#i have to use cheats to get him to like me :(

[yanaromanov]

fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

[watchyourbuck]

It’s so interesting to me that this entire season has been about ghosts. Both physical and metaphorical, but also conceptual and even made up. Hear me out.

We literally start off with the ghost of Shannon reading Christopher the letter she left for him. A letter Eddie gave to his son in hopes to somehow reunite them. The ghost itself doesn’t appear to Eddie, just to Chris, and we – the audience – can tell it’s her voice that they’re trying to emulate, considering that ‘I can’t remember her voice anymore.’

On that same episode we see the ghost of Athena’s and Bobby’s fears. I know it sounds like I’m reaching but think about it. Athena’s haunted by the fear of having made a mistake by marrying, while Bobby’s afraid he pressured her into it. It looms over them like some kind of shadow, pushing them apart.

Later, with the bi Buck’s arc, we see the ghost of Buck himself. Not the same way we did in the coma dream, though, rather like a devil on his shoulder. A ‘ghost’ in the way of a metaphorical reflection of his inner struggles to finally free himself. It looks for a while there like he’s haunted by the expectations of others and the weight of societal norms, all of which return to him, considering no one else is imposing them (and that’s literally what Tommy tells him: ‘no one’s looking at us, Evan.’).

By the wedding ep, the concept of ghost gets more literal. We see Chimney struggle between his life and his death, represented by Kevin and Doug, respectively. This is insane, actually, because it happens in so little time, but it’s so intense. Doug tries to drag him into the abysm, threatening him with the pain of the woman he can’t remember just yet, but loves to bits. His brother, on the other hand, leads him back home; their home.

Finally, we have Eddie literally hallucinating the ghost of his dead wife and projecting her onto another woman — whilst cheating on his current girlfriend btw. This one’s bonkers actually and it’s so clear to me that Eddie’s not well and that he’s living a delusion that’s gonna come back to bite him in the ass eventually. But alas, it’s the clearest form of ghost we’ve seen so far.

+ 1: Maddie and the ghost of her past (the girl on the passenger seat) on the domestic abuse call that turned out to be a little different than she thought.

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt 4.

prev part. part 1 next part

TW: Drug use, mentioned rape, mention of violence, medic is the worst human on earth

Simon sat down next to Johnny on his bed, holding the Scotsman's hand while giving him a reassuring nod. "We have the whole day time."

"It's complicated."

"I will understand."

"Promise to believe me."

"Promise." Simon didn't know exactly what had happened or how Johnny got this way. He always admired Johnny for his confidence and the way he made everything seem so easy. Seeing his boyfriend like this broke his heart. He knew Johnny would never cheat on you; he loved you, everyone loved you. He remembered that one day Johnny got piss drunk on a mission and a bird approached him. He showed her pictures of you for 10 minutes, telling everyone he had the most beautiful lass on earth. This man wouldn’t cheat, especially not with her, definitely not his type.

Simon thought she had just gone into Johnny's bed at night, removing her clothes and gaslighting him that he cheated. But when Johnny told him everything about the drugs, about the rape, about the way she tried to blackmail him, he felt like he needed to throw up. He was too young to protect his mother from this. He couldn’t do anything when it happened to him. He didn’t know you when it happened to you. But this time, he was going to kill the rapist. "You’re a good man. Don’t let her manipulate you into something you aren’t."

"I feel like shit."

"This won’t go away easy, love."

"I don’t know what to do." And he really didn’t know. Everything seemed and felt so lost. Simon believed him, right? But what if she tells everyone he raped her? It will be over with his military career. After she pulled that stunt you wouldn’t believe him anymore. The look in your eyes almost broke him completely. This was wrong. It went too easy for her like she had done this many times before or had been planning this for years. It was too easy.

"Let me fix it for you, Johnny." He was determined to do this. Through his head already went 1000 ideas on how to kill her. But every way was too easy, too nice for her. Rip her head off. Sell her off to the black market so she will experience first-hand the crimes she did to others. Burn her alive. Many possibilities.

"Don’t kill her, Lieutenant."

"You know she will do it again. Not only to you but to others."

"Do you think she already did this?" Johnny fiddled with his wrist. The bracelet that you bought him to help with his ADHD was gone. It always calmed him. You told him how you searched through whole Etsy to find some gems that should calm him down. He didn’t believe this shit, but it indeed calmed him down since it reminded him of you. And right now, you were the only thing he needed. He needed you to tell him that he isn’t dirty, that he isn’t at fault, that he is a good man.

"Would explain why she was transferred so fast to us from her old unit."

"Fuck." This needed to stop. He couldn’t let that happen to more innocent people.

"Let’s talk to Price, then I’ll take care of her, and after that, we get our girl back." Simon missed you just as much as Johnny did. For a split second, he was afraid that you were mad and disappointed that he didn’t check on you. But that wasn’t the selfless girl he fell in love with. He knew you would understand if you only knew. He could already imagine how you would apologize even though you didn’t do anything wrong. You were different than the medic scum.

"Do you think she’ll take us back?"

"Yes, promise." He placed a small kiss on the shaved part of Johnny's mohawk, a small gesture that the Scot always loved. Simon always knew how to calm him down. With that, they left in the direction of Price's office.

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

He woke up with an immense headache and the urge to throw up. John really drank too much the last few days, but this will end now. He will concentrate on you and the job again. You forgave him for lying, at least that was the last thing he remembered before you brought him to his bed. On his bedside table stood a glass of water and one of your self-made brownies with a small note. "Take care of yourself, bear." You always jokingly called him a bear because that was what he was to you. John was the big cuddly bear who always kept you safe.

He knew by the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday, he should probably head to the medical department for some meds. He would never tell anyone, though. He was a hypocrite sometimes, always letting the other hungover soldiers run miles to torture them for being so irresponsible to drink before training. But he could afford the luxury of taking meds against his hangover.

So John went to the medical. He was annoyed when he only saw her there.

"Hello, Captain." She smiled brightly, which made him almost throw up on the spot. There was always a difference between the real, sweet-like-a-cake, like his girl, and the artificial acting sweetness she faked. It was disgusting. "Is there another medic or nurse in here today?"

"No, sorry, Captain."

"I'll go then."

"Come on, Captain, be professional. What do you need?"

"Just something against my hangover." He can be professional and still respect you, right? You won’t be mad he talked to her.

"That was easy. I'll bring you something."

She came back, still with that creepy artificial sweet smile. In her hand was a glass of water with, judging by the displaced white particles, meds. "Just some pain meds against headache and dehydration. Drink up, Captain, and then stay here for 20 minutes for the next med."

John drank it up. After a few minutes of sitting in the chair, he felt his limbs tingle weirdly. This must be one of those side effects of the meds.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Weird name.

"Don’t call me that." He tried to leave, but it felt like his body didn’t do the things he wanted anymore like he was paralyzed.

"I wouldn’t do that, John."

"What was in there?" This can’t be fucking true. This is one of those weird drunk dreams.

"Oh, baby, just some mild paralyzer. Don’t worry, it only lasts three hours, and you can still talk. That’s great, isn’t it? Oh, and Viagra."

Fuck, this is true. This is how she got Johnny. She is fucking sick. "What do you want?"

"You know, I really tried to be nice, but you all only talk about her all the time, so I took matters into my own hands." She said as she slowly sat down on his lap. John tried hard to do anything, but he wasn’t able to move.

"Look, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need us. There is someone who loves you." He tried to be nice, and use his words to come out of this situation, but she already removed his pants. He knew it was over there until he heard the sudden voices of Johnny and Simon. He knew she could never outsmart them, and she knew it too.

"Fuck, fuck," she screamed, gathering the remaining meds and her things. She ran out of the room the second she saw the door open.

"Fucking hell, Captain, you're okay?"

"That fucking cunt drugged me. Get a fucking nurse here." This all didn’t go like Simon's plan. It felt like she was always a step ahead of them.

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

Kyle didn't notice any of the drama going on in medical as he used his time in the gym. Well, more of texting you instead of being productive, until.

"Fucking hell."

------

Tag list: @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

A/N: I know you are waiting for her downfall, it will come promise.

[peachybella444]

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

[spatialwave]

“𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮, 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓫𝓸𝔂”

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader

word count: 938

summary: you’re cooper’s favourite cowgirl.

warnings: mdni! smut, porn w plot, affair/cheating, riding, cooper loves the view ;)

notes: two posts within 12 hours?? i am addicted 🫣

you’d met cooper on a film set working as a seamstress, your skilled hands sewing and tailoring the clothing he wore on the big screen. the two of you grew close as the weeks and months passed by, especially when his career took a turn for the worst when he started filming advertisements for vault-tec. it was unfortunate to watch him as his energy depleted, each day looking worse for wear as his passion vanished.

gossip spread like wildfire and you’d learned from a few girls in the makeup pertinent about his life at home and how he and his wife were going through a tough spot—a divorce. you couldn’t imagine the heartbreak

you were careful to bring up barb in conversation, the pain in his eyes taking forefront anytime her name was mentioned, but acting like it was no issue.

you were there for him as much as you could be, taking him for a hot cup of coffee once in a while in an attempt to bring some cheer into his life. to be a friend of cooper howard was a title you held near and dear to your heart, you hadn’t expected for it to get any farther than it did.

it all started one night when you two met for drinks—gin, whiskey, martinis and everything in between. it only took three drinks for cooper to spill his guts about barb. how she wasn’t who he thought she was, and that it was destroying their family.

he didn’t go into the gritty details, but you believed him and you were there for him. what was only a polite, reassuring touch on his shoulder had ignited a flame in both of you, eyes connecting when you shared the same thought.

an hour later you found yourself on your bed, with cooper’s tongue pressed against your wet arousal and your fingers tugging on his dark, greying hair. it became a regular occurrence, but you kept telling yourself that this was okay. it was okay because he was going through a divorce.

even if they were technically still married… even if he was still living at home with barb and his daughter, still wearing his wedding ring. this was okay.

right?

“oh my god—“ you cried out, your legs spread open as your lover fucked you with his face buried into your neck. he peppered you with hundreds of kisses, biting and leaving the faintest of marks along your soft skin, “don’t stop, coop, fuck me,” you whined into his ear, your eyes closed while your fingernails scratched down his back.

he moaned against your skin as his cock stretched you with each forward snap of his hips. he was tired, sweat beading on his forehead—he didn’t have the endurance like he used to, but he had an easy fix.

cooper pushed himself back until he was settled on his knees, pulling out of you as his thick cock sprung up and gave you quite the view. you let out a whiny, pitiful sound at the emptiness as you clenched around nothing like a needy young thing. the older man could stay like this forever, happily watching his lover begging and pleading to be fucked by him until you were filled up with his cum—a sight for sore eyes.

just before you could protest his actions and ask him to keep fucking you dumb, he wrapped an arm under your waist and moved to rest on his back with you straddling him. your knees dug into the plush comforter, palms flattening onto cooper’s bare chest.

your voice cracked as you shuddered out a moan, the overbearing fullness of his cock pushing deep inside your slick cunt. his calloused hands were tight on your hips as he guided your movements, wanting to see you fuck yourself on him.

“look at me,” cooper drawled, that disgustingly beautiful smirk on his lips, “what a pretty cowgirl. you look so good ridin’ me like that,” he murmured, thumb now circling over your clit as you started grinding your hips against his to get the friction you craved.

obediently, you forced your eyes open to look into cooper’s hazel orbs and lifted your hands away from his chest to settle on weight on his hips. you gave him the perfect view, able to watch as you rolled your hips forward and seeing how your perky tits bounced. his eyes glazed over as mouth opened, a heady moan falling from his lips as you rode him with the practiced movements you’d learned from the handfuls of nights shared together.

“am i your favourite cowgirl?” you asked, pouting your lips and moaning while his thumb rubbed slow, calculated movements along your clit. you both had slowed your movements, taking in the raw intimacy and pleasure you shared. savouring every last bit of it because neither of you ever wanted it to end.

“don’t be coy with me, baby,” he answered quietly, reaching his free hand to touch your breast, giving a firm squeeze, then rolling your nipple between his fingers, “you know the answer.”

mewling, you closed your eyes tight when he pinched your puffy, hard nipple and a sharp pain shot through your nerves before settling into a sick, twisted feeling of pleasure.

“keep, ridin’,” he whispered, voice raspy, “c’mon, doll, i know you want to cum on my cock.”

you nodded pitifully, trying your best to will your thighs to keep bouncing on him, even as you ached.

cooper watched you with a lazy grin, keeping his thumb right where you needed it until you came with a loud cry—loving every goddamn second.

[echobx]

It's... complicated?- Rafe Cameron × polyam!reader & JJ Maybank × polyam!reader

summary: you're in a relationship with Rafe, but a one night stand with JJ turns into more and suddenly you find yourself entangled in a relationship that you don't plan on getting out of any time soon

general warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, smut, swearing, lying, reader being a bitch, talk of marriage angst warnings: mention of death, downward spiral, self-doubt, fighting (verbally), fighting (physically), traumatized reader smut warnings: p in v (unprotected), oral (f & m receiving), 3 way, cnc, creampie/cumdump, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, (heavy) pda, subdrop adjacent, aftercare, foreplay, toy use (not primarily), overstimulation

word count: 19k

author's note: this started as a Rafe fic but immediately my brain fucked me over and then I was too deep to change it so I kept it and decided to explore the throuple idea. I wanted to not have it be cheating plot but I couldn't figure out how to do that while keeping the set dynamic, so I hope you're gentle with me on that :) I genuinely hope you enjoy it, it's the longest one part one shot I've ever written lol (p.s. I wanted to do dvp here but I couldn't find an appropriate place for it, but if you want it, I can write it separately)

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“Can you maybe not do lines on my boobs tonight? Last time you got some on my vintage Chanel dress and I haven't managed to get it out yet,” you ask Rafe while leaning in the door of his room, watching him get ready.  “I'll just buy you a new one,” he shrugs and buttons his shirt up. “That's not the point, babe, and you know it,” you shake your head, swaying your perfect curls. “It's also vintage, and you can't just buy a new one. Besides, I paid for it, not you.”  “You mean your dad paid for it?” he eyes you with a smirk playing on his pink lips.  “Nope, pretty sure that it counts for me now,” you smile, faking it as per usual when the topic of your dad comes up. “Dead people can't pay for shit.”  He steps over to you, tilting your chin up and kissing you. “Let's not talk about him. Instead, we can go and have fun, all right?” 

“Eugh, whose house is this?” you scoff as he stops the car in the driveway. The mansion isn't even half the size of your own, and it makes you feel a little disappointed.  “Hey, be nice,” Rafe smiles and takes your hand up to kiss it before getting out and opening your door for you.  “I am always nice,” you tell him, but he knows it's a lie. Your way of being nice is what other people would call bitchy or bossy. You aren't nice like people want you to be, not since your dad has died. He was the only one who you had tried your best for.  “You know I love to see your claws out, but I have to sell shit tonight, so none of that, please,” Rafe begged, his arm tight around your waist.  You roll your eyes and look up at him, “fine.” 

The party is already going, and a few people greet you while walking in. You find Topper and Kelce rather quickly, taking your seat next to Rafe you let your eyes wander as they talk.  “You know, you guys are boring as fuck,” you groan after having had to listen to them talk about golfing for twenty minutes straight.  “Since when are we here for your entertainment, y/n,” Kelce scoffs, but he gulps as you get up and lean over him.  “Maybe you should suck a dick to fix your fucking attitude,” you snarl and walk away towards the kitchen. You never cared what Rafe's friends thought of you, you never cared what anybody thought of you. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you roll your eyes at the blonde boy, who's leaning against the counter. His ring clad fingers are holding onto the solo cup, but the flirtatious smile is just for you. You had gathered as much over time.  “One day, you'll beg, y/l/n,” he says and takes a sip.  “Not if I make you beg first, Maybank,” you smirk and take the bottle of tequila to fill two shot glasses.  “I never beg,” he counters, and you laugh.  “Oh, I'd bet my BMW you do.”  “Does Rafe?”  “I won't tell you that, you'd just go runnin’round tellin’ people,” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and hold the shot out for him to take. “Be happy that I'm keeping him on a leash. He'd have ripped your head off by now if I didn't.”  You watch him take the shot, and follow. The slight burn in your throat wakes you up, and the warmth in your stomach is familiarly cozy.  “And why would he do that?” JJ asks, tilting his head to the side.  “‘Cause you won't stop staring at my tits, Maybank,” you bite your lip and take the step over to him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “I know how you look at me, as if I'm the ultimate price. But you wouldn't even be able to handle me on your best days, pretty boy.”  “You underestimate me, princess,” he whispers, and you pull away to look at him fully.  “Maybe in another life, Maybank,” you wink at him, grabbing the bottle of tequila and making your way back to the couch. 

“What he want?” Rafe asks as soon as you get back and take your seat by his side.  “Nothing,” you sigh and kiss Rafe's cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. He doesn't need to know how much it riles you up when JJ flirts with you. How much you have to suppress the need to kiss him whenever you see him. It doesn't even make sense why it is like that.  JJ and you have nothing in common, and you are happy about that.  You love being in a relationship with Rafe. You don't care much about love anyway, so why would you need to love the person you are in a relationship with if they are perfect on paper? Rafe is everything your dad had wanted in a future son-in-law. He comes from good money, takes care of the people close to him, and knows how to act around money. You don't need to love him to build a good future with him. After all, your grandparents had done it the same way. And when you look at your own parents' life together, you keep wondering if it had really been the wisest decision to marry for love.  No, love was overrated, and so was whatever you felt when JJ looked at you. 

“You sell any yet?” you ask straight out, and Rafe clears his throat and gives you a look that doesn't really make sense to you. “What?”  “You know they won't buy shit when you're here, unless you act it,” he whispers to you and you roll your eyes.  “Fine, but only one,” you cave, and for the next few hours you play the dumb girlfriend. For some reason, all of his buyers are some type of misogynistic asshole, and the only one who you could talk to without feeling looked down on is Barry. But Barry never gets invited to the parties, because he doesn't fit in.  To you, he's not much different than the businessmen your dad had worked with, the same ones you would have to deal with once you were officially taking over the company. 

“Baby, c’mere,” Rafe claps on his thighs, and you turn to straddle him, giving him a single warning glance to not fuck up.  “Love when you use my tits for it, babe,” you giggle stupidly, but internally you feel like throwing up. And it just gets worse when he puts a little line of the fine powder on your skin and dips his head down to snort it off. Your eyes cross with JJ's as soon as Rafe's head is down, and he vanishes from your vision the moment Rafe comes back up, wiping his nose.  “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you. It's a show. When you moan into him and buck your hips; and for once you're not sure if the show is for his clients, or for the blonde Pogue who can't keep his eyes off of you.  “I wanna go upstairs,” you whisper to Rafe and he nods.  “Just gimme ten and I'll meet you there.” 

You get up and walk off, towards the stairs. A quick glance back to Rafe, who's focused on counting money, before you take the stairs, downstairs instead of up.  You decide to take a look around. The pool is a perfect 80 °F and if you had swimming stuff with you, you'd consider swimming for a while. Training a little to clear up your mind.  “Didn't you tell him you'd be upstairs, waiting?” You hear JJ behind you and turn around.  “And? I changed my mind. He doesn't care if he fucks me here or at home,” you shrug and JJ shakes his head.  “God, you really are something.”  “What do you want, Maybank?” you sneer, walking around the pool towards the sauna at the end of the room. The sound of your heels on the concrete floor echoes through the huge room.  “Why are you with him if you hate him so much?” he asks and starts walking closer, following you.  “I don't hate him. I hate his friends, anyone but Barry, basically. I hate how he acts around them. But I don't hate him,” you clarify, and JJ nods.  “But you don't love him.”  “Who needs love anyway,” you smile. The picture-perfect smile you had practiced in front of the mirror since you were 12, the same one you had to relearn when your dad had died. It was an ironclad mask.  “I forgot, you don't have a heart,” JJ smiles but drops it instantly.  “Tell me what you want, or leave,” you roll your eyes at him and he steps closer. Your heart starts racing as he leans over you, brushing a curl from your face and tucking it behind your ear.  “What do you want?” he rasps quietly and your eyes flutter, it's a reflex, and you don't know why. You don't understand why he has this effect on you.  “Nothing,” you press out, and his thumb ghosts your lips.  “I don't like when you lie to me, y/n,” JJ whispers, and you can't stop yourself from getting lost in his blue eyes. They are so different from Rafe's. JJ's eyes are bright and hopeful, they feel like happiness entrapped to you. And you can't stand it, because this isn't how it's supposed to be.  “Tell me what you want,” he demands, leaning down to smell your neck, his nose brushing against your skin and giving you goosebumps.  “It’s neither appropriate nor allowed,” you hush, and he chuckles.  "Since when do you care about any of that? You make the rules on this side of the island, don't you, princess?” 

You blame it on the tequila when your lips find his. You blame it on the daiquiri when he leads you into the cold supply closet, without pulling out of your kiss. You would blame it on the coke, when he pushes your dress up and sinks into you; but you hadn't had any coke that night. 

“Fuck, you're so wet for me, baby,” JJ groans, he had sat you down on a lower shelf, and you did your best to hold onto the metal structure that was pressing into your back.  “Shut up and kiss me, asshole,” you gasp, and he does just that. His kisses are wet and sloppy, just like his fast thrusts. But you can't stop kissing him, not only because it feels like heaven and hell combined. But mainly because you know you'd be screaming by the way his cock keeps kissing your cervix.  “You're so good at taking it, princess. Fuck, you feel so good,” JJ moans, and you can't help but feel pride in how much he seems to love it.  “Look at it,” you demand, and he dips his head, focusing on where you are connected. Your slip tucked to the side, but it's ruined anyway, it had been from the moment on he had started to flirt with you.  “What's that say,” JJ asks, his thumb rubbing over your tattoo, making you smirk.  “Eat me, Maybank. It says, eat me,” you moan, and he grins.  “Next time, princess,” he growls and starts rubbing your clit in harsh circles. You don't understand how he does it, but he has you moaning even louder, and clenching around his cock in the matter of minutes. The band in your stomach is ready to burst, and you don't think you've felt this good ever before. It feels like he's made for you, but you know that can't be the case.  “Cum for me, pretty girl. Soak my dick,” JJ breathes into your ear, and as soon as you come undone, he pulls his hand from your clit and shoves his fingers down your throat to shut you up.  You feel afloat and completely dazed when he pulls his fingers out and clasps his hand over your mouth. 

“Shh, quiet,” JJ whispers, and you hear footsteps outside the closet. If someone finds you, you're screwed.  “No, she's not down here either. Check upstairs again, man,” Rafe's annoyed voice carries through the door, and you stare at JJ. You're not scared of what might happen to you if Rafe found out, but more so that he'd finally snap and actually hurt JJ like he had threatened so many times before.  Rafe is still outside the door when JJ decides to start fucking you again, and your eyes roll back uncontrollably. He knows how badly you want to make a sound for him, but you can't let yourself.  As soon as his footsteps carry Rafe back upstairs, you let out a loud groan, pulling JJ into a kiss and purposely squeezing his dick just to prove to him that you're the one in charge. And when his hips stutter, and he spills out inside of you, you don't even mind it. You like the feeling, especially when he keeps fucking it into you, muttering incoherently about how good he fucked you. 

“Do you always praise yourself after?” you ask him after having pulled your dress back down.  “Do you always cheat on your boyfriend with Pogues?” he smirks, and you push him back against the shelf.  “If anyone finds out about this, you are dead, you understand? Either you shut up, and hope for a second time, or I can ruin your life. I don't need Rafe to do it for me, I can do it all by myself. Do you understand?” You poke into his chest and he nods.  “Good,” you take a step back again, and he grabs for your chin, pulling you close again.  “I have one question, princess. Has he ever fucked you raw?”  “I don't trust him enough for that,” you reply, and JJ snorts.  “Why'd you let me, then?”  “You don't sleep around as much as you pride yourself, Maybank. I mean, you're not bad, but- Well, it all comes down to the circles you run in and the ones you don't,” you give him a mean smile and open the door to go look for a bathroom. 

“How do you plan on not letting him find out if he never-”  “I told you, he does what I say. If I say no, he's not getting any,” you tell him and turn a corner towards the bathroom.  “You really got him wrapped around your finger,” JJ laughs.  “You too,” you grin before sitting down to pee, you don't care that he is standing right next to you.  “Didn't you literally call Cally R. disgusting for insinuating that she doesn't mind peeing in her boyfriend's presence?” JJ laughs.  “First of all,” you say while finishing up and standing. “Cally R. is a lying slut, the only reason why she keeps having to piss in front of her boyfriend is because she can't get rid of her std. And why doesn't it go away? Well, because little miss piss queen keeps on fucking Tyler Folly on the side. Calling her disgusting was the kindest thing I could do to her.”  “And the second reason?” JJ cocks his brow up.  “You're not my boyfriend, Maybank. And getting rid of your shit inside me, is kinda necessary unless you want me ending up like Cally,” you give him a threatening smile, and he holds his hands up in defense. “Good.”  “I'm just wondering if it's not hypocritical, with the whole fucking on the side and all,” he mumbles before wetting a towel and trying to remove the red lipstick marks from his face.  “I don't claim to love my boyfriend, and Rafe never claimed to love me. He thinks we have an open relationship on his side. I don't see why it can't be open on both,” you shrug and pull the lipstick from your bra to reapply it.  “Was I- was I better?” JJ mumbles, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.  “Could you choose between your two favorite types of food?” you ask, and he starts to grin.  “You know, that's a weird metaphor.”  “Simile,” you correct him, and he exhales a laugh.  “You're a real smartass, y/l/n.”  “And you can be glad you're pretty.”  “Pretty enough to fuck your brains out,” JJ turns you towards him and leans over, his lips ghosting yours and when he pulls back you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. “See,” he smirks.  “If you want to do it again you can't fuck around, and most importantly you won't tell a soul. But then again, who would even believe you,” you scoff and turn around to leave, taking the stairs and vanishing in the crowd before anyone had noticed where you had come from. 

“Where were you? I was looking all over,” Rafe sounds concerned and hugs you, out of courtesy, surely. Rafe rarely hugs you unless you ask for it, or the social obligations call for it.  “Just here and there, I went upstairs and forgot why. I'm sorry, babe,” you tell him, and he lets it go.  “Hey, y/n, wanna play a game with us?” Topper asks, and you turn to look at the group of people gathered, your eyes get stuck on JJ for just a second before they snap back to Top.  “Sure,” you smile and push Rafe into a chair, sitting down sideways on his lap. 

It's a dumb drinking game, just like always. It stays rather boring until Topper's new girlfriend gets to speak, and you instantly regret your choice to take part.  “Never have I ever had sex with someone in this room,” she giggles and falls back down into Top before they each take a sip of their drinks.  You take a sip, focusing on Rafe, but Rafe is staring right across from where the two of you are sitting.  “Why does Maybank keep staring at you,” he whispers in your ear and you shrug.  “He's a creep, you know that, babe,” you try to calm your boyfriend down, but you know it's not gonna help much. 

“Never have I ever cheated,” JJ says and takes a drink, but the chatter went mute as soon as the words left him. “I thought we were being honest, guys. God, you guys really are some Kooks,” he laughs and stands up to leave. His eyes are yet again fixed on you, but this time you can't force yourself to look away.  “Maybe cheating is just a Pogue quality,” you say, and a few silent mumbles seem to agree with your lie.  “You must know all about that, princess,” JJ smirks and tips his non-existent cap to you before turning and walking away, out of the house and into the darkness.  “He’s so weird,” Topper's girlfriend lets out a disgusted grunt.  “Was he even invited?” Topper asks and I roll my eyes.  “They don't check invitations at the entrance, stupid,” you laugh it off. “He probably stole something,” someone out of the crowd suggested, and you stood up in a light fit of anger, before you realized that you couldn't act on it.  “What would he steal here? Cheap candles from Target?” you scoff and walk off. “Rafe!” you call out, and he takes a moment before he meets you outside by the car. 

“I didn't wanna go home yet,” he complains.  “And? You have to drive me home. After that, you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you scoff at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.  “What's up with you?” he snorts, opening the door for you and letting you get in.  “I'm tired and annoyed by these people who think they're better than anyone else, just because their dad's play golf and fuck their secretaries,” you mutter, and he stops asking, dropping you off at your house and driving off as soon as you are inside. 

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Weeks go by in which you don't even see a glimpse of JJ. You manage to push the memory so far back into your brain that you don't even dream of it, well, not as often.  And when Rafe fucks you, it's good, it's great, but you don't feel as complete after as you had with JJ. 

“Best pussy in the fucking world,” Rafe groans as he pounds into you from behind. Your face is pressed into the duvet and your ass is high up in the air. He had been stretching you out for what felt like hours. It was good, he hit every single spot inside of you perfectly, but you couldn't get yourself to cum.  “Would be so much better without it, baby,” Rafe rasps, and you're not really listening, just nodding and groaning in response to whatever he's saying.  Before you can actually register what is happening, he has pulled out and slammed into you again, but it feels different. You can feel him more clearly, every single vein on his thick cock, the soft tip that kept nudging your cervix as he went deeper.  “Fuck, I love you, I love this pussy so much,” Rafe moans and without a single warning he cums inside you, filling you up and clouding your mind. You gasp, close to an orgasm but not yet there and if he'd just- but he pulls out and you all you can feel is used.  “Shit, did you not,” he pulls you into him, having fallen into the sheets by your side, but you put on a smile.  “It's okay. Next time,” you tell him and get up to clean yourself up. You curse yourself for losing yourself in your thoughts about JJ instead of paying attention to what your boyfriend had said to you. And now you had two guys thinking they could fuck you over anyway they wanted.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks as you leave the bathroom wrapped in your robe.  “Yeah, just next time, maybe warn me beforehand. Probably would've been better if we had both finished,” you say and roll your eyes while your back is turned to him.  “Why are you getting dressed?”  “I have to buy q tips, we don't have any left,” you lie and he scoffs.  “You could just ask the help to go buy some, and I could make it up to you. Come on, baby,” he slaps the empty bed to his left, but you shake your head.  “I just need some air, all right.”  “Fine. But text me so I know you're okay,” he sighs and gets up to take a shower. 

You basically run out of the house, jumping in your car and driving off towards the Cut before you realize you don't even know where to go.  You pull out your phone and scroll down a long list of contacts before you find his number, saved under three Xs to remind you to never text him, but here you are, doing just that.  “Where are you?” you type out and hit send, a second later a text appears on your screen.  “why?”  “Tattoo” is all you say, but the three small dots stay for a while and then they vanish. You are about to curse him out when a text pops up.  “you know the Château?” “Routledge?” “yes” You put your phone away and start driving again. Maybe you'd have to thank Topper's weird obsession with Sarah for knowing where the house was, but you really couldn't. 

As soon as you arrive, you kill the engine and jump out of your jeep, stomping towards the porch.  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Kiara sneers at you, but you don't pay her any attention. You grab JJ's hand and drag him into the house.  “That's the wrong way,” he chuckles and holds you back from going deeper into the house, pulling you to the side and into a small bedroom.  “Tell me what's wrong,” he asks, wanting to hold onto you, but you brush him off.  “He said he loved me,” you yell at JJ even though it's not his fault, nor can he do anything about it.  “And that's bad?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you huff.  “Yes. Yes, it is. You don't fuck someone, not let them fucking finish and then tell them you love them,” you hiss quietly, not wanting his friends to be able to hear it all.  “I see. I can help with one of those,” JJ smirks and pulls you into a kiss. A kiss that makes you forget why you even came over. Like a snip of his finger, he had erased all the bad thoughts and feelings inside of you, replacing them with warmth and desire.  “They didn't believe me,” he whispers against your lips before bringing them into another kiss. You pull on his shirt, and he takes it off.  “Told you they wouldn't,” you smile and take your own shirt off before starting to fumble with his shorts.  “Now they have to,” JJ chuckles and pushes his pants down, leaving the boxers on. 

He pushes you onto the bed, kissing you all over, especially focusing on your tits, and you nearly cum just from that. His skilled tongue toys with your nipple while his hand squeezes the other tit mercilessly.  “You have the best tits, baby,” JJ moans against your skin, squeezing them another time before trailing his lips down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach to the hem of your jeans shorts.  “Are you sure?” he asks while looking up at you, but the way he's lying between your legs is godly. His unruly hair is hanging into his face, his lips slightly parted in a mischievous smile.  “I'll go ask one of the others if you don't want to,” you tease him, and he nips at your hips. “Don't ever suggest that shit again, princess.”  “Noted, but only if your tongue’s as good as your dick,” you smirk.  JJ takes his time taking off your shorts, teasing you and edging you on, and you want to drown in the feelings he can so easily conjure in you.  “You smell different,” he notes and presses his nose against your slip. “I'm not gonna do this when you smell like him.”  “I told you,” you sit up on your elbows and look at his disgusted face.  “You didn't say he fucked you raw. That's different, and you know it,” JJ complained and sat back up.  “I don't see the problem. It's an easy fix,” you shrug and pull him closer by his neck. Your lips press against his until you have him lying underneath you. 

“See, easy,” you grin down at him, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his hard cock spring free.  “Aren't you pretty,” you whisper to his pink tip, placing a kiss on it and tasting his salty precum.  “If you do that again, I'm busting a nut. You gotta warn a guy,” he laughs nervously.  “Cute,” you giggle and lift yourself up, pulling your slip to the side and brushing his throbbing tip through your aching slit. You let out a sigh of relief as you sink down on him, the familiarity makes you feel better instantly.  Fucking JJ is easy, it's messy, it's freeing.  You don't mind that he can't keep himself from cumming when you do, because he's ready instantly as if it never had happened.  You claw at his chest while you bounce on him, screaming of pleasure and not caring who can hear you.  Your pussy sounds obscenely wet, and can feel the mix of your many releases spill out of you and onto him. But JJ doesn't care as long as you keep fucking yourself with his dick, he doesn't even mind having to take over when you get a cramp in your leg.  He's moaning and cursing worse than you, calling you all kinds of dirty things, but mostly he's showering you with compliments, which turns you on even more than you had ever thought.  And when he finally pulls out, your pussy is still clenching, pushing out all of his and your cum. 

“Would you look at that, princess. We should definitely not clean you up and send you back home just like that, show him who's actually better at fucking this pretty pussy.” JJ says and takes two fingers to push his cum back into you.  “J, please,” you beg him to stop. You are overstimulated and sore, so sore you feel like you might not be able to walk properly the next few days.  “Oh, but we haven't even done what you promised me, princess. You wouldn't let a poor guy starve, would you?” JJ gives you a pout and moves back to kiss your swollen cunt. A jolt goes through your body as he does it another time.  “You taste so sweet, baby,” he moans into you, his hands massaging your thighs; tongue dipping into your hole and nose brushing against your clit.  You moan and mewl as he slowly kisses and licks you to your orgasm, you can't even remember how many you've had that day, but what you do know is that the last one was the best one. 

“Where'd you learn to use your tongue like that?” you ask him out of breath as he's lying next to you.  “Natural talent, y/l/n,” JJ boasts and turns his head to kiss you, twisting his tongue with yours and then pulling you closer. His hand is harshly gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his own; while your own hands are entangled in his hair. There's a sense of security in the way he kisses you, like you know he won't leave even if you'd tell him to.  “JJ-” you try to pull away, but his lips keep on chasing yours, even when you try to get his attention by biting him. So, you pull on his hair, holding his head in place and making him whine with it.  “S’unfair,” he murmurs.  “I have to go home, it's late,” you remind him.  “You could stay, I could show you how much better I am at morning sex,” JJ tries to convince you, but you know it's impossible.  You let go of his head and twirl a strand of his hair in between your fingers. “It's a charming proposal, but you know I can't. He'll come looking for me, and we don't want that to happen, do we?”  “I’ll let you go if you answer me one question.”  You roll your eyes at his antics, but agree to it anyway. “Deal, dumbass,” you smile. “Why’d you text me?” JJ whispers, and you sigh, turning around to look at the ceiling.  “I don't know,” you lie.  “I think you do, you're just lying to yourself if you say anything else. Because I wouldn't have told you to come by if I didn't feel the same,” he admits and nuzzles his face into your neck.  “It's a polar opposite. And I never thought- It's difficult to know you want a specific thing when you never had it, and once it’s there, it's hard to forget about it. And he won't give me that, I know it,” you explain quietly and JJ kisses your neck in response.  “I would never even consider not letting you cum, baby,” he hushes against your skin, and it gives you goosebumps all over. It's cozy and loving in a way, and it might just scare the life out of you when you realize that you crave this affection he's giving you.  “I have to go,” you press out and jump up, leaving JJ groaning as he runs his hands over his face. You find your clothes pretty quickly and put them back on, while he stays in bed, lying there looking like a Greek god.  “You look severely fuck out. I like it,” he grins, his head propped up on his hand. “Walk of shame material?”  “Nah, nothing to be ashamed of.”  “You know that's not what I meant,” you sigh and leave the room to go look for the bathroom.  “Left,” JJ calls out, and you turn left, towards the end of the hallway and enter the small bathroom. You don't understand how they can live in such a narrow space, but you know mentioning it will not end well. 

Your curls are standing up in every possible direction and your eyes look extremely tired.  “See, not bad at all,” JJ smirks, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.  “Do you have a hair tie or something?” you ask, and he steps behind you and pulls a drawer open. You pick out a simple black hair tie that could easily pass as one of your own, and wind your hair into a loose knot.  “Tell me again why I should let you go back to that asshole?” JJ asks, laying his chin on your shoulder.  “One, because he's not an asshole, and two, because he's gonna kill you. I don't want to see you dead, you're really good at what you do,” you say while looking at him through the mirror, and the smile on his face gets deeper as you speak.  “The secret side piece,” JJ flashes his brows at you, and you can't stop the light chuckle that leaves you. Charming and sweet and all you should ever want and need- “I really have to go now,” you remind yourself, and he lets go of you. 

When you walk out onto the porch, your eyes meet Sarah's and your heart stops, but you can't let yourself get caught up in it. You know, she hasn't spoken to Rafe in a whole year. She surely won't break that silence just to tell on you.  Your feet quickly move you towards your car, but before you can open your door, you are harshly turned around and pushed against the metal.  JJ kisses you so hard, you wish you could go back inside and do it all over again. His hand is holding onto your neck while the other is gripping your waist. It feels like the best kiss in your entire life, and it awakes something inside of you that you had long thought dead. The tiny flutter in your stomach is as faint as a gust of wind in spring, but you know it's there, and you know it'll just complicate everything else with it. When he pulls away, he does it slowly, leaving an abundance of small, soft kisses on your lips before running his thumb over them.  “She won't tell. None of them will, I promise,” he whispers and you nod, believing him.  “You should go. Didn't know kissing alone could turn a guy on like that.” You smirk innocently as your hand traces over his erection, and he can't even hide it because he hadn't thought about putting on anything more than underwear.  “That's all you,” JJ whispers and kisses you one last time. “Text me,” he says before stepping back and letting you get into your car.  As you drive off, you can see him flipping off his friends before going inside; and then the house, and all of them with it, vanish as you make your way back home. 

“Where were you?” Rafe bludgeons as soon as you get through the door.  “Out. You don't need to know everything, you know?” you snap at him.  “You didn't text and were gone for hours, y/n.”  “Shit, you sound more like my parents then my parents ever did,” you laugh and make your way into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and downing it in one go.  “Excuse me for giving a fuck,” Rafe barks, and you roll your eyes.  “If you hadn't been selfish, like fucking always, I wouldn't have walked out.”  “I wanted to make it up to you. You left!” he counters and you gulp hard.  “Tell me what you would've done. Something that puts me first for a change or no?” Your blood is boiling and there is nothing that can stop your fit of rage. It had been easier to look past Rafe's selfish tendencies when you hadn't known any better, but now that you do, you can't help but get annoyed at him for it.  “Where's this coming from now?” he laughs, pacing along the room.  “God, why can't you fucking open your eyes! You know, sometimes I fake it just so it's over quicker,” you spit out, but he knows it's a lie, it's the one thing you promised each other to never lie about.  “You never tell me what you want either,” Rafe says, and you hate that it's true.  “Would you do it if I did?”  “I can try,” he raises his shoulders in what feels like defeat to you, but you can't be sure.  “Good,” you glare, but you know it's unnecessary.  “Now?” he asks, somewhat hopeful, but you shake your head.  “Maybe tomorrow, or whenever. I'm tired right now,” you sigh and make your way upstairs to take a bath. 

The hot water is soaking your body, and you close your eyes and let it play out again. How JJ kept kissing you as he fucked you senseless, how his praises worked way better for you than Rafe's degradations. How he had kept looking up at you with his head buried between your legs.  Your hand travels down between your legs, rubbing soft circles on your clit, and it's not enough. Your fingers plunge into your pussy, curling perfectly, but it's not enough. You can't reach, and it frustrates you.  You step out of the tub, dripping wet as you make your way into the bedroom and Rafe doesn't complain when you straddle him. And he complains even less you start to fuck yourself with his dick. It's not something you’ve ever done with him, but he wants to be better for you, and he doesn't mind as long as he gets to fuck you one way or the other.  “Tell me how much you want me,” you moan softly while bouncing on his huge cock. The light stinging feeling his size always causes you just adds to your pleasure.  “You're so fucking hot, fucking me like the slut you are,” Rafe rasps, holding onto your hips.  “No, something nice. Tell me something nice.” You shake your head but keep going anyway.  “Uhm, okay… You're fucking me so well, baby,” Rafe says, but his eyebrows are furrowed until you moan louder.  “Yes, more.”  “I love your tight pussy, baby,” he groans, and you fall down on top of him, kissing him, but it doesn't feel at all like you had hoped. He tastes like whiskey, but you craved the mix of weed and beer. Yet all of your thoughts about it fly out the window when he stops your hips and starts pounding into you from below.  “Faster,” you gasp into him, biting his lip and digging your nails into his shoulders. It's mind-bending, they way he fucks you and his uncontrollable noises turn you on even more. Rafe grunts and moans like you've not heard it before, and you wish you had made him try it earlier. 

“Fuck, baby, tell me you're close,” Rafe moans, and you press your face against his shoulder, feeling the band inside you tighten.  “So close, babe, don't stop,” you cry out and snake a hand down to your clit rubbing harshly and suddenly JJ's words echo in your mind.  “Cum for me, y/n. Be a good girl and let go.” You scream when your orgasm rips through you and Rafe follows just a second later, pushing in deeper and painting your walls in his pretty white.  “Keep going, just a bit,” you instruct him, and he fucks his cum into you with a few more thrusts until you tell him to stop again.  “That was probably the best sex we ever had,” you sigh, still not ready to get up and have him leave you.  “Definitely top ten,” Rafe pants and runs his hand over your back.  “No, definitely the best,” you argue with a smile and he caves.  “All right, the best.” 

After having cleaned up you're back in bed, and cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest.  “Why didn't you tell me all that earlier? We could've done this already,” he whispers, and you don't know how to come up with a good lie.  “I don't know. Maybe I hoped you'd figure it out on your own one day.”  “It's very different from what we usually do,” Rafe mumbles, brushing over your hair.  “I like how you fuck me, but sometimes I need something for me. I need control too,” you whisper and he kisses your head.  “We can do that.”  “Good.”  “I love you,” Rafe sighs, and you can hear his breath slow as he falls asleep. 

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Your dreams are haunted by JJ, always, and you wish you could turn it off. Sometimes Rafe gets to him, other times you see yourself living the Pogue life, as if that was ever something you'd even do as much as consider. But tonight it's different from any other time. 

You are at home, Rafe is sitting at the kitchen island, and JJ is lying on the couch. They are both aware of each other and not actively trying to murder one another. The whole scene makes you incredibly suspicious, but it just gets worse when two blonde children come running in.  “Dad!” one of them yells and both JJ and Rafe pick up their heads.  “What's up?” Rafe asks and gets up from his seat, giving you a loving smile before leaning down to the child and talking to it.  “Well, your friends are pretty fucking stupid for not getting it,” Rafe tells the child and JJ snorts.  “Yeah, what's not to get? My wife has another guy, and we play daddy roulette every single time.”  “Daddy roulette?” you ask and furrow your brows at the two.  “You said it's better to not know. Removes the thing for fighting or whatever,” JJ explains.  “This one, definitely mine,” Rafe points at your stomach, and you look down at yourself to see yourself severely pregnant. Your belly is bigger than you'd ever imagined and it feels even worse.  “Why is it so big?” Your heart starts racing, and you feel like you're about to fall over.  “That's because we're having twins. You got a Maybank and a Cameron in there, baby, just like you love it,” JJ grins and your vision goes blurry. 

“Y/n, will you please stop screaming? I was trying to sleep!” Rafe groans after shaking you awake.  “Sorry,” you mumble and turn away from him.  “Bad dream or what?” he asks.  “You don't have to pretend to care,” you whisper, and he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.  “I do care, but I also really need to sleep, baby,” he mumbles and kisses your neck a single time.  “We should just sleep,” you mutter and this time you are allowed to get your few hours of dreamless sleep instead of being haunted by your mistakes. 

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Weeks turn into months, and one hookup every other week turns to some every other day.  The more Rafe tries to focus more on you, the more you seem to crave JJ and the lightness of what you have with him.  Like the quick fucks in the Country Club restroom, or the “business meetings” you tell Rafe about. After all, you really don't have a choice, because where Rafe is still reluctant to go down on you, JJ is offering it every single time, even when you are really not capable of cumming another time.  You know it would be technically easy to break up with Rafe, but you can't. You promised your dead father to marry a good man, someone from a good family. And Rafe is exactly what your dad had in mind.  And even if that wasn't the case, you still couldn't, or just don't want to, really.  You like that every girl on the island seems to want what you have, especially with both boys on your leash. You like that people are scared of you, because they know Rafe does what you tell him to, and not because he’s scared, no because he knows it's the best way to live his life. What most people don't know is that although still rich, the Camerons had suffered a dent in their savings, and not a small one. But you, you are secured by a long line of rich assholes. Old money. More than you could ever spend in a lifetime. Which just means that Rafe doesn't have the faintest idea why he should ever leave you. You are his perfect package deal. 

“boat day?” The text from JJ rips you out of your thoughts, and you praise the fact that Rafe has the day packed with meetings.  “sure” you reply quickly and get back to doing your hair.  “I should come pick you up”  “no, you really shouldn't.” You shake your head at his dangerously stupid idea. The boat thing is after all already risky, you don't need to up the chances of anyone finding out. “Will be there in 30.”

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Kiara scoffs as soon as you get out of your car.  “I invited her,” JJ shrugs as if it's nothing special and keeps walking towards the pier.  “You shouldn't get to invite anyone, especially not the Kook bitch who keeps fucking you on the side to get back at her even worse Kook boyfriend,” Kiara complains. “I'm not getting back at anyone,” you smile at her, knowing how much it must enrage her that you keep your cool and calm exterior.  “Just, please be nice, Kie,” JJ yells from afar and you hide your grin.  “John B!” Kiara hollers and walks back into the house, while you keep standing there, leaning against your car. As soon as JJ comes back they all gather on the porch, discussing the matter of your attendance. 

“You know I can hear you, right?” you say loudly after Kiara had called you a slut the third time in a row. “Then why are you still here?” she snaps at you.  You stroll towards the steps that lead up the porch and walk to where they are standing. It's not that you are particularly happy that they are all there too, but you at least have the decency to be nice to them, if not for anything but JJ’s sake.  “I'm interested in what your issue is here,” you ask and Sarah scoffs.  “Maybe that you're a horrible person. Using JJ? Cheating on my brother?”  “Oh, a horse can only be that high,” you smile at her.  JJ tugs on your hand and makes you look at him. “You said you'd be nice.”  “I am nice. I'm not the one calling people slut and whore and what else y'all can come up with for me. But I'm not gonna stand here and hear these insults if they can't even take one back. And for the record that wasn't an insult, it was the truth and y'all know it,” you say and John B runs his hands through his hair, visibly on edge.  “Are you kidding me? You literally insult us all the fucking time,” Kiara spits at you, and you can't help the tiny laugh that escapes you.  “I don't insult Pogues, you guys have it hard enough as is, but… you're not a Pogue, Carrera. I guess that means you're fair game, because that one,” you point at Sarah, “is basically family, as much as I hate to say it, and you don't go against your own.”  “You’re not my family. You'll never be,” Sarah shakes her head.  “Okay,” you roll your eyes at her.  “Can we just-” JJ tries to get control of the conversation, but Kiara stops him.  “No, we can't. If she's here, I'm leaving.”  “Y'all are the worst fucking friends in the world,” you laugh and take a step back, ready to leave. “Incredible.” You turn around and walk back to your car, JJ right behind you. 

“Don't leave, please,” he asks, and you stop in your tracks, turning around on the dirt and looking straight at him.  “I tried, you can't tell me to do more than that. I'm not gonna be called a whore and slut every five fucking minutes. It's appalling how your friends can't even pretend to like me for a few hours, but I'm supposed to do so while also being insulted. I'm not doing that. I'm sorry.” “I'll make it up to you, just don't go,” he begs and you shake your head. “No.” “What do you mean no?”  “I mean, no, because you have nothing to make up to me. They are the ones constantly fucking up. Last time you told them beforehand, and suddenly they all had different plans. They hate me,” you tell him, but he didn't seem to wanna hear it.  “Can we just try and-”  “I did try. Don't force me to do this, J. I can't do this if they can't even manage to not call me names,” you say quietly, and he takes your face in his hands, warm and calloused.  “Will you wait just another few minutes and if I can't fix it, we will go to my place. Sound all right?” His voice is low and raspy, and it's making you wet just a little bit.  “You never invited me to your house before,” you whisper, blushing and pressing your thighs together to try to get rid of the growing desire between them. “It's an equally favorable outcome to the other thing then?”  “More favorable to me,” you smile and lean up to peck his lips. “Use that magical charm of yours,” you whisper and push him back to go talk to his friends. 

Half an hour later you're all sitting on the small boat somewhere in the marsh.  “You want a beer?” JJ asks and hands you a can. “You know how to shotgun, right?”  I can pretend I don't so you can show me,” you smile at him and he laughs.  “That would be cheating.” You grin at him before taking out your keys, plunging a hole in the can and chugging it in a matter of seconds.  “Impressive,” JJ notes before shotgunning his own can and dropping some beer on his sun kissed skin. You don't even think about it when you lean in and kiss the droplets away. Your kisses trail upwards, along his neck until they connect to his mouth, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. His hands come up to hold your face, while yours are in his neck, twirling the hair at the nape of it.  “I should shotgun a few more if this is the new process,” JJ smirks, his forehead leaning against yours.  You blink slowly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and giving him a small nod. “M-hmm,” you hum, and he places another kiss on your lips. 

“Should we, uh, play a game or?” Pope suggests, and you turn to shift your focus away from JJ and towards the people he calls his friends.  “What type of game?” you ask with a genuine interest.  “Truth or dare,” Kiara suggests with a mean smile on her face.  “Who starts?” you ask and give her a polite smile, serving its intended purpose when she rolls her eyes.  “Truth or dare, princess,” JJ asks and turns your head towards him with a simple nudge of his finger.  “Truth,” you whisper.  “Why did you come when I asked?”  “Because I like you,” you gaze into his blue eyes, and he smiles, “for more than the incredible sex also. It's actually pretty fun with you.”  “Definite win on my end,” he whispers.  “Truth or dare… John B,” you say before turning your head to look at him. He gives you a confused look, his eyes jumping between JJ and you.  “Truth,” he shrugs.  “Do you actually hate me or do you just hate me because your girlfriend hates me?” Your smile is sugar sweet, but the glare you give Sarah could definitely make milk curdle.  “I mean, you're a Kook and I don't understand what this is,” he gestures at JJ and you. “But I guess, I don't know you enough to hate you or like you.”  His answer genuinely surprises you because you didn't think he'd be honest and not just say the thing Sarah wanted to hear. 

The game goes back and forth with a few dares and a few harmless truths in between, until it's Sarah's turn, and she glares at you as if she wants to actually kill you.  “Truth or Dare, y/l/n?”  “Dare,” you reply quickly, and her mean smile grows wider.  “Call Rafe and tell him where you are,” she demands. “It's 2:30pm, he's in a meeting. I'm not gonna call him during a meeting just because of a stupid game,” you scoff and laugh at her stupid dare.  “How do you know he's in a meeting right this second?” she hits back at you, and you can't help but laugh even more, but you catch yourself and answer a bit more seriously. “I have his schedule memorized. That's what you do when you're a good girlfriend.”  “A good girlfriend wouldn't cheat!” she screams at you. “You think he doesn't? That's a pretty narrow-minded way to look at it, sis.” You know the new nickname has her boiling, and the little sadistic part of your brain loves to see it. “And you don't get to talk about cheating, everyone is aware of your timeline errors.”  “I never loved Topper,” she defends herself, as if it makes her morally superior to you. “And I don't love Rafe, but you at least had a fucking choice because your shitty life was never bound to you marrying whoever your parents pick so you ‘get to’ inherent what would rightfully be yours anyway. So don't fucking tell me what to do with my life, because everyone else has always done it too, and they had more legitimacy for it,” you yell at her, unintentionally spilling more of your secrets than you had initially wanted to, and they all go quiet. The only thing you can hear after you're done is a few frogs, the birds close by, the waves crashing against the boat and your heart pounding in your chest.

JJ pulls you in closer and hugs you while placing soft, calming kisses on your neck.  “I wanna go home,” you whisper to him, tired of having had to pretend, even if it had just been for an hour.  “Let me talk to them. I promise it's gonna get better,” he says and gets up.  There's no doubt in your mind that it won't. Yet you don't understand why you keep giving him, and with it, them, one chance after the other, when you wouldn't usually give anyone even a second chance. You look out onto the water, your legs propped up, arms around them and your head lying on your knees. You think back to the last night you had with your dad, before he had died in a horrible car crash. T-boned by a drunk driver who hadn't seen a red light. You think about how you had tried to convince him to change his mind, that you could run the company without a man by your side, that you were good enough. But all your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And your mom isn't any better. She decided to stay away, vacating in Palm Beach and only coming home every other month to make sure you are still alive. She deals with grief like that. By sunbathing and drinking and pretending like everything is fine and perfect and not at all in shambles.  Instead, you decided to close off your heart, and that worked for nearly two years until JJ decided to charm his way into it. You don't like it, the thought of feeling all this pain again. Or worse, to know once you let yourself love, the pain will be inevitable. People leave one way or the other, that's how life has always been and how it always will be. 

“Hey,” John B rips you out of your head, and you don't even turn to look at him as he sits down next to you.  “What do you want?” you say in the meanest way you can conjure, but it still sounds pathetic.  “I'm sorry about your dad, I know he died a few years back. I, uhm, I just wanted to say I understand how hard it can be to live up to their expectations, especially after they-”  “I don't need your pity, Routledge,” you snap and look at him. “You don't know anything about me. You don't have to pretend to care.”  “I was just trying to help,” he apologizes and gets up again. 

Your mind wanders back to the night, to the pain. It's scarily easy to revisit that memory. Seeing yourself standing over the table in the morgue, having to identify that, “yes, that's my dad,” because your mother had broken down as soon as the message had come through. You were keeping yourself together for her, for everyone around you who came with their condolences and expected a consolation prize for caring the bare minimum. You remember taking the ring from his cold, stiff finger. You remember having to pick out the casket, the suit, the food, where and when and how and-  You feel like your lungs are empty, like you had stopped breathing air, but pain and desperation instead. Tears are building in your eyes. You can't blink, can't let them run, can't let anyone see you cry, especially not these people. The only one who has gotten to see you cry ever, apart from your parents, is Rafe. And maybe you are aware that you can't leave him because he knows the part of you that you try so hard to keep hidden. Because he was the only one caring for you when everyone else was solely relying on you.  And now you are hurting him, in a way you never thought you would, but you can't help it, you're too far in it now. You need to tell him, needed two months ago, but you hadn't, because you were scared of breaking his heart. Because you know telling him might mean losing the one good and secure thing you had going for yourself. Maybe you never considered it love, because it doesn't look like the love from the movies and books you basically inhaled in your early teens. Maybe you do have a childish outlook on love after all, because whatever connects you and Rafe goes deeper than that. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, standing over you, and you muster a faint smile for him.  “I just really wanna go home now, I'm sorry,” you apologize for it, although you know you're not the only one at fault for it. You're soft for him, because he needs it, because you need it in a way. But it's so different from Rafe and you don't know if you can survive without either of them. If you could, you'd put them in a blender and get the perfect boyfriend out of it. But life isn't a fairy tale. “It's okay,” he smiles and kisses your forehead before turning to the steering wheel and starting the engine. 

As soon as you're back at the Château you get off the boat and basically run towards your car. If not for JJ, you wouldn't even think twice about ever coming back. But this was his second home, his happy place.  “Hey, y/n, wait a sec,” JJ calls after you and you stop to turn around.  “I don't care if they like me, J, but I'm not gonna be able to do this again. Not like this. I really want to, for you, but if they can't bring up the same amount of- They need to try too, all of them, and not when I accidentally tell them my whole life story so they can pity me. I'm not gonna do it that way,” you say softly and he nods.  “I understand. Will you text me that you got home safe? Please,” he whispers and you nod. There's a moment of silence, insecure and heavy, as if he doesn't know what to do, so you do the only thing you can think of to stop the awkward moment from prolonging. In a quick motion you lean up and kiss his cheek. 

As soon as you come home you text him a quick “am home” and turn back to wallowing in your sadness.  It takes Rafe another two hours to get back home and as soon as he walks in, you jump into his arms, trying to find the little security you knew you could always hold onto.  “Hey, baby, what's up? Huh? Missed me that much?” Rafe asks with a light chuckle while holding you up, with one arm around your waist and the other holding onto his bag.  “Missed you,” you mumble into him, not wanting to actually tell him why you are feeling down, but you know you need to. Soon. Very soon.

He puts down his bag and carries you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the island and taking your puffy face in his hands.  “What happened?” he asks softly, softer than you know him.  “I don't want you to be angry with me,” you whisper, and he prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding.  “I won't be, I promise.”  “I, uh…,” the words get stuck in your throat, and you feel the tears well up again.  “Whatever it is, you know I love you,” he says, and it makes your heart feel even heavier.  “I've been seeing someone else,” you whisper, and he takes a step back, laughing and running his hands through his hair. There is no mistake in how mad he is, because this was a new level of mad, one you haven't seen before.  “Who?” he barks and you flinch. “Who is it, y/n?”  “No, you'll hurt him. I won't let you hurt him,” you shake your head, and he steps closer again.  “Why should I give a fuck about how you feel right now? Huh?! For how long have you been cheating on me?” he screams into your face. “Rafe, please,” you beg softly, and he takes a step away again, and a second later his fist lands in a cabinet door.  “How long, y/n?” he yells.  “Four months,” you whisper and he laughs.  “You gotta be kidding me.”  “I didn't know- It's confusing and then today-” you stammer, and he interrupts you.  “You were with him today? That's why you're crying? And you expect me to not go and kill that guy instantly?”  “I love you,” you yell at him, and he stops, furrowing his brows and looking at you more confused than you have ever seen him. 

“What?”  “I think so, at least. It's very confusing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.  “Is that supposed to be an apology? You tell me you've been fucking some asshole on the side and think it'll all be made okay by finally telling me that you love me after two years?” His anger is back, but he's still confused, and you don't know what to do about it. All you know is that you need to be truthful about it, as much as you can, as much as he lets you. “I know it doesn't make sense and I know it's not an apology. I don't mean it like that. But today, things were said by other people, not him, he was trying to help- I don't know what I feel,” you shake your head.  “None of that makes any sense, baby,” Rafe runs his hand over his face.  “I didn't think that what I felt for you was love because no one ever told me it could be like that. But I do. I love you and I made a horrible mistake, but I would have never known- I can't survive on just one. I need both of you to be happy,” you say, and he steps closer, harshly taking your face in his hand.  “Who!”  “JJ,” you whisper and his hand slips down to your throat, holding you tight enough to restrict your blood flow, making you dizzy.  “You let a dirty Pogue fuck you? And then you come back here and pretend like nothing happened?”  “I love you,” you are practically begging him to not hurt JJ, your own well-being has become secondary the moment you decided to tell Rafe about it all.  “Is that why you wanted to do all that new shit?” he laughs almost hysterically, squeezing a little tighter and your vision starts getting blurry.  “Please,” you choke out, and he lets go again.  “You know what the worst part is? That this started making more sense in the last few months, and now you're tellin’ me it's because you’re fucking Maybank on the side. That's fucked up, y/n,” Rafe shakes his head.  “I never got mad at you for cheating on me,” you remind him quietly, it's a low blow, but you know it's gonna do the trick. His escapades early on in your relationship, and even a few slip ups in the first year after your dad hadn't bothered you much anyway back then.  “No, but you never got mad at me for anything because you don't have a fucking heart. You were acting like a fucking robot until-,” he doesn't even finish the sentence, only shaking his head yet again.  “I don't understand why, Rafe. You have to believe me. And I tried not to. I did. For months before. And then it happened once, and I tried to stay away but then you- you hurt my feelings and I had no one else-” you stammer, and he glares at you.  “The best sex we ever had? Because you had just fucked him?”  “I know you. You're not happy with all I need. And everything you can give me- It's not enough, and I hate myself for it. I wish it was but it isn't. And I can't keep on trying to change you. I won't do that to you. It's not fair to either of us,” you whisper.  “You think you can have us both? Maybe we should call your little boy toy and ask him what he thinks, because apparently you value his fucking Pogue opinion more than me!” Rafe snaps and rips the phone from your back pocket.  “Rafe, please don't,” you cry, and he smirks, but it's neither playful nor sweet, it's simply vicious.  “Oh, I have a way worse idea, baby, and you won't say no because you love me, right?” he taunts, and you nod slowly, knowing whatever’s to happen next won't be the last punishment you receive for your crimes. 

Rafe throws you over his shoulder and carries you upstairs and into the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.  You know not to move when he's in a mood, he'll do it by himself or give you strict orders to follow. Doing anything on your own account will just make it worse for you.  “Take off that horrible dress,” he barks while walking into the closet to pick out a tie and get his special box for you. You do as you are told, and he comes over to you, pulling on your arms and tying your wrists together behind your back so you can't use your hands anymore.  Then he pulls on the strings of the tiny bikini you had on, having expected to go swimming before you had left for JJ’s. The flimsy piece comes undone and Rafe slaps your ass a single time, but it stings harsh enough for you to whine a little.  “The more you cry, the worse it'll get,” he threatens, and you try to swallow the pain as he sits and pulls you to lie over his lap, spanking you for half an eternity. And even when he's done and goes over to softly massaging your butt, it's still stinging, and you don't know how much more you can take if this was the start of it. 

“You think that was enough? Or do you deserve some more?” Rafe asks and you gulp before replying quietly.  “I was a very bad girl,” you say, just like he always wanted to hear. It had only happened two times before that he had decided to play these games in such an extreme way. The first time you had drunkenly flirted with some Touron and Rafe had decided it was the best way to teach you a lesson. That was a month into your relationship. The second time was a week before your dad had died, and he keeps telling you that he regrets doing it, but you know he doesn't. You had made fun of his family that night, just a little bit, but it had been enough to grant a punishment.  But neither of those come close to the pain you imagine he must be feeling right now. And you rather let him take his anger out on you than go and hurt JJ. That was the better option, surely.  “Yes, you were, baby. That's why you're gonna do whatever I say now. You know the rules. And if you cum I'll hurt you some more,” Rafe pulls you back up and you nod.  “Won't cum.”  “Good. Now lay down and let me fuck your throat,” he says, and you hesitate for a second but do it anyway. He's aware that you don't like it, not because it's not fun, but because he's simply too big for you to be able to breathe properly while doing it on his terms.  

Yet here you are, lying on the bed with your head hanging off the edge. But before he tells you to open up, he goes to his box, taking out a tiny device and smirking mischievously.  “You know what, we're doing it differently tonight,” Rafe pulls you up to sit. Then he goes to bend you over and for a moment you think he's just gonna fuck you, but instead he shoves the toy into you, filling both holes without any prep, and you cry out at the unexpected intrusion and the low vibrations of the toy.  “No. You're not gonna cum from that, and if there's anything on that when I pull it out, I'll make it hurt worse. Do you understand?” He warns and you nod.  “I understand.”  “Good. Kneel,” he orders and points at the rug in front of the bed and you follow diligently. 

When he tells you to open up, you do it, and when he tells you to moan around him, you do it, and when he tells you to look into the camera, you do it, albeit reluctantly.  Rafe doesn't care that you're close to choking on his cock, or that you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheek. He doesn't care that your jaw will hurt for the two following days. He doesn't care because he knows it's still not enough punishment, and you know he's right.  Once he's happy with his little video, he tells you to get up and lie down again, and once you do, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed again and goes back to fucking your throat. What you can't see, because his balls are in your face, is that he's gone back to filming you, especially the part where his dick goes so far down your throat that it's visible on your neck.  Somehow you managed to blend out the vibrations in your pussy and ass, the low intensity was barely doing anything to you but edge you on more and more. 

“You're a real slut, aren't you, baby,” he huffs after pulling out and manhandling you to be face down before him. Your legs are propped up and spread wide as he harshly pulls the toy out, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your throat.  “Tell me you love me again, and I might stop,” he rasps, and you are about to say it, but just as you open your mouth to speak, he thrusts into you. An obscenely loud moan is all you can conjure before he starts ramming into you.  “Tell me how much you love me!”  “Love you, Rafe. Love you and your cock so much,” you cry out and a second later your phone lands on the bed right next to your head.  “Look who called to check up on you, baby. Tell him how much you love when I take what's mine!” Rafe demands and your eyes fill with tears as you see the screen.  “What the fuck is this?” JJ asks and you sob.  “Rafe, no,” you cry.  “You want him so bad, he has to know what it means to share you. Because I'm not letting you go, baby,” Rafe growls, fucking you harder and your tears keep on streaming.  “Princess, it's okay. Focus,” JJ tells you through the phone, and you don't understand why he didn't hang up immediately.  “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rafe, please,” you beg, but he won't stop, not until he's got what he wants.  “Tell him how much you love me,” Rafe barks, pulling on your hair and yanking you towards him. “You don't get to make any demands tonight, baby. You know what you did to me!”  He pushes you back down, and you land face first in the duvet, sobbing uncontrollably. “I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry,” you are close to hyperventilating. Your body is sore and tired, but he won't stop the attack on your poor pussy.  “You hear that Maybank, she loves me!” Rafe says, jealousy drenching his voice, and picks up the phone. “But I still don't think she deserves to cum. Do you?”  “You're sick, Rafe,” JJ hisses through the phone, but your mind is starting to go blank, the noise of his skin slapping against your own, and the quenching sound of your pussy is filling your ears.  “No, she's sick. One dick isn't enough for the little bitch. Nah, she needs two fillings to feel better about herself,” Rafe laughs, and you're so far gone that you can barely hear him anymore.  “Princess, focus on me. Come on, pretty girl,” JJ pleads and you nod absentmindedly.  “Shit, stop,” Rafe moans, but you can't. JJ's soft, loving words of encouragement have triggered your release, and you really don't have any control over it.  You moan so loud you think the whole island might hear, but you don't care, actually. And when you push your ass back into Rafe he loses his game and cums so hard that he collapses onto you almost instantly. 

Panting you lie there, incapable of saying a single word, but at least JJ had disconnected the call.  “I get it now,” Rafe pants and pulls you into him, hugging you and kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I can learn to live with it.”  “Love you,” is all you manage to say before your exhaustion takes over, and you fall into a deep dreamless slumber. 

You don't even feel like getting up the next morning, but you do it anyway. Pulling on one of Rafe's shirts to feel a tiny bit of familiar comfort you prod downstairs after having cleaned up the tiniest bit.  “Good morning,” Rafe says as soon as you step into the kitchen.  “Morning,” you walk past him, kissing his cheek just like any normal day. But unlike any normal day, Rafe isn't dressed yet, he's only got his shorts on and something tells you he had planned it.  “I don't think you should get to wear my shirts right now. I'm still mad at you, remember?” he nods at you, and you sigh, wanting to turn back and go change, but his hand shoots out to hold you back. “Oh, no, no. You're gonna take it off here. And you're gonna eat without it on.”  “But I don't have anything else on,” you complain quietly and he shrugs.  “Not my problem.”  You pull the shirt over your head and hand it to him. “Anything else?”  “Actually, yeah,” Rafe gives you a lopsided grin before sitting you up on the island. 

It stings when he pushes into you, stretching you to your limit without any prep. But it's a punishment, you shouldn't enjoy it anyway.  His grunts and curses and intensely hard thrusts make you whimper, but at least he doesn't tell you off about it this time. Instead, he encourages you, wanting to see the tears and as soon as they start running his thrusts grow sloppier.  “I brought waffles as a peace offering,” you hear JJ's voice and footsteps that are coming closer. Your head spins around, and you stare at him across the room. The shock on his face tells you that he had just as much been blindsided by this as you, and it takes him another moment to drag his eyes away from the scene. But Rafe just laughs and keeps fucking you.  “Look at him, he can't even look at you while I fuck you. How the fuck is that supposed to work, baby?”  “As if you'd like to see it the other way round,” JJ snaps back at him, his back still turned to you. But the pain is too much, you can't take it anymore.  “J, please,” it's a mere whisper that leaves you, but he walks over to you anyway, avoiding looking at Rafe.  “It's all right, I'm here,” JJ whispers to you while caressing your hair, and you look up at him, into his pretty blue eyes.  “Make her cum,” Rafe demands and JJ rolls his eyes.  “You know, if you were better at it, she would've never fucked me in the first place,” JJ glares at him, but you pull on his collar, kissing him and moaning into his mouth while Rafe keeps fucking you.  “You're doing so great, princess. Such a good girl,” JJ praises you and your stomach starts filling with tiny butterflies.  “More,” you moan and JJ looks up at Rafe. “Touch her,” he orders and for some reason Rafe does what he says and starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit.  “Oh God!” you scream, so close to your release that you feel like bursting. Your back lifts off the cold marble and your lips tremble. “That's it. Look at me baby,” JJ whispers and when your eyes meet his you feel afloat, just like the first time. “Let go,” he hushes, and your eyes roll back. You scream and feel how hard it is for Rafe to keep fucking you, but he tries anyway until he can't hold back anymore and fills you up with his hot seed.  “That was better than last night,” Rafe pants while tucking himself away and JJ comes around to pull you up and carry you upstairs. 

“Is this what you want?” JJ asks quietly after sitting you down on the toilet. Your voice is strained, but you only manage to nod a yes.  “We'll have to put down some ground rules, because I really don't wanna be in a situation where I find out what Rafe looks like when he finishes. That was way too close already,” JJ says while letting in a bath for you.  “I'm sorry,” you rasp, but he shakes his head.  “Don't apologize. If I hadn't told you to come by yesterday, this wouldn't be happening. And you should save your voice,” he smiles. 

The hot water helps with the pain, but leaning back into JJ and being with him without having to think about what might happen if someone finds out is freeing. It's nice and good and feels a thousand times better than before.  “I don't care if they get it or not. I know you can't help it,” he whispers to you, softly massaging your sore thighs under the water. “Stupid hearts,” he sighs.  “You okay?” Rafe asks, standing in the door, and you turn to look at him and nod. “Good. I have to go to work,” he says and takes a few steps over to kiss you softly. “Love you,” he whispers and turns around to leave without waiting for you to say it back. 

The following days are filled with planning and talking and fighting over phrasings, but in the end they manage to come to a conclusion that they can both live with. The easiest one at that. You get to choose, anything and everything when it comes to what happens between the three of you, in this weird new relationship you found yourself in. 

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Most nights you find yourself sleeping in JJ's bed instead of your own, but Rafe doesn't mind it much, never having been much of a cuddler himself. But when it gets to your darkest moments, you don't trust yourself enough to talk to JJ, maybe it's stupid, but somehow you can't change it.  Yet you also don't think you'll ever regret your decision, especially when you're waking up to JJ plastering you with kisses before slowly fucking you awake. Or when he goes to eat you out while a boring movie is playing.  Or when Rafe comes home frustrated from a meeting and uses you in any way you let him, and sometimes he even lets JJ join and not just sit there and please you mentally. 

Your new favorite thing has to be sucking off JJ while Rafe is plowing into you.  With every deep thrust of Rafe's hard cock into your clenching core, you moan louder around JJ, and it's even harder for him to not cum as soon as he sees your puffy lips wrapped around his dick. And you love to swirl your tongue and play with his balls a little, slapping your lips and cheeks with his pretty cock until he begs for you to suck him dry. 

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The days in between when you get time to recover properly are filled with surf lessons from JJ or going shopping with Rafe.  It's passed the point where only the three of you and the people close to you know about the arrangement. Especially parties start to be a boiling pot for dramatics. 

You're at the Boneyard, playing stupid drinking games with JJ, having fun the way teenagers are supposed to be.  You're aware that the people around you talk, but you couldn't care less because you're on cloud nine, too happy to let anybody ruin it. But JJ is the complete opposite. The more people he hears, the more agitated he gets.  “What’ya say?” he snaps at some guy, pushing him back.  “Chill bro,” the boy tries to laugh it off.  “No, repeat what you said, asshole,” JJ pushes.  “Only the biggest of sluts need-” He doesn't get to finish the repetition of his words when JJ's fist lands in his face. You yell for him to stop, but it's like he's in a trance. It takes both John B and Pope, who storm over from the other side of the party, to pull JJ off the guy.  “What the fuck, bro,” John B shoves JJ backwards but J just laughs.  “He deserved it.”  “Why ‘cause he said something mean?” Pope snaps, and you cross your arms in front of your chest.  “You wouldn't get it, Pope,” JJ shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. “Y'all just don't get it.”  “We don't, because it doesn't make sense,” Pope counters and you scoff.  “Just because you don't understand something, doesn't mean it's shit or that we're horrible people for it.”  “I didn't say that,” he shakes his head, but you're done with them, you have been for a long time.  “C’mon, J,” you say and start walking towards where you had parked your car. 

At home, you start by cleaning him up, kissing him all over in the shower until he pins you against the tiles. His kisses are forceful, and he's groping at your ass and thighs. Picking you up and fucking up into you while you moan and gasp. He doesn't give you time to cum when he finishes and puts you down on your feet.  This is different from what you know of him, but it intrigues you too. JJ turns you around and snakes his arm around your thigh, pushing two fingers into your sore cunt to stop you from spilling out.  “I know I should've asked, but it's gonna be great. I promise,” he whispers into your ear before leading you into the bedroom and making you lie down.

JJ is standing in front of you, your legs pressed to your chest, and he’s holding onto your hips as he fucks you. It's not loving and soft like any time before. It's harsh and fast, and you like it too much. You like the sound of his claves crashing into your ass, the way his balls slap against your skin. The wet noises your pussy makes when he drags his cock out of you just to slam right back in. And the way your tits jiggle with the movement. Your hands are clawing at the sheets when JJ starts playing with your clit, making you cum in a matter of seconds. You know you'll be there for hours when he shoots his cum into you and just keeps going. You haven't quite figured out which way you like it better; with JJ’s incredibly small refractory period, or Rafe's stamina to hold out for just how long he wants to. 

“Who's gonna clean that up?” you hear Rafe ask and your head spins around to look at him. Your mind is blurry with pleasure, your mouth agape and JJ doesn't stop and rips another orgasm from you. Rafe has never actually watched him fuck you, but something about this is making him want to stay and watch.  Your back arches up again, and JJ grunts and curses, filling you up for the fifth time that night, and you watch Rafe's face contort in a light confusion.  “You just keep going? Maybe you should give her some time, dude,” Rafe says, and you shake your head at him.  “She'll have time once I'm done,” JJ growls, and it sends shivers down your spine, making you roll your eyes back. “Isn't that right, baby?”  “Yes, yes, yes-” you scream each time his cock pushes against your cervix as if he wants to pass through it. “Want your cum, JJ, all of it,” you babble, maybe you like giving Rafe a show too.  “Good girl,” JJ moans and cums another time, making you clench around him with ease. 

“You see that,” JJ smirks down at you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to see the tip of his dick poking against your stomach. “That's it, princess,” he praises you before pushing down on your stomach, and you fall back, moaning, incapable of holding yourself up with the intense pleasure he's giving you.  “Give me my phone,” JJ orders and for a moment you have forgotten that Rafe is still there, still watching. He hands JJ his phone and J points the lense right at where you two are connected.  His free hand is back to rubbing torturously harsh circles on your clit, making you mewl and cry out.  “Cum for me, princess. Make me proud, baby,” JJ hums, and you let go of the tension. Screaming his name and squeezing his cock so hard that he cums almost instantly, pushing in farther and holding himself there until he's all done.  And once he's pulled out, he goes down on his knees before you, pointing the camera right at your pussy, clenching around nothing and pushing all his cum out of you and letting it drip down onto the rug. 

“What she do?” Rafe asks just as JJ comes back from the bathroom, a wet washcloth in his hand.  “Nothing,” JJ mutters while cleaning you up, but you can't move, not yet. Your legs feel like they are made of rubber and your mind is empty, only having enough capacity to listen to their words.  “Why'd you do this then?” Rafe points at your utterly fucked out state.  “Do I ask you why you do what you do? No. Just let it go,” JJ snaps at him and leaves for his room.  “You could at least change the fucking sheets!” Rafe yells after him, but it's no use. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Rafe whispers and picks you up, holding you in his arms while you regain your strength.  “Frustrated,” you mumble and look at him with your glossy eyes.  “Maybank? Why?”  “Fight- Asshole-” you stammer, and he carries you out of the room and towards JJ’s.  “What did you do?” Rafe barks at JJ, your body still tightly wrapped around him.  “None of your fucking business,” JJ hisses.  “It fucking is when it ends with her losing all bodily capabilities, you ass,” Rafe yells, and you try to cover your ears, but it doesn't really help.  “He called her a whore, and he had to pay for it. I don't care what they say, but they don't get to insult her,” JJ explains harshly, and you start to slowly feel your toes again.  “Doesn't explain why you nearly fucked her into subdrop,” Rafe shakes his head and caresses your back. “You can't just do shit like that, and you know it.”  “She said she was okay with it.”  “She's a fucking people pleaser, asshole,” Rafe snaps, and you lift your head from his shoulder.  “Please stop,” you whisper, and he wipes a tear from your cheek.  “It's okay, baby,” Rafe whispers to you before turning back to JJ. “Don't let your fucking anger out on her without making sure she's alright.” “Noted,” JJ says, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes.  “Good, because you gotta aftercare the shit out of her now. I'm not cleaning up your messes, Maybank,” Rafe tells him and basically hands you to him as if you were nothing more than a puppet. 

“I'm sorry, love,” JJ whispers, placing you in the hot water and running his hand through his hair.  “S’okay,” you mumble and look up at him with a droopy smile.  “I'm gonna clean up, and then I'll be right with you, all right?” He kisses you gently and leaves again.  You think back to it, the moment he snapped. He looked like a different person, more like his dad in a way, and although you never even saw Luke Maybank up close, you know it’s true. You know the rumors are true. He didn't tell you, but in your heart you know it.  If his friends hadn't come, he wouldn't have stopped. If they hadn't showed up, the other guy would be dead. If it hadn't been for you, none of it would've happened.  It’s a rather quick spiral that you go down, and you can't stop yourself from crying, not even when JJ comes back and looks at you rather confused.  “Hey. Hey, pretty girl, don't cry. It's okay. You're okay. I'm here,” he tells you and pulls your head to his chest. But it doesn't help. You can't stop feeling like it was all your fault, all the pain in your life is your fault.  “Rafe!” JJ shouts, and it only takes a minute for him to run in.  “What you do now?”  “Nothing, I came back, and she's crying, and she won't stop,” JJ defends himself.  “Go. You seriously have no clue,” Rafe shakes his head and takes JJ's spot next to you. 

“What's wrong, baby,” Rafe whispers to you, holding your face in his big hands.  “It's my fault. I killed him. It's my fault,” you sob and he shakes his head.  “No, it's not. You know it's not,” Rafe assures you, but you're too far gone for it to work. “I did it. I killed him,” you cry and he clenches his jaw.  “Y/n, you didn't drive that car, it's not your fault. Please, listen to me,” Rafe pleads, but you shake your head, not wanting to believe him.  “Hey, hey, look at me,” he orders, and you turn your eyes back on him. “Three things you feel, name them.” “Pain. Tired. Sad,” you answer slowly.  “Four things you can touch.”  “Water, you, me, bathtub,” you reply a little faster and he nods.  “Five things you see,” Rafe whispers, and you look around in front of you. “Towel, shower, robe, painting-” your eyes get stuck on the blonde boy that is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “JJ.”  Rafe snaps around to look at him. “I told you to leave!”  “What's wrong with her?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach.  “Leave!” Rafe yells, and it takes a moment for JJ to realize that it will have consequences if he doesn't. But Rafe had already turned back around to you, stroking your hair. “We should get you to bed, baby.”  He dries you up and puts you in a shirt of his to sleep in, before laying you down in your bed and turning off the lights. 

When you wake up, you're alone, and you decide to not get ready and just go downstairs the way you are. Before you can meet the boys in the kitchen you overhear them talking and stop in your tracks.  “That doesn't make sense,” JJ says.  “No shit. But that's just how it's been ever since. Your stupid fight triggered something, and the day is coming up in a week- It's a fucking minefield this time of year,” Rafe sighs.  “So we distract her?” JJ asks and Rafe scoffs.  “That's just delaying it. No, you just gotta stay with her and make sure she won't spiral. And when she does you have to keep telling her that it's not her fault, and pull her out of it. The naming thing always works,” Rafe replies.  “And what if it doesn't?”  “I don't know.” 

You turn the corner and pretend like you had just come down the stairs, walking straight to the coffee machine.  “How did you sleep?” Rafe asks with a smile.  “Alone,” you say and take your mug, nearly burning your tongue as you take a sip.  “I'm sorry, y/n, for yesterday and all,” JJ apologizes, but you just shrug.  “Shit happens.” Pretending to not care was easy, too easy.  “I’m gonna be at the office all day. You think you're gonna be all right?” Rafe asks and you nod.  “I don't know why we shouldn't be.” 

You spend your day training, not having done so in too long for your own liking. The water calms your mind and gives you enough time to reflect on your life choices.  You know Rafe is right. You know that it's not your fault. But the guilt you feel around it doesn't just vanish because of it. 

Later that day Rafe texts you that you're having dinner at the country club with his dad, meaning JJ isn't allowed to come.  “I'll just enjoy the view right now,” JJ smiles and watches you get dressed. The underwear set is new, and you can tell by the way he's looking at you that he wants nothing more than to take it off again.  “If it was my call,” you start, but he interjects.  “I know, but it isn't. Besides, I don't really give a shit about family dinners and all that fancy bullshit.”  “Sarah will be there, and John B,” you remind him, but he shrugs.  “So what?” “Have you talked to them at all in the last few weeks?” you ask and JJ rubs over the light stubble on his chin.  “They didn't reach out either.”  “They are your family though. That's what you told me,” you whisper. “I have a new family now. I have you,” JJ smiles and takes your dress from the clothing hanger.  “That's not enough, and you know it,” you say while stepping into the dress and letting him zip it up.  “It's enough for you,” he says, and you sigh, looking at him through the mirror in your closet. “But I'm a heartless bitch with more money than anyone else on this island. I don't need anything more, and if I did, I could just buy it.” Your fingers fumble with the necklace until JJ takes it from you and places it around your neck.  “I know there's a heart in there,” JJ says while holding you from behind, his right hand resting on top of your chest.  “Horrible. We should go get a knife and cut it out,” you whisper with a smile and he kisses your shoulder.  “You'd kill me if I said what I was thinking right now,” he mumbles against your skin and your heart stops for a moment, scared that he would say the dreaded words that you knew would definitely complicate your life even more. “Then you really shouldn't say it.”  “I should, but I won't,” he looks back up, leaning his head against yours, smiling. 

The dinner goes rather smoothly, although Sarah still gives you a side eye and once the Camerons are gone, John B asks how JJ is, but nothing more.  “Boring as ever,” you complain on the drive home.  “Glad he didn't ask when we're getting married,” Rafe exhales a laugh.  “Hmmm, let me think,” you tap your finger against your chin in a joking manner. “We can fuck them all over and just fly to Vegas right now.”  “Wouldn't be the worst idea we ever had,” he laughs and takes your hand up to kiss it just as he turns into your driveway.  “My mom expects a huge white wedding. At least a hundred guests,” you sigh while getting out of the car.  “We should start planning then,” Rafe grins at you, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“What happens to that one, once we get married?” Rafe asks you, pointing at JJ who is standing in the kitchen with nothing more than his boxers on.  “They should make this harem thing legal,” JJ says and shugs the rest of his drink.  “A harem is one guy with many women, dumbass,” you laugh.  “The opposite of that then,” JJ shrugs.  “Sure,” Rafe rolls his eyes at him and JJ flips him off.  “Sometimes I think you guys forget who's the boss around here,” you say and zip your dress open, letting it fall to the ground and walking upstairs. “First one up gets to start,” you call out and hear them arguing already. 

“Just because you're first, doesn't mean you know what you're doing,” JJ complains.  “Fine, you start then, genius,” Rafe scoffs, and you furrow your brows, it was unusual for Rafe to give in and let JJ do anything to you unless you specifically asked for it.  “What's the plan here, boys?” you ask with an anticipating smile on your lips.  JJ pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wood and you fall down.  “Just relax, gorgeous,” he muses and drops down on his knees before you, taking off your heels and letting his hands run up to your thighs. You sigh into it, the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin and the kisses he leaves on the inside of your thighs before unclasping the lace body right on top of your pussy.  JJ rolls the fabric up to reveal your stomach, kissing and nipping at your skin; biting your hip and making you jump in surprise. He loves to tease you, and you'd never tell him to stop, ever.  He comes up to kiss you, pushing the lace up even farther and helping you take it off completely. Kissing your neck and leaving marks you hear him chuckle, then his lips meet your ear, and he whispers, “you think he's taking any notes?”  Your eyes dart over to Rafe who has pulled a chair over and is watching you carefully. “Maybe,” you reply.  JJ hums, picking up his head to smile at you. “Hopefully.” 

JJ kisses down your neck, following along your collarbone and to your tits. He sucks on your nipple, grazing over it with his teeth before he pulls on it and your back arches up.  “Would be neglectful to not give you the same attention,” JJ says to your other tit, and you would tell him off if he wasn't squeezing your sensitive nipple right in that second. His hand is playing with your sore tit while his mouth attacks the other. It's overwhelming and perfect, and you don't see any reason to hold back. Your moans and gasps fill the room, and they continue on even once he has let off your boobs and moved downward again. He sucks hickeys into the soft skin of your thighs, making you mewl and squirm.  “Tell me what you want me to do to you, princess,” JJ demands, and you grasp into his hair to push his face into your clothed cunt. He blows a little against your wet slip, and you instinctively want to close your legs, but he holds them in place.  “You should let me take this pretty thing off first,” JJ smirks and you lift your hips. The tiny slip is off faster than you can say your own name. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby,” JJ moans after licking over your wet pussy, his tongue dipping between your folds and torturing your clit a little.  “Hold on, princess,” JJ smirks up at you and your hand finds his hair, tugging on the fine strands as he plunges his tongue into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit, and with every stroke of his tongue, he edges you closer.  “More, JJ, please,” you moan, and he starts to suck on your clit while pushing his fingers into you. Curling them and sucking harsher, almost biting down on your clit, and you can't help but grind your hips against him. When his fingers come up to your face, and you lick them off, you already feel like you're about to explode.  “Cum on my tongue, baby,” JJ hums into you, licking long strides up your pussy before pressing his tongue flat against your entrance and rubbing his nose on your clit.  You keep rolling your hips and moaning his name as you come undone for him. His new technique isn't as good as the old one, but you're not one to complain about it. JJ gets up and wipes his face on a small towel that Rafe hands him, but you can't stop staring at the wet spot in his boxers.  “Again?” you ask JJ with a smile and he shrugs.  “Can't help it. You taste too good, baby.” 

You hold your hand out for Rafe after sitting up, and he takes and intertwines your fingers. He's still in his suit pants and shirt, looking down at you with a lustrous smile.  “You look really hot in this,” you whisper and nod, but your hands wander to the buttons, slowly opening the shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. His abs look so rideable to you, but you are still unsure if he'd let you once you ask.  “You're way hotter, baby. Next time I get to take off the fancy shit,” Rafe growls, his hand  cupping your tit, brushing his thumb over your tit, but his eyes shift towards JJ. “You understand?”  But JJ just holds his hands up in defense and sits down on the chair.  “Take the pants off, babe,” you pout at Rafe, and he slowly opens his belt, pulling it out and dropping it to the side. It was like he was doing a strip show for you, and you loved every second of it.  Rafe pushes you to lie down, your hands pinned over your head as he kisses you aggressively. His free hand gropes at your tit, and you lift your hips to press your wet cunt against his hard cock.  “Always so needy,” Rafe mocks you before going down on his knees between your legs.  He's aggressive and fast, sucking on your clit with so much pressure building that you are scared he's gonna rip it off. But your screams just turn him on even more. His tongue thrusts into you with a harsh pace, and you try to get away from him, but he's holding you in place.  “Curl it,” JJ says and Rafe listens, curling his tongue up and ripping an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds. 

“J,” you pant and Rafe wants to get up, but you close your thighs around his head. “No, you stay. J, come here,” you tap the bed right next to your head. They do as you say, and while Rafe is eating you out another time, JJ is fucking your throat and praising you.  Before JJ can cum you pull him from your throat and pump his cock slower, trying to pace him just a bit. But when you look at the two boys, so helpless when it comes to your wants and needs, you can't help yourself.  With a quick move you have J’s dick back in your warm and wet mouth, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. Your hand is massaging his balls, and he throws his head back and fills your mouth with his salty cum. It feels so good, you cum instantly, creaming all over Rafe's pretty face.  “Definitely doing this again,” you sigh, falling flat into the bed and not planning on getting up anytime soon. 

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The engagement dinner is jarring and the only reason you can get through it is, because Rafe keeps reminding you that it'll be over soon, his hand resting on your thigh the whole night. 

But the engagement party, the weekend after is fun, is actually fun.  You invited everyone you knew, including JJ's friends and Barry, who you hadn't talked to in ages. You spend the first half of the night tightly wrapped in Rafe's arm, smiling and laughing at some things his friends say.  Sitting on the couch on Rafe's lap you let your eyes wander, and they get stuck on JJ who is visibly uncomfortable while nipping on his beer.  “Maybe a blowjob will lighten his mood,” you whisper to Rafe, but he shakes his head.  “No, but honesty might.”  “What do you mean?” you ask and look at your, now, fiancée.  “I mean, he's been miserable and fighting it ever since we brought up that this would be happening. Not like you have much of a choice anyway,” Rafe shrugs lightly and runs his hand over your back.  “How do you know he's miserable?” you wonder, eyeing your boyfriend across the room.  “Because I use my eyes, and to be fair, I'd be pouting too if you wanted to marry him instead of me.”  “And what am I supposed to tell him? He knows I don't have a choice if I wanna keep the company,” you sigh.  “The truth. That you love him,” Rafe whispers and kisses your cheek.  “You can't know that,” you shake your head and he laughs.  “I see the way you two look at each other. I love you so much baby, but you've never looked at me like that.” “That doesn't mean anything,” you fight his words, not wanting him to be right about it.  “I mean, you can try it with the blowjob, but I think the truth would be better,” Rafe smiles and slaps your ass, signaling you to get up. 

You're dragging your feet walking over to JJ. “Look at that, a Pogue in a Kook mansion,” you tease with a smile.  “Hey,” he mumbles without looking at you.  “You okay?” you whisper and he nods, avoiding your eyes.  “Why shouldn't I be?” “Because you've been avoiding me all day.” You reach out your hand to hold onto his and as soon as your delicate fingers close around his, he stares at you. Pain filled blue eyes and a merely unnoticeable tremble on his lip.  “Do I have to be happy about it? You want me to be happy about the fact that you're leaving me?” he hisses at you, but you feel like a weight is lifted off you, a soft smile tugging at your lips.  “Come on, I need to tell you something,” you whisper and lead him upstairs to your bedroom, unlocking the door and stepping inside. 

“Why did you bring me here?” JJ asks, his hand is holding onto the bottle for dear life. “Sit with me,” you say and place yourself at the edge of the bed. He follows reluctantly, yet again avoiding to even look at you.  “JJ, I'm not leaving you,” you whisper and he scoffs. “Sure you aren't.” “I'm serious, J. Just because I have to marry Rafe, doesn't mean anything changes between us.”  “Sure it won't, until you want to have kids, and then it's no longer appropriate,” he mutters, and you don't know how to convince him. Maybe Rafe was right with his assumption about him, about you. But the thought of it is debilitating.  “When I have kids they will have my name, JJ. Do you not want kids?” you ask and he sighs.  “I don't just want any kids, y/n, I want your kids,” he whispers and turns to look at you.  “Why would you think I'll leave you then?”  “Because you are marrying Rafe. Starting a family with Rafe. Just like the plan was. I'm nowhere close to being part of that picture,” he talks himself down, and you really have no more words left inside you. 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him. Your heart is racing while looking at him and your throat feels dry, but you know you have to do it. And you know Rafe is right, you've known it ever since you let JJ compromise your thoughts from the very first time.  “I love you, JJ,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide.  “You sure?” he asks and as soon as you nod he pins you down onto the bed and starts kissing you. Your giggles and the soft attempts to get away from him are making it even better, until he has you pinned right where he wants you, and you are panting, looking up at him.  “You're so beautiful, y/n,” JJ whispers, diving down to kiss you, sloppy and with a smile on both your lips.  “We should go back down,” you whisper and he shakes his head.  “Not yet.” “They might be looking for us and I don't-”  You don't get to finish your sentence when his lips find yours again. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and entangles his tongue with yours until you moan into him.  “I love you, y/n,” JJ whispers, and nuzzles his face into your neck. 

And before you can think twice about it, your little make out session has turned into the best sex you've ever had with him. JJ is sitting under you as you softly roll your hips. He's buried so deep into you that every miniscule move is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands are rubbing over your hips and ass in a perpetual motion, while yours play with his hair.  You think you could stay like this forever, just you and him in perfect synchrony; in love.  And the only time his eyes leave yours is when he dips his head to suck on your tits, or kiss your neck.  When he turns you around to lie down and thrusts into you, it's like he's fucking you for the first time. A plethora of praises and a dozen more “I love you’s” fall from his lips while all you can do is moan and babble incoherently about how much you love him too. 

When you find your way back downstairs, after what felt like an eternity, his arms are wrapped around you. JJ is himself again, flirty and always joking, and so incredibly more touchy than before.  “I see you made up,” Rafe smiles and holds his hand out, for you to take your seat back on his lap.  “Excuse me, you had her all night,” JJ complains and pulls you away, just to sit down right next to Rafe and let you kiss him like you had wanted to.  “No more trouble in paradise?” Rafe whispers to you and you shake your head.  “I love my boys,” you sigh.  “And I thought you went with the blowjob,” Rafe teases you and you roll your eyes.  “I could've gotten a blowjob?” JJ gasps quietly and softly pinches your thigh.  “You get those all the time, dumbass,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, completely enamored by your whole being.  “To think I get to be this lucky just because I couldn't stop staring at your tits, princess,” JJ whispers.  “Pretty nice tits,” Rafe agrees with a mumble.  “Pretty nice dicks,” you giggle and cuddle into JJ, bathing in the newfound closeness and in your mind you're already planning it all out; the kids, the dog, and the two loves of your life. 

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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[hqbaby]

three — have to be

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.5k content. profanity, college kids being stupid, some angsty feels

Contrary to popular belief, college isn’t that different from high school. No one magically matures overnight and goes from being a snot-nosed brat to a sophisticated adult. Try as you might, it just isn’t the way things go.

College is essentially just high school on steroids. The cliques are more exclusive, padded with unwritten rules and covert acts of initiation. Bullies are more subtle, if not more vicious. And the gossip? Well, the gossip is just as venomous, and news spreads just as fast.

Today’s item of interest is one for the books: The big breakup between the campus crush and the golden boy who bagged her. How they ended things rather abruptly. And how they’re both already dating different people only three weeks later.

“Apparently, you cheated on him,” Nobara tells you, pulling out the lollipop she has in her mouth. “Or you cheated on him. It depends on who you ask.”

“I heard that you were sleeping with a professor,” Maki says.

You frown at her, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Yaga?”

“No.” She grins. “Gakuganji.”

You gag at the thought. Which sicko came up with that? Probably Kento, you think. The prick.

The three of you are on your way to a meeting for a pre-law society you joined back in your first year. You’re not quite sure you want to be a lawyer and Maki’s made it clear that she’s just in it for the parties, but as Nobara says, it’s for the connections.

A lot of college has felt like a complete scam to you, if you’re being honest. The classes are fine enough and you occasionally meet interesting people, but for the most part, you’re well-aware that everyone here’s either just coasting or trying to one-up one another. You can’t complain though. In the end, you’re a part of it all.

“I heard something interesting though,” Nobara says, and there’s a dangerous tone in her voice that has you crawling out of your skin. “More than a few people are saying that you’re dating someone new.”

Maki nods, looking at you with a raised brow. “I heard that too.”

“Someone from the business department apparently,” Nobara adds. “Someone you’re incredibly close with.”

You swallow as your two friends turn to you for an answer to their accusations. You and Sukuna made your sham relationship “official” just a few days ago and you haven’t had the time to tell either of them about it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been avoiding the topic for as long as humanly possible because you already know what they’re going to say about the whole thing.

It’s one thing for you to be friends with him despite their clear dislike of him, it’s an entirely different thing to be dating him. To the public’s knowledge at least.

“I was going to tell you guys about that,” you say quietly.

Nobara gapes, dropping her lollipop on the ground. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Before you say anything—”

“Holy shit!” Maki exclaims. She stops in her tracks and grabs your shoulders, shaking you as if to shock some sense into your system. “No. You’re not doing this.”

“I know Satoru fucked you up, but this is not the way to deal,” Nobara tells you. Her arms are flailing around as she tries to get her point across. She probably thinks you’re in too deep, madly in love with the asshole she’s done nothing but warn you about. “Where’s your phone? You’re breaking up with him right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at your friends’ hysterics. Much to their horror.

Maki’s grip on your tightens. “This is serious, babe. It’s not happening.”

“Will you just let me speak?” you say, the laughter shaking your voice. “I’m not dating Sukuna.”

They both let out a sigh of relief.

“But I am pretending to.”

“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” Maki demands. She’s let go of you now at least. That’s something. “Explain, bitch.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking straight ahead, forcing the two of them to hurry along after you. “It’s just a thing we’re doing,” you say. “It’s basically a joke.”

Nobara groans. “Well, it’s not funny,” she says. “Why are you doing this?”

“I dunno,” you tell her. “I’m petty, I guess.”

They’re clearly displeased with your non-answer. You realize that it was more than ridiculous trying to hide it from them in the first place. There’s really nothing to hide.

“We went to a party over the weekend,” you say. “And Satoru was there… with Kimi.”

Maki purses her lips, but you can tell that she understands. She understands you more than she wants to. She was there with you before the breakup, she saw how much the whole thing had been weighing on you, and she was there immediately after it happened. She saw just how badly the whole thing wrecked you. She knows that you’re being stupid, but she also knows you.

It’s Nobara who scowls and shakes her head. It’ll take more than that to convince her.

“So?” she says. “Then date one of the many guys who throw themselves at your feet. Or get a girl! You’re due for a girl. Pick literally anyone else but him.”

You chuckle at her insistence, draping your arm over her shoulder and squeezing her against you. “I don’t want anything real right now,” you tell her. “All those people want a real relationship that I’m just not ready for, and they don’t deserve to be led on. Besides, Sukuna’s the only one I trust to do something this stupid with.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re fucked in the head,” she says. “You cannot trust a guy like Sukuna. He’s an ass.”

“He’s also my best friend.”

Nobara hangs her head at that. “You know, I wish I’d met you sooner,” she tells you. “Then, I would’ve gotten you away from that asshole before he got his fangs in.”

“I know him,” you say, leaning your head against her. “You gotta trust me on this.”

She wraps her arm around your waist and holds you tight for a moment, then sighs. “If he tries anything stupid though, I will kill him.”

“I’ll help,” Maki says. She goes in front of you, walking backwards so she can keep her eyes on yours. “You’re sure about this?”

You nod, reaching your hand out to grab hers. “I’m sure,” you say. “And it’s only for a month. I’ll probably be ready to move onto something real by then.”

The meeting has been going on for hours. They’re not usually this bad when all you have to talk about is a fundraiser or a seminar or a statement against the school administration or something menial like that. But the agenda today is loaded.

The trip.

The big trip that everyone in the society always gets worked up over. It’s the big event of the year, a weekend where the whole group goes somewhere new and gets completely wasted. 

It isn’t enough that you do charity work or contribute to the campus life like any other club would. It isn’t enough that you all see each other on a weekly basis to party at someone’s house or head to a bar together. To truly make the “connections” that Nobara speaks of, you have to relocate everyone to a beach or camp in the mountains or get locked together in a cabin in the woods.

It’s for bonding, they say. But with how everyone’s arguing right now, you’re almost worried that the whole group is just going to end up hating each other. Just another part of the college experience as they say.

“We are not going to an active volcano for our trip,” Utahime says. “It’s stupid and, honestly, not fun at all.”

Mahito huffs at that. “What’s more fun than knowing that we could die at any moment?” he asks like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “You guys just want to go to the beach again and that’s boring.”

“Where would we even sleep?” Aoi points out.

Utahime nods and looks at Mahito with venom in her eyes. “Exactly.”

“As if anyone sleeps on these trips anyway.”

You raise your hand. “I vote against the volcano.”

“So where would you have us go?” Mahito asks. “Kento’s house?”

The man in question scoffs. “As if I would ever let you in my house.”

“I think the beach is fine,” Nobara says. “We always have fun there anyway.”

“We went there last year though,” you say against your better judgment. When Nobara looks at you like, How are you not siding with me on this? You mouth a quick “sorry.” Then, “Camping’s fun.”

“Bugs,” Mahito.

“Oh, and you think there isn’t anything gross on a volcano?” Utahime.

“What about Aoi’s cabin?” Kento.

“My dad just sold it.” Aoi.

“I vote beach.” Maki.

“Thank you!” Nobara.

The conversation goes round and round. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has something to say, everyone has something they don’t like or don’t want to do. It seems like the whole thing will never end.

“Ski trip,” you say suddenly. The room goes silent. “We’ve never been before, and it’s doable. The budget’s pretty good this year. I think we could swing it.”

Everyone looks at Kento, the keeper of the books, as he turns to his laptop to crunch the numbers. After a moment of typing, he looks up and nods.

“It’ll have to be after the children’s rights fundraiser though,” he says. “We have to make sure we can make the downpayment on the hall for the kids, but after that…”

Everyone looks at Utahime now, the club president who has the final word on everything. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Ski trip it is.”

There’s a round of “finally”s and “fuck yeah”s and patting each other on the back for a job well-done.

“Now, about the children’s rights fundraiser,” Utahime says. “We should really start planning that.”

Everyone groans and there’s eventually a call for a five-minute break.

“We should really kick Mahito out at this point,” Nobara whispers to you as she rests her head on the table. “He doesn’t even do his job half of the time.”

You pat her head and laugh. “He’s harmless,” you tell her, getting up from your seat. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“I’ll come,” Maki says, following you out the door.

The two of you link your hands together and swing them wildly as you make your way to the restroom, a habit you two formed in freshman year when you refused to be suffocated by the crowds of people going from classroom to classroom. Despite seeming like two completely different kinds of people on the surface, the two of you are just menaces at heart. It’s why you’re such good friends.

As you approach the restroom, you can hear a group of girls talking loudly inside.

“Locker room talk,” Maki says, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk on her lips.

You snort, the voices becoming clearer now.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Is he good in bed?”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“You guys are so embarrassing.”

You stop in your tracks. The last voice is so familiar, terrifyingly so. It’s a voice you’ve heard from a few feet away. In front of you in a line. In the back of a classroom. On the court, counting out the timing for the next steps of the cheerdance.

“He’s really sweet though,” the voice says. “Just this morning, he showed up at my dorm with a bunch of flowers. He said he got them ‘just because.’”

Maki is watching you with concern, confused by why you’ve suddenly stopped moving, why your breath has seemed to hitch in your throat.

Just because.

A bouquet of now-wilted flowers on your kitchen counter. A teddy bear from a carnival tucked beneath your bed. A tennis racket you made him swear not to buy that showed up in your locker one morning before practice. Just because.

The restroom door swings open and four girls walk out. One of them—

“Kimi.”

The name slips from your mouth before you even realize it. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this moment. For the current to drag you under. For the heavens to crack open.

The girl looks at you with wide eyes. Guilt, you can tell. Pity.

She says your name this time. “Hi,” she says a little nervously. “How are you?”

Just like Maki, her friends watch the situation unfold from a careful distance. Will one of you lunge at the other? Will you pretend to be the best of friends? Should they come closer? Should they stay back?

“I’m doing well,” you tell her. The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like your own. You only realize now that you’re smiling. There’s a hint of smugness to it, a hint of callousness, cruelty. “I take it you and Satoru are going strong.”

She seems to catch your tone. Unintentional of course, but she doesn’t know that. All trepidation seems to leave her body, replaced by a similar coldness. “Yeah, we are,” she says. “I hear you and Sukuna are an item now.”

You try not to cringe at the implication. You’ve traded Satoru, the golden boy, for Sukuna, the bad idea. No point regretting it now.

“Yeah,” you say. End this now, you think. “Well, Maki and I have a meeting to get back to.”

“Oh, sure,” she says sweetly, stepping out of your way. Her friends follow suit. “See you around.”

You take Maki’s hand and wave at the girl as she passes by. “See you.”

The two of you walk into the restroom and let the door close behind you. You’re looking at each other now, breathing deeply as you hear the girls outside walk away.

“That was fucking insane,” Maki finally says.

“Tell me about it.”

You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. It’s not a big deal, if you’re thinking logically, seeing your ex’s new girlfriend in a restroom. You all go to the same school, it’s not like you can avoid each other. Still, the whole thing brings out a viciousness in you that you can’t quite control, one that’s always ridiculous in hindsight.

You go into the bathroom stalls, still laughing.

“You were so cold,” Maki tells you from the stall beside you. “I was so proud, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I was mean!” you exclaim. You groan as you reach for the toilet paper. “She’s so telling him about that.”

“No way. It’d be embarrassing.”

You pull your pants up and head out to wash your hands in the sink, waiting for Maki to finish. “She knows about Sukuna.”

“Yeah,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”

“Humiliated.”

She steps out of the stall and washes her hands in the sink beside yours. “You still think the whole pretend-dating thing is worth it?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s done is done,” you tell her. “Sunk cost, baby.”

Maki dries her hand and looks at you seriously now. “Are you okay?”

Just because.

The words echo in your head. Words that have only ever been spoken to you now tainted by her voice.

“No,” you tell her. When she looks at you with furrowed brows, all you can do is shrug. “But I’ll have to be.”

notes. a little insight into reader's student life and bit of her bitchy side 👀 these chapters are getting longer than i'm used to lmao i fear the plot is getting away from me and just dragging me along for the ride at this point

[midastouch-zaza]

A sequel from this piece

https://www.tumblr.com/midastouch-zaza/747923977422487552/jiheon-getting-ravaged-while-her-unnies-watches?source=share

where the other members of Fromis 9 call the MR to use him as their stress reliever. If you can, how would each member use the MR to relieve their stress?

[Hello anon, I actually didn't expect for someone to request a second part of this work, so I had to think about it quite a lot. It's tough to manage 8 girls(yes, of course, I'm including Gyuri) in a single pièce but let's give a try to this. Also, if anybody needs it you can find here the first part]

After the night when the members discovered how you really treated their maknae, the 8 girls decided that they wanted their revenge. Jiheon actually tried to reassure them, saying that it was normal to be that wild during sex, but her unnies already took their decision.

Surely the youngest didn't expect the punishment to involve sex, trusting the affection and the worries of her members. But I guess the memory of you destroying the poor girl was now impressed in their mind and, even if nobody wanted to admit that, they also wanted a piece of you.

They all decided to spend some time with you to use you as stress reliever; they all planned different things, someone acting alone, others in small group, but all of them with the same aim: fuck or be fucked by you as that night.

Saerom, being the leader, decided to work alone. She went for the simplest plan: come to your house and confront you. It was fun to see how quickly she switched from being all angry to begging you to not stop, while you were fucking her on your sofà. The fit girl was bouncing wildly on your cock, she really needed a good fuck and you were glad to take away all her worries, and you were even more glad to do her your bitch. When you finished with her, she just accepted her new role, sucking your cock clean;

Jisun, on the contrary, was the most tough to manage. From the first moment, she was really honest with you. "I want you to fuck me like you did with Jiheon, but if you fail, I will tell her that you cheated on her", now you were the one stressed. You really gave your everything with her, thrusting into her holes with all your might but she seemed to be insatiable. In the end after half day spent between bed and shower, you were sure that her sex hungry was satisfied, at least for the moment;

Jiwon really thought of being smart: taking you for a date and trying to get you drunk. Too bad that her plan badly failed when she got drunk first. At the end of the night she was slurring and begging you so much to give her a good fuck, so you just brought her in a filthy alley and fucked her like the cheapest whore of the town, filling her ass with your sticky cum while pressing her body against the wall of a building and then making her return to their durm while your seed was still leaking from her slutty shorts;

Hayoung and Gyuri tried to pull a 2vs1, acting all bossy and rude, cursing at you but without stopping for a second to glance at your bulge. Now, they kinda succeeded with their plan, using you as their sexual toy for an entire night. First they edged you for hours, bringing you so close the climax everytime but without never letting you reach it and then doing the opposite, overstimulating you until your body was twitching: their mouths didn't let your cock alone for a second, keeping to stimulate it even when you were sure about not having more cum;

The 2000 line went even rougher with you, having to satisfy Chaeyoung, Nagyung and Seoyeon alone was such an hard task; they were way more soft as characters but they were still 3 and they didn't have a particular plan: they just wanted to follow their own pleasure, using every part of your body they could think of: your cock, your mouth, your finger, your ass, your legs... every centimeters of your skin was covered with their juices.

In a week circa you fucked all the members of your girlfriend and now you were exhausted, but now all of them, for different reason, seemed to be satisfied and in peace with you. Now they had no problems with you fucking their maknae dumb or being at their dorm.

You were glad that things, on that side, were better than before; on the other side tho you had to satisfy nine women alone, eight of them without being discovered by the ninth. Rough yet interesting and full of pleasure days were expecting you.

[nerdy-frog98]

Okay I’ve had several days to think about it, and I’m not upset about Eddie’s cheating storyline anymore.

Nobody asked, but HERE’S why.

Eddie is an incredibly traumatized character. The military experiences (+ his dead friends), losing his wife so suddenly & without closure, and a couple near death experiences will do that to you! Add that to parents trying to take his child away ON TOP OF feeling like he needs to give Christopher a mother at any and all costs…? Maybe a little bit of Catholic guilt sprinkled in there too.

Season 5 was not my favorite for a myriad of reasons, but one thing I did like about it was Eddie’s complete mental breakdown. It felt like a long time coming... BUT. His mental breakdown didn’t even really scratch the surface of his issues, and there are still a lot of things he needs to face before he can truly be at peace. One of those things is Shannon.

The effect that Shannon’s loss had on Eddie has, in my opinion, never been explored properly. We got a little of it in season 3 with the illegal fighting, and then hints of it again when he was with Ana, but it never felt like closure to me. It felt like season 6 tried to give him closure (through Marisol), but it wasn’t satisfying because it was more or less a duller version of what happened with Ana. “Moving on” for his sake, but with no real emotional repercussions. Maybe this is just a personal opinion, but his story has felt like a ticking time bomb to me since the moment he broke up with Ana. His breakdown in s5 wasn’t the real bomb though.

Now imagine being Eddie, a guy with a lot of unresolved guilt and feelings for a woman who died right in front of him. Imagine you see a woman with that dead wife’s exact face. I can honestly say I have no fucking clue what I would do in his position. What he did- erasing Marisol in his first conversation with this lookalike Kim, then later lying to Buck to meet up with Kim- is morally not okay. Sure. Would any of us act in a rational way though?

I’m not meaning to justify cheating, but I do genuinely believe this is one of the only ways that stubborn ass was going to figure out his issues in a way that might actually help him move on. He’s being delusional with Kim, and once the ball drops, I believe there’s a great big breakdown waiting for him on the other end.

People often accuse Eddie of being the most boring of the 118, and I hate that assessment so goddamn much. Eddie is probably one of theee most complex characters (besides Buck) in the entire show. He’s self-destructive, kind, loyal, patient and impatient- he’s a good father and a good friend, and he’s FLAWED. That is why I love him so much.

My initial disappointment with him partially stems from me wanting him to have a singular season of PEACE, which…I realized wasn’t possible without blowing up the bomb first (would’ve preferred to disarm the bomb but I’ll take what I can get).

[pspaura27-blog]

Uncle Sukuna!

Terrible Two! Feat. Onii-Chan!

His brat of a nephew seems to really want a sibling. That’s not impossible, no matter how cringe it is, but he has to want an older sibling of all things.

“Like Gumi-Chan!” Yuuji says. “He has M-Miki-Chan!”

“Baby…” Jin frowns. “If we have a baby, it’s going to be a little sibling.”

“L-Little sibling is bad! Miki-Chan says so!”

Sukuna can fucking agree to that.

Kaori hums softly. Smiling. From all the years that he knows her, it never leads to anything good. The last time she smiled like that, they were arrested by the fucking polices.

“Woman.” He warns her as his idiot twin and nephew are washing dishes. “You better not fucking kidnap a random brat.”

Because she is the type to do that.

Kaori widens her eyes. “Why should I?”

“Woman, there are days that I convince you’re gonna start a fucking world war 3 just for shits and giggles.”

“You know me, dear.” Kaori smiles. “But I won’t kidnap a child, don’t worry.”

A week later, Sukuna comes back from a mission in China and goes straight to Sendai. No, he doesn’t miss the brat. Not at all. And he doesn’t have a panda plushie for the brat either.

Sukuna opens the door.

“…”

“…”

The urge to slam it shut is great but he thinks better and shouts loud enough to shake the house.

“WOMAN, WHOSE BRAT DID YOU FUCKING KIDNAP?!”

“It’s not kidnapping if it’s your children.” Kaori says. “This is my oldest child, Choso.”

Sukuna feels his eyes twitch as he watches this twin tails boy playing Lego with Yuuji in the corner of the living room. His eyes are dead. Like a crab. But the brat doesn’t seem to mind as he giggles and waves a Lego in his hand.

“You fucking cheated on my twi—” Sukuna pauses mid-sentence because he’s not an idiot. “Wait, that crab brat isn’t a human— How the fuck did you get your filthy hands on a death painting?!”

“Well, we never discuss about trespassing. Or stealing.”

Great, this woman fucking trespasses the fucking corridor, steals a fucking Special Grade cursed object, and revives it. Even if he has to kill Jin, he is going to make sure those two are divorced before he gets dragged into this shit.

Kaori continues. “I’m Kamo Noritoshi’s reincarnate, no? Shouldn’t I be allowed to retrieved my sons? It’s a parental responsibility, dear.”

“…sons?”

“I always believe in collecting the whole set but the others paintings are still…” She shrugs. “Choso, dear, now come say hello to your uncle.”

The crab brat, Choso, pauses his hands and turns his face to look at Kaori with even deader eyes.

“I don’t take order from you, father.”

Yeah, this fucking family tree is growing more and more strange.

A fucking painting, huh? That thing is from a hundred years ago, it’s even older than his old man for fuck’s sake. And he supposes to call it a… a nephew..?

Wait, isn’t it fucking against the sorcery laws to revive it in the first place? Maybe he should use this chance to fucking cut Kaori to pieces…

Then, he turns to look at Sukuna. And stares. And stares. Before frowning like he faces a fucking life crisis.

Choso informs him with a serious tone “It seems that I hate you. I wonder if it’s your face?”

Well, fuck him too.

[[To be con]]

[[Next will be Brother Choso’s POV! But who knows when]]

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt. 5

prev. part. first part.

TW: Gun, violence, mentioned rape, gaslighting, medic is shit

It was your last day on sick leave, so you spent it grading papers, cuddling with Winston, and getting distracted by Kyle's messages and his slutty pictures. You were so thankful for Kyle; he never pressed you for what happened with Johnny, just distracted you.

After you send a picture of Winston you heard the bell ringing and rolled your eyes. You knew Kyle never listened when you said not to come over, even though you really needed that time alone right now. Johnny is an artist, even though he didn't admit it, and so was being in a relationship with him. It was like being in a colorful picture, so vibrant. But since you left him, it felt like someone drained out the color; the painting is black and white, no longer golden.

You went to the door, opened it, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Kyle behind the door. She was there, her eyes puffy and red. 

"What do you want?" If she was there to humiliate you, you’re going to throw up. You shortly texted Ky that she was there.

"I wanted to talk to you, I need your help," she sobbed.

Simon always called you one of the nicest people on earth, but right now, it was enough of being nice. "Well, you can ask Johnny for help." You tried to shut your door, but her foot was already between the frame.

"He is the problem."

"What, did he leave you?" you snorted out.

"He threatened to kill me because of the baby." You clearly misheard her. This can't be true, as if you can do anything against Johnny, and as if Johnny would do something against his own teammate.

"Baby?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant, three months." She rubs her nonexistent belly in front of you. Three months? Johnny cheated on you for three months? And a baby? No, this can't be true. Johnny loves babies; he’d never kill a pregnant woman, none of them.

"And he is threatening you?" You asked while slowly trying to pull out your phone again. You knew Si would be here in 4 minutes if you called him.

"Yes, he wants to tell everyone that I raped him, just so I get an abortion." With that, you burst out laughing. This was the worst joke you ever heard. When she wanted you to pull you away from him for real.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid to believe this shit now leave my apartment before I call the police." You already pulled out your phone to dial the number of the police, who are you kidding, dial the number of Simon. Simon and John always explained if something happens to you, call them instead of the police, they solve your problem faster, and that was a gigantic slag-formed problem.

"Bad mistake," she points out a gun to you, calculating. You trained for this situation endless times in school, but it was still different when someone held a gun against you. Would it work to tell her that there are people that love her? Or maybe you should argue with logic.

"When you kill me, they won't forgive you, it's not worth it," you said trying to sound as calm as possible.

"They won't find out," she laughed. God, that woman was batshit crazy.

"Here are cameras," they weren’t recording, but maybe she was stupid enough to believe you.

"They will understand," she said. Maybe she was stupid enough but also crazy enough to not care. There is only the last logical thing you could say to her.

"Then kill me."

"What?" She was surprised at your bluntness, but you knew she couldn’t really kill you, and if Kyle looked at his phone, he would have already been on his way, so you need to get through this for 10 minutes, 10 minutes, and you are safe.

"If you kill me, Johnny will find you, Kyle will break you, Simon will torture you, and John will finish your miserable life, my death isn’t worth this." You slowly walked backward towards the counter, there must be a gun. John put it in there when you first got together. You didn't quite know how to use it, but better than nothing.

"You're right," finally.

"So why don’t we put the gun down and just, you know, talk about it like adults," you suggested, still moving tiny steps backward.

"Stop moving, or I'll kill you," the same words over and over again. She sounded like a broken record recorder. You stopped moving, but this wasn’t enough for her.

"Maybe I should kill your rat, so you listen." Rat? Her gun pointed toward Winston. Fuck, she should better kill you than your baby. You lost complete hope in turning her; she is crazy.

"He is Kyle's dog, not mine. If you kill him, he will be sad." The shake in your voice was evident; tears started to storm out of your eyes; you didn't know what to do anymore.

"Three of four are enough, anyways." Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I can call them; I'll break up with them, just let Winston be safe, okay?"

"Really, you give up your boyfriends for that rat?" She gestured disgusted at your precious baby.

"Yes."

"Okay, call them," you walked to the counter, dialing Simon's number, close enough to the gun. You really hoped they don’t show a sign that they know; they are SAS; they need to understand, right?

"Hello," good, Simon's voice.

"Are the others with you?" You asked, trying not to tremble; she couldn’t find out what you planned.

"Yes, I put them on speaker, luv."

"I'm breaking up with you, with all of you for final this time. John, you're always putting me in danger, Johnny, you're always with her instead of my home, always on deployment with Simon, and you’re carrying all these scary guns with you that make me afraid, and I hate your stupid dog, Kyle." She looked proud and relieved at you, too stupid to realize. But they were smart, right?

"Okay, just give me back my keys to the office, they’re in the cupboard in the kitchen. I don’t want to see you anytime soon, I will pick it up at three tomorrow, bye." She gained heavily, and all you could feel was relief; you looked at the clock; it was 2:57, three minutes, and the gun. God, you loved your smart boys.

"Will you let me go now?" you asked, and she shook her head.

"Just need to make sure that you never go to my boys again, you can understand, right?"

"I'll move abroad if you want, the US, Germany, Italy, call it and I'll be gone." Before she could reply, she heard a loud bang outside, and that was your chance to grab the gun as she turned around, loaded fucking genius John, but not in safety, idiot. And then you shot, closing your eyes. You never did this before; the closest you came was a water gun at the beach; you didn't hit anything major, only her shoulder, but it was enough for her to lose her stance and fall. Seconds after, the boys went in Simon pulled her to the ground like a bulldozer with John. While Kyle and Johnny ran to you.

"Are you okay?" Both men asked, checking you for any injury.

"I don't feel okay."

"We know, love." You wrapped your arms around Johnny and began to sob. You needed him; you missed him and you were so scared. You knew for a fact he didn't cheat on you after that stunt that woman pulled today.

"We'll take care of her; we will be back soon, luv," Simon said with a devious grin while putting his boot on her to press down on her bullet wound.

John and Ghost left with her, and you knew for a fact your shot would be the nicest thing she witnessed in the next few days.

"I shot someone."

"Proud of you, hen."

"Never shoot again, please, babe; you're terrible at it," Kyle joked, but you still felt shitty. He knelt down, hugging Winston tight. "Oh, you've been such a brave and good boy protecting your mama. Let me take you to the park, pup," he said while Winston barked happily. "You two need to talk this out."

"Only we two now, Johnny."

"Aye, only we two."

"Where do we start?"

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

Taglist: @cod-z , @kaoyamamegami, @postmortem-angel, @jackrabbitem , @sseleniaa , @thigh-o-saur , @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121 @thychuvaluswife

A/N : so I added the picture of Eliot to make up for the Angst I write 😭

For any who has a light belly (do you say that in english or only in German lol?) the next chapter will be half torture of her and the other half Johnny and Reader <3

[tartsinarat]

Pip: “this is taking forever! are you almost done using me as a cheat sheet?”

Luz: “I just need to get them just right”

Pip: “that’s what you said two hours ago >:|”

Pip only agreed to this because he’s got no idea what the deal with the glyphs is or even what they do until Luz had discovered a few and some combos already and was showing them to him/explaining it.

When Luz demonstrated the light glyph, Pip like “huh weird I don’t have that symbol on my arm” and Luz was like “ARM??” And that’s how she found out.

Luz has several questions about it because it’s obvious that they’ve been carved in and is expecting some really cool and exciting explanation because of how mysterious Pip is to her but Pip is just like “I have literally no idea? I think it’s a family thing-” which slips out without Pip meaning to.

That confuses and intrigues Luz even more than any idea she had imagined originally because it’s the first time Pip has ever mentioned even having a family to her and she just assumed that he was some Oliver Twist like orphan from the streets that Eda took in to illegally exploit child labour laws on lmao

So yeah Luz eventually goes full crazy conspiracy mode trying to figure it out and it freaks Pip out enough for him to be a bit more clear on his life to her so Luz doesn’t lose her mind.

But Pip is still extremely vague because he doesn’t trust Luz enough to not expose him or treat him differently after finding out he’s the emperor’s son. So Luz only really learns that Pip ran away from home at young age and his bio family has religious ties to the Titan so it might be a secretive religious thing that Pip was too young to learn about.

She’s slightly freaked out by just the implications of a practice where they literally carve glyphs into the arms of young kids for religious purposes and decides to not ask Pip anymore details about his life before Eda.

Then the au equivalent of hollow mind happens at some point and manages to make what Luz originally thought was the origin of Pip’s glyph’ed up arm look fine in comparison.

In hollow mind, Luz and Hunter end up accidentally stumbling into watching a portion of the process of Pip being created and only really see the aftermath of Belos chopping his arm off then attaching it as well stuffing pieces of basilisk into the Pip’s wooden husk and then finally burying the body.

The miracle of birth /j

Luz refuses to talk about this and makes Hunter promise to not tell Pip ever about it.

[volklana]

I Really feel That I'm Losing My Best Friend.

Modern!Sihtric x Reader

Title Comes From This Song:

Request: Hi lana!! Can I get a best friend modern sithric x fem reader smut? They're just friends until everyone in their friend group brings up that reader and sithric would be a cute couple and it changes the dynamic of the relationship and they begin to have sexual tension until it just blows up

Thank youuu

A/N: I am awful a writing smut so I did my best. I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you wanted. But you know me by now there has to be angst dripping through the plot

Also this is not proof read because I have a fever, but I will correct any mistakes I come across xx

“You always fucking cheat,” you pouted attempting to swipe the cards from Sihtric’s hands and his eyes glistened with mischeviousness.

“Do not,” he laughed incredulously, pulling them away from your hands, to which you physically attempted to wrestle them out of his grasp, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

Uhtred had bored of the game ten minutes ago and was lying sprawled out on the sofa, his head resting on Gisela’s lap, bottle of beer resting on his stomach, and rolled his eyes at the exchange between you and sighed.

“Are you seriously telling me you two are not fucking?” he swiped and Gisela gave him a warning look over the hand of cards she was still holding.

Sihtric completely stilled in your arms and you immediately retreated.

“Oh come on!” Uhtred urged looking to Finan to back him up “I can’t be the only one who thinks this right?”

“We’re just friends,” Sihtric stuttered and Finan and Uhtred laughed.

“I’m your friend and you don’t look at me like you want to take all my clothes off,” Finan teased and Uhtred smirked his way.

“Leave them alone,” Osferth chimed in and you were grateful for a second, “I’m sure they’ll tell us when they are ready,” he smirked.

“It’s not like that-really, we’re just friends,” Sihtric tried to persuade, absolutely refusing to meet your eye.

“I’d like Eadith to be my friend,” Finan winked to Uhtred’s raucous laughter.

“In that case me and Gisela are just friends,” Uhtred chimed along too and you couldn’t help but shrink at being the cause of everyone’s laughter in the room.

“Uhtred!” Gisela warned with a stern look, to which he shrugged in surrender.

“C’mon, you’d be such a cute couple,” Finan added and Sihtric was rising from his spot on the floor, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and made his way outside to light a cigarette.

Gisela booted Uhtred off her and tutted “Now look what you’ve done.” 

Your stomach was uneasy as you made your way into the kitchen to get another drink, you could hear Gisela and Uhtred arguing. She was scolding him for being such an arseling and you were grateful to her. 

“You know how shy he is!” she chided.

You watched Sihtric outside, pacing up and down as he smoked. He ran his fingers through his hair and your heart skipped a beat, when he suddenly looked in through the glass and into your eyes.

You made your way outside and he offered you a cigarette which you gladly accepted, and ducked down to meet the flame of his lighter.

“Are you alright?” you tried after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

“I just wish they would cut that shit,” Sihtric sighed “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“They don’t have to be,” you said softly “Sihtric we know what we are, nothing they say matters, okay?”

He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Are we good?” you asked, bumping his arm and he laughed a shaky laugh.

“Always,” he replied.

Uhtred appeared sheepish after a few minutes, scratching the back of his neck, and Sihtric laughed.

“Did Gisela send you out here?” 

“No-Yes. Kinda.” he sighed “The bottom line is I was joking. You’re my friends and I love you both and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“Forget it,” you smiled kindly, squeezing Sihtric’s hand in yours. 

Sihtric tossed and turned on Uhtred’s sofa, you were sleeping soundly on the pull out bed on the floor beside him but Sihtric was sick with anxiety.

He cursed himself for being so weak. It was getting hard to deny to his friends that there was nothing between you both when he couldn’t even deny it to himself any more. He was ashamed at the tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill but he swallowed the lump down and willed them away, just as his father had taught him to.

Be a fucking man, it was drilled into his head from as soon as he was old enough to comprehend and he turned his back to face away from you.

Despite his father’s beatings, despite how much he tried to stomp it out of him, Sihtric was soft and he was so painfully in love with you that sometimes his chest physically hurt with longing.

It was pathetic- he was pathetic.

Sihtric drove you back to your apartment the next morning and he was unusually quiet the whole ride back. Usually he would come up for a coffee, but when he didn’t unbuckle his belt and left the car running, you uneasily retrieved your overnight bag from the trunk of his car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smiled, testing the waters and he gave a tight lipped smile in response.

“Of course, it’s what friends are for,” was all he offered but he didn’t get out to hug you the way he usually did and you climbed the stairs to your apartment with a feeling you couldn’t quite place brewing in your stomach.

You and Sihtric did everything together. You had a weekly cinema date without fail once a week, every week, since you met. Sihtric was a film fanatic, he consumed movies both in the theater and on his own in his apartment. You suspected it was because he was never allowed to watch films as a kid and now he was making up for lost time. You knew just enough about his childhood to know that it was not a happy one. His mum had died, leaving him to be raised by an abusive father and an older half brother who relished in torturing him. Sihtric never went into specifics but you knew that he had gone hungry and dirty for periods of time and the thought of it broke your heart. Because Sihtric was an absolute light in your life, whenever you were with him you were carefree, his joy for the little things in life was absolutely contagious, like the first time you had made him try cotton candy and you watched his eyes widen and a huge grin broke out over his face as he devoured it. But your absolute favourite thing you did together was the spontaneous late night drives in Sihtric’s car with the windows rolled down, singing along to whatever playlist was on, and on so many of those rides you wondered what it would be like if Sihtric were to put his hand on your thigh, or throw his free arm over your shoulder while you snuggled into his side, but you had to quickly dismiss these thoughts, because he had made it abundantly clear time and time again that you were his best friend and you would never risk losing him because of your little fantasies.

Except it felt like you were losing him already since the night of the party...

You collapsed onto your bed and checked your phone for the thousandth time, to find nothing, no memes, no song recommendations, no silly pictures, Sihtric had sent you absolutely nothing in the last four days and you were trying not to let it upset you, but you couldn’t help but feel hurt. This was the longest you had ever gone without hearing from him, he always texted you multiple times a day, and now you were getting radio silence.

You picked up the stuffed bear that Sihtric had won you at the fair a few months back and gave it a squish sadly, it still smelled vaguely of Sihtric's cologne after you had begged him to spray some on him.

You quickly snapped a pic of you kissing its cheek and sent it to Sihtric.

‘We miss you x’

Sihtric opened the message and sighed, how was it possible to be jealous of a damn stuffed toy.

You bit the inside of your cheek, you could see he had opened the message but no little dots popped up to indicate that he was typing back.

You let thirty minutes pass, feeling sick with anxiety the whole time, and when he still hadn’t replied you climbed under your sheets and switched out the lights.

Sihtric felt bad opening your message and not replying, but he sipped his drink as Osferth returned from the bathroom, face briefly lighting up when Osferth announced this round was on him.

While you lay in bed trying to figure out why you were crying.

‘Wish it was me there with you x’ 

He typed after a few hours, and deleted and typed again, before he accidentally pressed send in it his drunken stupidity. He fumbled to quickly unsend it, but the blue tick lit up indicating that you had read it. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, as you considered what you wanted to say, once you crossed this line, you weren’t exactly sure you would be able to put the genie back inside the bottle. 

‘I wish so too x’ 

After what seemed like an eternity he replied,

“Goodnight, y/n, Sweet dreams xx”

Sihtric was avoiding your messages and dodging all your calls. Your heart broke even more when you saw an insta story that Osferth shared of him, Finan and Sihtric at the movies, your stomach sank down to your toes because you had always thought that was yours and Sihtric’s thing.

You messaged him for the umpteenth time that week, ‘Have I done something wrong?’ But just like the previous messages you had sent, he opened but never replied.

Your heart was breaking, you were getting up going to work, and coming straight home and getting into bed. Your anxiety was the worst it had been in years and you kept a hold of your phone, willing a notification to come through anything at all that would show you Sihtric was still your friend. You were going insane at night trying to figure out what you had done wrong, had you offended him somehow? Or worse, had he sensed your feelings for him that night at Uhtred’s and just didn’t want to have the awkward conversation, or let you down gently. 

But the final nail in the coffin came when Gisela texted you late on the Saturday exactly two weeks after the night Uhtred had decided to stir the shit. 

‘I’m so sorry you couldn’t come tonight. It’s not the same without you!’

Your head was whirling, and you felt like you were going to be sick, until our phone lit up again.

‘Sihtric did invite you didn’t he?’

You could have landed Sihtric in the shit by telling her that he hadn't, but you knew Gisela would gut him from the inside out if she knew he was treating you like this, so to protect him you replied.

‘Of course! I’ll catch you next time xx’

Sihtric sat on his reading chair, the lamp in his living room the only thing lighting his apartment. His stomach was twisted up in knots and it wasn’t from the alcohol, it was because of you. He’d been avoiding you for weeks now. Dodging your calls and making excuses to not meet up and when that wasn’t enough he just stopped replying to you altogether. Radio silence.

He knew you didn’t deserve to be treated this way, and if it had been any other man treating you like this he would have offered to kick the shit out of them, but he couldn’t risk you seeing him this way. He had tried for so long to pretend that he had no feelings for you, to act as if you could just be friends, but ever since the night Uhtred had spoken his feelings out loud it was like a damn had burst and trying to bury his feelings now felt like trying to stop the tides with his bare hands.

 The crippling fear of losing you sent him into an avoidant survival state, he had never been shown a healthy way to navigate conflict or loss and so he did what that scared little boy had always done. He hid.

He sipped his brandy,enjoying the way it burned. The ‘what ifs’ swimming around in his mind. What if I were just honest with her? What if she turned her face away in disgust? What if she cast me aside? What if she couldn’t overlook his confession and ever be his friend again. Or, and his heart picked up speed, what if she felt the same?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking on his door, he was tempted to ignore it until the knocking progressively became more insistent.

Finally relenting he opened the door to see you before him, face a mixture of hurt and anger, and red eyes a dead give away that you had been crying.

“We need to talk,” you shook and Sihtric mindlessly stepped aside and allowed you to come in, but he remained frozen to his spot by the door when you reeled on him.

“I don’t understand Sihtric, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You are my best friend and I feel like..I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know what I’ve done!” 

“Nothing!” Sihtric choked, shaking his head furiously “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m going through some shit and I just- I needed to deal with it alone.”

The anger softened from your face but the hurt remained, “You know you can talk to me Siht, so you don’t have to go through anything alone. You can tell me anything. Including- if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

He didn’t.

He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he wanted to be so much more, but the fear of rejection kept him rooted to the spot. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, voice wobbling. “I’m still learning how to communicate, I will try to do better for you I promise.” 

“Sihtric,” you cried crossing the floor and pulling him into a hug, “You don’t have to try. You just have to be you,” you muttered as your arms locked around his shaking form.

“I just really missed you,” you whispered into his hair, the smell of his apple scented shampoo that you loved filling your senses. 

“Gods, I missed you too,” he replied, shaking, but grasping on to you. 

And so things went back to some form of normality but the weight of two unspoken confessions were hanging over the friendship. 

You were officially invited to group outings again and you and Sihtric slipped back into a somewhat familiarity with each other. 

Except Sihtric felt like he was trapped in a snare. Every time you spoke, his eyes lingered on your lips imagining what they would feel like to kiss, what they would look like wrapped around his- he shook his head before his mind could even wander down that path. He was consumed with longing for you, day and night it was all he could think about, but fear of losing you always knocked whatever bravery he had within him to tell you the truth. 

Until the night he saw you across the dancefloor, dancing with another man, head thrown back in joy as he moved his body in time with yours to the beat and before he could even think straight he was marching across the floor and grasping your arm.

“Sihtric?” you questioned face full of worry.

“Please, I need to talk to you?” he begged and you followed him in an instant outside, completely ignoring the call of the man you had been dancing with moments ago.

Sihtric paced back and forward in front of you and you tried to reach out a hand to steady him but he swatted it away. 

“I have to tell you the truth,” he finally rushed “I can’t hold this in any longer. I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried so hard to- but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Sihtric?”

"-I’m in love with you y/n. Painfully. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been avoiding you because I know you don’t feel the same and you just want us to be friends, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

You were silent for a moment, considering him, “Who said I just wanted to be friends?” you asked bewildered.

“What?” Sihtic reeled, mismatched eyes boring into yours in surprise.

“Sihtric Kjartansson," you sighed "It is you who wanted us to stay friends. I have always wanted to be more.”

“What? He repeated face scowling trying to understand.

“At Finan’s birthday last year, you took the forfeit over the dare to kiss me, because you said you didn’t want to kiss a friend. From that night on I tried to put my feelings to bed.”

Sihtric pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief “I didn’t kiss you that night because once I kissed you I would never have been able to stop.”

“Then I really wish you had kissed me that night,” you smiled and took his hand “In fact I think you should kiss me now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice , he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissed you.

You looked up at Sihtric through hooded eyes, his naked torso glistening with a sheen of sweat. His slender body and muscled arms looked like a god carved from marble in Ancient Greece and you were willing to get down on your knees and worship.

He placed his thumb on your bottom lip, sliding your lips open as he inspected your waiting form below him.

“So beautiful,” he mused, dark eyes raking over your body “So beautiful and mine.” 

You hmmd against his thumb, and he moved to hook his finger under your chin forcing you to look up into his eyes “Say it,” he commanded “Say that you’re mine.”

Your eyes fluttered with adoration and the hazy smile that crossed your face had Sihtric’s pulse racing “I’m yours Sihtric,” you promised, “Only yours.”

“Let me show you,” you begged and you moved with him towards the bed, where he sat looking unsure for a moment, until you pressed a gentle hand to his chest, motioning for him to lay back. Others who did not know Sihtric like you did might have expected a dominant, possessive lover but you knew him better than anyone else in the whole world.

What he needed was to be taken care of, to be shown he was worthy of love and given it freely, and reassured that you were going nowhere and now that you’d had this taste of him you truly would never leave him again.

You were lovedrunk as you kissed down along his neck, collarbones, his chest and followed down the length of his abdomen, before finally taking him in your mouth.

He was a whimpering, moaning mess beneath you and he surprised even himself when he eventually found the strength to stop you, picking you up and flipping you over before slipping inside you with a gasp.

He picked up a pace that had you gasping and grabbing at his strong back for something to hold on to. Something to stop you falling off the edge. When you could finally not hold on any longer, urged by Sihtric’s whispers for you to let go, you did, seeing stars as you gripped him through his own release. 

If there was one thing you had learned about Sihtric it was that he truly meant what he said when he told you that he would never have been able to stop with one kiss, the man was insatiable. His lips or hands were always on yours and you did not know where he found his stamina for in the bedroom but one thing was for sure, he had never felt this kind of love in his entire life and he was never letting it out of his grasp again. 

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2@sihtricfedaraaahvicius@whitedarkmoonflower@shamrockqueen@thenameswinter99@foxyanon@acdassenza@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Well here are two for you.

Transfer thoughts and feelings when Buck considers joining the 217.

Anchor - for dating a pilot, Buck, never seen or dated someone so ground and stable as his boyfriend.

Hellloooooo sorry for being slow, this is finally my filling of another BuckTommy prompt! Nonny, I worked with your second one here and I'm afraid that the first one is probably not gonna happen, my muse is not striking there at all. Sorry about that! 3 more prompts are gonna come, no worries.

TLDR: Another BuckTommy, this time another approach on S07e07. Read below or on AO3!

Exceptional

–– I won't deny the lies and deception I've sought, I've learned, I've grown ––

"Eddie's acting weird lately," Buck says.

"Do we have to talk about Eddie now?" asks Tommy, and the question is justified.

Buck's couch is just big enough for him to lie stretched out on it, his head in Tommy's lap. They just had an excellent meal, and satiety, contentment plus a good helping of wine lulled them both into a very pleasant mood. The kind of vibe that will make more of Tommy's gentle kneading of Buck's shoulders in no time – though talking about another guy is a bit of a mood killer in the process.

However, turns out that conversations about Eddie are unavoidable if you’re with Buck. And maybe there's something to it, because he adds, "I think he lied to me."

Something in his voice seems to catch Tommy's attention, he bends over to look at Buck. Those blue eyes are mesmerizing, and Buck would be willing to forget about it, to make Eddie a problem for another day. But Tommy... he's just too observant. He knows that Buck's trust is almost boundless, and that he’s fragile, should it be shaken.

"Why would Eddie lie to you?"

Another valid question.

"Something doesn't add up," Buck begins, and because he starts gesticulating wildly, Tommy captures his hands gently and holds them tight. "Christopher says Eddie bought a scented candle. What does he need that for?"

"Maybe he likes the scent, Evan."

"He's also been really nervous lately."

"Stressful job?" offers Tommy, definitely the voice of reason.

Although the subject is effectively over – for this evening – because Buck can't resist those blue eyes or those talented hands, he can't get the matter out of his head. Tommy thinks he should just ask Eddie, but how on earth is he supposed to do that? Buck realizes that his evidence for "Eddie's been weird lately" is very thin, and buying scented candles or acting suspicious is not a crime. 

But the pieces of the puzzle are adding up, albeit very slowly. Christoper says, Eddie washes his clothes every night, yet he used to hate even his weekly washing day. Athena casually remarks that she saw Eddie's doppelganger in Silver Lake. Because it couldn't have been Eddie, he thinks Silver Lake is overly hip and expensive, and he prefers completely different restaurants than the one where Athena saw someone who looked very similar to him. Strangely similar, that's for sure. Hen says that she collided with Eddie while reloading the firetruck, and he reacted weirdly when she asked him about a key ring he accidentally dropped and she had never seen on him before. 

The incidents pile up, and the 118 begins to worry. Tommy, although permanently in Buck's thoughts, hovers on the sidelines as far as the 118 is concerned, and his and Buck’s crazy shift schedules ensure that he doesn't catch much. He is therefore totally unprepared when, after what seems like an eternity, they finally have an evening off together and he is greeted at the door by Buck with, "Eddie's cheating."

Buck, contrary to popular belief that probably only exists in his own mind, is not an idiot, and he's completely smitten with Tommy. He knows it's not the smartest (or even the most polite) move to greet his love interest with another guy's name, even before the welcoming kiss. Buck is just so distressed, it makes him jittery. And he knows that Tommy has every right to be at least surprised, but more likely annoyed.

Tommy, however, doesn't even raise his brows at this greeting, and he is neither surprised, confused, annoyed nor offended. He just enters the loft, closes the door, looks at Buck attentively, and puts a hand on his arm (all the fine hairs there rise up) saying, "You're upset, Evan." Then he gently leads him to the sofa, they sit down, and Buck thinks, yes, indeed, I am.

It's just that he didn't expect this reaction. Buck knows he's a nervous wreck when things go differently than expected. For the most part, he has himself under control, he has adapted strategies, although his therapist describes this as evasive masking. But these strategies are usually necessary, because Buck has often run into walls. He's been told he's annoying, exhausting, overreacting and a dozen other unflattering things. Never before has someone he cares so much about taken him so seriously.

Tommy just lets Buck talk. Buck gives him his spiel on everything he knows about what happened, and it’s a confusing story about an Eddie’s-dead wife-lookalike. And then he drops the bombshell, at least that's how he feels, by saying, "I did that once, Tommy."

"You dated a doppelganger?"

"I'm serious," Buck says, but he can’t really blame Tommy for seeking to lighten the mood in this absolutely muddled affair. "I cheated."

He doesn’t elaborate, because this is nothing he likes to think back on. None of his best moments, definitely. And what kind of confession is that anyway? Is this something you tell someone you've only been out with a few times, had a few nice (hot) nights with? Rather, is this something you tell someone you care so much about? But maybe just then, Buck thinks. Maybe just then.

"You're scared," Tommy says, and it hits Buck to the core.

There's an icy knot in his stomach since Eddie told him the truth, and it finally has a name. The nervousness, his restlessness, all that shrinks into a single feeling, even if it doesn't make it any easier. Fear doesn't disappear just because it's recognized.

"Evan," Tommy says, and the care in his voice almost melts Buck, "I'm not afraid you'll cheat."

Buck takes a breath, but the words that were already on the tip of his tongue have suddenly vanished. That’s a strange thing to say, isn’t it? Just now, Buck’s confessed he cheated on a former lover, and most people would probably have replied reflexively that he had nothing to fear, that they would never do that to him. Even though it was him who cheated.

"How can you be so sure?" Buck returns, and strangely enough, he’s almost angry.

Because, let's break it down, Buck, when it comes down to it, the people he cares about will not want him, and they’ll leave. And if they don't, then he will leave; save himself the pain, because there has already been enough of that. He already knows what they will say, how they will react, doesn't he? Only... it’s different, it’s so different with Tommy.

Eyes as blue as a mountain lake, muscles saying don't mess with me, gentle words yet pithy charisma: inwardly and outwardly, Tommy is quite contradictory. But an enigma he’s not. A rock, Buck thinks, yes. That's what he is.

"I'm sure," Tommy replies with a confident smile, "because you want me as much as I want you."

Buck falls apart in the most pleasant way. Because that’s true. In all this mess, that is perhaps the only truth. Yes, Eddie lied, yes, the man cheated on his girlfriend, and yes, the parallels are scary because it's clear Eddie is shying away from a relationship. Eddie doesn't fall in love half as fast as Buck does, and he has certain morals and standards, and he has Christopher; all of that makes the affair seem so scary.

But Buck finally realizes that this can be solved. Eddie isn't just his friend, he's family, because family isn't what you're born into. Family can be a group of people who trust each other, and you don’t leave them alone, you take care of them and pounce on problems together.

And what is Tommy in all this?

Tommy with his loving gaze, his hand resting on Buck's arm, his thoughts only on Buck. Tommy, who doesn’t think he’s a nuisance because he’s talking about Eddie; he thinks Buck cares, and that’s valuable.

Tommy, somehow, is all of this and way more. For a pilot, Buck has never seen anybody so grounded, so stable as his boyfriend. Above all, he has never experienced anyone bring him down to earth so quickly, so easily and with such an inimitable look. His fear hasn't completely disappeared, perhaps that's quite impossible, but it's buried far, far down in a heap of thoughts that now revolve mainly around Tommy. He doesn't deserve the man at all. But he doesn’t voice this thought, because he allows himself a little selfishness. After all, Buck was struck by lightning and came back to life, only to be struck a second time. By Tommy.

"That's right," he says quietly, and then, as if it were a very sudden, very exhilarating realization, he repeats it, louder. "It's true. I want you."

Lock, stock and barrel, he thinks, and now his boyfriend finally gets what he deserves: all of Buck’s attention, all his care and affection.

Oh, and a kiss.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Who vibes for Vibranium?

AN: Have a little short and sweet, sort of cracky Stucky sexual shenanigans story. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @metalbvcky but all errors are my fault.

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Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List

Summary: Steve likes to be indulged. It's a good thing Bucky likes to indulge him. Even if he's a thieving little big brat sometimes.

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

WC: <1k

CW: AU: Not Canon Compliant, teasing, suggestive dialogue, Super-Soldier sexy shenanigans, discussion of impact play, discussion of bondage, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Soft Top Bucky Barnes, Bratty Bottom Steve Rogers, Fade to Black.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo I4 - Vibranium

“Come on, Buck. It’ll be fun.” Bucky pulled a face at Steve’s wheedling tone. He wasn’t convinced.

“Fun? Just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

Steve sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes and doing his best Little Shit ™ pout. “Don’t you miss being able to hold me down. Like really stop me from moving.” Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let out a huff. 

“I miss it,” Steve continued, letting his teeth scrape over Bucky’s throat. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to think of the Presidents of the United States. “I miss feeling all helpless under you.” Steve’s fingers slipped up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and started to draw light patterns over his skin, making him shiver. “One vibranium arm can only do so much and I can’t work out a way for you to use my shield to help.”

“Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “This isn’t really a conversation about informed consent if you’re trying to get my dick to make the decision and not my brain. It’s cheating.”

Steve raised his head with a grin. “Is it working though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the fight. “You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“But I’m your punk, and you love me.”

“Unfortunately so,” Bucky agreed. “Now, if you wanna do this, first you gotta hand ‘em over.”

Steve let go of him and practically skipped across their apartment. How a 6”2’ supersoldier could move like that Bucky didn’t know, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t stimulating to watch. It was also kinda cute, the way that Steve was getting giddy at the thought of doing something ‘kinky’. 

As two queer guys who’d grown up in the 30’s, neither were strangers to things that were nowadays termed as kinky, but no matter how long they’d been together, and how many different things they’d done, Steve was always enthusiastic, as though it was his first time, every time. 

When Steve returned from his little sojourn into his study, he was practically vibrating - ha! - with energy and he passed over his new toy with a grin.

“Do I even wanna know where you got these from?” Bucky asked. Of course this was the question that made Steve look a little embarrassed. His neck flushed pink and his left hand came up to brush over the hair at the back of his head. 

“I - uh - may have found them in the cache of recovered HYDRA hardware that Fury keeps in the upstate warehouse.”

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky let out, teasingly. “Are you telling me that you - the great and righteous Captain America - stole these Vibranium handcuffs?”

Steve startled “No! Not stole. Just - umm - borrowed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve had the good grace to look slightly cowed. “I mean - we might give them back?”

“If they help me beat your ass without struggling to keep you still they are definitely not going back,” Bucky retorted, failing to get the right tone of authority into his voice.

“You promise?” Steve asked slyly and Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief at his bratty boyfriend.

“The fucking audacity,” he said to no-one in particular, and then “Get in that bedroom, Rogers and strip. You’re getting ten for your cheek, and if you aren’t ready when I get in there, then it’s an extra ten.” 

“Oh no,” cried Steve with faux despair. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Nothing, if these work.” Bucky took a step closer, drawing himself up to his full height, despite that being two inches less than Steve’s. It had the desired effect though - science might have taken Steve out of his little body, but it hadn’t taken the memory of being in that little body out of Steve. Steve shrank down, now reacting to Bucky’s domineering aura. “You’ll do nothing except cry those sweet tears as I turn your ass red because you won’t be able to get away from me. You won’t be able to stop me. Now - do I have to tell you again? Get in there and strip.”

Steve turned, scurrying into the bedroom as fast as he could with his cock doing its best impression of a flagpole between his legs. 

Smiling to himself, Bucky looked at the cuffs, inspecting them and working out how they opened and closed. The last thing he wanted was for them to get stuck, even if the thought  of Stark being mentally scarred for life having to come and help remove them was amusing as hell.

“Time to see if these work,” he muttered to himself, before calling out “Ready or not, here I come.”

Over an hour later

“Yup,” Bucky said with a smile as he stretched out. “Those definitely work.”

Steve groaned and buried his head into Bucky’s side, while lying on his stomach. “My ass is on fire,” he complained.

Bucky sniggered. “Quit your whining, you big baby. You only have yourself to blame. And you’ll be all healed up in an hour. Two, tops.”

As Steve huffed against him and threw an arm across his stomach, Bucky picked up the cuffs from where he’d deposited them after removing them from Steve’s wrists. He turned them over in his hands, pondering.

“I wonder,” he said, “if we got a metal footboard whether these would magnetise strongly enough to it that I could use them to keep your legs apart…”

Steve let out a moan that wasn’t entirely one of despair. “Buck, let me recover before you start trying to turn me on again.”

With a smile still on his lips, Bucky leant over and places a kiss to the top of Steve’s sweaty head.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

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