mouth on you as you hover over him on your hands and knees.

His tongue is hot over your nipple and this time, you can’t stifle your moan. He smirks against you, locking his lips around the peak of your breast, kneading the other, just hard enough to hurt in a good way.

You’re so mad at him for ruining things between you. It’s unfair that someone who knows your body and soul so well is so fucking cruel.

You want to drown your anger in him, in the pleasure you know he can give you. You sit up to take off your panties and shift higher this time so that your knees are pressed against his ears.

You lower and the second you feel his mouth between your legs, you shudder. It’s even better than you remembered.

Rafe looks up at the perfect sight of you sitting over him, eating you out with fast, desperate licks and sucks, tasting you, savoring you.

Your thighs start to lose their strength and you sink slightly, putting more of your weight on his chin, and the groan that escapes from his mouth onto your clit makes you lose all composure.

His hands keep your thighs pinned so you follow his lead, fully sitting on him now, grinding against his mouth. Your fingers lace in his hair, pulling at the roots, every writhe of yours getting harder.

This is a fucking dream come true to him. You’ve done this before, but you’ve never been this rough. You were always afraid to hurt him even during angry sex. This is different.

You roll your hips and the sensation of his nose bumping against your clit sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You’re soaked from your own arousal and his spit, sliding over his mouth.

It’s impossible to hold back your moans now. You let the groans of how good you feel spill out of your throat, mixed with the sounds of his mouth on you and the music blasting from the front of the house.

Rafe’s fingers dig into your thighs, his tongue flattened for you so you can get the pleasure you need. You look down, meeting his eyes while you ride his face, the tension and lust and frustration you share thick in the air.

You slow down, arching your back so he’ll work your clit how you want him to. You don’t even need to tell him. He knows you so damn well, his lips locking around the most sensitive part of your body, sucking and slurping so hard that you start to tremble.

“Just like that,” you whimper. His jaw was starting to get sore, but your praise spurs him to keep going. You adjust your grip on his hair, throwing your head back as his suction grows even harder.

Your thighs press against his cheeks as you start to dissolve into your orgasm. Rafe’s not letting that happen. You’re not getting yours until he gets his.

He pushes your hips up and a frustrated whine tumbles from your mouth. He’s so hard it hurts, roughly guiding you onto your back, the mattress bouncing with how hard he throws you down.

Rafe stares at you with hard eyes as he pulls off his boxers, his cock springing out, holding himself at his base as he guides himself against your entrance.

His exhale is short and sharp as he plunges into you. It feels so damn right to have him inside you, on top of you. The way he sounds, the way he smells. It’s just right.

“You like that?” he mutters, thrusting hard with no build-up to his fast pace.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He revels in the feeling of your heat wrapped around him. Inside you is his favorite place to be. That’s never changed.

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you argue breathily, your body jolting with his thrashes.

“Not when I’m eating you out,” he says. “Not when I’m fucking you.”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you repeat.

He grips your jaw aggressively, fucking you in a frenzy, fingers squeezing your cheeks so hard that your lips jut out into a pout.

“Yes, you fucking do,” Rafe says, panting. “You think you’re so fucking perfect, don’t you?”

“I’m better than you,” you reply.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs. “Fucking insufferable.”

The pressure of him thrusting into you, the way he’s holding you and breathing and groaning, pushes you into a mind-blowing orgasm, your entire body tensing.

You’re in a daze, knowing he’s close by the way his movements are starting to grow sloppier.

“Then why were you with me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can even think about if you should say them.

Rafe’s wet mouth is on yours, tasting like himself and like you, a combination of two people who never should have met. You’re sure that you’d both be better off.

He comes hard, going still on top of you, groaning against your lips. Once he pulls back, his breaths hot on your neck, he finally answers, echoing what you’ve said to him so many times. But this time, you’re the victim of the insult.

“Because there’s something wrong with me,” he says.

Your throat thickens with tears. It’s the truth. And the truth is painful.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you mutter, pushing him off. You promise yourself that tonight is the last time that you’ll ever feel him on top of you, feel him pulling out of you.

You can’t get your clothes on fast enough. Even though this is an old flame, it has the same amount of power to scald you.

“Thought you weren’t a cheater,” he grumbles behind you as you slide on your panties.

“This was a mistake,” you say. “And it’s the last time I’m making it.”

Your words sting. He thought this was make-up sex. That you had a little bit more fight in you for him, and then you’d walk out of this room on his arm. But you really are done.

You pull on your bra next, fingers trembling, knowing you’ll regret it if he hears you cry. You put your shirt on as he remains lying behind you, surely relaxed now that he got what he wanted.

You stand to pull up your jeans, finally meeting his eyes again.

“Why did you even text me?” you mutter. You loathe that a tiny part of you hopes he says it’s because he misses you.

But you’re glad he doesn’t. Because you two just start each other’s fires and douse them in gasoline, burning each other over and over. He simply says, “I wanted to fuck and I knew you’d let me.”

Rafe said it just to hurt you because you called this a mistake. The way you look down as you pretend to focus on buttoning your jeans tells him it worked.

“Don’t text me again,” you say. “Don’t call me. Don’t contact me at all.”

“You scared your new boyfriend’s gonna see?” he says, pretending to be unaffected, pushing past the hurt.

You cross the room and look at him one last time as you turn the door handle. You decide to say the most honest thing you’ve said to him tonight.

“I’m scared I’ll fall for your bullshit again,” you admit. “We’re bad for each other. If there’s any part of you that has a heart, you’ll realize that and you’ll leave me alone.”

For once, Rafe is rendered speechless. He gave you his whole damn heart and for you to insinuate he might not even have one is the last dig he needs to shatter him.

Just like the night this ended in his car, you leave. But you mean it this time.

Because something that was actually meant to be would not hurt this much.

(part two)

inspired by this ask and this ask by @diorjadore

[outerspacebisexual]

Memories of Days Gone By - Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer has never understood having a cluttered desk at work. Then you start at the BAU, and he's forced to share a desk with the least desk-tidy person in the whole FBI. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: none, except talk of reader getting shot a/n: woah, outerspacebisexual actually writing instead of just reblogging post about writing? crazy Masterlist

Spencer always thought that having personal mementos in the workplace was weird.

Maybe it came from his mother, whose desk was always so cluttered she could barely place anything down without something else falling off. He could—as with everything else—vividly remember sitting in her office chair, spinning in around and around in circles, watching his framed toothy six-year-old-self flying past him again and again and again.

She never swapped out that photo, even when he got older and his round, chubby face became angular with his teen years. Not when he graduated high school, or college, or college again. In fact, he knew for certain that photo still sat on his mother’s bedside table. So you’re always here with me, she’d said on one of her good days. And even though most of the time she had no idea who the tiny child with thick frames was, she still traced a finger down the side of the glass before bed.

When Spencer first joined the BAU, he’d made a point to ensure his desk was cleared every hour. Empty coffee cups, old files, shredding, sticky notes; after one hour, it all went. That way he could ensure that everything got done.

And that same habit continued for years, until you showed up.

Hi, you’d said on your first day, sticking out your hand and smiling wide. Looks like we’re desk buddies.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The desk had belonged to Emily before you got there, and the idea of looking up and seeing you was just another reminder that he’d lost her.

He was nice to you, of course. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d simply taken a job opening from the ballistics unit to the BAU. It wasn’t your fault that his dead friend’s desk was now yours.

At first, he noticed how you had a habit of leaving empty coffee cups on your desk, choosing to get another one rather than reuse the one already on your desk. It wasn’t a problem. There were plenty of mugs in the kitchen. But when your chair hit your desk, they chimed together, and the noise set him on edge.

He left it alone for the first month.

But then came the files.

Files piled up on your desk---not in neat piles marked ‘Complete’ and ‘Incomplete’ like his—just spread out across the surface in every direction and orientation. And as the week went on, more and more were added until there was no discernible way to tell which had been done and which hadn’t. This led to you having to leaf through folder after folder until you found the one you were looking every day.

Spencer had been tempted to say something one week when he’d watched you out of the corner of his eye search for a file for fifteen minutes. You’d found it right as he opened his mouth, spinning in your chair and heading straight for Garcia’s office. Spencer had sat and stared at the mountain of manila folders then entire time you were gone, thinking to himself, How could you put up with this?

How could you deal with having to fight with your desk at every second of the day just to find something? The idea of it made him want to throw up. Not that his apartment was any better, he knew that. But there was a difference between work and home. Home was allowed to be messy and cluttered, full of the rest of your life outside of work. Work was work. It depended on being able to obtain information quickly and efficiently—not after ten minutes of rooting around.

Hey, Reid? you’d asked one afternoon. Have you seen that Milwaukee case file?

Which one?

The consult one? With the three missing girls?

He tried his best not to roll his eyes. I think you put it down on the edge of your desk.

You spun and rifled through the stack, grinning when you held it up. You’re a genius, you know that?

Pursing his lips, he said, Believe it or not, I do.

Spencer might’ve been bad at reading social clues, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you were just trying to be nice and start a conversation, but he reached over and lifted the phone to his ear, pretending not to notice the way your face fell. You quietly turned back to your computer and opened the file.

A week later, you tried again. Reid, do you want coffee?

No, he answered quickly, despite blinking back the sting of a 3:00am emergency case. ‘Urgent’ was all the text from Hotch had said, and now he was sitting behind his desk once again, for the fifty-second hour this week. Hotch was never wrong. There had never been a case that Hotch had chosen where the team hadn’t been needed, not in all the years Spencer had worked for the BAU. But he couldn’t deny that there were times that he wished he wasn’t at work.

You sure? I know we got more sugar, if that’s what you’re worried about.

I’m fine, he snapped, harsher than he’d intended. Thankfully, you left it alone.

+

Then, you were all in Atlanta, consulting on a case of three male bodies and another man missing. By the morning, his head had cleared, and he noticed the space you’d put between the two of you when you both arrived at the ME’s office.

Doctor Glenn, thanks for meeting with us, you started.

Doctor Glenn had smile brightly at you, standing from behind his desk to shake your hand. Spencer waved. Of course. And please, Scott is fine.

You sent him a soft smile. Where are we with the latest autopsy?

Well, from what I can tell, the murder weapon was some sort of short-bladed knife. What kind, I can’t say for certain. The advanced decomposition on all three makes it tricky.

Something like a kitchen knife? Or pocketknife?

Scott nodded. It’s possible. Like I said, I can’t be sure at this stage.

Can I see the photos? Spencer asked.

Absolutely, Scott replied. I was going to give you the file anyway. He opened the closest folder to him, but frowned. Oh, this isn’t right. Sorry, it’s here somewhere.

Noting his reddening cheeks the longer he searched, you said, Your desk looks a lot like mine.

If Scott noticed you attempt to put him at ease, he didn’t make it known. Brows pinched tightly together, he queried, The BAU doesn’t have strict guidelines on that kind of thing?

You shrugged. Maybe, it does. Though, I’m sure I’d have been written up by now if it did. You leaned forward in your chair to glance at the photo frames on the side. Spencer could see them clearly from where he sat. Two dozen frames littered the side of his desk, all displaying four boys---from baby photos to teenagers. Are they your boys?

Scott, visibly grateful to have a distraction while he continued rustling through drawers, didn’t look up. Yes, the four of them. James, Patrick, John, and Liam.

Spencer watched in silence the conversation the two of you had.

How old?

James is almost 21, Patrick, 19, and John and Liam are both 16.

Twins?

Indeed.

Must have been a handful when they were younger, I’m sure.

He smiled gently. You don’t know the half of it. John’s decided to head to college in California and Liam’s heading to New York.

It must be nice to have them close, at least for the time being, you replied.

It is. I don’t quite know what I’ll do once they’re gone, if I’m honest. And I worry. Like every parent does, I suppose.

Well, if they’re half as kind as all these photos make them out to be, then I’m sure they’ll be just fine.

That’s kind of you to say. I’m not blind, either. I know it’s a lot.

You laughed. It’s not, I promise. It’s nice to have something to remind you of the good. Especially with jobs like yours and mine. Reminds you of what you’re working for. Who you’re working for. There’s so much darkness out there, if we don’t remind ourselves, we can get lost in it.

Scott produced a file from the bottom drawer, and Spencer just stared at you, even as you took the file and flipped through it.

+

A month later, Spencer found himself hunched over his desk, computer brightness on low as he tried his best to block out the noise emanating from every corner of the bull pen. With the migraine he was sporting, he was sure he could hear all the way to reception, which did nothing to help his pounding head. He clicked random buttons on his computer as his eyes watched each minute tick by.

Four hours. That was all he had left. Then he could leave and collapse down onto his couch and sleep for two days until it was gone. With each passing minute, his brain fog got worse, until he was reading the same sentence for the fifth time in a row without comprehending what it was saying. Who even sends an email at 1:04pm on a Friday?

Aaron Hotchner, according to the contact name at the top. He needed to reply. Hotch would be expecting an answer.

Spencer hadn’t even realised you’d been speaking until you waved a hand in the air over the partition between your desks.

What? he asked, when you just stared blankly at him.

I asked if you were OK?

He sat up straighter, doing his best to ignore the pain that stabbed through him. I’m fine.

You cocked an eyebrow. Are you sure? You don’t look great.

I said I’m fine.

You were silent for a long moment, and you refused to break eye contact with him. That was until you leaned over and reefed open a drawer.

What are you doing?

You continued to dig through it. I have some pain meds in here. Nothing fancy, but you look like you could use some ibuprofen.

I don’t need it.

And I don’t need to sit here and watch you suffer for the rest of the day, Reid. Seriously. It’s painfully obvious.

Spencer didn’t have it in him to reply. Any other day, and he might’ve snapped at you. But today, he would take your kindness. As he came around to your side, he peeked inside your drawer, noting it was the same as the top of your desk. Cluttered and messy.

He stared at the mountain of files, eyes roaming over your desk. Your nameplate. Your empty coffee cups. Your photos. He paused as he took them in—for the first time since you’d been here.

Many different photos were tacked onto the partition. Most were of a cat and a dog and a few people who he assumed were family and friends from outside of work.

Only one was framed—a photo of the team. He could remember the day. You’d only been at the BAU for a month and upon returning from a hard case, Garcia had surprised you with a cake and balloons in the conference room. You’d cried, he remembered. Which he’d thought was weird, but hadn’t taken much note of at the time. Anderson had snapped a photo at Garcia’s insistence.

Suddenly, a sleeve of ibuprofen was thrust into his chest. Here.

Thank you, he mumbled.

You don’t need to thank me, Reid. Just take it, and maybe seen Hotch about leaving early. That can be your thanks. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, which he returned before heading to the breakroom.

+

Six months after you started at the BAU, you got shot.

Not life-threatening, but a bullet to the shoulder meant you were laid up on leave for two weeks.

The bullpen had never been so quiet, Spencer thought. Though maybe it was his guilt that made him think that. It had racked him every day of the two weeks since they’d gotten back from Wichita. The bullet had been meant for him, and if he’d actually been paying attention to his surroundings, then he wouldn’t have missed the UnSub lining up the shot, and you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way, taking the hit for him.

Your screams still echoed in his mind. The first, his name: Spencer! Get down! And the second, your yelp of pain. Spencer had fired off two shots in quick succession, taking out the UnSub with barely more than a thought before he was turning to you lying flat on your back and gripping your shoulder.

He’d accompanied you to the hospital, where they said long-term damage was unlikely, but you would have a long road to recovery until you had full use of your arm again.

Hotch had immediately put you on leave, threatening that he’d make you take even longer if he saw you in the office at all before the two weeks was up. You had kept your word to him that you’d take the full two weeks.

Spencer hadn’t been sure what to do about your desk for the first few days. Hotch had instructed him to take over your files, which was easier said than done.

Heaving your last folder into his ‘Complete’ tray, he breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing at the clock, he realised he’d been zoned out writing reports for four hours. The rest of the team had all gone—aside from Hotch, but when wasn’t he in his office.

Starting over the partition, Spencer eyed the mess that still cluttered your desk. He hadn’t wanted to touch anything except the files, which he’d gingerly sorted into what was done and what wasn’t, careful not to disturb anything else on the desk.

Now, staring at all you’d left behind when they’d suddenly been forced to jet off, he wondered if tidying it was the least he could do. Maybe you would thank him for it. Or maybe you’d tear his head off for touching your stuff.

He decided to take that risk.

Collecting the loose papers and random Post-its, he placed them neatly into piles to the right of your computer. Most where mindless reminders for yourself—Get the dry cleaning! and Pay the water bill by tonight!

Spencer wasn’t always grateful for his eidetic memory, but not having to remember small day-to-day tasks was a huge bonus for him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope without it.

He straightened the tacked photographs and wiped down the team photo. He made sure your computer was properly plugged in. He ensured your tablet was fully charged for your return. He was almost satisfied, when he noticed one green Post-it note had fallen behind your monitor screen. Weaving his hands between the cords, he pulled it out.

Thanks for the ibuprofen. I really appreciate it.

Below his barely legible script, sat a small face he’d doodled. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought anything of it since he stuck it to your monitor.

But you still had it, even two months later.

He stuck it back where he’d put it the first time.

+

You’re back, Spencer said as he entered the bullpen the next morning.

I am, you replied, grinning wide. Do I have you to thank for this?

Placing his bag down on his seat, he said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh, come on. There’s only one other office neat freak in this whole place, and I know for a fact it wasn’t Hotch. When he said nothing, you rolled your eyes. Fine. Guess I’ll have to pass my thanks on to the boss man.

Spencer smiled as he unloaded his bag.

Cat got your tongue or something, Reid? He kept his lips sealed perfectly shut. Ok, then. Keep your secrets. I don’t need to know them. I don’t want to know them anyway.

I’m getting a coffee, he said suddenly, cutting off your teasing drawl. Do you want one?

You blinked. What?

I said, I’m getting a coffee. Would you also like one?

Uh, yeah. That would be great, you managed after a moment. Thanks.

He nodded, and he pretended he didn’t feel your eyes watching him the whole time as he made his way to the break room.

+

“Reid?” Morgan called, and Spencer looked up from the file he was currently nose-deep in. “Are you coming?”

“What’s happening?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

Morgan groaned. “Don’t tell me you forgot about dinner at Rossi’s tonight.”

“Oh, that’s tonight?”

“Yes, pretty boy. How could you forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” he mumbled, gathering his belongings as Morgan made his way over to him.

“From the looks of it, you absolutely did.”

“I didn’t. I just…have a lot on my mind.”

Morgan stopped at the side of Spencer’s desk, his signature smirk adorning his face. Spencer didn’t even look at him as he hastily jammed files into his bag.

“This is new,” Morgan commented, and he glanced over to see him staring at a framed photo he’d picked up.

When he flipped it around, Spencer could see it. The photo of him in his apartment, sitting on the couch, grinning ear to ear, and you sat right beside him, holding your left hand up to display the shiny ring adorning your finger. You’re looking directly at the camera. Spencer is only looking at you.

Spencer took the photo from him. “I liked it, so I got it printed.”

He didn’t have to tell him that he got every photo printed now. He’d never been a fan of technology, and the idea that all his best memories were being held ransom on a device that could be destroyed any minute made his head spin. So, he got every photo printed. Most were safely tucked away in albums on his bookshelf at his apartment.

But this one was special.

Morgan’s voice was gentle as he said, “It’s nice.”

Spencer smiled and brushed a finger over the glass. “Reminds me of the good,” he said.

Then he placed it back down on his desk, the frame right at home amongst all the others.

[jaylaxies]

ROMAN HOLIDAY

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slight fluff, protected and unprotected sex, (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cunnilingus, marking, creampie, mentions of petnames (princess, baby, darling, daddy), lots of kissing and brief mentions of smoking, stealing, running away from cops, drugs, somnophilia (consensual), etc.

WC: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: visiting your grandma’s place was more or less your entire plan for your summer vacations and only break you get before your university starts, although, meeting your neighbour, bickering with him and clutching his hand while running away from cops wasn’t in your bucket list.

PLAYLIST: welcome to wonderland by anson seabra, movement by hozier, if you let me by alina baraz, how to love by jen z, roman holiday by halsey.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my sweetest angels <3 i'm finally here with a jake fic which was long due! i hope you guys like it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated :D loveyou all <3

Bagging a window seat for a day-long journey sure is a blessing, peculiarly when you have to stay sitting at your spot in a train for a sum of six hours. Nestled in your seat, you sit straighter when the scenic view of the sea water meeting the sky graces your eyes—which you capture on your phone’s camera with a soft smile. 

It felt as if it had been ages since you got out of your room, where you used to be cooped up during the entirety of your day, studying for your final year of school. 

Your parents were concerned. They were highly proud of you for achieving top honours, yes, but it was about time you went out and cherished your life a little before you got winded up in the stress of University yet again, which was to start in one month. 

And what’s a better place to spend your vacations at if not at your granny’s home? 

It was a few minutes past six when you finally reached your desired destination, dragging your luggage behind you as a swish of cold breeze hit you. It looked straight out of a movie with how the train station was lit up by old-fashioned lamps which radiated warmth just by glancing towards them.  

You hugged your cardigan tighter, walking out to find the taxi stand just outside the exit area of the station, pulling out your phone to show the driver the address you’d be meaning to go to. He was a kind man, helping you put your luggage into the trunk of his taxi. Your curious eyes looked out, observing how much the town had changed over the years. 

You were seven when you last visited her hometown. Ever since then, your grandma used to be the one who visited you in the city, at your place, however she did not wish to leave her town and move in with your family. You could see why she chose to stay here—the serene view, the freshness in the air, the tranquil surroundings, it made the corner of your lips curl up into a smile. 

It only got wider once the driver stopped his taxi in front of your grandma’s house. It was exactly how you had remembered it to be—a small but two story house with a big veranda which was lit up by fairy lights on the big bushes. The back door connected the path towards the small pool and then yet another door linked the beach from your backyard. 

Your grandma stood by the door with the fondest smile gracing her ever so beautiful face, a few grey strands fell on her face and you couldn’t help but get out of the taxi and run towards her, capturing her in an embrace. A hearty chuckle filled the air, the scent of your favourite cookies encapsulated you, making you wonder if she had baked a batch just for you as you snuggled further, her hand patting your head exactly the way she used to do ever since you were a kid. 

“I missed you, grandma.” Your expression said it all, and she looked more than happy to usher you in the house, saying how chilly the night was and you made sure to pay the driver, thanking him for his service as you dragged the luggage in. 

A wave of nostalgia hit you as your eyes wandered off to observe each corner, but your grandma didn’t hear any of it, making sure her granddaughter was well fed and rested after the long journey. 

She spent a good while telling you embarrassing stories of your father during dinner, which you listened to with delight, sharing your own stories with zeal before you climbed up the stairs, opening the door to the room you used to use each time you stayed over as a child. 

It didn’t change, the bed was still too big for you, the windows were spotless as if it had been cleaned frequently and the scent of old books paired with a tinge of vanilla filled your senses. Your body felt calm and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way. 

Calling your parents, you updated them by telling you had reached safely as you walked in the balcony, feeling comfortable in a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. The night sky resembled a velvet blanket full of glistening stars. 

However, a figure clad in all black captured your attention. It was a bit beyond one in the morning, which is why it was unsettling to see someone walk in such dim lights. The stranger made his way towards your neighbouring house, making you wonder if he lived there. 

Shrugging, you sighed. Sitting at one place for hours does tire your body, so you proceed to finally get into your cozy bed, setting an alarm before your grandma comes in to check if you require anything. 

“Sweet dreams my little peanut,” your grandma smiled, closing the door behind you as you replied back with a gentle voice. 

“Sweet dreams, Gigi!” It was a nickname you used for her, she found it lovely. 

The placid atmosphere and the distant sound of waves acted as a catalyst to your sleep, and you slept soundly, not knowing that the calmness was just a start to your inevitable venture—something no one could have prepared you for. 

You found yourself walking alongside your Gigi to visit the lady next door in the afternoon. She was a kind soul—as stated by your grandma, not to mention that she treated her like her own family, making sure to provide help whenever she could and that’s the reason why you were going to meet her. 

It wasn’t the first time; apparently you used to play in their veranda a lot as a child, which again, you didn’t remember. However, when the lady—Mrs. Sim, opened the door, the memories came rushing back to you. She was jolly, almost as if she was waiting for your arrival and soon, you were engulfed into a sweet hug. 

She called out your name in sheer excitement, leaning back to take a good look at your face, which sported a silly smile due to embarrassment. 

“Aw, love. You’ve grown into such a pretty young lady,” she gushed, ushering you both inside and into the living room area. 

“And you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Sim,” you replied, not lying considering how youthful she appeared to be. 

Her smile only widened at your comment, “now, another word and I’ll be floating in the clouds,” she said, making you chuckle as you got engaged in a conversation, sipping on the cranberry juice which Mrs. Sim had so kindly offered you. 

It was decided that you’d be having lunch together, and you tried your best to help the two women in the kitchen but you were soon shoved out, saying you don’t have to do a thing and rest—that’s the purpose of your vacations. 

Which made you sit down and use your phone, scrolling through random apps and replying to all the texts. 

“Y/n!” Soon, you were called into the kitchen, and you poked your head in with a smile. 

“Yes, Gigi?” 

“Oh, peanut, can you please go upstairs and call Jake for lunch? It’s almost done.” She asked. 

You tilted your head in confusion, mind wandering back to the guy you had seen last night and you came to the conclusion that Jake might be Mrs. Sim’s son. 

You nodded, heading up the wooden staircase. Would you have to introduce yourself to him? Would it get awkward? You had no clue. 

Knocking on the door twice, you took a step back and patiently waited for the door to open and so, you tried again to no avail. You wondered if he had his headphones on, which left you with no choice but to open the door, peeking in slightly only to find the room empty. 

“Oh,” you let out, closing the door behind you for the sake of privacy. 

“He’s not in his room,” you informed Mrs. Sim. 

She sighed, serving a good portion of food for all of you, “I could have sworn he didn’t go out,” she shook her head as you three sat down. You let the elders start eating first and only then you picked up your chopsticks to do the same. 

“I haven’t seen him in a while, what’s the tough guy up to?” Your Gigi asked. 

“He’s busy enrolling himself into universities,” Mrs. Sim says, a sad smile taking over her face, “he says he doesn’t want to leave me and is aiming for nearby universities.” 

“My my, isn’t he a darling boy?” Your grandma praised while you chewed on your food, which melted right in your mouth, silently eating while hearing them converse. 

It didn’t take long for your grandma to ask them to come over for dinner the very next day, “it’s only fair that I cook for you too,” she argued when Mrs. Sim told her that she shouldn’t bother. 

This time, your grandma let you help with the cooking, and of course, you were sent to invite the Sims over for dinner. You hugged your white cardigan close to your body—the nights tend to get chilly. Walking over to the neighbouring home, you rang the bell and were greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sim, who actually dressed up for the little dinner party. 

“Oh, darling. Can you please call Jake down for dinner too?” She asked you as she was busy tidying up her own kitchen. 

“Of course,” you smiled. 

It was the second time you were heading up the stairs. This time, you were sure you’d be meeting the said boy. You found yourself standing right in front of his room yet again, gulping down your nervousness. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to introducing yourself to new people, school made sure you knew how to do that, however, your nerves were acting up. 

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, twice—just like the last time. The difference, however, was that the door was opened in this instance. 

The scent of an intoxicating blend of masculinity and sophistication announced his presence, undertones of musk and wood laced up, providing him a complex aura altogether. 

A tall guy with parted black hair leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow perfectly raised in question, his arms folded as his honey brown eyes with the slightest speckles of gold stared your way, his plump lips soon curling up into what seemed to be an assortment of a smile and a smirk. 

“You must be Y/n,” he stated, standing up straight, which caused his muscles to flex enough to the point it was visible in his white button up. 

You licked your lips unknowingly, moistening them up before you nodded, extending your hand for him to shake, “pleasure meeting you, Jake.” 

His eyes travelled down from your face to your hand, a low chuckle left his mouth, him opening the door and stepping out, coming closer to you as he grabbed your smaller hand in his bigger, warmer ones in a firm handshake. 

“I can see why my mom can’t stop talking about you,” he said, making you tilt your head in question, eyes never leaving his face which was captivating. 

“And why is that so?” You asked, stepping back slightly as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“Because you seem to be a good girl,” he breathed, making you go still as he leaned back with the same smirk, leaving you behind, walking down the stairs. 

Now, you didn’t expect the situation to turn out this way, yet you knew that talking to him further would only cause your head to hurt. 

What even made him think about you being a good girl?

Is it your outfit? Plain, loose jeans paired with a pink top and cardigan. It’s basic enough not to be categorized so easily. 

You scoff to yourself, already hating the situation as you walk downstairs, only to find Jake with a smile that genuinely looked sweet while he talked to his mother, helping her lock the door. 

“I see you met Jaeyun,” she smiled, and you nodded, sitting alongside her, not sparing a glance at the said boy as you didn’t even know his real name was Jaeyun. 

The table was set for four, which made you sit right across from Jake, who’s demeanour had changed as he complimented your granny, who laughed at his sweetness. 

“Here, have some more,” he says, serving another portion to your grandma, who cooed at his kind conduct at the table. 

He made sure to be on his best behaviour, only in front of others but when his gaze fell towards you, a bored expression overtook his features, which no one paid attention to. 

You rolled your eyes. It hadn’t even been a whole day since you met and yet the boy made you dread his presence. He wasn’t being straight up rude per se, however his actions weren’t subtle either just like how he completely ignored your existence during the entirety of the dinner. 

He offered to clean up, which included him having to clean up your plate as well, which was something he did with a frown on his face as Mrs. Sim endorsed that he should help with the household work. 

Both ladies were in awe of how well mannered Jake was, and it left you irritated to no end before Mrs. Sim called out your name softly. 

“Jake’s been acting distant lately,” she told you in a soft voice, making sure the said boy doesn’t hear you both, “and comes home late from his part time work, doesn’t share a lot these days too,” she sighs before looking at you softly, “you’re such a lovely girl, Y/n. I’m sure Jaeyun would love to have you as a friend he can rely on. Will you please look after him?” She asked, eyes sincere with worry for her son. 

Now, you were provided with two choices—one to say yes and agree, but you’d have to be in Jake’s proximity for that. The second one would be a plain no, which would sound disrespectful and insolent. 

So you put on your most convincing smile, which turned into an unadulterated one when you saw her being concerned about her son, “of course, I’ll do that, Mrs. Sim.”

“Oh please! Call me auntie,” she swatted her hand at your formal usage of name and you laughed, agreeing. 

Since the dinner was summed up now and the dishes were done, courtesy of Jaeyun; you were asked to walk them back home, which wasn’t even a two minute walk, however you couldn’t say no to your grandma and hence, you agreed. 

Mrs. Sim—or your auntie Sim, thanked you for the dinner, and proposed to at least have one meal of the day together each day, which you thought was a lovely idea given that you had grown to like the lady. 

You were just about to leave when she went inside but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you right away, making you look up at Jake in question. 

“You don’t have to bother being my friend, you’ll only be a hindrance in my way,” he says smoothly. 

Your expression turns sour, almost as if you were bored, “why? So you can keep your fake good boy persona up and going?” You said, mimicking his tone. 

Not expecting such a reply, he let out a surprised scoff, mixed with the slightest chuckle, “so what? It doesn’t concern you. Or are you offended that I’m not actually good, like you,” he whispered, leaning close, which made you realize how tall he actually was, “you know nothing about me, princess.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue seamlessly, sending a shiver down your spine while you kept a straight face, trying not to seem affected at all. 

“Neither do you know about me, Sim. So stop making assumptions and just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ll take your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, saying it all in one go before turning around to leave. 

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles behind you. 

“In your dreams,” you retorted, not sparing him another glance as your heart palpitated. 

You had never talked to anyone in such a manner before, it gave a sense of newfound confidence—which you needed.

Jake simply watched you walk back to your place, shaking his head once you disappeared from his eyesight and still, a humorous smile never left his face. 

You had updated your parents about your three days here and later called your friend to do the same, who was also busy with her own vacation bucket list, yet it was a refreshing talk given that you currently did not have much to do to entertain yourself. 

Which left you to grab your swimwear and go for a swim—utilizing the pool in your backyard. 

Gigi loved to sit by the pool and made sure that it was cleaned every now and then. She had gotten it cleaned right in the morning today, which also gives you an opportunity to use it. 

The sunset casted a warm glow on the calm waves of the pool, the slight breeze in the air making it serene as you immerse yourself in the water, it closing you right in, feeling like a warm hug. 

You started slowly with effortless strokes, enjoying the feeling of lukewarm water on your body. You stopped after a while, resting as you let your body float with your eyes closed. 

“Enjoying ourselves, are we now?” A voice broke your state of tranquillity, your eyes opening in a swift and the water sloshed with how fast you turned around. 

Of course, it was none other than Jake sim who sat on the pool lounge chair, arms behind his back as if he was sitting to enjoy the view. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” You breathed out in question. 

He looked at you, feigning disappointment as he leaned to look down at you, “oh, princess. Didn’t they teach you not to use such filthy words?”

His condescending tone only riled you up, “didn’t they teach you not to show up at someone’s place unannounced?” You mocked, getting out of the pool and trying to find your towel, only for you to realize he was sitting right on it. 

“I’m simply here to get cumin from your grandma, we ran out of it, you see,” he explained, not sounding sincere as he let his eyes wander all over your wet body, barely covered with your bikini. 

Your eyes, however, focused on the cigarette he took out from his pocket, making you gasp as you made your way towards him in an attempt to snatch it off his fingers.  

Nevertheless, Jake was quicker to get up, grabbing your hand which was extended and pinning it up against the wall, his body pressed up against yours, successfully making your body go still with shock. 

Yeah, you didn’t really adore your body’s fight or flight response. 

“Fuck—” your eyes widened, yet he wasn’t the one to give you even a second to complain. 

“Shh, princess. I don’t want a single bad word coming out of your mouth now, is that understood?” He asked, using his condenscending tone again. 

You could feel every ounce of confidence which you had yesterday leaving your body as you stared into his honey eyes, an unconscious slight nod betraying you.  

That satisfied him, although he didn’t bother changing his position, nor did he mind your wet body as he took out a lighter from his free hand, lighting up the flame, keeping it close to the cigarette which was pressed in between his lips. 

Your eyes were transfixed on his face, observing how swiftly he closed the lighter, stuffing it in his pocket right before he looked away, blowing smoke into the air, giving you the greatest opportunity to stare at his consummate side profile. 

He took the joint back in his fingers, returning his attention your way, “ever smoked before?” He asked, tone seemingly raspier. 

Not trusting your voice, you simply shook your head as to provide him an answer. 

He snickered, “of course you haven’t. It goes against your good girl rulebook, doesn’t it?” 

“Shut up!” Your sudden outburst of anger only humoured him, even more so when you tried to snatch the cigarette from him using your free hand to prove him wrong. 

He didn’t let it happen. 

Instead, you found yourself looking right into his eyes with his slender fingers holding your chin in place. His breath was cool with a lingering smell of mint—which was probably due to the flavour of cigarette. 

“Want it that bad now?” He raised his brows, “open your mouth,” he ordered, not giving you a second to comply, his thumb parting your lips as he desired. 

He took a drag, inhaling the smoke deeply as you gulped, you could hear your heartbeat, or maybe that was simply how aware you were of your surroundings—your proximity with Jake. 

Tilting his head, he leaned in again, mouth parted just the right amount. He let the smoke out and into your mouth in an agonizingly slow fashion, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 

Your subconscious took over once you inhaled the smoke and it hit your throat. The burning sensation caused you to push him off as you coughed out in distress. 

“Guess you can’t handle it, princess,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment. 

You glared his way, composing yourself enough to actually snatch the cigarette from his fingers and take a deep puff, ignoring the way it burned your throat. It was your turn to surprise him by pulling him closer, grabbing his collar. 

Your eyes were closed when you leaned in, blowing the smoke right into his mouth, causing him to take it all in, him never once closing his eyes. He stared at you with such intensity that you could feel it, despite your eyes being closed. 

Once you were done, you breathed deeply, throwing the cigarette on the ground, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim,” that’s all you said before walking back into your home, rushing up the stairs and into your room just to avoid running into him again. 

Only when you were in the safety of your room, you let out a frustrated scream right into your pillow. 

Three days in your vacation and this boy had already driven you insane to the point you had smoked right into his mouth. 

You took a warm shower before taking a nap—something you required to calm your heart before you saw him at dinner, again. 

In contrast to yesterday, when he didn’t provide you with an ounce of attention, his behaviour had done a solid one eighty as now, he provided you with his utmost attention, passing you subtle smirks during the entirety of the dinner. 

You were more than glad when auntie Sim distracted you by indulging in random conversations, and you can easily say you enjoyed the information she was providing you with at the given moment. 

“And, and!” Auntie Sim said full of excitement, “Our Jaeyunie was four and you were three when it happened. He was so curious about you playing on the beach building sandcastles alone, he wanted to talk to you and so he collected flowers from our garden and gave them to you,” she cooed. 

You looked at the boy, surprised with the information of him being a sweet baby. Now, he was the one who tried to stop his mother from spilling the stories any further, averting his gaze but you didn’t let it go. 

“Aw! That’s so cute Jaeyunie. Where are my flowers now?” You asked, voice annoyingly high to bother him. 

Your grandma laughed as auntie Sim only urged Jake to get some for you. He looked your way, annoyed and you only passed him a sweet smile. 

You couldn’t deny, being a menace did feel good at times and the dinner wasn’t so bad after all. 

Yet, the events of the evening didn’t let you sleep, causing you to walk on the balcony yet again and you couldn’t miss the figure clad in all black leaving your neighbour’s home yet again, at two after midnight nonetheless. 

It wasn’t something you should be indulging in yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

What exactly was Jake up to? 

In these ten days of vacation, you had done quite a few things which included learning a few recipes with your grandma, bickering with your neighbour, minus the proximity as you made your mission to stay away for the sake of your poor heart. Majorly, you had grown to adore the beautiful beach which was right behind your home. 

Seeing how you had nothing to do in the given moment, you found yourself sitting on the warmth of the sand yet again, close enough for your feet to touch the water which was cold, juxtaposing the temperature of your body.  

You didn’t know how long you sat there dazed, watching the never ending blue waves stretching as far as possible, till you gasped and got taken back into reality once a hand on your shoulder shook you in annoyance. 

It was none other than Jake, who stood there with his jaw clenched, a bouquet of flowers resting in his right hand, causing you to raise your brows at him. 

“Mom forced me to do this, okay?” He huffed, handing you over the multicoloured bundle of happiness. 

It didn’t matter that it was Jake who gave you the flowers, it still made you happy, a smile growing on your face as the scent infiltrated your senses. 

This certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction Jake was expecting from you. He was sure you’d throw a snarky remark or maybe simply not take the flowers from him, but even you couldn’t deny the beauty of nature. 

“Thank you,” you whispered under your breath, surprising him even more. 

It was one of the days you felt calm, not wanting to channelize your energy into something as useless as picking up a fight, however, Jake won’t leave without that happening. 

“That’s it? You just need flowers to shut up?” He tantalizes you to answer back. 

You only give him a sour look in return, wondering what he’s even doing on the beach wearing shoes, clad in leather jacket as if he was going for the cliché illegal races you see in movies. 

“You should go, Jaeyunie,” you nodded with a fake smile. 

Your phone started ringing just then, and Jake caught the display name right before you picked up the call. 

It was Lee Heeseung—the guy who was your study partner in school and also the guy who was your competition when it came to academics. 

The call wasn’t long, he had simply contacted you to inform you about the university he got into as you also filled him up with the university you got accepted into. 

You assumed that Jake would have gone back, which wasn’t the case as he stood behind you, eavesdropping shamelessly. His expression turned into one of realization when he saw you actually smiling and talking sweetly to whoever was the guy who had called you, a scoff leaving his mouth on its own accord. 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Will text you later, goodbye!” You smiled, concluding the conversation only to find Jake still standing at the same spot, making you look at him in question. 

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, seeming bored. 

A sigh left your mouth, Jake was great at making assumptions, “why do you care?” You asked. 

“I don’t,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I should go, I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his place. 

Your lips worked before you could process anything, “yeah? Like you do every night?” You asked. 

He stilled, turning back in a second and crouching down to your level, grabbing your nape, pulling you close to him, “don’t get involved in my matters, Y/n. I’m saying this for your own fucking good,” he seethed out, causing you to gulp, your heartbeat rising up due to the proximity again. 

“What are you up to, Jakey?” You asked teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension. 

“Nothing that concerns you, princess. I’m being serious, okay?” He held eye contact, repeating the last word again, and you nodded. 

“Okay,” you mumbled as you felt him caressing your nape gently before he got up, leaving you there wordlessly. 

You didn’t realize how hard you were clutching the flowers while watching his walking figure. The sudden mood switch made you curious, and despite him warning you, it was something you wanted to see for yourself. 

Was he in trouble? Was he caught up in illegal activities? Or was he simply out partying somewhere?

Another sigh left your lips. 

You shouldn’t get involved in his matters. 

You got yourself involved in his matters. 

Sneaking out of your home was easy and you made sure to grab your jacket as the night got chillier than usual. All this to follow Jake. 

It was easy since he didn’t use any cars, walking towards his desired destination. It almost felt comical how you tried to tiptoe for a total of fifteen minutes, hiding in random alleyways whenever you made even the slightest noise of stepping on a pebble. 

For a second you even regretted coming out and spending so much energy on this, till you saw Jake actually stop and get inside an alleyway, which you approached exactly two minutes after he went in. 

Peeking in, you noticed how wide the way actually was, people clad in black and hoodies which hid their faces were present all over, more than thirty people you’d estimate. 

You squint your eyes to get a better focus of what they were up to, only for them to widen in realization when you found them exchanging packets and smoking what looked like drugs. Jake was also engaged in a conversation with a guy, purchasing drugs from him, which caused you to gasp slowly. 

“Looking for something, kid?” A deep, hoarse voice spoke near your ear, causing you to flinch and move away, turning around to see a guy full of tattoos smiling down at you, which disgusted you. 

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, looking towards your right to see Jake looking your way, eyes full of shock and worry as he whispered your name under his breath, not believing that you’d actually follow him there despite him saying a firm no to you. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t have come here. 

“Uhm, I—I lost my way back home. I’ll get going now, I didn’t see anything I promise! You guys please continue,” you said, trying to sprint but the guy was quick to hold your jacket, making you stop as Jake rushed your way, leaving whatever he was up to. 

Before anyone could take up any action, the sound of police sirens alerted everyone in the vicinity, which was more than enough for all the guys to scramble as you stood there with panic, trying to move your body seeing how the guys were climbing up the wall full of graffiti on the other side as it was the only way to their escapade. 

“Run,” Jake breathed out, grabbing your smaller hand in his without any notice and running towards the same way, his jaw was clenched. 

You followed wordlessly, mouth open with how deeply you were breathing, chest heaving up and down while you ran and reached the wall. 

The sirens got closer as if someone had tipped the cops to search this particular area and you were worried if you both would get caught up in this mess. 

“Jump,” he commanded and you stared at the wall, shaking your head. 

“I—I can’t,” you stuttered, watching how the others claimed it 

He pulled you closer, picking you up with ease as to provide you with some kind of elevation, which definitely helped when you grabbed on to the top brick, pushing your body up and jumping to the other side, stumbling slighting as you fell down. 

Jake was swift, landing by your side before he grabbed your hand again, pulling you up with him to run again. Your legs hurt yet you didn’t stop till he pulled you by his side, getting a bobby pin out of his pocket to unlock the door, which he opened in a go and pulled you inside, locking the door. 

Silence. 

Your breathing is all you could hear, but Jake’s eyes were louder than anything else, which scared you even further. 

“I specifically told you to stay out of it, what’s so hard to understand here?” He more or less shouted, pushing you against the wall. 

You gulped, not looking at his face but he wasn’t having it, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look his way. 

“What if they did something to you? What if the police caught you? What if something had happened to you?” His voice got smaller after each sentence, more breathy and desperate, making your heart break when he genuinely made it seem like he cared about you. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, which probably wasn’t helpful at the given second, “I thought that you were in trouble and,” you whispered, not having more to say. 

He sighed, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes closed to get some rest. You couldn’t move, your whole body felt more alive than ever, maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or simply Jake being so close to you. 

He stepped back after a few seconds, “go change,” he said, and that’s when you looked around to find yourself in a boutique full of clothes. 

“W—why?” You asked. 

“Because the cop saw us, he knows what we’re wearing,” he answered, trying to find clothes his size. 

Maybe he saw you when you were climbing up, meaning that you barely escaped him. 

“But surveillance cameras? Technically, won’t this be considered stealing?” You bit your lip. 

“There are none,” he replied, “and we have more pressing matters than to sit and worry about stealing.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking your way, trying to find some outfit, or rather, you were stealing it given the circumstances. 

“So, why were you out there?” 

“I should be asking you that, Y/n,” he said when you went into the changing room. 

“You had drugs with you!” Your voice boomed from the stall and he simply took off his shirt in the store. 

“So what?” He uttered, pissed. 

“Did you smoke drugs that day too? Did you give me drugs?” You screeched while asking and he opened the curtains, seeing you soothing the top down. 

“I don’t fucking do drugs,” he groaned, “I buy it and sell it to the guys next town at a higher price,” he explained. 

The dim light from the changing stall only enhanced Jake’s shirtless body, his abs full on display alongside his torso, which was well built. Your eyes settled on the tattoo he had on his left side of the rib. 

Taking a step further, your fingers gently traced the intricate design, making him shiver without you knowing, his fingers clasping around your wrist to keep it away again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered. 

“I—” you started speaking, looking at him with wide eyes which shone of innocence and worry, lips jutted in the slightest pout and hair slightly messy. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes out, not letting you complete your sentence, coming closer to your face, “why do you have to do everything I tell you not to do?” He asked, however his tone wasn’t filled with anger. 

It was something you quite couldn’t pinpoint yourself. 

He sighed, “let’s get you home.”

“Are we gonna walk back? Isn’t it too dangerous?” You asked as he turned around to put on a shirt averting your eyes from his back which flexed with his movements, your body felt warm and throat parched, especially when he turned around with a smirk. 

“We’re driving back home.”

You soon found yourself on a lookout at the garage entrance of what Jake called an illegal garage which was used for repairing old racing cars. The place wasn’t authorized, which is why stealing from here would work perfectly. 

“How do you even know this?” You asked, exasperated as your nerves got the best of you. 

It certainly didn’t help that the place was dark, and Jake wasn’t replying as he was hot wiring the car without a number plate 

You had no idea where he learned that from. 

“You need to learn things if you want to survive in this world, darling,” he said, focusing on his work, not once thinking how you’d shiver with his use of nicknames. 

He’s glad it’s not some new high tech car, which he won’t be able to hot wire as they contain ignition immobilizers, which makes it impossible for it to happen—you nodded as he explained all of this, your focus elsewhere. 

“Let’s go,” he said after a few minutes, seemingly done with his work. 

You rushed to get into the car, a scream leaving your mouth as he started driving almost instantly, his fingers gripping the steering wheels hard enough for his veins to pop out as you struggled to put on the seatbelt. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you let out in half a scream. 

“Why? Not having fun now, princess?” He chuckled as he changed the gear, resting his hand on your thighs right after which caused you to squirm around in your seat. 

Your body was extra attentive when he was around, and you weren’t sure how to control your heart anymore, so you closed your eyes. 

“What’s so fun about this?” You asked, clutching the seatbelt. 

“You,” he confessed, messing up with your brain even further. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere. 

You didn’t trust his driving despite it seeming effortless, he was over speeding after all. 

“Now, we both know that’s not true, princess,” he stated and you huffed, knowing that he was right ignoring the fact that he was insufferable. 

His pace ensured you to reach home in record time, your legs felt wobbly the second you stepped on the road. 

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second,” he rushed, leaving you standing alone as he parked the car outside a random garage two minutes away from your place. 

It was hard to believe how you got chased by police, stole clothes and a fully functional car all in one night. 

You saw him jogging back to you after a few minutes, standing right in front of you, “I think I should get back now,” you started to stay, however he stopped you. 

“You can’t do that, your gate’s got a surveillance camera so we need to go from the back side,” he stated, his hand automatically reaching for yours as you started to make way towards the back side, on the sand. 

All of a sudden, you felt smaller, heat creeping up your neck due to the body contact and you let him guide you wordlessly before you realized something. 

“Wait, how will you go back? Your place doesn’t have a back door,” you asked and he shrugged. 

“I’ll just jump to the other side of the garden wall, princess. You don’t need to worry about me,” he teased and you pushed him away, the warmth of his hand leaving yours. 

Tiptoeing into your home, you shut the back door as silently as possible before you rushed up the stairs and almost into your room, only to find Jake coming up with you. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper asked, eyes wide. 

“I’m curious about your room,” he answered with that usual smirk of his and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face. 

“You—” you tried to say, but stopped the second you heard another voice. 

“Oh, Peanut? You’re awake?” Your grandma’s voice called out from the balcony, and your mouth hung open as you shoved Jake into your room in an effort to hide him. 

“Y—yes, Gigi! I woke up to get some water,” you lied, wincing slightly as she acknowledged it and wished you a good night in her soft tone. 

You rushed in and locked the door, only to find Jake getting cozy in your bed. 

It was one of those days when your grandma missed your grandpa, and she spent hours on the balcony, looking at the glistening stars to find solace. You felt sad but the more pressing matter here was—how to get Jake out of your room? 

He can’t leave from the back door, he can’t go out from the front door as Gigi would see him, your room windows weren’t the opening type which left you with no option but for him to spend the night right here, with you. 

“Now what?” You asked, hand on your forehead while you paced around the room. 

“What? We sleep together, of course.” He had a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Are you crazy?” You almost screamed, but you didn’t wanna alert your grandma, which made you repeat it in a hushed tone.

“Why? Too scared to sleep with me? You’re the reason we’re in this situation, princess,” he smirked. 

You sighed. He was right about that part but you weren’t willing to sleep with him, so you proceeded to ignore him as you went into the bathroom to change into your comfortable clothes for the night. 

Jake simply patted the bed when you came out, silently asking you to sit next to him, and suddenly you realized that you’re locked up in a room with him, which didn’t help your nerves as you sat down with him. 

Somehow everything was rebellious against your rules when it concerned Sim Jaeyun. 

“Can’t you sleep on the floor?” You almost whined. 

He cocked his brow, “is that what I get after helping you escape?”

“That’s not it—”

“So? Is it the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have any—”

“The guy you were talking to in the morning.”

“He’s a friend—”

“Then there’s no problem, right?” he rasped. 

You didn’t realize your lip was bitten till his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it gently to free it, caressing it while looking into your eyes. 

“Right?” He repeated. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding ever so slightly. 

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, flustering you as you tried to look away, which wasn’t something Jake allowed, his fingers gripping your chin now, “god, you look so fucking innocent.”

“I’m not!” You argued. 

“Yeah? Have you been kissed before, princess?” He asks, amused. 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, to the point you almost whimpered out loud, but you were glad you didn’t, “no. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked anyone before.” You confessed, eyes on his plump lips. 

“Oh? Who’s the loser who fucked you without even kissing your prettiest lips?” He asked, frustrated that someone even dared to touch you, even though his words said otherwise. 

You gulped, “we were drunk,” you whispered, remembering your graduation party and how the guy had failed to please you. 

“Did he make you feel good?” Jake asked, expression serious. 

“What?” You were surprised by his question. 

He wasted no time in pulling you to his lap, your gasp only made him smirk wider, his hands resting on your waist, squeezing it lightly. 

“Did he satisfy you, princess?” His voice was an octave deeper, giving you goosebumps. 

“H—he didn’t,” you stutter, which pissed him further, his jaw tensed. 

“So you’re telling me that some asshole was deep inside you and didn’t even bother making you feel good?” He scoffed. 

“Jake—”

“Y’know what I would have done instead?” He asked, caressing your cheek, his thumb resting on your lips right after, “I’d kiss your lips till you get obsessed with mine.” his hooded eyes lured you in. 

His fingers travelled down to your neck, rubbing circles just above your clavicle, “I’d kiss you till my lips memorize every inch of your body, till your mind goes blank,” he whispers, biting your earlobe. 

You breathe in deeply, a whimper leaving your mouth, Jake’s name rolling off your tongue in a whisper right after, making him groan in response. 

“I’d ruin you, princess,” he breathes, eyes meeting yours. 

“Please.” You struggled to breathe, his pointy nose brushing against yours, lips threatening to kiss. 

“Say it,” he urged you, pulling your body impossibly closer on his lap. 

There was no denying that Jake made you lose every sense of rationality and morals in you, it almost felt as if you were intoxicated in his presence, your heart raced, thumping faster than ever, urging you to say yes. 

“Please ruin me, Jake,” you whispered, giving in and looking at him with innocent eyes. 

“That’s a good girl.” 

He was swift to push you down on the mattress, getting on top of you with hungry eyes to the point you almost felt as if you were a prey, and you liked it. 

His cold chain brushed against your clavicle, making you shiver as he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a fervent kiss, a groan leaving his mouth as he finally had you so close to him. 

Your fingers held on to his shoulders desperately, he was difficult to resist, and who were you to resist such pleasure? His plush lips moulding against yours, his hand squeezing your waist as you allowed yourself to get immersed into him. 

You could feel the warmth spreading in your abdomen like wildfire, a gasp giving him the perfect opportunity to taste you, sliding his tongue down your mouth to deepen the kiss, the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth and you let yourself moan into his lips. 

You tugged on his hair, realizing how correct he was about you being obsessed with his lips as you found yourself chasing after it when he broke the kiss, making him chuckle at your desperation. 

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, staring at your slightly swollen lips, which glistened with the mixture of your spit. 

He wasn’t the one to waste time, his tongue licking your neck, placing kisses all over it, causing you to squirm and pant till he found the spot which had you rolling your eyes with sheer pleasure. 

Placing a hand over your mouth to silence your moans, he felt a feeling of possessiveness take over him. You looked so fucked out and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he sees someone else with you. 

The mere thought had him biting and sucking on your skin in an attempt to mark the very spot which had you shivering and your toes curling. He slipped his other hand inside your flimsy tee, and in your bra, feeling your hardened nipples which he flicked between his fingers. 

Your body felt more awake than ever, each touch of his getting a reaction out of you, “so responsive, have you been waiting for this, princess?” 

You could only nod in desperation, trying your best to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to alert your grandma. He kissed your cheek before he got up to get rid of his own clothes, giving you a few seconds to stare at his faint abs, highlighted by the dim lights along with his tattoo, which you so desperately wanted to kiss. 

The image of you looking his way with such big eyes, chest heaving up and down only ignited the carnal feeling of him wanting to be deep inside you. 

It all felt new to you, being aware and not drunk this time, however it wasn’t just that—Jake made you feel this way, your thighs closing when you felt a fluttering sensation down your abdomen. 

“Undress,” he ordered. 

“What—”

“Undress for me, darling,” his words were smoother than the melted butter, making you work upon it instantly. 

His eyes were fixated on your figure the entire time you took to get your clothing off, feeling shy under his gaze, not to mention the outline of his cock in his boxers intrigued you even further. 

“Fuck, you’re all mine,” he said under his breath. 

His plush lips were soon on your tits, his other hand fondling and caressing your nipple while he worked his tongue, swirling it ever so perfectly before giving it a soft bite, making you arch your back as you bit on your discarded clothes, tears forming in your eyes with these euphoric sensations. 

He’s giving you all you could ask for and you? You’re a mess with your lipstick smudged and ragged breathing. Just when you thought that Jake couldn’t get you anymore wilder, he stuffed his hand down your wet panties, which brushed against your extremely sensitive clit. Even biting your clothes couldn’t stop a moan coming out of your mouth. 

“You like it, baby? That’s my good girl. So pretty and wet all for daddy, yeah? Daddy’s gonna taste you now, princess,” his spoke, his accent deep. 

“Daddy?” you asked, whimpering right after when his lips touched your bare pussy, pressing a kiss on your clit. 

There was something in the way he addressed himself so confidently which made you want to submit yourself to him fully, only pushing yourself deeper into sub space as he worshipped every inch of your body. 

“That’s right, baby,” he spoke against your, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his strong hands held your thighs open. 

Obscene noises of him licking and sucking resonated the room as you bucked up your hips unconsciously, desperate for friction, making his cock twitch while he licked languid strokes up and down your cunt, his hot breath fanning your folds, wishing to hear you moan despite the circumstances. 

“Shh, princess. We don’t want your grandma to know now, do we?” He smirked. 

Your hand slithers into Jake’s hair, tugging on it as you convulse in pleasure, letting him continue his ministrations on your leaking pussy, his lips soft unlike his actions, which were rushed and aimed at your pleasure. 

Your eyes roll back, arousal reaching its peak at the unadulterated pleasure as you repeated his name when he moved down to shove his tongue into your cunt, lapping at your juices when you reach your orgasm. 

Yet he doesn’t stop, inserting his slender finger in your tight hole, pumping it in and out gently at first while you whine and he gets up, wetness coating his lips. He lets you taste yourself by kissing you yet again, his fingers entertaining your cunt. 

Your breaths are heavier, louder and you can’t wait to have his cock shoved into you. You weren’t the one to have lewd thoughts in general yet here you were, moaning into Jake’s mouth, clenching around his two fingers which thrusted into you at a newfound speed. 

“Yes, daddy! Yes, oh god,” you mumbled to yourself, letting the lust consume you. 

His fingers curled inside you before he decided that you were ready for his cock. 

“Let’s see how desperate you are, beg for daddy’s cock,  princess,” he demanded. 

Now that his cock was in view, you stared at it dumbfounded. It was veiny and stood hard and leaking, the tip was red and ready to fuck you dumb, it pushed you over the edge. 

“Please, daddy? I’ll be a good girl for y—you please fuck me?” A tear left your eye, tainting your image even further which aroused Jake as a sadistic smile overtook his face. 

You continued to beg him, and he gave you no warning as he lined his tip on your entrance, coating it with your juices, almost pushing it all in but instead, he gave you just the tip, which made you beg out of frustration. 

“Tell me about your darkest fantasies,” Jake teased, seeing you pout and whine, “do it baby, only then you’ll get this cock into you.”

You were going crazy, “I—I want to be fucked awake,” you confessed, hiding your face. 

“Is that so? How cute,” he commented, pulling your body flush. 

Within a second, he thrusted into you sharply, your wet juices acting as the perfect lube to suck his cock right in as he bottomed out fully, cussing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. 

You could feel the imprint of his dick on your lower abdomen, and he pressed on it with a proud smirk, only to make you whimper lowly, your voice quivering with deep he was in you, “big—so big.”

You laid beneath Jake in such a way that the sight was captivating for him, your vulnerability paired with his ignited primal hunger. 

He firmly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling out slightly before he thrusted into you again as you were clinging onto him. 

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him. 

His slow thrusts soon turned into relentless, pleasure inducing thrusts, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet him, helping him reach deeper spots in you, his tip hitting your g-spot. 

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of Jake’s presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions. 

“Daddy—please!”

Sensing that you were close, he thrusted harder, twitching inside your pussy, his lips capturing yours as you both cried out, reaching your climax in harmony, breathing in deeply before he filled you up with his warm cum, which mixed with your own juices. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, causing him to laugh and pull you in a sweet kiss. 

You could see the clear switch in his demeanour when he cleaned you up, asking gentle questions about how you felt or if he went overboard. 

He was perfect. 

Something had changed in the air, and you both were aware of it, but rather than verbalising it, you slept in each other’s arms, Jake staying up a few minutes just to see your peaceful face. 

“Good night, princess.”

Jake woke up early despite not getting enough sleep, still not believing that he fucked you—the prettiest girl he swore he’d ever laid eyes on. 

And he was sure to make your desires come true. 

You wore nothing but his shirt to sleep, which made your pussy accessible to him, his fingers playing with your folds ever so gently as he didn’t wish to wake you up, not this soon at least. 

He continued to do so for a remarkably long time, smiling each time he saw you stir in your sleep, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and shoulder blades till you were fully wet for him. 

Jake was shocked when you revealed that you were into somnophilia, but who was he to deny his girl some pleasure?

His other hand was busy taking care of his raging boner, seeing you dressed in his shirt, your scent mixed with his only drove him crazy. 

His grip on your thighs was firm when he straddled you, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed it in you with a few thrusts, the stretch being enough to wake you up with a whimper, your state disoriented but the second you realized that Jake was making your wish actually come true, you moaned. 

His dick throbbed inside you and you were still not over last night’s adventure as curse words filled the air, along with the mist of your unholy activities and fervent longing as he thrusted with a groan, kissing and nibbling on the skin of your neck. 

You were sure you had bruises forming on your clavicle by now, which also extended down your breasts and inner thighs, Jake being particular about having you marked through and through. 

You could only sigh and plead for more, beg for more, the word daddy coming out of your mouth effortlessly, which was effective to the point it made Jake fuel with desire as he provided you with the most overwhelming, ecstasy filled orgasm, him coming all over your pussy, pulling out this time. 

“I like you,” he revealed all of a sudden, his smile the epitome of boyishness which made you chuckle with your newfound happiness. 

That’s one good way to wake up in the morning. 

“Guess what, Sim. I like you too,” you confessed, growing shy by the last word and he pulled you in a sweet hug, swinging your body along his, your laughter filling up the room. 

You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.  

You had forgotten to help him escape without your grandma knowing. 

The escape was successful, and so were your holidays which were nearing. Your sadness was apparent on your face, having no desire to go back leaving your grandma and aunt Sim. 

More importantly, Jake. 

It has become a routine for him to slip into your room ever so professionally to sleep with you—some nights you did sleep, other nights he gave you every reason to be awake. 

Which also served as a solid reason for Jake to stop indulging in the so called drug trade, one instance of almost being caught was enough for you both, not that you were involved in the first place. 

He opened up to you, actually acting like a goof at times, juxtaposing his usual bad boy demeanour. He provided you with the best of both worlds. 

Your feelings for the guy you used to find annoying were increasing at record speed per day, and now that it was finally one day before you’d leave, you couldn’t help but be bothered by Jake’s absence. 

He’s always around, which made you wonder where and what he was up to, especially when you wanted nothing more than to spend your time in his arms, lip quivering at the thought that he might not wish to see you anymore.

However, that wasn’t the case when he showed up in the doorway, huffing and hair messy as if he was running. 

“Jaeyun,” you whispered, letting him pull you in the comfort of his warm arms. 

“I’m coming,” he breathed, making you look at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” You blinked, almost stuttering. 

“I’m coming to Seoul with you, princess. I got into the same university,” he chuckled as you snatched the envelope from him, jumping with excitement as tears filled your eyes, hugging him even tighter. 

You felt like your heart was going to explode with the excitement, which Jake found heartwarming. He had planned this the second he saw you and got to know you. It was a given that he wanted to be with you. 

“What about your mom?” You asked softly, realizing that she’d be alone. 

“She’s gonna stay with Gigi. Our ladies are strong women, right?” He asked, caressing your lip, which you had noticed was his habit. 

“W—when did you even apply—this is so amazing,” you went on rambling, which was something he adored, but kissing your lips to shut you up was his favourite thing, especially when he got to see your shy smile right after. 

“So, we’re gonna be together?” You questioned, shyness taking over. 

“You’re wrong if you think you’ll ever get rid of me now, princess,” he smirked, teasing you again. 

This side of him made you faux scoff, “but what if I want to get rid of you?” You challenged, knowing well you weren’t capable of that. 

He took a step closer to you, his broad smile illuminating the room, his hand resting on your waist pulling you closer, “I’d like to see you try and escape me,” he retorted. 

“You want me that much, huh?” Your smile was coy. 

He brushed your nose tip with his, making you chuckle with joy. 

“I’ll always want my princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[pure-smut]

adrenaline.

featuring: Togame Jo x f!reader

contains: fighting, blood, established relationship, public s*x, creampie, Togame is a bit feral

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

MDNI | 18+ content

Togame Jo is the sleepiest, most relaxed boyfriend you’ve ever had.

You’ve been together for six months and it took you a while to get used to his slower pace, his long drawl, his delayed responses. But now you love it – you love that he gives you a second to think clearly before you speak or lets you breathe before a spiral.

You’re used to seeing him pad around your apartment in nothing but sweatpants, slung low to expose the cut of muscle on his hips. You’ll never get bored of watching him, his sleepy yawns and stretches, the muscles in his back moving hypnotically. And when he climbs back into bed, pressing languid kisses against your lips, his hips stirring as he grinds into you, you know you could happily stay at this pace forever.

It takes another two months before you see a different side to Togame.

You’re walking home hand-in-hand from the cinema. It was a late showing and most of the street is crowded with boisterous party-goers, drunk men standing in clumps outside of the pubs and bars.

It used to make you nervous, walking this late at night, but Togame’s large presence next to you is reassuring. You know he’s second-in-command at Shishitoren so the rational side of your brain assumes he knows how to fight, how to defend himself and other people. But it’s at odds with the Togame you know, who wears a lazy grin and takes an additional five seconds to register a sentence. So you clutch his hand a little tighter.

A group of men stare at you as you walk past. You can feel their eyes like lasers on you, despite keeping your own gaze firmly ahead. They’re not Shishitoren, not wearing the signature yellow jackets, so you’re already unsettled by their looks.

Don’t say anything, you chant inside your head, as if they can hear you. Please don’t say anything.

“Hey, sexy!” one of them calls, his friends laughing and whistling.

You grimace, stepping closer to Togame.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” he calls again and some of the others join in.

“We just wanna talk, baby!”

“Leave that scrub behind and come over here!”

You try to keep walking, keep ignoring them, but Togame stops still. When you look up at him, the smile you know so well is gone from his face. He’s staring back at the men with hard green eyes, his jaw set, as they continue to catcall.

“Jo…”

Togame looks back down at you, his face softening. He points at a nearby alleyway, empty of people.

“Go wait over there for me, sweetheart,” he says. “You don’t need to see.”

You nervously glance between him and the group of men. There’s at least six of them.

“Will you be okay?” you ask, gripping his hand. He gives you a grin, a sliver of the old Togame returning.

“Yeah,” he says and his voice is solid.

With a last squeeze of his hand, you scurry over to the alleyway. Even as you hurry away, you hear one of the men laugh, “What’re you gonna do against six of-”. He’s cut off by a sickening crunch. You turn into the alleyway, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.

You’re too scared to look but all you can hear is a symphony of yelps and cries, “oof!” and “aah!” and the sound of glass breaking. You only chance a peek when you hear the scuffle of several feet and see the group of men running away, screaming.

Your mouth drops open to see Togame standing there, not even out of breath.

“Jo…?” you squeak.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He crosses the street to meet you in the alleyway, pulling you deeper inside. “It’s okay.”

Togame reaches out for you and you see the blood on his knuckles, the skin torn away. You suck in a breath at the sight of it and Togame tips his hands, facing them palm up so you don’t have to see.

Your eyes meet his. There’s a mark high on his cheekbone where someone landed a hit but he’s otherwise untouched. You breathe out a sigh of relief and step into his arms.

Togame wraps you in a bear hug, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he whispers. “I’ll always be okay.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. Now you’re closer, you can see the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. His pupils are blown out and there’s something about him that looks… intense.

Togame dips his head to kiss you and it’s not his usual lazy pace. This time he kisses you hard, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He hugs you tighter, holding you flush to his body, and it’s then you feel the bulge he’s harbouring.

Togame pulls you deeper into the alleyway, into the shadows, and presses you against the wall. He’s breathing hard, his hands grabbing at you, pushing under your skirt to tug your panties down.

You’re pretty sure no one can see you here, cloaked in darkness, but you can hear the buzz of the crowd only a few feet away. It doesn’t seem to bother Togame who’s already grabbing your thigh to lift it, spreading your legs.

“Jo?” Your voice is tentative, unsure, but when Togame dips his fingers between your folds, he finds you already slick.

“I need this,” he breathes. “I need you.”

As soon as you nod, Togame starts sucking rough kisses against your neck. His movements are frantic, desperate, as he tugs his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. You only have a second to feel his fat mushroom tip nudging past your lips before he presses inside you, stretching your ill-prepped hole.

You cry out and Togame claps a hand over your mouth, silencing you. His other hand is under your ass, holding you up as he slides deeper inside you. He wastes no time, not giving you a moment to adjust before he starts to pump in and out of you.

“Stay quiet for me, baby, okay?” he says hoarsely in your ear.

You nod and he lets his hand fall away from your face, pressing his lips against yours instead. His cock drags against yours walls so deliciously and every slam sends a jolt from your clit through your body. You gasp into his mouth to stop from moaning.

Togame tips his head back, eyes closed and face twisted in pleasure. You feel so hot, so wet, so fucking good. He likes to take his time with you, to savour you properly, but not right now. Right now, he needs to fuck, needs to take you hard and fast and dirty.

Adrenaline courses through his veins from the fight and he takes it out on your pussy.

Feral, you think as he tips forward to grunt against your neck. Animalistic.

His cock rubs against all the right spots inside you. That, combined with being forced to stay quiet and the ruckus of the public only feet away, fills you with a thrill. Togame is taking you, needing you so badly he can’t wait for home. He needs you now. The thought only urges you towards an orgasm, your walls clamping down around him.

“That’s it, baby, milk my cock,” Togame groans as he feels your slick pussy squeeze him. “Take my load like a good girl, yeah?”

You whimper quietly, holding tight onto Togame to stop from crying out as a wave of pleasure consumes you. Your thighs tighten around him, your forehead on his shoulder as you cream silently on his cock.

Togame’s movements start to stutter, his breathing turning ragged in your ear. He bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood, burying his cock in you. You feel him cum, a hot, sticky flood inside you as Togame grunts softly. He gives a few more shallow pumps before pulling free.

Togame lets his head fall forward on your shoulder, breathing hard.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I just really needed that.”

“It’s okay, Jo.” You press soft kisses against his temple. “I didn’t mind.”

Togame gives you his usual grin, his eyes soft again. You reach up to kiss him, feeling his languid pace return.

“But,” you say, matching his grin. “I might start hanging around after your fights more often.”

masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi! ♡

[thesimpirediaries]

Pet names.

featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto

or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.

⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.

word count: 1.5k

You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.

“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”

It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.

“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”

With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”

Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.

“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.

It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.

“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.

“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”

You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.

You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.

“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.

“You’re in the way, dollface.”

You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.

Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.

As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.

The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.

Bakugou had never called you something like that.

“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.

“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.

“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.

After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;

“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”

With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.

“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”

At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”

You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.

And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.

With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.

“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.

“Anything you want, princess.”

God, you swore you were already in love.

In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.

Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.

Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.

You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.

Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.

And he did it so effortlessly.

“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”

You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.

“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.

“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.

You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.

With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.

“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”

Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”

eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!

[latenightdaydreams]

Roommates Part 3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1 Part 2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, distance, loneliness, oral, p in v

2.1k word count

🏠

.

.

Today is the first morning without König, last night he left to begin his long deployment. You walk out of your room to a quiet apartment. There is no smell of coffee awaiting you, no soft hums, just silence. You didn’t think König being gone would make such a large impact on you, yet you already find yourself missing him. The apartment feels empty without him.

You sit at the table eating a bowl of cereal and looking at the photos you took of you and König before he left. A small sad sigh leaves your lips as you linger on a photo of his blue eyes. A deep sense of regret for wasting time not expressing yourself sooner so you’d have more memories with him fills you, but you know he’ll be back.

As if being without König wasn’t lonely enough, you also have today off of work. All you do is sit on the couch and watch your phone as if waiting for his call, but he doesn’t. You rest there, just trying to imagine what König is doing, where he’s at. In your sadness, you get up from the couch and walk down the hall to his room.

The door opens and you look at his bed unmade, with random clothing thrown on the floor in a corner. You step up to his bed and plop yourself down on to his soft mattress. König’s smell that lingers on the bedsheets consumes you. As you turn on your side, you grab one of his pillows and bring it to your face, taking a deep breath.

Memories of him fucking you on this bed the last three days cloud your mind as a hand rubs your clit over the fabric of your pajama bottoms. Small moans leaving your lips as you imagine it’s König late at night circling your clit.

“König…” The moment his name leaves your mouth, you frown. A deep sadness hits you, causing you to withdraw your hand and just hug his pillow. This is going to suck.

Every day for the last six months, you’ve marked off the days on your calendar, eagerly awaiting König’s return home from deployment. He said six months to a year, so of course in your mind you hear six months. You sit around and wait everyday as more days pass by. Six months turn into seven, turn into eight, turn into nine.

At the year mark, König’s room already smells less like him. You’ve grown lonely and realize that maybe you have deeper feelings for König than you thought. There is a genuine loneliness that not even your best friends can cure. It feels miserable and as if it’s never ending.

König is back in his tent talking to Horangi, who he deployed with. “I wonder how y/n is handling this.”

“You think she’s waiting for you?” Horangi asks, not to be rude, just realistic.

“She said she would.” König’s blue eyes look sadder than ever as he begins to think about the thought that you might have given up waiting for him.

Noticing the defeated look in his friends’ eyes, he quickly tries to walk back what he said. “I mean, if she said she would wait, I’m sure she is.”

König nods his head, knowing what Horangi is doing. There is a small flicker of doubt in his head that you’d wait for him. The relationship is brand-new and you’ve never dated a military man before. Deployment puts stress on well established relationships, so he shouldn’t have put so much on you.

“I hope she’s okay.” He whispers mostly to himself but Horangi hears and nods in agreement.

König keeps a photo of you that he printed out and a pair of your underwear on him at all times. It’s his good luck and a way to have you with him at all times. As time went on, König began to worry what would be waiting for him when he got home.

Once the fifteen-month park passes, König gets the notice that his troop is being sent home. A wave of relief comes crashing over him knowing that he will see you soon. Mentally, he prepares himself with the possibility that you’ve moved on, but he stays hopeful that you haven’t.

You feel as if this deployment will just continue on forever. Over a year now and still no word from König. Walking through the apartment in one of König’s baggy shirts, you wind up in his bedroom as you usually do. As you relax on his bed you grab the pillow you’ve been hugging for the last fifteen months, snuggling up with it again. A frown on your lips as you try to nap, sleeping away the loneliness.

Only two hours after you fall asleep, König makes his way up to the apartment door. Consumed with anticipation, he opens the apartment door to see the living room empty. He walks in and locks the door behind him, dropping his bag by the door.

“Liebling?” König walks into the apartment and heads towards your bedroom. He opens the door and peaks inside. You’re not there. His heart skins slightly as he looks in the bathroom next. The last place you could be is his room, so he turns and heads down the other end of the hall to his room.

König sees that his door is slightly ajar. He walks to it, pushing it all the way open, spotting you asleep on his bed. Right away he notices the shirt you’re wearing is his. Your body wrapped around his pillow as you’re fast asleep. You look like a perfect angel; he can’t wake you.

He takes off his boots and gear, lightly placing them on the ground so the sound doesn’t disturb you. In fluid motions he strips down to his boxer briefs, slowly crawling into bed behind you and wrapping his arms around your body. In your sleep you snuggle up closer to him, being attracted to his body heat. It feels like a dream to have you in his arms again.

As you dream, the weight you feel on your body causes you to stir. König watches as you toss, turning to face him. Your eyes open slightly then close, a few seconds pass before they shoot open again.

“König?!” You scramble to sit up and look at him.

“Ja, ich bin es.” He chuckles watching the excitement fill your face.

You throw your arms around his body and rest yours on top of his. “I can’t believe you’re back!”

König holds you tightly to his body. “Have you been sleeping in my room while I was away?” He asks in a cheeky tone.

“Sometimes.” You giggle and hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing him.

“I’m just happy to know that you missed me just as much as I missed you. I was worried you would have given up.”

“I promised you I’d wait.”

“Danke meine Liebe.” König moves his lips to yours, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “I’ve missed your taste. So much.” He whispers in between kisses.

Instantly, König’s dick hardens as he kisses you. He has been imagining this reunion for months and it’s finally happening. One of his hands glides down to your rear, grasping your supple flesh with such eagerness. He’s never had a girlfriend to come home to; he has really only ever dated fellow soldiers. This is a new and exciting feeling.

“I want to fuck you so badly.” His voice comes out in almost a growl as he holds you. “My hand can never compare to your warm, wet pussy.”

The way König speaks to you sends a tingle down your spine. He adjusts your bodies so that his weight is resting on you, your body sandwiched between him and the bed. As he looks down at you, gazing into your eyes and caressing your face. “My shirt looks good on you.”

You giggle as you feel his hand snaking underneath your shirt, causing excited chills to cover your whole body. His mouth moves to kiss your lips and then neck, moving down your body as he lifts the shirt off on your abdomen to expose your soft stomach and beautiful breasts. He peppers kisses over every inch of your soft skin.

König’s lips wrap around your nipple and slowly pull away with a ‘pop’ from his lips. With his left hand, he slides it down your abdomen and slips under your panties. His fingers move back and forth on your labia, getting your pussy nice and wet quickly; he can’t wait.

Standing up quickly, König pulls his boxers off, tossing them to the side of the room. He reaches forward for your shirt, undressing you until he can only see your perfect body; his Königin. His eyes are hard focused on your sweet pussy as he crawls on to the bed, resting between your legs. Your legs fall to the side, allowing him space to enjoy you.

With his large fingers he pulls your pussy lips apart, singling out your tiny clit. His tongue swipes against it, causing your body to jerk slightly. “I’ve been craving you, Maus. I’ve been craving…you.” He says as he sticks his tongue out, lapping like a thirsty dog.

One of his hands drifts down to his cock, dripping with pre-cum in anticipation of being buried deep inside of you. He strokes himself lightly for pleasure, being sure to not cum yet. He wants to get his first load home inside of you. Your fingers comb through his long shaggy blonde hair, pulling harder than you realize while your body experiences the special euphoric feeling that only being touched by your love can give you.

“König, fuck me.” You beg him.

A low groan leaves König’s throat as he sucks on your clit once more. Your bud is now swollen and sensitive. König moves his body over yours and positions himself between your legs. He holds your hips up and brings you to him. In a rush almost, he shoves his cock into the tight entrance of your pussy. Due to the size of his cock, it struggles to slip in at first. He pulls you by your hips to him, forcing it in.

Your eyes flutter back as your mouth drops open; a loud gasping moan flees your lips. Not even giving you a moment to adjust, König bucks his hips like a wild bull into you. Small whimpers leave him with every thrust forward into you. His cock stretches your tight walls to the point of feeling like he will split you in two.

After over a year of craving your touch and being denied it, he can’t hold himself back. “You’re doing such a good job taking me.” His blue eyes meet your hazy gaze. He holds you up and moves you into him matching his rhythm.

The movement of your breasts bouncing draws his attention as he looks at them swirl in a hypnotic motion. Your hands behind your head holding on to the bed sheets, moaning so loud the neighbors definitely hear you; the bed thumping against the wall. This is the best home coming he’s ever had.

“You’re…fucking tight.” König moans as he thrust into you almost losing his pace. His hips studder before he holds you close to him, his cock throbbing deep within. You watch as his eyes shut tightly and his head drops back, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

König puts your hips back down on the bed and leans his body on to yours, crushing you with his weight. He slowly thrust into you as he kisses and sucks on your neck and jaw, leaving a trail of hickeys.

“I’m keeping you in bed all night, you get no sleep until I’ve completely filled you.” He says sitting back up and moving his hips faster.

You have no recollection of when you fell asleep, waking up in an empty bed looking around for König. The sun shines brightly into the room as you stand, walking out to the kitchen wearing only your underwear you found on the floor. The strong smell of freshly brewed coffee hits your nostrils and you can hear him humming softly.

König turns to see you mostly naked with messy hair and covered in his marks. You’re beautiful. “Hallo, coffee?”

“Shouldn’t I be making you breakfast since it’s your first morning home?” You ask walking up behind him and wrap your arms around his abdomen, resting your head on his muscular back.

“Nein, I love to spoil you. Plus, last night was the perfect welcome home.” He covers your hands with one of his. “Sit, I’ll make you coffee and serve you.”

You sit, watching him closely as he does everything for you. It feels so natural to be with König, as if he’s home. As König sits, he notices the way that you’re looking at him. He knows that this is love. He loves you too. That’s why he texted Horangi this morning asking him what jeweler he uses.

[sleepiedahlia]

HIS TAIL

FEATURING: LEVIATHAN,SATAN,BELPHIE,BARBATOS

TW: both smut and fluff but mostly fluff! tell me if i missed anything!

HIS WINGS|HIS TAIL ( YOU ARE HERE)

LEVIATHAN

-surprisingly his tail has a lot more scales then the rest of his body but he sheds every few months to make sure his scales are healthy and I also think he might be able to grow it back..?

-but his tail is very long and smooth scales so when you touch it your hand glides over his tail with ease

-he doesn’t use his tail as a defense mechanism as much as satan does because 1. He doses leave his room and 2.he’s really not a fighter,but if he did use his tail for defense he’ll hind of lift up his tail and wave it around slightly as warning but if someone doesn’t listen he will smack the living hell out of the with his tail

-his most sensitive sensitive area is the base of his tail even though his whole tail is sensitive but if you Touch by the base of his tail he shakes a little bit but he does like it! But during cuddling he wraps his tail around your waist or leg and the Same goes for in bed but he’ll be slightly more tight and he definitely uses it to help you out when you need it ;)

SATAN

-for Satan showing his tail to you when he is not angry is a sign of love deeper then anyone could imagine

-but his tail has very rough scales so it does make it harder to Touch because it’s also kinda spiky as well

-when he gets angry his tail becomes a weapon and it hurts when it Hits you smack dab in the fase…yeah that will leave…a few marks,when he tries to warn someone on the rare occasion if he doesn’t already try to kill them the first time they did something his tail wraps around his leg tightly almost enough to go through his skin and most of time he tries to use it to kill lucifer

-his Most sensitive are is the tip of his tail and when you touch it he’ll pull away pretty quickly but once he realizes you mean no harm to him he’ll let you touch it as much of you want!

-he does like to have it wrapped around you a lot and especially when you two read together but only in private because he wouldn’t have it out in public ever only if he was about to make someone have a 504 error and never be seen again

BELPHIE

-belphie has a cow like tail but it's not soft though it's more rough then it looks but it doesn’t stop him from sleeping with it

-he mostly uses it to keep you as his cuddle buddy for longer then you wanted but that’s actually how he first showed it you, he had his tail wrapped around your waist

-but after he realized he was doing that it was too late and he did that every time you cuddled or slept with him:)

-defense wise he doesn’t use it all but if he did he would also try to use to kill Lucifer and put him six feet under or someone took his pillow and he wants revenge which also might end in a 504 error…just don’t cross him…

-his most sensitive place is the tip of his tail before it goes into a big fluff ball,if you do touch there he’ll just wrap his tail around your hand tightly and that all that really happens but if it where someone else beware he might strangle them to death

-in bed I think he would just use it to hold you down and he would definitely use the fluff part of his tail to mess with your nipples a little bit or your clit

BARBATOS

-barbatos tail has a slight slimy feeling to it and has more of a sea serpent shape to his tail like levi

-but he uses his tail like another arm he can use it for anything and since he has and extra part to his tail he could definitely hold you down and grab else at the same time

-the only time he’d ever use his tail is when someone tried to do something to the prince,I swear with his tail he could take like 4 demons out at the same time and he also has good tail reflex’s so he can tell when something’s near him and if something’s thrown at him he can smack it away or grab it with his tail but he could also probably use his tail like a spear also

-honestly I don’t think he has any sensitive spots but if I had to chose a specific place it would be the extra part on his tail and if someone or you were to touch it he will just ask you to stop but if it’s you he won’t say anything and just let’s you touch it

-in bed he could possibly use the second part on his tail to stimulate you while he’s fucking you into the mattress but if your into gagging he would probably use his tail as a gag for you if you wanted:)

@SLEEPIEDAHLIA

- PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK! BUT PLEASE ADD CREDIT IF YOU USED MINE AS A REFERENCE FOR A POST! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! -

[midmourn]

break ups with nct dream

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre angst warnings break ups, unhealthy coping, insecurities, some members dont think of themselves very highly, unintentional manipulation maybe ?? ( library )

mark who can’t stop pretending like everything’s fine. mark who is for once thankful of his busy schedule. because when his mind isn’t preoccupied, he finds it always going back to you. now, you only come to his mind late at night when he’s about to fall asleep only to wake up in four hours for yet another schedule. there’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes the heartbreak is just as fresh as it was the moment it happened. thinks he let you go to easy but also respects you too much to argue. at this time, he’d be too busy talking to you on the phone to fall asleep. something he used to momentarily regret the next day, but now something he yearns for. he turns around and begs hypos to let him sleep.

renjun who wants to scream at the world and god and ask why is this happening. renjun who refuses to talk about it. he doesn’t understand what happened. he thought you guys were doing perfectly fine. you seemed happy, anyway. he can’t tell if he was just too blind to see that you actually were unhappy or if you were just a good actor. he finds himself thinking about what you’re doing, even when he’s busy. he misses you so bad that he’s so angry that you left. he gets even angrier when he sees you with another guy a couple weeks later. but he’s more angry at himself for letting you go. he thinks it’s easier to be angry than upset.

jeno who cries and then gets his emotions out at the gym. jeno who hits the punching bag so hard it manages to fall off the chain. he moves onto the wall next. he ignores the concerned stares from others about the bruises and split knuckles, but is the exact same otherwise. he thinks he’s doing okay, getting his emotions out in the form of his fists, because at least he’s still doing what he needed to do, right? he’s fine, he swears. when he’s laying in bed alone, he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to and type up a message that accidentally seems too much like a booty call. u up? wyd?

haechan who doesn’t have the energy to be his normal self. haechan who is too quiet, blends in with the walls when he’s normally the life of the party. his voice is literally hoarse from crying and begging you to stay for so long. he sends countless messages to you, enough to the point where you blocked him. people wonder where he is only to find out he’s been right next to them the entire time, thoughts consuming him. he spends time overthinking every decision he made in the last six months that led you to break up with him. he can’t find one. it must be him, though. you’d never break up with him without a reason, right? he wasn’t good enough for you, so he has to be better. and with that, he gets off his ass and forces himself into the conversation. he will be better, for you.

jaemin who is so mature when you bring it up. jaemin who doesn’t cry or act like he’s upset about it in front of others. people think he never loved you with the way he acts. that couldn’t be far from the truth. the only way he’ll grieve over your relationship is in his room, alone, with his babies. he accepts your decision, but the what if’s consume his thoughts. what if he hadn’t done that one thing you got angry at him for? what if he hadn’t missed your anniversary date? but he knows he was a good boyfriend, too. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you, doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to. he can only hope that you two will find each other later in life.

chenle who fights harder than he’s ever fought. chenle who wants to work it out. ultimately, you win. he cannot help but be a little bit pissed on how difficult you’re being, how you refuse to talk it out and avoid him. he doesn’t even know what happened. he doesn’t think you’re going to stay broken up so he doesn’t even bother shedding a tear. he thinks it’ll be something you two will laugh and then bicker about in fifty years. thinks you’re trying to make him jealous when you try to move on, and it works. doesn’t think before finally cornering you. he gave you your space, now it’s time for you to give him the answers he wants.

jisung who doesn’t understand the concept of space. jisung who has attachment issues. he’ll text you “good morning” and “good night” and tell you about his day without thinking about it because it’s like a routine for him by now. feels so bad and accidentally makes you feel bad for him with his countless apologies. will tweet about you on his priv and forget you’re still on there. doesn’t even want to think about you moving on, and him moving on is out of the question. he truly thought you were his soulmate, but he wanted you to come back to him in your own terms. he’ll spend forever making it up to you, anyway.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Mrs. Swan 💍| Charlie Swan Headcanon

Twilight masterlist

Being Charlie Swan's wife & Stepmother to Bella would look like:

Bella was roughly 12 years old when going on 13 when you, and Charlie first began dating. Having moved to Forks to get away from the city life of Seattle, you took on a teaching position at the high school where you met Chief Charlie Swan days later at the local diner. He'd recognized you after Cora had pointed you out, saying how you recently moved to town and were the new Arts teacher. Charlie then introduced himself--after working up the courage to--to you and see how you were settling in. 

It really was love at first sight. Charlie was instantly smitten by you, and you were immensely attracted to the man, who you calculated to be about five or so years older than you. After that first conversation you two kept running into each other around town--as expected with how small Forks was. The library, the Safeway, even when pulling up to the drive-thru coffee huts you saw Charlie. Each time was met with a smile and warm greeting. Then the fifth or so time it happened; Charlie made the move to ask you out. "We have to stop meeting like this, Chief Swan." "Well how about we meet on purpose this time. Say....the diner this Friday at six?"

It didn't take long for you to fall head over heels for Charlie. He was funny, charming, and a treat to look at. Your relationship was the intimate love one craves. One filled with gestures and words. Before you moved in with him Charlie would swing by your house before heading into the station to bring you coffee on your way to the school. He'd send flowers to your classroom--which made all the ladies in the front office envious while also finding it sweet. And when you did move in, Charlie would pack your lunch with a wholesome note before he left the house while you still slept. He did the grocery shopping--and he was the type to go off the list to grab goodies he'd think you'd like. 

Charlie is awkward when it comes to PDA and prefers to keep his affection behind closed doors. Plus he's the police chief and has a reputation to uphold. BUT don't be fooled now, this man is a flirt. He loves to sneak up on you with a hug from behind. Nuzzle his head in your neck when cuddling, whispering things that have you blushing. Run his eyes up and down you every time you entered the room. Kiss you in ways that take your breath away. 

Since Bella was young and living in Arizona with her mom, you and Charlie agreed you'd be formally introduced to the girl once your relationship hit one year. Of course, Charlie told Bella about you around your six-month mark, but promised a meeting the following summer. As nervous as you were, Bella reacted quite positive to your relationship with her father and voiced her approval. "You're the first person I've seen him happy with. Just don't break his heart."

Before Bella started requesting to vacation to California in the summer, you would do your best to entertain her during her visits to Charlie. He was always at work and since you out of school for the summer, you guys would go to Port Angeles to shop or leave Forks early in the morning to spend the whole day in Seattle. The first year that four-hour drive was riddled with awkward silence and short conversation. Then in Seattle you'd go the museums and underground tours, have lunch and go to bookstores. Bella always tried to pay for her part with her allowance money but you refused with a, "You save that for when you hang out with your friends--or to buy yourself something later on. This is my treat and don't you worry about anything." It's safe to say Bella was hesitant at first, but relented nonetheless. Not long after you and Bella grew close, and you became someone she'd seek out for advice or to hang out. 

Charlie was very happy as you can expect. Having his girlfriend and daughter like each other was his main concern when he began dating again. It would pain him to fall in love and for the two most important women in his life be at odds. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about that. Both you and Bella enjoyed reading, cooking, the beach, and old school music. Any time Bella's birthday rolled around you'd send a giftcards to her favorite store. You'd teach her family recipes and bake homemade cookies.

Once you and Charlie hit two years, he asked Bella how'd she feel if he were to propose. "About time, dad." Was all she had to say, and Charlie literally popped the question that weekend at dinner when you three were finishing up at the table. The wedding was perfect. An intimate ceremony with all your close friends and family, held in Port Angeles where y'all then rented out Bella Italia for the reception. Bella was a bridesmaid, but you made sure to not involve her with planning to not overwhelm her--which she appreciated greatly. A young Jacob Black and his sisters were in attendance, which you noted the boy following the girls like a lost puppy.

When Bella moves in with y'all during her junior year, you pretty much do everything to prep her room since Charlie is clueless. He pretty much gives you the money and says, "Go nuts." You stock the kitchen with all her favorite snacks, buy her new bedspread, collect notebooks and binders for school, and have make room in the bathroom for her since you guys only have the one. At school when the rumor spread Chief Swan's daughter was moving back to Forks you were quick to inform your students to make Bella feel at home, otherwise you'd assign them extra homework for the weekend. 

It wasn't long before Bella was asking you and Charlie about the Cullens. While Charlie's knowledge was rather brief, you were able to provide her with a more in-depth opinion of the siblings. "They are all very talented, each in their own way. I have never met a group of siblings whose artwork is so vastly different but almost the same. Alice's sketches remind me of Tim Burton in a way...and Jasper has an eye for oils. Edward often stays behind to discuss art history--which is refreshing since I haven't had someone to talk to about it since leaving Seattle. But they are a quiet bunch. They come to class, do their work, and leave. Which I can't complain--I've never had to send any of them to ISS."

Like Charlie, you were very surprised when Bella announced she was dating the youngest Cullen, but you were much more supportive to the idea. You continued your support even after the Pheonix and Italy disaster because at the end of the day, that's all you could do. Bella was your stepdaughter and you wanted her to be happy, and being with Edward gave her that. But let's just say....he was no longer your favorite student. 

And on their wedding day you sat in the front row with tears in your eyes, passing a tissue to Charlie who took it graciously and kissed your cheek. Watching the little girl you both loved and adored all grown up marrying the love of her life. Charlie thought back to your wedding, taking your hand in his to press a kiss to your knuckle where your ring laid. "Thank you. For loving me and my daughter, Y/n. You breathed me back to life when I thought finding love had passed me." 

[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[in-som-niyah]

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You are Red Hood's relief. Nothing more. Nothing Less.

Your bedside alarm clock displayed an ungodly time in the morning.

It was a cold night in Gotham, your apartment filled with a chill accompanied by a familiar emptiness. It was just you, after all, and you didn't really have anyone over.

This changed, however, when a certain masked vigilante came to you for help when he was bleeding. Knowing you were a medical professional, he decided to swing by for a stitch or two. Who were you to deny him?

How could you refuse the six foot something, broad shouldered, panting, limping man barely making it across your living room?

You decided to indulge your curiosity, because let's be honest here: If he wanted you dead, he would have made it so a long time ago.

One night became two, then three, then a month and now a few times a week.

You were always welcoming him with a fresh roll of gauze and a chilled bottle of spirits for the pain, since he refused to take anything else.

But it was more than just medical attention. It was the way his chest heaved, back muscles flexed and forearms tightened when you hit a particularly tender spot. It made another certain tender spot on you wet.

Scandalously so.

You tried to hide it by wearing dark underwear and pants to bed, but it didn't help; he had you squirming and squeezing your thighs together in no time.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

He unknowingly infiltrated your senses, his scent of sweat and musky body wash making you dizzy, his vice grip on your bedsheets when you cleaned his wounds making your knees weak.

You wanted him.

You wanted him bad.

On this particular chilly Gotham night, you might just get what you want.

A loud pair of feet landed on the hardwoods near your windowsill. Heavy, irregular, yet determined footsteps proceed into your bedroom, where you've prepared your ensuite for a battered and bleeding Hood.

"Quickly, in here." you rasped having been torn from a restless sleep.

"I'm comin' sugar. Someone's eager to see me huh?" the familiar teasing tone of his voice modulator replied.

"You're only allowed to make jokes when you're not bleeding on my floor, Hood" you shot back, followed by a playful scoff and a silent eyeroll.

However, that eyeroll might not have been so silent.

As Red Hood approached the bathroom doorframe, he caught a glimpse of your feigned annoyance in the mirror.

He sat down with a thud on your toilet, exhaustion invading his bones.

You made quick, wordless work of his belt and jacket, revealing his toned exterior and the scars littering it. You never mentioned his scars, for fear of making him uncomfortable but more so because you couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting him so much that it left such a vicious mark.

"Sweet girls like you shouldn't roll their eyes, it's rude" he huffs between pained groans.

You briefly still your hand, look up at him and quirk your brow as if to challenge him. Then, you roll your eyes right in his face. You have no idea what prompted this pettiness, but your thoughts were hazy and disorganized as you looked back down to continue cleaning and stitching his wounds.

Red Hood chuckled darkly and sighed as he felt you get back to patching him up after your little stunt.

He lolls his head to the side, as if to emphasize his astonishment at your smart comeback. He didn't take you for a fiesty one.

"Really doll?" he prompts.

You say nothing and continue with your bandaging.

"Hey. Look at me." He tries again, this time with a gentler tone.

Still, you ignore him and repackage the unused gauze for another guaranteed visit from him in the future.

You go to get up, but his hand presses your shoulder down and you stop, entirely oblivious to his intentions.

Finally, your eyes meet his mask.

Red can tell you're both making eye contact, which lasts an unusually long time. You both bask in the absence of awkwardness as you indulge in this tender moment.

Slowly, you move closer to him and reach a hand up to caress his helmet. You know he can't feel it, but it feels intimate and personal nonetheless. It is only until your fingers roam lower, toward the base of his helmet and lift, that one of his hands flies up to stop your own.

"Nuh-uh babydoll, the mask stays on" he spits sharply.

The vigilante shifts in his seat, and it's only then do you realize the growing tent in his pants.

Your eyes flick back up to his helmet and it is only now, that you realize you weren't alone in your inappropriate arousal.

Hood maintains the eye contact and brings his hands to your hips, as if asking for permission before taking the plunge.

Carefully, you move your hands down his naked torso, noting how his sore muscles twitch at your light contact.

"Fuck baby-"

A hiss escapes his concealed mouth when your hands ghost over his bulge. You knew this was wrong. You knew he should be gone to wherever he should be by now. Were there people looking for him? For Christ's sake was he a criminal?

Too many questions for a mind too far gone. You weren't thinking anything beyond how sticky the bottom of your panties had become, how puffy your lips had become from constant chewing, and the cool air ghosting over your sensitive nipples.

There's no going back.

While looking at him for confirmation, you begin to unzip his fly, then massage his length from his boxers instead.

A drawn out, desperate moan is exaggerated by his modulator as hood grinds his hips into your hand involuntarily.

"Don't tease me darling, you know what I want" he orders.

Normally, you would have slapped anyone that told you what to do, but here, it only made your sopping cunt beg for relief.

Mesmerized by his boldness and not wanting to keep him waiting, you pull him out of his boxers and kiss the tip. You're met with another whine and roll of his hips.

You begin to stroke him a few times, working him up just to give him his relief.

Just as he was about to speak again, you swallowed him from tip to hilt, making his words die on his tongue.

His body tensed and relaxed with every moan and heave as you began to bob your head up and down, taking him in full each time.

His hand flew in your braided ponytail to guide your head down his shaft the way he liked it, your tongue licking at his balls every time you went down.

"Shit- Want you to touch yourself pretty thing. Show me how those dainty fingers make you feel good"

Warmth shot straight to your core at that, but you were embarrassed to pull down your shorts and panties, and show him just how bad you wanted this.

You hesitated for a moment and pulled off his length. Stroking him with one hand and licking stripes up his shaft with your tongue, you managed to smile sheepishly in a weak attempt to refuse.

Though the heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your potential embarrassment was stronger.

Red Hood cocks his head and tuts in disproval.

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You looked up at him with glassy and desperate eyes, as if to ask if he really wanted to.

The strong hand in your braids comes down to cup your cheek and rub at the side of your mouth.

"Don't keep me waiting pretty girl, I ain't asking a third time" he rasps sternly. You knew better than to disobey.

Slowly, your removed your hands, earning a groan from him. You stood up and hooked your thumbs in between your panties and supple skin and began to pull down.

Embarrassment still clear on your features, the vigilante outstretched his hands and placed them on your plush hips, rubbing circles in your skin.

This silent encouragement prompted you to continue, until you felt the cool air brush against your exposed, puffy clit.

"So pretty" Red mumbles under his breath as the hands on your hips apply gentle pressure to get you back on your knees.

This is his turn to stand up, doing so with his angry red and leaking cock in his hand.

He held it out in silent offering to you, which you took gratefully, and resumed your earlier routine.

Subconsciously, your hand made its way down to your core and your fingers found purpose in rubbing tight circles on your clit. You moaned on his length at the contact, eliciting a pleasurable hiss from him.

You could tell his eyes were trained on the target between your legs even from behind the mask.

"That's it sugar...make yourself feel good for me...good fucking girl"

Your eyes rolled again at that as you increased your pace and suction. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Though you would have no way of knowing, Red was a true gentleman despite his nighttime activities. As a gentleman, he wanted you to cum before him.

"Faster pretty girl, come on, you can do that for me fuck-"

You gave a small nod and increased the speed between your legs. You began to focus on the feeling of your fingertips sending sparks throughout your body, but you weren't close enough.

As if a psychic, he pulled himself from your mouth and sat back down. Confused, the hand between your legs stilled, and your face beginning to pout.

Before you could protest his hands again found your hips and pulled them toward him. Your hands moved to find the back of his neck as the hooded man pulled you onto him to straddle his lap.

When his hands retreated, you whined in frustration at the lack of contact.

"Shhh pretty baby you'll get it" he cooed.

You began to rock your hips against him impatiently, but his strong hands stopped your movement. Before you could complain, his right thumb began to press circles into your core with full intent of making you cum.

"Ah-ah Red please-" you cried out, unable to take the sudden pressure and pleasure at the same time. You gripped his wrist, a weak attempt to get him to slow down.

"You can take it, yes you can princess" he replies. The cheeky bastard knows just how to make your pussy throb.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-... pleasepleaseplease" you blabber desperately nearing your peak. The pressure in your tummy growing and tightening, just waiting to snap.

The Red Hood pressed his shielded forehead to yours and whispered in a deep, modulated voice.

"'M right here pretty girl, cum for me. I know you need to. Let go."

The coil snapped with ferocity and left you screaming his name. Surely the old woman next door wouldn't appreciate it, but you didn't care. Not while he was here, making you forget about the world.

You gushed on his fingers, and he took this opportunity to pump himself to completion with your juices smeared over his shaft. He came with a low grunt and short pants.

After you came down from your high, you slowly and carefully eased yourself off of him, minding his bruises and sore muscles which he appreciated.

It was still ungodly early, your eyes beginning to close with sleep as you washed your hands in the sink.

He will never admit to you that he's never been more in love with you.

Instead, he stuffs himself back into his pants and brings you back to your bed.

Once you're situated under your duvet, you reach for his hand and weakly grasp his fingers.

"Stay?" You slur, barely holding onto your awake state.

He chuckles fondly, and you can almost see a blush under his helmet.

"Maybe another time doll."