#not sure if to tag it with the cell tag because i know some are going to get offended

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[diathadevil]

Do you ever think about how Fakir, after him and Ahiru finally broke everything that kept the town of Goldkröne in the ghostly hands of its writer, after they finally have some air of peace over the town finally being able to live in its intended early 2000s environment, that Fakir still feels at times like it's not real and that for a while he fears that if he closes his eyes it'll be back in Drosselmeyer's control. Like it just doesn't feel real to him during that first year of calm, until he feels the dull pain on his recovering hand injury and Ahiru who follows him without a pendant anywhere to be found.

He doesn't feel it's real, the calm finality of this town, but he makes sure to feel the scar on his hand. And he makes sure to hold the little duck and realize that she is who she has always been. Him and the town are finally living peacefully.

[australet789]

the cellbit fans are already mad at me hahha GOOD, DIE MAD ABOUT IT

but the thing with my post is not that im pro-federation

it's that when a couple of people were willing to be friends with Cucurucho, they were ostracized or called crazy. Literally going "oh, wait till Cellbit knows about!" like he was the head of the french revolution (ironic, because Etoiles doesnt want to deal with this bs)

And then he was totally bambloozed, 100% everyone (the fandom mostly, and Richas xD) laughed on his face when he ended up being employee of the month and suddenly all the other islanders were "oh, maybe we can accept Cucurucho's quests :D", Maxo being kinda the only one who stayed on his principles until the code incident.

It's how everyone holds Cellbit into a pedestal and he is starting to believe it. How he had no problem in hitting Foolish and mocking him, even when his own husband was against it (mind you that Roier is friends with Osito Bimbo). How Jaiden is scared to tell the truth because she knows the islanders will go against her, specially Cellbit (she always mentions his reaction)

It's how when Tubbo made a good conversation with Cucurucho everyone went "OH WAIT TILL HE TELLS CELLBIT!" instead of appreciating Tubbo's way to gain information.

Everyone is just waiting for Cellbit's approval. Everyone thinks he has the high ground in what moral is when is not true. He is starting to doubt Forever and what he is doing (which is another can of worms lol). Instead of doing it for what's correct, you know, getting out of the island, Cellbit is now doing it to be right.

He is starting to become the Cucurucho of his own ideals, losing himself on the initial purpose of The Order

It's interesting and i love the idea of Cellbit getting corrupted by his own paranoia, but fuck if the fans want to hear that. They also want to think Cellbit is right when everyone in the island is selfish.

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

The right ones.

Pic credits

Pairing: Soft!Joel Miller x reader, no outbreak (Sarah is alive and well)

Summary: Joel buys you pads. ‘Cause Joel provides, you know, no matter the situation.

Tags: established relationship, pet names (baby, honey), reader has period and hair, no other description is given, mention of period symptoms, mention of cramps, mention of pads, mention of Sarah, flirting, kissing, Joel is a sweet pookie bear, I think that’s all? It’s just some tiny little fluff I wrote because I’m about to get my period and I need some comfort 🥲

I tried to write it in a neutral way so that every person who menstruates can identify with it, I hope I succeeded. (if you think there are things that need to be changed, just tell me and I'll do it ❤️)

English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry 💀

Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Your cell phone rings.

“Hey! What’s up, honey?”

“Um… listen, which ones did you say you need?”

“The ones with wings, Joel. Blue box, second shelf from the bottom.”

Usually you are the one who takes care of groceries and hygiene products shopping and by now you know by heart where they are.

“Mh…” you can see him. In the middle of the aisle, frowning, one hand on his hip and the other one holding the phone, one knee slightly forward, as he tries to maneuver through the boxes, they must all look the same to him.

“The ones that say ‘night, with wings, extra long’,” you add to try to help him.

Silence follows, several deep breaths, an undertone of exasperation, you bite your lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing. You don’t want to make fun of him, he’s trying hard to make it right.

He offered to do it for you this morning while you were in the bathroom and you discovered that not only had your period decided to come early but you were also almost out of pads.

You let out a sigh and cursed, “Oh damn!” You were in a foul mood, the cramps were making you squirm, your head was hurting, your back was tormenting you.

He was getting dressed, clearly heard you and asked worried “what’s wrong?”

You walked out of the bathroom with your head down and one hand on your stomach feeling miserable “UGH, my stupid period came and I’m running out of pads”

You sat on the bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand as a terrible nausea hit you, and you called out of work saying you were sick.

His large hand caressed your face as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I’ll go to the supermarket during lunch break,” he said softly “Stay in bed and rest, okay?”

“Thank you so much” you said, lying down on the bed again and burying your face into your pillow, feeling cramps clawing inside you “you’re the absolute best”

He leaned to kiss your cheek and then left the house to reach the construction site.

—————

He had done it for Sarah one of the first times she had her period and he had bought the wrong type, the thick and bulky ones, she had looked at the box with a downhearted expression that had made his heart sink.

“Those aren't the ones I wanted, Dad! I told you extra thin!” She screamed at him between sobs.

Joel felt like a good-for-nothing.

Making Sarah cry was terrible for him.

He later discovered that his daughter's tantrum was also a side effect of her period and Sarah had apologized to him but Joel still felt that he was the one who had to apologize for his lone wolf status that didn't allow him to have someone by his side to ask for help.

He would have liked to fall in love, yet he had to make it on his own, he certainly didn’t have time to date between work and all the other things he had to take care of. Being a single dad was a full time job.

After that, Joel had memorized the type that Sarah liked best but she had always conveniently made sure to stock up every time they went to the supermarket.

It had been many years since he had bought them for her and he found himself back at square one. Packages are so different, he could swear there are a dozen new ones he's never seen before.

He pinches his nose, takes a deep breath and then he sees it, just like you described it.

"I found them!" you hear him say enthusiastically "I'll be there soon"

"Good job! I'll be waiting for you, love" you coo.

He grabs the box and he goes to the checkout.

You hang up the phone wondering if he really has the ones you want but in any case you’re already grateful that he used his lunch break to bring them to you.

When he met you he was convinced he would be alone forever.

You had reopened his heart little by little, with patience, without pushing him to do or say what he wasn't ready for yet and he had rediscovered himself as a man capable of loving and in need of receiving it. He was grateful for this, he’s madly in love with you and wants to do everything he can to help you in every circumstance.

————————

Joel has quietly entered your room and find you asleep.

He sits on the bed trying not to wake you.

Your hair spread out on the pillow, your face relaxed, your mouth slightly agape and your hand hanging loosely next to your face… you are so beautiful he can’t believe it. He’s the luckiest man in the world and the least he can do is bring you the right damn box. He leave the bag on your nightstand, kisses you on the temple and goes to the kitchen to make some sandwiches.

You wake up after a couple of minutes and see the bag so you grab it to look inside.

Bingo.

Joel wasn’t wrong, they are exactly the ones you wanted. And you find your favorite chocolate bar in it too.

You hear him humming softly in the kitchen so you get up to go and congratulate your hero.

“Hey, gorgeous!” he says to you as soon as he sees you at the kitchen door. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” you say, stretching your arms. Luckily the painkiller you took worked.

“I’m happy to hear that. Go back to bed, I’ll bring you a sandwich in a bit” You move closer and wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back as he spreads mayo on the bread.

“You don’t have to do all this, but thank you” you whisper “I love you so much” His body is warm and welcoming, you bury your face in his plaid shirt inhaling his woody scent, so familiar and seductive.

Joel is like that, he had never been good with words, his love language is gestures. And he makes tons of them, constantly, small and big. He remembers which flowers you like best, he brings you Chinese food when you tell him you had a bad day, he watches your romantic comedies with you even if they bore him, he lets you choose the music in the car even if he's old school and you're belting out Billie Eilish and Chappell Roan these days, if something in the house broke, you find it repaired the next day without even asking.

“I love you too” he says, dropping the knife on the counter and placing his hands on yours, holding you close.

“You got the right ones, I'm proud of you” you tell him softly.

He turns to kiss you “Good, I’m glad I could help”

The tip of your tongue grazes his lips and you gently make your way into his mouth, moaning against him while he fills his hands with your ass squeezing it.

“Mmm baby, don't provoke me, I don't have much time left before coming back to work unfortunately"

“We can always have a quickie, they say orgasms help with cramps, you know” you say in a slightly pleading voice, looking at his big brown beautiful eyes through your eyelashes.

“Oh well then if it's for a good cause…” he replies huskily.

“And then you deserve a prize”

“I also got you some chocolate, did you see?”

“Oh yes” you say grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him into the bedroom “I saw it and I love it, but I crave something else sweet right now”

Joel chuckles as he follows you into your shared bedroom “such a dirty little thing you are”

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[dollfacefantasy]

Let Them See

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon teases you while you're at the bookstore. on the way home, he has to pull over to deal with it.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, praise/degradation, dubcon elements (reader is scared of being caught), thigh fucking, he cums inside, car sex, road head, teasing in public, crying, sub space (forgive me if i'm using that incorrectly)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i feel absolutely depraved. thank you to @sleepyluxe for the idea. this does reference my other fic, but it's not important to the plot. just if you read that one, this is like a little sequel! if you sent me a request, i am working on it, please be patient with me. i hope everyone enjoys. special smooches to everyone who reblogs and comments and sends me asks :) you don't know how much it means to me <3

tags: @dwkfan @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @petitecolibri @death-paint @luniaxi @bizzarethirst lmk if you would like to be added to the list!

You gaze out the window of the car, looking around at the beautiful day outside the glass. You softly hum along to the song playing on the radio as Leon’s fingers rub tiny circles on your inner thigh. You occasionally look over at him to watch him drive, your eyes full of all the love in the world. Your boyfriend finally had some time off, and he was spending it with you.

The entire day so far consisted of the two of you going around and just doing whatever you wanted. Just having fun together. Now, you were on the way to the bookstore. You had no shopping agenda, it was just another stop on your series of activities.

He pulls the car into a parking space near the shop and shuts it off. He squeezes your thigh once more before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks while stroking your face softly.

You nod and lean in for one more sweet kiss. 

The two of you exit the car and head towards the store. Your hand finds his immediately, interlacing your fingers together. You lean your head against his shoulder as the automatic doors glide apart to let you in. His expression softens when you display your need to be close, and he kisses the crown of your head.

You wander the aisles together, looking through different sections and pointing out different things you’d read or wanted to read. Eventually, you end up in the romance section. Leon shifts his position to stand behind you and watch from over your shoulder. His arms circle your form, encasing you against his chest while he nuzzles the side of your head and kisses your cheek a few times.

You smile and turn your head slightly to give him a small kiss as you read the synopsis of the book in your hand. You guessed he had missed you lately since he’d been working so much. He was usually pretty attached to you right after coming home, and you never minded because why would you? If he needed extra affection, you would never deny him that.

Your intuition was half-correct because your boyfriend had missed you and did want to be in physical contact with you constantly right now, but the reason behind his current touchiness was a different type of longing.

He was so pent up from being away from you. A couple of days before he left for his last mission you had let it slip that you wanted to call him Daddy, and he had been feeling wild ever since. Sure, he’d fucked you until you couldn’t walk prior to him leaving and spent nearly all of last night inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. He craved you so deeply. He could feel every cell in his body yearning for you.

In his time away, it felt as if images of you clouded his mind in every waking moment. If he wasn’t actively fighting for his life, but even in those moments too sometimes, he was thinking of you. Your blissed out, flushed face, and your soft parted lips spilling entrancing sounds of pleasure. The way he could nearly see a physical change once you heard him praise you or remind you to be good for Daddy haunted him each minute he was across the globe from you.

It was like a new part of you had been unlocked to him. A side of you that looked at him with such reverence that he almost couldn’t stand it. He loved every facet of your personality, but this piece of you that wanted nothing more than to love him and be taken care of drove him up the wall.

He takes a deep breath while peppering the side of your neck with gentle kisses, inhaling your scent. He lets out a hum next to your ear, quiet enough so only you can hear, but in a tone to let you know what he desires. 

Despite his hinting, you just smile again and give him another chaste kiss. You were still too focused on that book for his liking. He watches you flip through the pages and scan different passages. He is disinterested for the most part until a certain section of words catches his eye.

“His manhood glides into her sopping heat,” he reads with a low chuckle. He gives you another peck on your temple. “This what you read when I’m gone, honey? So dirty, but I guess I should’ve known.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You gently jab your elbow back into his abdomen.

That makes him smile and hold you even tighter against his broad front. His hands slowly rub either side of your body while his warm breath is blowing over your neck.

“No, it’s ok, baby. I know you’re insatiable. You gotta take care of yourself somehow when I’m not there,” he says quietly against your skin.

“Leon,” you say in a warning tone. It wasn’t so much what he was saying that was starting to get you hot. It was the low rumble of his voice, his lips brushing your throat, and his thick biceps locked around you like boa constrictors.

“I can just see it. You in bed, book in one hand, the other down your shorts, those fingers playing with your pretty, aching pussy. Hips bucking while you bite your lip,” he breathes, “But it’s probably not enough, is it? No, I’ve got you trained so well, baby girl. I know you can’t cum without Daddy’s help. I bet you call out for me when I’m not there, wishing it was me buried between those cute legs instead of your hand.”

“Leon,” you say, trying to speak in a warning tone, but it comes out as a soft whine. Your cheeks felt hot and your head a little dizzy.

“Leon?” he mocks, “That’s not who you were crying for last night, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” you correct yourself quietly, turning your head to look into his eyes. His lips curl further into a predatory grin.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he coos and kisses your nose, “Daddy’s girl is so smart, remembering things like that. Good to know you keep some of that mind after I fuck it dumb all night.”

The way he taunts you makes it feel like your knees are going to buckle. You try to plead with him through your eyes. The aisle you were in was empty and towards the back of the store, but your mind was running rampant with thoughts of someone else catching the words that left his mouth.

“What’s that look for, princess?” he laughs in a hushed tone, “I thought you loved when I talked like that.”

“What if someone hears?” you ask softly.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, “Are you afraid of someone seeing how pathetic you are for Daddy?”

Heat bunches in your lower abdomen making you shift a little. You nod.

“Scared of someone seeing how you rub those gorgeous thighs together? How you can’t meet anyone’s eyes? How you have to hold Daddy’s hand to feel ok?” he whispers before nipping at your earlobe, “And all just from a few words.”

Your breath hitches and you fight to keep the whimper blossoming in your throat inside. “We’ll get in trouble,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Aw, my sweet girl doesn’t want to get in trouble?” he teases, “Baby, we’re just talking. If you can just keep yourself under control, we’ll be fine. I know it’s hard for you though. You hear Daddy, and you become such a needy little slut.”

Your head hangs forward a bit. You stare at the ground trying not to let yourself lose it in public. You were slipping into that state of mind where all you wanted was to be good for him. You wanted to just drop to your knees and have him pet your head while you sucked him off.

He knows what’s going through your mind. He can read you like no other. One of his hands slides down to your stomach to gently caress you there. The book you were holding was long forgotten, and Leon smiles wide as you push it back onto the shelf.

“I mean, even if someone did hear me, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It’s not like they’re seeing you when we’re alone. When you’re whining and crying for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he rasps.

“Daddy, stop,” you whimper. You felt hot and achy with need. You just wanted him to hold you and fuck you until you couldn’t think, but you were stuck in the middle of this store with bright lights and people walking around and nowhere to be alone.

“Do you really want me to stop, angel?” he asks, “I know you love this. I know you love feeling all shy and needing me to make it better. I think deep down you want everyone to know what a whore you are for me. You want ‘em to know how I own you.”

You bite your lip. You were getting so turned on, you felt like you could cry. The mix of shame and arousal swirls inside your head and pushes all other thoughts out. It was just you and Leon right now, no one else mattered. Being seen like this was becoming less of a worry to you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, “I know you love it. I bet you if I put my hand down your pants right now, you’d soak my fingers. I just know you’re dripping from being reminded how pathetic you are for me.”

You turn around in his hold to hide your face against his chest. Your arms wrap around his body so that you’re as close as possible. If someone else saw you now, they might just think you were having a bad day and Leon was comforting you in earnest.

Your display of submission amuses him. His face is smug. He rubs your back and cradles your head.

“Aw, baby, are you gonna cry? Is this too much for you, sweetheart? Are you embarrassed I can get you this desperate from my voice alone?” he croons.

“Yes,” you say. Your tone is desperate, both for him and to leave the store.

“But why are you embarrassed, honey? You like being claimed, don’t you?” he coos and tilts your head up by your chin, taking in your flustered expression, “Yeah, you like when people see us, and they know that you’re mine just from one look. So what is there to be embarrassed about, babydoll?”

“I like it… but… I just… because-” you struggle to articulate yourself as you gaze into his piercing eyes and he begins rubbing his knuckles along your jawline.

“Because you don’t want anyone else knowing? No one else can see how much you like being controlled because it’s shameful, isn’t it? It’s humiliating to admit that you like me controlling everything, from the number of times you cum at night down to the clothes you wear when you wake up in the morning. No one else should know the infinite amount of vile, disgusting things you would do if I just asked you to,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

He swipes his thumb across your lips slowly as he talks. When he’s done, he sticks the digit between your lips. You gently suck on it, maintaining eye contact with him all the while.

His eyebrows raise, indicating how pleased he is with you. “I really do have you perfectly trained. You don’t even think about it anymore. You feel any part of me in your mouth and you know to start sucking like a good little slut.” He pulls his thumb back out and smears your saliva over your lips.

“Can we just leave?” you ask softly, your eyes casting down again, “Please.”

“What? You don’t want to buy anything? You know I’ll pay,” he teases, knowing that shopping couldn’t be further from your mind right now.

“Please Daddy,” you whisper and look at him desperately. You were so soaked it would be uncomfortable if you stood there for any longer.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, deciding to give you a break. “Yeah, beautiful. We can leave. I don’t think you could focus enough to read anything right now even if you wanted to.”

He takes you under his arm and starts to guide you out of the store. You keep your arms around him as you lean into his side.

“That’s my girl. My good girl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head while the two of you walk through the exit, “You just need Daddy right now, don’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum quietly as you make your way through the parking lot.

When you reach the car, Leon opens the door for you and helps you inside. He then quickly goes around to the other side of the car and gets in the driver's seat. He wastes no time turning it on and getting it into gear. The car whips out of the parking space and out to the road.

Your eyes continuously dart over to him. The urge to hop over the center console and into his lap was all-consuming. He briefly glances at you with a knowing look.

You take that as a signal and slowly reach across the car. Your hand lands at the top of his thigh and slides over his lap to palm him through his jeans. He was already half-hard from tormenting you in the store.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks teasingly.

You tentatively pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. Your eyes are silently begging while your fingers begin massaging the outline of his length over his boxers.

“Just need to feel it. Please,” you say as your fingertips continue their miniscule movements.

He shakes his head and lets out a laugh while adjusting in his seat to give you better access. “You need it, do you?”

You nod and maneuver your hand into his underwear for direct contact. Your fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of it pulsing in your grasp. Your content with that for a while, but soon you want more.

“Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” you ask.

Hearing your soft and sweet voice ask for something so vulgar made his dick twitch with need for you, but he tried to keep his reaction casual.

“Look at you, asking like a good girl,” he teases, “Can’t wait until we get home? Did Daddy get you too worked up?”

“Yes,” you say timidly, “I just… I need it.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain,” he says, “You can suck me off, my love. Just be good, so we don’t crash.”

You nod quickly, happy he wasn’t going to torment you on the way home too. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift and lean over to his seat to put your head in his lap. He splays a protective hand across your back as you get in position. Without hesitation, you get to task and pull him out of his boxers.

You lick the bulging head a few times, but then wrap your lips around it and sink down. You flatten your tongue against the shaft, feeling the veins as you lower your head. He groans and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His other hand rubs your back in small strokes.

“There you go, angel,” he says, “Fuck, I could never say no to your mouth.”

You suck gently before bobbing your head slowly up and down. One of your hands cups his balls and kneads them carefully. The noises of the blowjob sound through the car’s enclosed space. Leon fights the instinct to buck into your throat. Your mouth was just so warm and wet and soft. Absolute heaven. It was hard for him to focus on the road in this condition.

It was easy for you to focus on giving him head though. You work your mouth over him, paying attention to all his favorite spots and taking him as deep as you can. You rest your nose against his pelvis as you hold him in your throat. His thighs tense and the car jerks a little when he accidentally pushes on the brakes too hard.

“Jesus fuck, baby. Ease up a little,” he grunts. His hand on your back coasts up to your neck and caresses the base of your skull.

Not long after he says this, you pull off to catch your breath. While you take your break, you purse your lips and spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. It drips onto the head and then slides the rest of the way down to where your fist is now gripping him. You start jerking him and spreading your drool around his shaft.

You press sloppy, wet kisses to his tip. Some of his precum coats your lips before you open your mouth and bring him inside again. You make muted gagging noises while you try to get him deep again.

He wants so badly to watch you, to see that adorable dedicated look on your face and your eyes tearing up as you choke yourself. It’s driving him crazy having to watch the street ahead of him. He can also feel the simmering build up of release which he doesn’t want to do so soon or while he’s driving. His hips twitch more while he white-knuckles the wheel.

“Babe, calm down,” he hisses pointlessly. You’re wrapped up in your own little world right now, “If you don’t quit it, I’m gonna cum and then you’re not gonna get to have any fun when we get home.”

You sort of register that comment, but you were absolutely fixated on getting him to blow his load down your throat so you don’t stop.

He realizes instantly that you’re not going to let up. He makes a split second decision to pull a sharp turn onto a less busy road. He steers the car off of the asphalt and off road a little bit. Once there’s substantial distance between your vehicle and the road, he throws it in park and yanks you up by your hair.

“When I tell you to do something, it’s not a request,” he states simply. 

It takes a lot in him to keep up the serious persona and not smile at your face right now. You looked fucked out even though you hadn’t even come close to the main event yet. Saliva covers your lips and chin while your eyes project a dazed mix of arousal and guilt.

“But Daddy, I just wanted to make you feel good,” you say.

“Liar. I know you just wanted some cum down your throat cause you’re a greedy little slut, baby,” he chides, “Also, is it your job to ‘try’ whatever you want?”

You shake your head and look down like a puppy who’s been caught being bad. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you say softly.

“What is your job?” he asks, ignoring your apology.

“To be a good girl and listen to Daddy.”

“Hm, so you do remember. You’re not stupid then, just deliberately disobedient,” he says.

You open your mouth to dispute that but decide against arguing and shut it again. The way you were shrinking in on yourself made him want to ruin you even more.

“Good, at least it looks like you’re learning. I’ll have to remind you of the rest though,” he says and finally lets go of your hair, “Get your ass in the backseat.”

“But Daddy-” you start, about to repeat your fears from earlier about being seen.

“Enough with this ‘but Daddy’ shit. You wanna act like a whore, that’s how I’ll treat you,” he says, “Be grateful for the privacy you get. You’re lucky I didn’t just stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street.”

Your inner thighs were slick with your arousal by this point. You could feel it when you began crawling past your seat to the back of the car. Leon slaps your ass as you make your way there, causing you to yelp.

He simply gets out of the car and enters the backseat through the door. He sits next to you and looks at you expectantly.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, “Do you really need me to guide your every move? I know that’s not true because you just showed me it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you say again as you begin removing your clothes. You peel your top off and shimmy out of your pants.

“I know you are, baby. But I still have to teach you your lesson. You have to learn that Daddy knows best,” he says while taking off his own clothing.

You scoot closer to try and assist him, but he manages on his own and flips you over, pinning you to the seats. One hand is locked on the flesh of your hip while the other holds your head down against the leather. He’s kneeling behind you, hunched over due to his stature in the limited space.

He teases up and down your folds with the angry red tip of his cock, still leaking precum from the close call a few minutes ago. Your body yearns to be filled, but you keep quiet and try to appear patient.

“Do you even deserve my cock?” he asks as he bumps your clit. You would nod, but his hold on your head is strong. “I mean really, maybe I should be focused on training some patience into you. Teach you take what I give you and not vie for more.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“I know, babydoll, that’s only the tenth time you’ve said that,” he mocks as he slides up and down through your slick, “But I can really show you what sorry is. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you. What if, right now, I fuck your thighs? You keep those pretty legs together, nice and tight for me to use like a fleshlight.”

He pushes your thighs together like he described and begins slowly thrusting himself between them. He quietly grunts and kneads your ass.

“Please Daddy, no, I’m so-”

“Ah ah, don’t interrupt,” he tuts, not stopping his hips, “You’d probably still get off on it. You’re so whipped for me you’d probably cum if I smiled at you right.”

You stay silent. You knew he was teasing, but it might have been true. He knew all your buttons and just how to push them.

“Yeah, you know I’m right. My poor baby. You can’t help it. You don’t know any better, do you?”

“No…” you say quietly before your bottom lip juts out into a pout. The idea of him not fucking you properly while you were possibly the most horny you’d been in your life was deeply upsetting.

“No, you don’t,” he agrees in a condescending tone, “You just love Daddy so much. It’s not your fault your body is addicted to me. You don’t choose for your cunt to soak through your panties just from hearing my voice, do you? It just happens. Your heart knows it belongs to me.”

He speaks as if he’s comforting you which makes it feel so much worse and so much better at the same time. Your eyes water, the mix of emotion being a lot for you to handle in this state.

“It doesn’t care how pathetic you act because of it. All it knows is that you need your Daddy,” he says, his voice husky. He pulls away from the junction of your thighs and nudges your legs apart with his knees. He positions his cock at your entrance. “That’s why I’ll give you a pass, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You just need me to keep you in line sometimes.”

His grip has weakened enough that you’re able to nod. “Thank you Daddy,” you choke out as he pushes all the way inside in one go. You were so wet that he had no problem bottoming out immediately.

“Good girl,” he praises through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “So fucking wet, Christ.”

Everything felt right now that he was inside of you. The relief crashed on you like a wave. A couple tears leak from your eyes and your body shudders.

He starts pushing himself in and out, his head tilts back as he does. You clutch the edge of the bench while your eyes flutter. You felt like you were up in the clouds. The feeling of him twitching against your walls as he slid in and out was total euphoria. It was a little much to feel this way from a few strokes, but like he said, you couldn’t control it.

You bounce your hips back against his and he smacks it. You can tell from the sting that there will probably be a handprint on the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on it for a little while before he takes over again. He stares down to where the two of you connect, unable to tear his eyes from how your cunt sucks in his cock, your wetness gathering around the spot where your bodies link.

You whimper and cry as he picks up speed, pistoning into you. Your cheek feels numb from being squished on the cushion. Leon notices and leans down closer to you. It wasn’t unusual for you to get emotional during sex but seeing it always made his protective urges flare up. He wraps his thick arm around your neck from behind, putting you into a loving headlock. He lays some messy kisses on the side of your temple.

“I love my needy girl so much. You know that right?” he whispers while sensually rolling his hips against your ass, “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. My sweet girl, so sensitive. I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you cry. You lean into his kisses and lift one of your hands to rest it on his forearm.

Knowing you’re ok, he resumes his harsher thrusts, pulling you by your neck closer to him. He growls into your ear and nuzzles the side of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe. Can’t last in this tight pussy, squeezing me like a fucking anaconda,” he moans.

You bite your lip and grip his arm tighter as you feel your own peak rising within.

“Where do you want it, baby girl?” he grunts in your ear.

“Inside, Daddy. Please,” you whine.

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss on the head for saying please. 

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. Course you want it in your pussy. Even though you look so cute with Daddy’s cum all over your face, no thoughts in that pretty little head. Just happy you got some attention.”

“I like it inside,” you defend before gasping.

“I know you do, angel,” he says, his voice strained as the ecstasy begins to bubble over, “I like it too. Stuffing you full of me. A little reminder of who owns you once we’re finished.”

You nod as best you can in the headlock before your body seizes and jerks. Your orgasm rips through you, making you shake and moan through tears. You claw at his arm with both hands now, brokenly whimpering for Daddy over and over.

He can’t take it anymore. The sight beneath him mixed with the bliss of your cunt fluttering around him, it breaks the resolve inside him. He snaps his hips against you roughly and tightens his arm around you. He growls and grabs the leather seats so hard you think he might rip a chunk out.

He pumps into you repeatedly, draining himself in the warm embrace of your velvety walls. You can feel the thick white ropes filling you up as the sweaty skin of his abdomen rubs against your back.

His hips spasm as he finishes. He rests on top of you for a moment afterwards, panting to catch his breath. He kisses your neck gently and then moves to your ear.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers, “So good for me, baby, like always.”

He gets off of you so you can sit up. Once you do, he gently holds your jaw and wipes away any leftover tears and saliva on your face. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your lips.

The two of you dress in the backseat, pulling your clothes on haphazardly so you can actually go home. This time you get out of the backseat through the door and hop back in the passenger seat. You laugh when you see Leon stretching outside of the driver's door.

“You ok there, buddy?” you tease when he gets back in.

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, and starts the car up.

“I’m buddy now? Are you over Daddy?” he says, “This is the thanks I get for working hard to please you.”

“Thank you Daddy,” you say overly-sweet, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he pulls back onto the road.

“You wanna play around, but I’m not the one who was crying that ten minutes ago when she thought she wouldn’t get any dick,” he laughs.

“Oh, shut up, Leon!” you say and roll your eyes.

“It’s Leon right now, but I bet you when we’re home in five minutes, I’ll have you begging for Daddy again,” he says and smirks.

You smile and look away, knowing that he’s totally right.

[fanficimagery]

Joining the Biz.

When the hotels are all booked up, your cousin asks if a few friends can crash at your place. You accept, not knowing you'll be meeting some people who will become lifelong friends and get a shot at doing what you once loved. [Part One of Three]

Words: 7.7K Author's Note: Never thought I'd wanna write for wrestlers. Just a reminder that I am writing for the CHARACTERS they portray on TV and the way I think these CHARACTERS would be "at home", therefore everyone is single lol. I will tagging this as Jey Uso X Reader, but please be informed that it will not be romance heavy. I'm pretty sure there's not a lot of Jey/Reader interactions, but some of the stuff between them is cutesy rather than steamy. ALSO EVERYONE'S OOC BECAUSE I JUST RECENTLY STARTED WATCHING AND I DON'T KNOW THEIR PERSONALITIES JUST YET.

You're watching the new A Quiet Place movie when your cell rings. Glancing briefly at the screen sitting next to your thigh, you see it's your cousin that you haven't seen in quite a few months.

Pausing the movie, you answer the call. "Dum-Dum, you're alive!"

"Aye, prima, I got a huge favor to ask."

"Hey, YN, long time no talk. How are you? I'm good, what about you, cuz?" You retort a little mockingly.

Dominik sighs and your lips twitch in amusement. "Hi, prima. You good?"

"Never better. Now what do you need?"

The line goes quiet for a few seconds before, "So Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown are gonna be in the same arena next week and with all the wrestlers in one place, the hotels booked up pretty quickly."

"Okay, and?"

"It's in your city."

It takes a moment, but a lightbulb goes off over your head. "Let me guess, you need a place to stay?"

"Not me, but three friends do. They're scrambling right now, cuz. Please tell me no one's moved in since we last talked."

Chuckling softly, you say, "You know I'm gonna be the perpetually single prima." Dominik chuckles on his side of the line. "And my two spare rooms are always ready for a visitor. But if you're really desperate for a third, I don't mind bunking up with someone since my bed is huge. So long as it doesn't piss off any significant other, someone can bunk with me."

"Aw damn. Your bed is comfy as fuck, and you never let anyone in it."

"No, I just don't let you in it, Dum-Dum. I learned my lesson when we were little. You fight in your sleep."

"Do not."

"Do too. Now, am I rolling out the welcome mat or what? And for how long?"

"One sec." You hang on, listening to the muffled chatter. You don't know who it is that might possibly be staying with you, but you do catch Dominik mentioning that someone named Damian could benefit from sharing with you since he's the tallest and would actually fit in your bed. A few more moments and then he says, "Yes, and are you able to host for like a week or so? We'll be flying out early tomorrow morning. I can be at your place with your guests around five or six in the evening."

"That's fine. Do I get to know who I'm hosting?"

You hear Dominik squeak before, "Hi, mate. It's Rhea. Thanks so much for doing this. I really wasn't looking forward to sharing a small bed with someone."

"It's 'ya uce, Jey Uso." You chuckle at his enthusiasm, realizing his energy matches his persona on TV.

"And, uh, I'm Damian. I promise I don't punch or kick in my sleep."

You huff a laugh. "Priest, right? The tall one?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be good, man. The mattress of my bed is literally from one side of the wall to the other. The only way to get on it is to crawl on from the foot of the bed. Just ask Dominik."

"S'true, man. YN has always been weird about her space on the bed. She needs a lot of it."

"But I'll be fine sharing. I just wasn't a fan of waking up spooning or being spooned by a cousin. But walking, talking, kink material? Yes, please."

There's a sharp bark of laughter of who you assume is Rhea.

"What did you just say?" Dominik muses, more laughter ringing out as your words sink in.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, cuz. I'm only joking."

"No, you're not. You totally think he's hot."

"Duh. Ripley, Priest, the Usos, Roman Reigns.. they're all smokin'."

"Thanks, mate!"

"You're welcome, mi amor," you retort. "But just because I think they're hot doesn't mean I wanna be railed by them, Dum-Dum."

"I know." He gives a long suffering sigh that you can't help but smile at. "It's why when I realized we were gonna be in town and these morons needed a place to crash, I thought of you. You won't fuck around with my friends. Not like that."

"Aw, I love you too, cuz. Now get off my phone. I was watching a movie before you interrupted me."

"Alright, alright. I'll text you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, everyone!"

After hearing a chorus of byes in return, you end the call and go back to your movie.

After a long morning and afternoon of cleaning and changing out bedsheets for fresh ones, you're finally able to relax. You had planned to make a meal, but not knowing if anyone had any dietary restrictions, you decided against it. Instead, your cousin Dominik assured you that they'd pick up some food on the way to your house for you and themselves since you're hosting them.

You're cleaning the pool and making sure the water is balanced to be of use the next day when your phone pings with alerts from your security cameras out front. When you check it and see a black SUV parked behind your Jeep Compass and Range Rover in the driveway, you put everything away and head inside to greet your guests through the front door.

You open your front door, leaning against the door jamb as you watch the men unload suitcases and duffel bags.

Rhea Ripley, however, is walking up your porch stairs with four boxes of pizza in hand. "Ding dong," she muses.

"Hi," you greet. She manages to balance the boxes on one hand, reaching out with the other to give you a brief hug. "Did you guys have a good flight? Drive?"

"Yeah, dude, it was fine. Just this thing with the hotel was stressing us out, but you and Dom came through for us."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service," you say. Just then, the guys start walking up. "Hey, Dum-Dum."

You offer him a brief hug right before he personally introduces you to Rhea, Damian, and Jey.

"Hey, lil' mama, thanks for doing this. It was really cool of you to let us crash here," Jey says.

"It's no problem whatsoever," you assure him. "Now if you guys wanna come in and set the food in the kitchen, I'll show you around real quick."

Rhea sets the pizzas down on the kitchen island, Dominik volunteers to get drinks out, as well as plates while you show your three guests around. The main rooms they need to know on the first floor are the bathroom, the laundry room, your office in case they have any work that needs to be addressed with a computer, and one of the free guest rooms. Rhea and Jey glance at each other, but when you assure them the two guest rooms are the same size, Jey opts for it and sets his belongings in the room.

Upstairs, Rhea places her own belongings in the second spare room, peeks into the main bathroom between the bedrooms, and then the way Damian smiles when he sees the bed you and him are to share makes you laugh.

"Looks like I'm actually gonna get some good sleep this week," he says as he places his suitcase and bags off to the side. "Hotels really need to make bigger beds for those of us over six feet."

"Goddamn, you're tall," you mutter.

Rhea laughs, even more so when Jey tries to swap places with Damian because your bed looks really inviting as large as it is.

When you head downstairs and back into the kitchen, Dominik asks, "Did you show them the gym?"

"Gym? What gym?" Rhea asks, clearly excited.

You roll your eyes at your cousin. "It's nothing fancy. I just closed off my garage and turned into a gym that's perfect for me."

"I wanna see it."

Chuckling softly, you lead them to your small gym. When you turn on the lights, you say, "It's nothing sophisticated, but it's mine."

"Can we use it?" Jey asks.

"Sure. You probably won't get the workout you're used to with this equipment, but you're more than welcomed to this space."

"As long as we can break a sweat, we're good," Rhea says.

"Question," Damian says, his deep voice sending shivers down your back. It's really unfair that your cousin's friends are so good looking. "Is that a stripper pole?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Dum-Dum didn't tell you how I bought this house?"

Jey's mouth drops open. "Girl, you a stripper?"

"Was a stripper," you correct him. "But that's a long story. I can tell it over pizza."

As you head into the kitchen, Dominik tells the four of you to dig in while it's still warm. Dominik leans against one of the kitchen counters, you hop up on another, and your three guests take a seat on a stool at the kitchen island.

Only after everyone has downed at least a slice and a half does Dominik start talking.

"Is anyone curious as to why YN has a gym in her home?"

"Because she likes to work out?" Rhea shrugs, glancing around at the random question.

"To keep in shape for that stripper pole we peeped out there," Jey tries.

You grin, shaking your head at him. Apparently, he really wants that stripper story.

Damian, however, seems to piece a part of your story together. "With Dom and Rey in the business, my guess is that you're training for the family business as well."

With your free hand, you touch the tip of your nose and point at Damian with a wink. "Sort of."

"YN used to train with me when we were younger," Dominik says. "Was supposed to join the biz when I joined."

"What happened?" Rhea asks.

"My dad." With a sigh, you set down your half-eaten slice of pizza and take a drink of your soda. "I really love everything about the wrestling life and was stoked to be a part of it when Tio Rey said I had potential. My dad wanted me to head off to college, but my mom wanted me to do whatever made me happy."

"And wrestling made you happy," Jey says.

You nod. "Very much. I started training after school, giving Dum-Dum a run for his money," you muse before turning a little sad, "but then my mom got sick. Her insurance barely wanted to pay the bare minimum, my dad couldn't keep up with the bills, and it was my turn to get an after-school job that paid."

Everyone winces in sympathy.

"After I graduated high school, I knew I needed a job that would pay well without a college degree, so I took up stripping. It took me almost a year to make a name for myself and have some regular customers that showed up for only me, but I did it. I could tell my dad was highly disappointed, but he didn't say shit to my face because my money was making a dent in the bills that had been piling up." You pause to give a sigh. "After five years, the treatments just stopped working for my mom. She passed, my dad and I made plans to purchase this exact house we're standing in, but then his new girlfriend had to go and ruin that."

Dominik chuckles. "Pendeja was under the impression my tio was paying for this house. Little did she know that YN was putting up eighty percent of the cash for this place and was going to be paying the mortgage while her dad only paid the electric and water."

You shake your head as you remember everything you went through with your dad. "We were at the meeting to close on this house when his girlfriend started gushing about the changes she was going to make and how it was her house, and I scoffed. I informed her my name was going to be on the deed, changes would have to go through me and my dad, and that she wasn't going to have a say so like she planned. Only when my dad told me to just let his name and her name be on the deed, and he was serious about it, did I pull out from the deal.

"The homeowners who were selling understood because they'd been dealing with me the entire time, and in front of my dad, promised that they'd hold off if I still wanted the place and would give me time to get the rest of the cash. I wasn't going to agree because I really didn't need a place this big for just myself, but the second my dad called me a selfish bratty bitch did I agree to purchase the house and cut all contact with my dad."

"Damn, girl. That's rough," Damian says.

You nod. "It was, but I made do. I continued to dance to make up the difference, bought this place, and then danced some more to put myself through college. I earned a nice little nest egg while getting a higher education, and now that I work for myself.. I'm golden. I'm peachy fuckin' keen."

"That's what I like to hear," Rhea says, smiling and saluting you with her own drink.

"But that's not all, is it?" Dominik muses. "A little birdie told me that dad's been advocating for you in WWE."

You smile as everyone glances at you. "Your little sister is a narc." Dominik laughs as you explain. "Tio Rey wants me in, not to fight in the women's division but to just be someone on the sidelines to cause interference since I'm so rusty. And since my work schedule is pretty fuckin' flexible, I can swing it. There's just not a storyline that can be easily manipulated to bring in an unknown female."

"Well, whatever happens, I hope you get in," Rhea says. "We need more ladies."

"And look, uce, you can come to Raw with all the cool kids or I can hook you up with my brothers and cousins on Smackdown."

You laugh. "You guys are talking as if I'm for sure going to work in the WWE. It's all just talk right now."

"Well, if you still got that talent from when we were younger," Dominik says. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you on the sidelines soon."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and finish eating."

As everyone finishes up eating, Damian and Rhea take it upon themselves to wash dishes and Dominik takes out the trash since he's on his way out to go get settled in at his hotel.

You walk with Dominik outside, leaning against your porch railing.

"You good, prima?" He asks. You nod, smiling softly. "I just wanna say thanks again for doing this for my friends."

"Don't even worry about it," you say. "I've been bored lately. It'll be nice to have some noise for a little bit."

"Yeah? Well, if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away. Rey too."

"I'll be fine, Dum-Dum. Rhea, Jey, and Damian seem really cool."

"Alright." Dominik gives you a hug. "I'll see you if I'm not busy working. You also have ringside tickets for Monday, so clear your schedule for that day."

"Thanks. Night, Dom."

"Night, YN."

Waking up the following morning, you stretch and quietly groan. For a moment you forget you have guests, but then a deep chuckle from the other side of your bed reminds you that not only do you have guests but that you have a guest in bed with you. You turn your head, spotting a sleepy Damian just waking up himself.

"Goddamn. This bed had no right being this comfortable."

You huff a laugh and roll onto your side, tucking an arm beneath your head. "I take it you slept well?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since I've slept in."

His words slowly make you realize that you've slept in too. "Shit. What time is it?" You sit up, patting the bed around you for your phone until you remember you placed it on the floating shelf connected to the wall above where you had slept. Turning, you snatch your phone and check the time. It's nine in the morning. "Fuckkk," you groan as you fall back against your pillows.

"What happened? You miss work or something?"

"Nah. Nothing like that." You take a moment to yawn. "I just have a routine, and I forgot to set my alarm," you tell him.

He hums in understanding. The two of you go quiet, sleep threatening to take you back under until you feel the bed at your feet shift and jostle. Opening your eyes, you find Rhea crawling into bed, burrowing under the blanket you're using.

"Oi. What are we talking about?"

You chuckle as Rhea snuggles down, hair mused and face clean of her usual dark makeup.

"Nothing. YN was just talking about how she missed her routine."

"What routine?"

"I run in the mornings," you admit. "Wake up at six, run two miles around the neighborhood to get the blood pumping, and then do whatever needs to be done whether it be work-work or house-work."

"What's on the agenda for today?"

"Not a damn thing. I cleared my schedule until the middle of next week," you say. "I'm free as a bird, so if you want to do something in town, I'm down. Or if you have errands to run or need to head to the arena to train, the Range Rover is yours to use while you're staying here."

Damian and Rhea are saying their thanks when Jey launches himself on the other side of you. You groan as the others laugh. "Damn, uce, this bed is huge. You can fit at least one other body in here."

Jey is apparently an affectionate person and has no issue sliding under your blanket as well. But while Rhea kept a few inches between you, Jey practically plasters his chest to your back and snuggles up to you with a content sigh.

You shake with suppressed laughter. "Comfortable, Uso?"

"Extremely. What's everyone doin' today?"

"Priest and I have a meeting with the higher ups," Rhea says. "After that, nothing."

"I'll be making use of the gym here to get the blood pumping," Jey says.

All three go quiet and you only speak when you feel Jey squeeze you around the waist. "Well while you guys are working, I'll be relaxing out back in the pool."

Time seems to freeze before,

"You got a pool?!"

"Yes?" You laugh.

"Alright, change of plans. I'm gonna work out and then float my ass in the pool out back. You got any floaties, uce?"

"Duh."

"Then yeah, we floatin'."

You grin sleepily. "You guys gonna be free for dinner?" At their confirmed status of being free, you say, "I'm feelin' steaks, jalapeño poppers, and roasted corn. Any objections?"

"Nope."

"No."

"Hell nah."

"This arrangement is proving to be better than staying at a hotel," Damian muses. "You sure we're not putting you out?"

"No way. I grew up with big family cookouts, random hangouts, and sleepovers and I miss it. When mom died, dad and I stopped going out as much. Dad's side of the family kind of wanted nothing to do with me when I wouldn't let his then girlfriend take control of the house I was buying, and while I kept in touch with my mom's side of the family, it just wasn't the same."

"Which side does Dom come from?" Rhea asks.

"Mom's." You smile sadly. "My mom and his mom were sisters."

"Family is everything," she says and you nod in agreement. "But blood does not define family. If the rest of your family won't recognize you, we will. You're stuck with us now."

As Rhea spoke, your eyes got a little teary. "Goddammit, Ripley. It's too early to be crying."

"I'm sorry." She laughs and reaches for your hand, squeezing it.

"Come on," Damian eventually groans, reaching over to nudge Rhea. "The sooner we get this meeting over with, the quicker we can get back to chill by the pool."

Rhea groans as she has to get out of bed and Damian immediately calls dibs on the bathroom upstairs as he scoots out of bed after her.

"And then there were two," Jey muses, brazenly pressing his face into the back of your neck as he holds you.

Chuckling, you free an arm from beneath the blanket and then gently slap him on the thigh. "Come on, Uso. Let's get sweaty."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

This time, you bark out a laugh. "Down, boy. We're just going for a run to get that blood of yours pumping before you hit up the mini gym."

"Not what I had in mind, but I'm down."

Since Damian's occupying the upstairs bathroom, you grab an extra toothbrush and toothpaste from your hall closet and head towards the downstairs bathroom where Rhea is. Knocking on the door, you wait until you hear her call out.

"Yeah?"

"Is it cool if I brush my teeth in there? I promise I won't sneak any looks!"

Rhea laughs. "Sure thing, babe. Door's unlocked!"

Your shower stalls have glass doors, so you keep your gaze averted. Fortunately, Rhea likes a steamy shower so even if you had glanced in her direction, all you would see is the outline of her body.

"Didn't want to sneak any looks at Damian?" She muses.

You laugh as you wet your toothbrush and apply some toothpaste. "I still think of that man as walking, talking, kink material-" Rhea barks out a laugh, "-but now that I've met him, he gives off major big brother energy. I do not want to see the peen. Well, I kind of do, but I'm intimidated."

"Oh my god. I'm gonna love hanging out with you this week."

You make quick work of brushing your teeth and washing your face, and then tell Rhea where to find the keys to the Range Rover in case you and Jey leave before her and Damian are ready.

Back up in your room, you get dressed in your workout gear- a cropped dark tank top made out of spandex material and a pair of black and white running shorts. You put on your running shoes, tie your hair up into a ponytail, then grab the strap that your phone zips into before securing it around your bicep.

You run into Damian on your way downstairs, telling him what you told Rhea about where to find the keys to the Range Rover and not to bother locking up if you and Jey are gone before he and Rhea leave. He thanks you for letting them use your vehicle and you head outside into the backyard, stretching in the little spot that you've sectioned off for yoga sessions.

Jey is outside as well, taking a picture of the pool where he's apparently set loose some pool floats and rearranged the chairs off to the side. You shake your head at him in amusement, twisting your body into the runner's lunge twist.

As you're holding the pose, stretching your muscles, you hear, "Look up, sweetheart. Let me see that smile." Instead of just smiling, however, you flip him off. Jey laughs, snapping the pic. "Is it cool if I post that?"

"That's fine."

As Jey does a few of his own stretches, he's messing with his phone. He's smiling the entire time and when he puts his phone away, you finish up your stretching and check his socials to see what he posted and/or said.

It doesn't take you long to find the post on Instagram, a post of two pics. The first is your pool looking rather inviting and the next pic is of you flipping him off. The caption reads, Can't wait to go for a swim, but first I need to get the blood pumping with this peach of a lady and an added kissy face emoji.

"You're ridiculous," you call out and he laughs.

"You see it?"

"Yes." In response to his post, you leave a comment with the middle finger emoji and two blue hearts. "Now come on, Uso. Time to run."

You and Jey round the side of the house just as Rhea and Damian walk down the porch stairs. You tell Damian that the address to your house is already programmed into the GPS should he need it on the way back and he nods, tossing and catching the key fob in his hand. You and Jey then stand side by side on the sidewalk, and after making sure he's ready, you set off at a leisurely pace.

As you round the street corner, you speed up a little more. Jey keeps pace and the only sound for a good while is your feet pounding against the pavement. Several minutes into your run, however, you notice Jey lagging behind. And when you glance over your shoulder to see if he's fine, you see him with his phone out again.

Not wanting to speak and expend your breath, you continue running. Jey follows you, keeping pace once more, and then urging you faster on the way back to your house.

By the time you make it back to your kitchen, you're panting and leaning against the kitchen island. "I'm never running with you again."

"Aw, come on, girl. That was fun."

"For you! What were you doing with your phone out anyway?"

Before he can answer, his phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then at you. "It's Jimmy. Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

Jey answers what ends up being a Facetime call and you walk around your kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of water as they talk.

"Ay, uce, you good?" Jey asks.

"Yeah, but not as good as you apparently. Where the hell you at that you have access to a pool?"

You're mid-sip, grinning against the rim of your glass when Jey points his phone at you. "Mysterio's cuz came through. Say hi." You awkwardly wave at the camera as you hear Jimmy laugh and hear him call out his own hello. Then Jey continues the talk. "So how's the hotel?"

"Boring. We either hang out in our rooms or at the arena. Nothing fancy or fun."

Quickly finding a pen and pad of paper, you jot something down and then slide it over to Jey- Invite him over. Pool's big enough and dinner is on me.

"Ay, uce, who's with you right now?" Jey asks after reading your note.

"Just Solo and Roman. Why?"

Jey glances at you and you nod. "You guys wanna come over? Pool's big enough and YN is grilling steaks tonight for us here."

"Shit. Forreal?"

"Yeah." You call out when Jey looks at you once more. "I just need a headcount so I can go grab the steaks and corn from the store here in a bit. Damian and Rhea are currently at the arena in one of my vehicles, so I'm sure they can swing by and pick you up if you guys need a ride."

"No worries, we got our own ride. We just need an address."

"I'll have Jey send it to you. Are all three of you coming?"

"Sure thing, ma."

Jey talks to his brother for another minute before ending the call, opening up his texts and handing you the phone so you can enter your address. You do so and then after downing your water, you tell Jey you're going to shower before heading out to the store. Jey tells you he'll tag along and to not leave without him.

. . . .

Later, when you're done shopping and preparing the backyard for guests, you smile wide when you spot your cousin walking in with a case of beer and a holler that the party has arrived. Behind him, Jimmy Uso, Solo Sikoa, and Roman Reigns enter.

You greet everyone with a smile and hug (if they offered), then proceed to show them where both bathrooms are and the room that Jey is staying in so they can change into their swim trunks wherever they're most comfortable. Then before you go back outside, you take a moment to change into your own two piece bathing suit that consists of a dark green v-neck top that pulls down over your head like a sports bra and dark green high waisted bottoms that have cutouts along your hips. And since you're not jumping into the water right away, you pull on a loose, white button down shirt with its sleeves rolled up to your elbows and tuck the front hem of the shirt into a pair of cutoff denim shorts.

As you head back out, you pass Damian and Rhea in the kitchen, cutting jalapeños in half and scooping out the seeds so they can put cream cheese in them before wrapping them in bacon.

Dominik is outside, looking everything over before meeting your gaze with a smile. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"I miss hanging out," you admit with a chuckle. "And hosting isn't so bad when all the men are handsome as fuck."

He shakes his head in amusement. "You opening up the hot tub?"

"Should I?" You frown.

"Yes, estúpida. I can guarantee that'll be the hangout spot after dinner."

"Well go get it set up," you tell him.

As Dominik preps the hot tub, you make sure the outside bar is all stocked up. The beer Dominik brought and the beer Jey suggested you buy earlier is in the cooler, the freezer is filled with ice, your blender is clean and ready for margaritas, and there's a whole stash of alcohol in case anyone wants anything stronger.

You're connecting a laptop to the outside speakers when Damian pops up. "Hey, hermosa, the poppers are sitting in the fridge for when you're ready for them. Do you need anything else done?"

"No, sir. You and Rhea are guests. Go change and lounge. I can do the rest."

"Are you sure?"

You smile at him. "Positive. Enjoy your time off, Priest."

"Alright. But hurry up. You deserve to have some fun too before you start cooking."

After shooing Damian off, you head inside to quickly peel some potatoes. Four shirtless Samoans finally walk out from Jey's room, and you have to shoo Jey out when he tries to help out in the kitchen.

"I'm good," you say, swatting at his hands when he tries to grab the potato peeler from the counter. "Go have fun."

"But-"

"No buts!" His jaw snaps shut and you arch an eyebrow at him, silently challenging him to do something about it. Hearing a snicker, you glance at his grinning twin Jimmy and younger brother Solo. "Can y'all please go throw his ass in the pool? Not only did this fool have the audacity to jump into my bed this morning-"

"Rhea was in there too! I thought it was a group thing!"

"-but he snapped pics of my ass on our run this morning."

"You saw those?"

You glare at him, but end up laughing when his brothers look offended on your behalf. "I follow you on Instagram. Of course I saw them! You're just lucky my account is private. Your fans already stalked the hell out of my pages and tried adding me." And before Jey can say anything to defend himself, there's a small scuffle as Jimmy and Solo grapple with their brother before pushing him out the door.

You and Roman follow, laughing and then whooping when Jey gets tossed into the pool. Roman lingers and when you glance up at him, he asks, "You sure you don't need any help?"

"Positive. Go have fun, Reigns. And if you want, the laptop at the bar controls the music. I'm not sure what you like listening to, so have fun making a playlist if you want."

"Will do."

You get back to work in the kitchen, but it doesn't take you long to finish up. There's still a couple of hours before you have to get to work, so you head outside to see what everyone's up to. Rhea and Dominik are laid out on the lounges next to the pool, conversing with each other and with Damian and Roman who are inside the pool but hanging onto the ledge near them. Jey, Jimmy, and Solo are not too far, the three brothers splayed out casually on pool floats.

Taking a moment for yourself, you head to the bar and immediately work on a pitcher of margaritas. Rhea hollers that she wants one and you give her a thumbs up to let her know you heard her loud and clear. On reflex, you dig your phone out of your pocket and leave it on the bar so there's no electronic casualties as you walk by the pool's ledge. Then salting the rim of two margarita glasses, you fill them with the slushie goodness and walk yourself over to where Rhea is just sitting up.

"Thanks, mate." She sips her margarita, humming, and you do the same.

You had only taken your eyes off the pool's occupants for a minute that you don't notice one in particular is missing. When you clock Jimmy and Solo staring at you though, your gaze darts around for Jey. Their smirks grow and you tense up. But before you can question where the troublesome individual is, wet arms come down around you from behind. You yelp and a deep chuckle sounds next to your ear.

"You thought you could get away with siccin' my brothers on me, didn't you? My own blood? Nope. Not today, baby girl."

"Jey…" He starts walking towards the pool and you do your best to push back. Unfortunately, he's stronger. "Jey, I have a drink in my hand!"

"Not anymore." Jey had stopped right at the pool's ledge, right where Roman and Damian were, when the margarita is pulled from your hand. You stare down in shock at Damian who's now sipping it.

"You traitor! I'm giving you the shittiest blanket tonight, Priest!"

He shrugs, grinning. "I'll just steal yours."

Everyone starts chanting to toss you in and your toes curl over the pool's ledge as if that'll keep you from going in. "Jey, if you toss me in, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

You know there's no getting out of this predicament, so you reach back and grip onto the sides of Jey's shorts. "I'm taking you with me."

"Wh-" Before he can get the word out, you fall forward and take Jey back into the water with you.

All his weight falls on top of you as you go under water, but it's not as bad as apparently everyone thinks it is. When you resurface, wiping water from your eyes, you're surprised to see everyone looking quite freaked out. Even Jey looks worried, but you merely laugh in return.

"You good, uce?" Jimmy calls out. "That was a whole lot of fat falling on top of you."

You snort as Jey gasps in offense. "I'm good, Jimmy."

You tread water like a foot away from Jey and start stripping off your shirt and shorts while you grumble. You toss them onto the side of the pool, rolling your eyes when Rhea wiggles her eyebrows at you. Jey looks you up and down, even going as far to dip under the water. When he resurfaces, smirking, you swat the back of his head and end up treading water with him and his brothers for a bit.

Eventually, you all end up hanging out around the ledge and in front of the pool lounges where Damian and Solo have swapped out with Rhea and Dominik. Jimmy is the most vocal about getting to know you, especially when he spots you hanging onto his brother's back with Jey's hands supporting you under your thighs as you talk with everyone. He's never seen his twin so comfortable with someone he's just met like this.

No one bats an eye at your stripper past, hell Roman even cracks a joke about taking up stripping if wrestling ever falls through, and then Dominik happily informs them that you're actually quite the little wrestler yourself. You keep it humble though, telling everyone that you're very out of shape and rusty in the ring, and you're like eighty percent sure nothing will come of Rey's thoughts.

They all try to hype you up into seriously thinking about it if wrestling is something you love, but you brush it all off and tell Dominik to help you bring out the steaks from inside.

After drying off, you get the grill going and then put on an apron over your bathing suit. You get the seasoned steaks going on one side of the grill while Dominik fills the other side with corn on the cob that's been smothered in butter and wrapped in foil, as well as the jalapeño poppers. Then while that's cooking, you quickly head inside to dice up the peeled potatoes before dropping them into a pot of water so they can boil.

You and Dominik remain by the grill to make sure nothing overcooks. Then when you have to head back inside, he keeps watch while you mash the potatoes and make a small pot of brown gravy.

When the food gets taken inside, you set everything out on the kitchen island before calling everyone in. They all flood in with towels wrapped around their waists, and none of the men will serve themselves until you and Rhea have made up your plates first. So while you and Rhea take a seat at the table with full plates, you both watch in amusement as they moan and groan about the smell, practically salivating when they take their own seats with their own plates of food.

Dinner ended up being quite the affair, and you were very glad that you had cooked up more steaks than Jey deemed necessary. Apparently his brothers and cousin could really chow down.

Then after dinner and deciding to let the dishwasher get a workout, everyone takes a moment to let their food settle in their stomachs before heading back outside. Instead of the pool, however, they sink into the hot tub.

Drinks are passed around again and the last thing you remember is laughing uncontrollably with this group of people before everything goes dark.

When you wake up, you have a throbbing headache. But not only that, your mouth feels extremely gross, and you want nothing more than to brush your teeth and eat a mountain of breakfast foods. You take a moment to just lay there and wait for the room to stop spinning, and when it does do you take notice of the weight across your stomach. Slowly, you glance to your right and find Jey sleeping peacefully with his arm draped across you. But for some reason, the bed feels like there's more of a presence in it, and when you glance to your left you can't help but smile.

Next to you and under his own blanket is Jimmy, and then on his other side are Rhea and Damian who are sharing a blanket of their own. You're not sure how you all ended up here, but you carefully extricate yourself from the bed to get some answers. You're still in your bikini and you have a feeling everyone else is still in their swimsuits as well, so you know you're gonna have to do laundry so your bedding doesn't smell like chlorine.

After grabbing a pair of baggy sweatpants, a sports bra, and a pair of socks, you take the quickest shower you've ever taken to get the pool smell off of you and brush your teeth. You wring out as much water as you can from your hair, run a towel through it to soak up some more, and then run your fingers through the strands before tying it up in a messy bun just to keep it all off your neck.

As you pad downstairs and into your kitchen, you find Solo and Roman looking through the cabinets. You take a moment to watch them, grinning when you hear Solo quietly moan about wanting coffee, but not knowing where anything is.

"Two cabinets to your left." Solo jerks in surprise and you grin, walking to the cabinet yourself to grab the coffee grounds. You grab the grounds and filters, handing them off to Solo. "Not that I'm mad about it, but what the hell are you guys doing here?"

Roman's chuckle makes you turn around to face him. "You don't remember?"

"Unfortunately, no. I remember a lot of laughing in the hot tub and then sleeping." You squint your eyes a little, flashes of the night coming back. "Was there dancing?"

Solo snorts as he prepares a pot of coffee. "Do not check your Instagram."

"Aww, man. Who gave me the hard stuff to drink?"

"Your cousin."

"Dominik said you're very family orientated and that you needed last night," Roman says. "Rhea kept you supplied with margaritas, Jey and Jimmy took over the music and there was a dancing competition, your cousin decided shots was a good idea, then you got affectionate like a cat on Jey's lap-" you wince in embarrassment, "-and once the weepiness set in, Dom cut you off."

"And where is my idiot cousin?"

"Back at the hotel. He didn't drink like everyone else did. Solo, Jimmy, and I were capable of driving, but no one wanted to risk it with Smackdown in a couple of days."

"Jey jumped at the chance to bunk with you and Damian, and then Rhea volunteered as well. Jimmy, Roman, and I drew straws, and the shortest one had to bunk in your bed with everyone."

You giggle. "Poor Jimmy."

Solo grins. "He wasn't too mad about it though. He got to slip between you and Rhea."

"But Jey was quick to drag you all the way to the wall to keep Jimmy away from you," Roman muses.

You chuckle, reaching up to rub at your temple as you close your eyes. "Shit, guys. I just met you last night and already I made a terrible first impression."

"Nah, you're good," Roman assures you. "You don't know how bad we needed last night. It's been a while since we were able to unwind and last night was-"

"Exactly what we needed," Solo finishes.

"And besides, it's not everyday we meet a fan that's able to still be normal around us."

You freeze. "Why do you say I'm a fan?"

Roman slowly grins. "Well besides the fact that you have family in the biz, you also spent some time last night doing Ripley's entrance alongside her."

"Oh my god."

"Instagram," Solo says. "Don't check it."

"I hate you guys."

The two men chuckle and your stomach grumbling puts you in motion to make something to eat. Roman helps, pulling out some frozen hash that's in the freezer. He gets that going just as you throw some sausage links into another pan, and then Solo takes over making a huge pan of eggs.

Just as you're setting a plate of toast onto the table, Jimmy comes down. He doesn't say anything, but does grab himself a plate and load it up.

The four of you are quiet as you eat, exhaustion still lingering in everyone.

It isn't until Solo takes it upon himself to clear the table do you realize Jimmy and Roman are staring at you. You squint your eyes at them, then at Solo when he reclaims his seat. "What-"

"What are your intentions with Jey?" Jimmy asks.

You snort, grinning. "What?" Roman chuckles and you glance between the three Samoans. "Is this- is this a shovel talk?"

Jimmy shrugs. "It's not every day that Jey shows genuine interest in someone. We just wanna know where you stand."

Upon realizing just how serious these three are, your smile slowly fades. "I like him. I do," you admit. "It's very rare I connect with someone like I did with Jey…" You trail off.

"But-" Jimmy urges.

"But I literally met him like a day and a half ago! And besides, Jey's life is on the road," you tell them. "Being flirty and affectionate is all that I'm able to give him because if I give more…" You sigh sadly. "If I give more, it's inevitable that feelings will develop on my end, and I won't do that to myself." You pause, letting your words sink in. Your gaze falls to the table and your voice lowers. "As cheesy as it sounds, Jey is my definition of right guy, wrong time."

An arm is slung around your shoulders and then you're pulled into Jimmy's side. "Look at this way, sis. If your unc gets you in, you'll be traveling on the road with us and you can be disgustingly cute with my brother all you want."

"Shut up." You nudge him with your elbow. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to sweat out all this alcohol in my system. I'll be in my baby gym while you do whatever you guys wanna do."

Roman starts to stand. "We need to get to the arena and train. Is it cool if we come back later?"

"That's fine. Like I told everyone else, I'm not working until next week. My house is your house."

"Thank you."

As Roman and Jimmy head off to the bathrooms before leaving, Solo surprises you by lingering behind. You smile at him, letting him say whatever's on his mind.

"For what it's worth, I really hope your uncle's serious about getting you into the business. I think my brother really likes you."

"Aw, Solo," you coo. He shakes his head in amusement as you lean in to hug him. "Outside of the ring, you're a good guy. But inside the ring, I'm sad to say that Roman is still my Tribal Chief."

Solo barks out a laugh. As he pulls out of the hug, he asks, "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Roman and I are gonna have a face to face in the ring. You think you can crack his facade if I get you ringside?"

"Solo," you slowly smirk, "it'll be my genuine pleasure."

End Note: Alright, this was bad. I admit that. But I'm slightly obsessed with these characters. Why are they so handsome?

Spanish translations: Prima/Primo - Cousin. Mi amor - My love. Pendenja - Stupid girl. Estúpida - feminine version for stupid. Hermosa - Beautiful.

[pedrospatch]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

summary: Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. no physical description of reader, no mention of her age, reader has both of her parents, reader has a little sister (15 and unnamed), reader has a close relationship with her family (cannot say i am writing this from experience oop), reader is from a small, unnamed town somewhere in the midwest (state not specified), established relationship, mention of ex-boyfriend, mentions of alcohol consumption, reassurance, fluff, smutty themes towards the end but no smut.

word count: 2k

a/n: this was not planned and very spur of the moment. i think i needed a palette cleanse from writing so much joel. it’s my first time writing for frankie but i like the way it turned out. <3 i it’s 3 am, i wrote this in an hour and it is not proofread, so please excuse any errors. this is based on a song called more hearts than mine by ingrid andress.

“It’s late,” you worry. “Where could they be?”

Amused, your mother watches you anxiously pace back and forth in front of the dining room table. “My darling, can you please relax? They probably hit some traffic on their way back home from the lake. I bet you anything those two will be walking through the front door any second now,” she assures you. At that precise moment, her cell phone vibrates on the table, the loud buzzing noise garnering her attention. She picks it up and raises her eyebrows in complete surprise. “Oh. Or maybe not. Your father just texted me and said they’re stopping for a couple of drinks at the bar. He says not to wait up for them.”

Halting mid pace, you whirl around and stare at her. 

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” She shows you the text. “See?”

“Jesus,” you mutter. Shaking your head, you drop down into the chair across from hers.

“That’s a pretty good sign. Don’t you think so, honey?”

It is because your father taking your boyfriend out on a fishing trip and then taking him to his favorite bar for drinks afterwards means that their time alone together has gone well. But, even though your father had clearly taken a liking to him, he won’t ever show it. Sure, he’ll buy him dinner and he’ll buy him drinks, he’ll check his tires and take a look underneath the hood of his pickup truck to make sure everything looks good, but he’ll do it with a scowl on his face and a standoffish attitude.

“He hates me, baby. Your old man hates me,” Frankie declared after his first dinner with your family. You had both arrived in your hometown that same evening after a gruelling, sixteen hour drive to the midwest. Despite being exhausted from the trip, he’d put his best foot forward for them—he’d charmed your mother and your little sister, had them both wrapped around his finger by the time dessert had been served. But your father, oh he had been much harder for him to win over. “He barely said two words to me all night.”

“My dad doesn’t hate you,” you swore to him, rubbing a soft, soothing circle into his broad back. “Do you want to know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

He’d snorted. “What, and that means he likes me?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you joked with a giggle. “It’s still too early to tell if he likes you. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t break out a bottle of whiskey for someone he hates, Frankie.”

Sighing, you lift your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Poor Frankie. He’s probably spent the better part of the whole day just trying to figure him out.

“I like him,” your mother says after a minute. “I like him a lot.”

“What a coincidence,” you grin. “I like him a lot too.”

She laughs. “I’m serious! He’s incredible, darling. He is so handsome. He’s sweet. Seems like he’s got a really good head on his shoulders—”

“Are we talking about Francisco?” Your sister walks into the dining room with can of Dr. Pepper in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Your mother smiles. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s kinda perfect, actually.” She takes a casual sip of her soda and raises an eyebrow at you. “I have to admit though, I’m afraid to get attached to Frankie. You know, after what happened with Jake—”

You wince at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name.

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

“I’m just saying! When he broke up with you, it’s like he broke up with all of us. It sucked.” She shrugs, adding, “I mean, even dad was sad about it for months. Wasn’t he, mom?”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Your mother glares at her.

Your sister starts towards the staircase, but stops and glances over her shoulder. “I like Frankie,” she tells you, smiling wryly. “And I really hope he sticks around.” With that, she disappears upstairs.

Sighing heavily, your mom turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t understand what happened—”

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” you murmur. “I need some fresh air.”

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

“Mm?” you mumble sleepily. “Frankie, what are—ow!”

You groan when he switches on the lamp on the beside table. Rolling over, you bury your face into your pillow.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, chuckling softly. The twin sized mattress squeaks, dipping as he somehow squeezes himself beside you on your childhood bed. He’s staying in the guest room down the hallway—you parents, who were incredibly old school, had insisted the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms during your stay. Draping his arm around you, he leans down and nuzzles into the side of your face. Even with your nose buried in your pillow, you pick up the scent of sunscreen mingled with beer. “Just wanted to tell you I’m back home.”

Lifting your head, you blink furiously until your blurred vision stabilizes.

“What—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Frankie’s cheeks and nose are red, sunburned from having been out on your dad’s boat all afternoon. You’re willing to bet he’d forgotten to put the sunscreen on his face. Even though you’d warned him a hundred times not to forget.

“What?” You sit up, prompting him to do the same. “It’s eleven and you only now just got back?”

“Your old man took me to Gordon’s,” Frankie explains, referring to one of the only few bars your small town had to offer. It was the place where you would meet with your old high school friends to catch up with each other whenever you were home visiting. At some point this week, you would be sitting in a booth at that old bar with them, introducing Frankie, and squirming when they began to tell him embarrassing stories of all those crazy nights from your senior year. “We went in with plans to have a couple beers before coming home, but then we ran into some of his buddies there. He introduced me, they bought us more drinks, and we played a game of pool. Your dad whooped my ass, of course.”

“How did fishing go?”

“Great. Y’know, once he stopped looking at me like he wanted to throw me overboard.”

You let out an amused huff. “He would never.”

“I don’t know. That man is pretty hard to read.” Frankie reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “One minute we’d be talking, shooting the shit while we waited for the fish to bite, and the next he would look at me like he was seriously thinking about pushing me off his boat and into the water.” He squeezes your hand, a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “I spent all goddamn day with him and I still can’t tell if he likes me yet or not.”

Lifting his hand, you press a tender kiss to the back of it, a sweet token of affection.

“He likes you, Frankie,” you murmur against his skin. “I know it. My whole family likes you. Except my mom—”

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

Frankie turns to you. Despite your smile, he can see the hint of concern in your eyes. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You hesitate.

After what your sister had said earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake and brought him home too soon. You and Frankie had been together for about six months now, and besides having a drawer of your things at his place for when you stayed overnight, you two hadn’t really sat down to talk about what the next step in your relationship would be—you and Frankie hadn’t discussed the possibility of a future together. Truth be told, you had never felt the need to question him about where this was heading. You’d been perfectly content in allowing things to unfold between you without putting any kind of pressure on yourself, or on him. At least, up until now, you had been content.

You’d been silly to think bringing Frankie home to meet your family wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, that it wouldn’t make you consider what came next. But you had forgotten how easily your mother falls in love, how quickly your little sister can form an attachment, and how your father, despite being rough around the edges, feels every heartache you go through as if it’s his own.

You think back to when your previous relationship went down in flames, you remember the helpless look on your father’s face whenever he would see you crying. “I never liked him,” he’d said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice. But that had been a lie. He’d seen him as the son he never had. He lost something, too. Your whole family had to heal from that loss along with you.

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You glance down at your hand in his. “Frankie, the last thing I want to do is scare you off,” you start to say, a nervous edge to your tone. “Or put any kind of pressure on you to give me anything more than what you have already given me. But now that you’ve met my family, I can’t help but worry a little bit.”

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

Sighing, you confess, “My last relationship—it didn’t end very well, Frankie. My family loved him, adored him the way I can see they’re already starting to adore you. When he broke up with me, he broke more hearts than just mine.” You force yourself to look up, and meet his gaze with a wistful smile. “I guess there’s a part of me that’s scared it’ll happen again.”

Frankie’s dark brown eyes soften. “Oh baby, there’s no need to be scared. That’s never gonna happen.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll never happen?”

“Easy, because I love you. And I know you love me.” He reaches over with his free hand and he cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheekbone. “I’m in this for the long haul. I wouldn’t have driven sixteen hours across the country with you to come meet your family if I wasn’t. I’m serious about you—I’m serious about us, baby.”

Frankie leans in, gently pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste, but sweet kiss.

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you see?”

“Mi futuro,” he tells you. “I see my future.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

“I do. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and so is your family,” Frankie grins. “Your dad is gonna have plenty of opportunities to contemplate throwing me off his boat and into the lake.”

You giggle as he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your neck. “Frankie,” you say his name warningly as he pushes you onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently, positioning himself on top of you. He plants his hands on either side of your head and dips his head, nipping lightly at the tender flesh over your pulse point. “How thin are these walls?”

“Francisco Morales, no, you are not fucking me in my parent’s house, not in my childhood bedroom—”

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

“Guess I’ll head back to the guest room, then,” Frankie murmurs, feathering one last kiss onto your neck.

He starts to climb off of you and your hands shoot out, curling around fistfuls of his shirt to stop him.

“I can be quiet,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. You take one of his hands and guide it underneath the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing to the apex of your thighs. “Can you?”

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, running a finger along the damp cotton of your panties. He slips it beneath the fabric, his blood rushing south when he meets your slick folds. “God, I fucking hope so, or else I’ll actually end up at the bottom of that fucking lake.”

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 

But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 

— And she wasn’t? 

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 

— No. 

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 

The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay? 

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 

— No. Just coffee. 

— Sugar? 

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 

— Ja. Thank you. 

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 

— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 

You still want to ruffle his hair. 

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 

— Nein, thank you. 

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it. 

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 

— Don’t wander at night again. 

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 

— I won’t. Promise. 

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

[fictionismyreality3]

Hiiiiii I'm SO SO SO MADLY IN LOVE with your Stalker!Jason fic, the way you wrote it was just UGH TAKE ME (sure did put me to some quality sleep there).

I was hoping if you would write about Classmate!Jason (n kinda stalk-ish) where he is protective n stuff towards reader (much like sunshine x grumpy trope)

Love love loveeeeee your writing🖤🖤🖤

-🦇anon-

Make You Pay

Jason Todd x Reader

You’re my second emoji anon and as such I have adopted you and will not take no for an answer 😇

Tags: classmate!jason, stalker!jason, possessive!jason, jealous!jason, angry!jason, innocent!reader if you look really hard

Warnings: allusions to violence, motorcycles, stalking

Notes: no hate to surfer dudes ☮️

Your pencil hit repeatedly on the dark wood of the desk, sending little taps echoing throughout the otherwise quiet library. You had an exam in two weeks and were already struggling through the study material your professor provided for you. Passing this class seemed like a mile away. How the hell were you going to pass your biology final if the only thing you remembered was that mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell?

The only thing keeping you going at this point was picturing the cute faces of the puppies, kittens and other animals you’d get to help once you’d graduated. Using the last of your willpower, you moved on to the next slide deck, only for your laptop to give out on you, the screen going black. As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

“Hey, baby, come take a break from studying.”

Okay, maybe you spoke a little too soon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the curly, blonde headed figure of Holden coming your way, a sneer on his face. Despite the fact that your skin was crawling from the pet name, you began to hastily pack up your stuff, pretending not to see him.

It wasn’t that you were the type of girl to be complacent with poor intentioned men, but Holden had obviously taken your first day of class friendless a little too close to his heart.

“C’mon, baby. I know you see me.” He said, his words with an undertone of slimy sarcasm.

Sighing to yourself, you shoved the last of your papers into your bag and turned to face him, plastering a smile on your face as you began walking to the library exit.

“Sorry, I really have to go, my friends are waiting for me.” You said politely.

Making a beeline for the exit, you glanced back at Holden, hoping he didn’t follow you, and bumped into someone, your book bag scattering across the floor.

Big, calloused hands filled your field of view, handing you your books as you frantically gathered your things. Your gaze was met with the blue-green eyes of Jason Todd.

He wasn’t someone you knew very well, usually sitting in the back of the lecture halls where you preferred the front, but you’d seen him riding around campus on his motorcycle. From the limited interaction you did have with him, his lips always seemed to be pressed in a thin line of annoyance, or pulled down in a soft frown. So, you always tried your best to cheer him up, but the most you’d ever earned was a little snicker after a ridiculously bad joke.

You wondered why he had so much to frown about.

Before now, Jason hadn’t taken much notice of you, the bubbly girl who seemed to constantly radiate some level of happiness. At most he found you less annoying than then rest of the people on campus. Maybe it was because you looked so startled, innocently glancing between him and that blonde dickhead who was constantly on your ass. Maybe it was how he noticed your hands were so much smaller than his, brushing against his skin as he handed you your notebook.

Maybe it was because you were on your hands and knees, but Jay suddenly noticed the pretty colour of your hair, and the way your clothes reflected your sunny personality. Your eyes were a little more captivating and he found himself wanting to reach out and run his thumb along your bottom lip.

He also wanted to break the nose of that surfer looking idiot who was still talking.

“Here, don’t let ‘em bother you, sweetheart.” Helping you up, Jason ushered you to continue to wherever you were going. “Thank you?” You mumbled confused, the pet name hugging you like a warm blanket.

As you were practically pushed out the library doors, you looked back to see Jason exchanging words with Holden, who was getting more and more disagreeable. You were never the type to get involved in trouble, so you quickly turned on your heel and walked away.

When he was done with asshole Henry.. Harry? Jason didn’t care, he made his way to his bike, pulling out his phone and opening up an app, technology courtesy of Bruce. He wanted to make sure you got back to the dorms safely, and the tracker he’d slipped in your book bag would ensure that.

It wasn’t anything sinister, Jason just knew now that he had found something far too precious for this world, something that was too sweet and gentle to take care of itself. That’s okay.

He would take care of you now.

You saw Jason again a few days later. Holden didn’t show up to class that week, and nobody commented on Jay’s bloody knuckles.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Distract Me (Vessel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Hello hello! I finally managed to finish this request, even with a name change at that, thank you so much for your patience @theriseofshin ! We have some sweet and fluffy Vessel this chapter. Our reader is a little scared of storms and Vessel can't help but do everything in his power to try and comfort her. Lots of soft touches, awkward flirting, and Ves just being big and cuddly and sweet because I'm so soft for that man. I hope you enjoy! If you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

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The afternoon sun was warm on your face, the faint scent of lavender drifting through the open window as you stood at your sink finishing some dishes. The TV played softly in the living room, the pretty blonde meteorologist tracing along the edge of a massive storm cell that was rolling your way. You sighed, drying your hands as you leaned against the counter; it looked like you were in for a long night. A gentle knock on your door drew your attention away from the screen. Your bare feet padded across the dark hardwood floor, slinging your dish towel over your shoulder. You stood on your toes to peer outside, the frosted, textured glass above your door muddling your visitors' form. You can't help but smile as you recognize Vessel’s tall, broad frame. “Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?” You greet him sweetly as you open the door; your heart begins to pound in your chest as you feel him study you.

“IV picked a bunch of fresh fruit today. I wanted to stop by and bring you some.” He holds out the large container that was practically overflowing with various berries. You accept it with a soft ‘thank you,’ your fingers brushing over his during the exchange.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I would love to.” He responds a little too quickly; you hold back a laugh as you watch him cringe slightly at his actions. “I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.” He adds on with a bashful chuckle.

“No trouble at all; I was just about to make some tea.” You nod for him to follow you inside. He ducks through your doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets as he curiously looks around your house. You couldn't help but watch him from the kitchen, smiling softly as you saw him delicately pick up whatever knick-knack had caught his attention, being as careful as possible with the fragile object before setting it back perfectly in place. Ever since the two of you met, Vessel had always held a special sense of caution around you, knowing how intimidating his massive stature could come off; everything he did was settled with a particular degree of care. You're snapped from your thoughts by your kettle beginning to sing.

You sat side by side on your couch, the breeze through the open windows sending a chill through your apartment. The trees danced in the wind, welcoming in the oncoming storm with open arms as dark clouds began to roll in from the distance. Your mug of tea warmed your hands, and a bowl of freshly washed fruit was set between you as you asked Vessel how things were back at the camp. “You should come back with me; I'm sure everyone would love to see you.” He offers with a soft smile.

“I would–” you were cut off by the sound of thunder rumbling, “love… to…” You couldn't help but let your gaze trail to the window, finally noticing that the storm was moving in much quicker than you or the weather channel could have predicted. You swallow thickly before turning your attention back to Vessel, you didn't have a lot of time left. “Um, but it'll have to be some other time.”

“Love, what's wrong?” He sits up from his reclined position, moving closer to you subconsciously when he realizes your nervous state.

“It’s stupid, Ves, promise.” You chuckle, your hands squeezing into fists at another growl of thunder. A warm hand comes to rest on your cheek, your eyes meeting the slits of his mask. His thumb trails across your skin, “storms just make me a little nervous, that’s all.”

You see him start to speak, but he quickly pauses, contemplating whether or not to say whatever has crossed his mind. “If you like,” he begins slowly, “I could always stay until it passes.” He offers, and you feel your pulse begin to race.

“I'd really like that, Ves.” You respond softly. You exchange a coy smile.

“I’ll keep you nice and safe, love, don't worry.” He teases with a soft chuckle, making your cheeks grow warm.

“Trust me, I didn't have any doubts in the first place.” He stands holding out his hand for you to take. He helped you shut all your windows, allowing you to collect your emergency candles and flashlights in case the power went out. You can't help but smile as you watch him organize what you had handed him neatly on your coffee table. “You’re sure you don't mind staying? This could go on all night; I wouldn't want to keep you.”

He hums, slowly striding over to you. “Let me think, go back to camp to spend the night alone in my cabin or to be curled up here with you?” He pretends to ponder over his options for a moment. “I think the latter sounds a little better, don't you?” He glances down at you with a playful smirk.

“You're sweet.” You respond shyly. Over the time you had known Vessel, the two of you had grown rather close; you were someone who he found himself slowly deconstructing the walls he had built up around himself for, and he was someone who you felt effortlessly connected to from the moment you met him. Although neither of you would admit it, through your growing friendship, something else began to grow out of it as well. After breaking through his cold, rigid exterior, you discovered that Vessel was quite sweet. It was in the little things you noticed: how he would always make sure to hold doors open for you, offering you his arm through rockier parts of trails on hikes, how he would absentmindedly comb his fingers through your hair as you lay together, reading outside. Everything about being with him just felt so right.

The two of you quietly prepared dinner together, Vessel humming along with the radio as he finished up the last few dishes. A smile spreads across his face as he catches your gaze lingering on him. You quickly dart your eyes back to the pan on the stove, your cheeks growing warm at the realization you had been caught. You jump slightly as you feel a pair of large, warm hands settle on your waist. “Smells good,” he remarks simply.

“Let's just hope it tastes good, too.” You giggle.

By the time you sat down to eat, the rain was pelting against the windows. As you look outside, you twirl your fork nervously between your fingers, the trees blowing violently in the wind. A bright flash of lightning exploded across the sky; you jumped at the sudden boom of thunder that shook the room. Vessel took your hand, his thumb soothingly running over your knuckles. “If it makes you feel any better, I'm not the biggest fan of storms myself.” You shoot him a playful, skeptical look. “I'm serious!” He exclaims with a chuckle.

“Sorry,” you respond with a giggle of your own, “I'm just surprised. I feel pretty silly about the fact I'm scared of thunderstorms-”

“You shouldn't be; it's cute.” He pauses as the compliment tumbles from his lips. You can't stop the bashful smile that immediately spreads across your features. Vessel tries to speak, but no words manage to find their way out. “I'm sorry.” He finally manages after a moment.

“Don't be.” You glance up at him, his shoulders visibly relaxing as your eyes land on the slits of his mask. You gently squeeze his hand, “I'm really happy you're here, Ves.” You admit softly. He studies you momentarily, noticing how you seemed to lean into him for comfort when the storm outside became too loud for you to ignore.

He states your name gently, tugging you closer by your hand as he straightens up from his reclined position on the couch. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips hovered just a little too close to yours. “It's alright, I've got you, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest as he shoots you a sharp smile. Your cheeks burned, and you were sure your heart was pounding loud enough he could hear it. You relaxed into his embrace, allowing your body to mold against his. Vessel’s thumb languidly rubbed over your waist, making electricity danced across your skin where your shirt had lifted up. “Did I ever tell you about the time III managed to get both of his boots stuck in the mud, so he had to walk back to camp barefoot?” You shoot him a confused look, laughter slowly bubbling up in your chest as you thought about how mad III must have been.

“No, I don't think you have.” Vessel holds you close as he does his best to distract you from the weather outside. Telling you whatever story he could think of that would make you laugh. IV dropping an entire pot of pasta on the floor, a bear making off with a basket of II’s laundry, the countless numbers of times Ves has smacked his head in a doorframe or a hanging light, anything to keep a smile on your face. “You need to be careful; you're going to end up hurting yourself one of these days.” You giggle.

“That won't be such a bad thing if I have a pretty little thing like you to nurse me back to health.” You playfully swat at his shoulder, making him chuckle. You hide your face against him, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “I’m sorry, I can't help myself. You're absolutely adorable when you get all flustered.”

“Well, you definitely don't have any trouble accomplishing that, do you?” You glance back up at him through your lashes, a nervous yet coy smile reaching your lips. 

“What can I say?” He starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to make sure you feel special.” Vessel swallows thickly, his hand brushing over your cheek as his fingers slide into your hair. You let out a small startled sound as you’re suddenly plunged into darkness. Panic immediately begins to bubble up in your throat as it becomes apparent just how bad the storm had gotten; the wind rattled the glass panels of your windows, the rain pelting against your roof made the room entirely too loud yet somehow impossibly quiet as the background humming of all your appliances had been cut. “I'm right here, lovey; I got you.” You're snapped from your thoughts by Vessel’s deep voice rumbling close to your ear.

“I'm sorry,” you apologize with a soft chuckle, your voice trembling slightly as you speak, “I feel silly–”

“There's no need to, sweetheart.” He reassures you, carefully cradling you against his chest. “It's a bad storm; there's nothing wrong with getting a little anxious.” He presses a finger below your chin, angling you to look up at him. “I guess I just need to do a better job of distracting you, hm?” His knuckle trails along your jaw, your hand fists into the soft material of his sweatshirt at another loud crack of thunder.

“Ves?” you state his name softly, you feel his lips ghost over yours.

“Yes, love?” He responds in a similar tone.

“Distract me.” He tips you back into the plush couch cushions, allowing a growl to slip past his lips. In an instant, Vessel ensnared every one of your senses; his large hands were warm as they gripped desperately at your waist, fingers skimming bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. His weight blanketed you, firm muscles pressing into the plushness of your body. The taste of sweet, herbal tea mixed with the slight bitterness of the paint that adorned his lips. You could feel the edge of his mask dig into your skin, your mind numb to the sensation as you found yourself unable to focus on anything besides the feeling of Vessel’s lips on yours. A flash of lightning lit up the room, glowing orange through your eyelids; a loud boom of thunder followed it. Vessel feels your grip on him tighten at the sound; he breaks away from you for just a moment to whisper sweet words of reassurance against your lips. “You're alright, sweetheart; I'm right here; I got you.” He keeps your focus on him, your lips buzzing as the two of you finally break apart for longer than a few seconds. Vessel chuckles, running a thumb over your tender bottom lip. “Sorry if I was too rough, I've been waiting a long time to be able to do that.”

“Same here.” You giggle bashfully. “And you weren't, I really like… I really like the way it feels when you kiss me.” You admit breathlessly. He continues to hold you close for the rest of the night, pulling your lips to his as a distraction whenever the weather picked up again. After a while, you struggled to suppress your yawns, the warmth of Vessel’s arms making your whole body melt into his touch.

“Let’s get you to bed, lovey.” He whispers, slipping an arm behind your knees to lift you from the couch effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, sleepily pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for staying with me, Ves.” He can't help but smile, turning to press a kiss to your forehead. He lays you in bed, carefully situating you under the covers. Your hand slips into his; he brushes some hair out of your face as he studies you with a gaze of pure admiration. “Do you have to go?” You ask quietly as if speaking too loud would somehow break your perfect evening.

“Not if you don't want me to.” You slide back across the mattress, gently tugging him into the bed beside you. He hesitates at first, thrown off by eagerness to have him beside you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your much smaller form on top of him. You tense slightly as a boom of thunder erupts from outside, the storm finally on its way out. You glance up at Vessel only to be met with a soft smile as he gently caresses your cheek. Without a word, he pulled your lips back to his, and suddenly, the storm outside didn’t seem quite as scary anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List is in the comments below!

[nxuvillette]

BEHIND THE SCENES — OLIVER AIKU

synopsis: you and oliver’s sex tape had gotten leaked onto twitter. your relationship comes to a halt, but once you reconnect, you recall what happened that night he filmed your sexual encounter with each other.

❥- pairings : oliver aiku x fem!reader

❥- note : thank you to @flseur for helping me with this idea !! i seriously couldn’t have done it without you <3. i hope you all enjoy !! reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, secret relationship, personal trainer!reader, some brief angst, non consensual video sharing (oliver did not share it !), mentions of food, use of pet names (baby , princess , good girl), consensual recording, unprotected sex, begging, praising, marking, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking.

The sun spread its golden rays into your bedroom through the beige curtains that blanketed your windows. It was your day off. You enjoyed nothing more than taking in an extra hour or two of sleep. It was your normal routine during the weekends, so you decided to roll over onto the other side of your bed and try and focus on sleeping. 

BUZZ!

Your phone would normally vibrate throughout the morning or even during the night. You had friends who would send you Instagram posts or even text you to ask about meeting for coffee on a certain day. It wasn’t unusual at all, so you didn’t really pay much attention to your cell phone. You were too drowned in sleep to even bat an eye.

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

Your sleepy eyes opened slightly at the sound of four consecutive notifications. You didn’t know who was messaging you at this early hour, but it was getting kind of annoying. Part of you wanted to put your phone on do not disturb, but the laziness of being in bed only sucked you back into the mattress you were resting on. It was probably nothing. Your friends were probably just blowing up your phone with posts or other random shit. It was never that important.

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

An annoyed sigh left your lips. Who the hell was spamming you? You wondered if it was Isagi who had something stupid to say sometimes, but when you lifted your phone off the bedside table, you were surprised to see that it wasn’t him. There were multiple text messages coming from not just your close friends, but one of your clients, Oliver Aiku.

Your eyes scanned over the messages, furrowing your brows at the contents of them.

Kunigami: umm.. is this you??

Isagi: hey, y/n, idk if you’ve gone online buy something is out there and i really hope you’re alright.

Oliver: y/n

Oliver: y/n please pick the fuck up right now

Oliver: this is not the time to be ignoring me we need to talk asap.

Sae: wtf is going on??

Oliver: y/n please call me when you have the chance

Confusion covered your body at the concerns of your friends. Isagi’s message confused you the most, though, because what did he mean something happened online? You weren’t really big on social media like that. Sure, you had a few thousand followers on Twitter and Instagram, but by no means were you some kind of influencer or celebrity online. You preferred it that way. Having too much attention was overwhelming and you never liked the spotlight to begin with.

You swiped out of your messages and went onto Twitter. To your surprise, your notifications were blowing up and your small number of followers had jumped seemingly overnight. It made you even more confused now, because what happened? You didn’t post any tweets that could go viral, so what was all of this attention for? It wasn’t until you pressed a video you were tagged in that you realized what you were going viral for. 

Immediately, you recognized yourself. You were lying in the bed of your client, Oliver Aiku, and he was fucking the shit out of you. Everything about that night had rushed back into your brain at light speed. You remembered giving Oliver permission to record the sex you were having, but you never allowed him to post it. Neither of you wanted something like that to get out, and it was like a nightmare knowing that it was out and so many people had seen it. There was this pit in your gut that made you sick to your stomach. Did Oliver leak it? Did he show it or send it to someone else and they released it? You were pissed, hurt, but most of all, you felt embarrassed. Hundreds of people saw you at your most vulnerable and who knows what might happen to you now that this was public news. 

You left Twitter and searched for Oliver’s contact. It made sense why he was messaging you so much. He must have seen it way before you did. 

You pressed the call option and it began to ring, but after a few seconds, he picked up. “(Y/N)! Thank god..” he sounded panicked, which annoyed you. “I dunno how-“

“Oliver, what the fuck?! How did this happen?! Did you fucking leak it or send it to someone? Be honest with me, because I’m so fucking.. mortified right now.” you were very angry, more angry than you had ever been in your life. You knew what kind of man he was, so it wouldn’t have shocked you if he was the one to share your business.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before speaking to you again. He was well aware of how bad this looked. Things like this happen all of the time to women without their knowledge, and it’s a disgusting matter. He understood your feelings completely. “(Y/N).. I didn’t leak the tape, I promise. I would never ever share something like that with anyone else. Baby, you know I’m not that kind of guy..” he sounded upset, but also genuine at the same time. 

You shook your head, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but all of this seemed way too sketchy. Oliver was always a ladies man and it was shocking enough that he wanted to have a relationship with you that wasn’t just professional, so maybe it was just too good to be true. “Then how did it get out? It doesn’t make sense, Oliver. I know you’re a good guy.. but how do I know you’re not lying to me right now?” you questioned, looking down at the floor.

Oliver sighed, knowing you had somewhat of a point. Given the circumstances, it made sense why you would accuse him of doing such a thing, but he genuinely liked you. He would never do that to anyone. “My manager was telling me that I should start moving shit off of my iCloud because people are hacking, so I must have forgotten to move it and someone more than likely hacked into it and posted it.” he said. “I promise, baby, I would never do that to you. I like you so much.. I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

You didn’t reply for a few seconds. It did seem likely that his cloud could have gotten hacked, but still, it didn’t help that the video was now out there for the world to see. Many strangers saw your body and your voice. It made you feel dirty and it was such an uncomfortable feeling. Oliver probably didn’t fully understand how you felt, but you weren’t about to argue with him on that. 

“I want to take a break, Oliver.”

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. You could tell that Oliver wasn’t happy with it based on his reaction, but this was all too much for you. This could destroy your life and even career opportunities. “Right.. um, I understand, (Y/N).” he broke the silence. “I’m sorry again.. I was an idiot to not properly protect our privacy. I’m here if you need anything, always.”

After that, the phone suddenly hung up. He didn’t even give you any warning, but you knew it upset him. It wasn’t like either of you meant for this to happen, but it was a very serious matter. You didn’t want your family seeing that or someone you were good friends with. You needed time to clear your head and just be by yourself for a little while. Things like this don’t just pass overnight, so you wanted to disconnect for a bit.

TWO MONTHS LATER 

The aroma of coffee filled your nose as you sat in the cafe. Many people entered and exited with their orders and others sat down to use the wifi that the cafe offered to do work. 

You sat at one of the tables beside the window. A few small snowflakes danced onto the ground from the sky. It was quite a chilly day. The wind was like glass being cut against your skin and bundling up didn’t exactly help with the sheer cold. You were kind of nervous. It was the first time in two months that you had seen Oliver in person, and you both decided to meet up after not speaking with one another for a while. It was going to be awkward and you knew that, but you wanted to at least see him and talk.

You shifted around when you noticed Oliver stepping into the cafe. His eyes immediately lit up when he saw you sitting by yourself at the table. He looked the same as ever. His stubble was a bit shorter and he had that same haircut he usually had. 

The stool screeched when he pulled it out to sit across from you. You didn’t want this to feel weird or awkward, so you put on the bravest face you could find and smiled at him. “Hey.. long time no see, how are you?” you placed your hands around the coffee cup which was still warm. 

He took in your appearance and couldn’t help but grin as well at you. Oliver couldn’t lie, he missed you a lot. You were once his everything and to lose you made him feel like shit. He knew he fucked up back then and he wanted to make things better again between you two. “I’m doing okay, you? How have you been? I kind of missed you..” he said, reaching over to place his hand atop of yours.

His touch was like electricity on your skin. It had been so long since you felt him against you. Not seeing him for so long brought back so many reminders as to why you were into him in the first place. “I missed you too..” you replied. “I’ve just been managing lately. After everything, I took a break from social media and such. I was lucky enough to keep my job.”

Oliver felt a sting in his heart at the situation. He knew this was ten times worse for you than it was for him. He was mocked by a few of his teammates who didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, but he knew it was much more bad for you than it was for him. “I see.. I’m glad to see you, though. You look good.” he tried soothing you the best he could, even if it didn’t work as well. 

“Look, I.. I know that wasn’t entirely your fault for what happened. I shouldn’t have just thrown it all on you, but I’m over it.” you looked at him with seriousness all over your expression. “The video was taken down and I don’t want that to define me whatsoever, so I forgive you, Oliver.”

He seemed genuinely relieved to hear that you didn’t hate him. He thought you were going to knock him out and whoop the shit out of him for what happened. He truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He cared for you deeply and the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt or hate him. “I appreciate that.. and again, I’m sorry. This was my fault for not being smart enough.” he said, squeezing your hand tightly. 

You smiled at him. “Trust me, it’s okay, you couldn’t have known this was going to happen. I promise..” you replied.

Both of you sat there for a few moments just taking in the atmosphere around you. It was all familiar to you. That’s what you liked the most about Oliver. He made you feel safe and you felt like you could genuinely be yourself around him. You missed him a lot. It took a lot in you to not reach out, but after some time, you figured you would patch things up with him. He was your client, after all. Being his personal trainer meant you’d see him more often and the last thing you wanted was for things to become awkward.

His thumb brushed against your palm, making eye contact with you at the same time. “I wanna take you out.. I don’t care if people see us together.” he lifted your hand to kiss it. 

Your cheeks felt hot at his proposal. Normally, you two kept things pretty private, but seeing that he didn’t care about it being public, it made you happy. “I’d love that..” you grinned, looking at him with a happy glint in your eyes.

While sitting there, you began to remember what had happened the night you and Oliver had hooked up. At that point, you two had been seeing each other for a month or two. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to come over to his place after having a workout, but that night was different. You could feel it when Oliver kept brushing his hands against yours, or the way he stood a little too close to your ass which led his aching cock to brush against it. It didn’t take long for you to end up on the bed inside his bedroom. 

Oliver’s lips touched against your skin. His teeth grazed against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, licking and sucking to leave a mark that would be visible to anyone. His large hands were all over your body. He wasted zero time tearing off your leggings and pulling down your sports bra to reveal your pretty tits he had spent so much time eyeing. He was so gentle. He left a trail of wet kisses on the valley between your breasts and then down towards your navel. He thought your body was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He spent so much time fantasizing about what he’d do if he was alone with you, and now that moment had come. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers so easily.

A smirk appeared on his features when he saw the damp spot soaking through your panties. He hooked his fingers under the hem and pulled the fabric down from your thighs, exposing your pretty cunt. His cock hardened immediately when he saw how wet you were. Fuck, you really were perfect in every way possible. “Shiitt, all this for me, princess?” he chuckled, spreading your thighs apart to see your pretty hole.

You whimpered when you felt his breath fan over your pussy. You were practically throbbing over the fact that he was hovering over you. “Y-Yes..” you moaned. “Oliver, please.. I need you..” 

He was surprised to see that you were tugging at his shirt to bring him closer. Who was he to deny you of what you wanted? He then tossed off his shirt, throwing it somewhere into his bedroom. You shivered when you watched him pull down his shorts, revealing his cock that was leaking pre-cum around the tip. A happy trail went down from his stomach all the way to his pubes that were properly trimmed. You had seen him shirtless many times before, but seeing his dick made you even more turned on. 

The tip of his cock slid against your clit. You moaned softly at the contact it made with your body. You wanted him inside you so badly. You didn’t even have the desire to make him do foreplay. “Ready for me, baby..?” he looked down at you, positioning his cock at your entrance. 

You nodded, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. “Yes.. so ready..” you looked at him with desperate eyes. 

Oliver then pushed himself into you. A sharp gasp slipped through your lips at the sensation of his cock filling your cunt. The stretch was intense. You felt like you could hardly take him from how big he was. He was only halfway in and you already felt so full from just that. The burn felt too good. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Oliver didn’t mind the pain, though. He was losing it right about now. You were so tight and the way your pussy hugged his cock was so perfect. He couldn’t help but groan at how much pleasure he was feeling. Where the hell had you been? 

Once given the go ahead to move, Oliver set himself at a rougher pace. He wanted to go slow, but he couldn’t keep fighting with himself. Any restraint he had early on was now diminishing with every rut of his hips. He was so lost within you. He couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your cries of pleasure were uncontrollable at that point. His cock was bullying your walls and reaching places inside you that made your body melt for him. It didn’t help that he had all the stamina in the world from being a pro athlete. He could probably go on for hours without feeling tired. “Oliver! God, yes! M-More! I need more!” you whined, making eye contact with him. 

He smirked at how needy you were for him. Oliver never imagined he’d have you underneath him like this. His cock stuffing your pussy, making you sob from how good it was. This was all a dream for him, and he was so thankful it had finally come true. “Yeah? More, baby? Fuck, I’ll give you more..” he then reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his cell phone that had been discarded for almost an hour now. “Wanna be on camera, princess..?”

Your head shook almost instantly at his request. You trusted Oliver more than anything. Plus, it was kind of thrilling to you that you would be filmed. It made you clench around him just a little tighter when the thought crossed your mind. “Yes..” you spat out.

Oliver then held his phone above you. He moved your legs so your knees were now nearly touching the bed you were lying on. It gave him the perfect view of everything. You were a bit stunned at first when the flash turned on, but none of that mattered to you. You were too lost in bliss to think about that. 

He began to play with your puffy clit, sending multiple waves of pleasure to wash over you. He thought you looked so fucking cute. He knew he made the right choice in finding you that day. You were everything Oliver Aiku ever wanted in a woman. “Like that..? Look at you.. bein’ such a good girl while I fuck you..” he grunted. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna ruin you..”

Oliver tossed his phone aside, focusing solely on you once again. His pace picked up. It was so fast that you saw stars in your vision whenever he reached your g-spot. His balls smacked against your throbbing clit, creating some lewd noises that filled the room. Beads of sweat trickled down Oliver’s gorgeous body, leaving a nice shine to his skin and his muscles. He looked so hot above you. You wished you could snap a photo of him so you could remember that night forever.

The burning pit inside your stomach was only growing larger with every thrust. Oliver could feel your pussy slowly becoming tighter around him. He knew you were close. You had become so desperate for that release. It was clawing at you like an animal wanting to escape from its cage. “O-Oliver.. I’m close!” you moaned, closing your legs just a little so your knees were now against his waist.

He chuckled at the sound of that. He wanted to make you cum so hard that you couldn’t think straight for days. You were so pretty and perfect for him. “C’mon, princess, cum all over this dick..” he leaned down to capture your lips into a sloppy kiss. “Show me how much of a good girl you are..”

At that moment, you finally let go around him. Your pussy clamped around his cock and Oliver’s hips stuttered from the feeling. Your cum coated his cock nicely, making squelching noises accumulate from how wet you were. He couldn’t help but smile at how great you did. You were calling out his name like it was a prayer, and he loved nothing more than to hear that. You were addictive. He didn’t think he could find someone better than you in this life. 

Oliver’s hand found its way around your throat. You watched him with glassy eyes as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your body felt like it was on fire. Your thighs were shaking and you couldn’t even form proper sentences from how fucked out you were. “Where do you want me to cum, baby..?” he asked, squeezing your throat slightly to restrict your breathing for a brief moment.

“I-Inside..! Inside me, please..!” you managed to say with a whiny tone. 

You were so fucking dirty. He loved it.

Oliver clenched his teeth as he increased his thrusts once again. His cock was twitching inside of you and his balls started to feel tight from his release being so close. “Fuck.. ‘gonna cum so hard inside you..” he grunted. “Make this pussy all mine.. you’re all mine, got it? N-No one can fuck you this good.. or breed you as well as I can, baby. Shit.. say it, say you’re mine..”

You did exactly as he wanted, grinning in the process. “I’m y-yours..” you whimpered.

A groan rumbled in his throat as he finally reached his climax. His cum gushed into your pussy, filling your womb with white. There was this rush of warmth that spread across your abdomen when he came inside you. It was so good. It made you crave it more. 

Oliver panted, staring down at you to see if there were any signs of discomfort on your end, but he was relieved to see that there weren’t any. You seemed very drowsy and tired from his point of view, but regardless, you looked beautiful. He couldn’t get enough of your beauty. How could someone like you fall into his lap like that? You were too great for him. He knew he was going to cherish you. 

Oliver vowed to never let you go, no matter what.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[beom-pyu]

i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags: best friends to lovers au , beomgyu is annoying(ly cute) , fake dating? nah... fake married? bingo! , reader is so fed up with beomgyu how is he still alive , fluff , black cat x golden retriever dynamic ??? , hinted bisexual!beomgyu happy pride month , hinted pining , nsfw , some cliche moments bc who doesn't love a good cliche

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and is referred to as a wife and "mrs" , cursing , playfully (?) threatening each other's lives , soft dom!beomgyu , sub!reader , pool sex , unprotected sex , marking , praise , creampie , cum eating , morning sex <3 , cunninglus (fem receiving) , overstimulation , dry humping , big dick gyu community please gather

a/n: another summer fic for you lovelies!! <3 i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it! (not edited yet!)

song recs: island - youha, spotless mind - jhene aiko, nature feels - frank ocean

wc: 10.7k+

[I THINK WE JUST GOT SCAMMED.]

“wait, wait, wait. you did what?” 

you slowly lower your lukewarm cup onto the cafe table before taking out your airpods—no music is playing, but you want to be 100% sure you heard him right. your best friend shoots you a lopsided grin from across the table, stirring his drink with the chewed straw in between his fingers.  

“i entered us into an exclusive giveaway for married couples to win a trip to greece for a week?”

one by one, you can feel your brain cells begin to die off at his words, your eye twitching while beomgyu smiles innocently at you. 

“beomgyu, i’m going to ask you a simple question and i want a simple answer.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale for a second before meeting his eyes with the most exasperated gaze you've ever worn in your life. “why?”

the brown-haired boy is all too quick with a reply.

“why not?” beomgyu shrugs, his tiny grin morphing into something menacing on his lips—as if this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to him in all of his 22 years of life. 

you have the sudden passing thought to throw your coffee at his face, but that’s a precious $6 you’d never get back, so you refrain from doing so. instead, you take a slow, deep breath and momentarily close your eyes.  “god, if you’re out there, please, please give me patience.”

“i’m pretty sure the phrase is ‘god give me strength’,” beomgyu retorts from his seat across from you, sipping annoyingly on his nearly empty caramel frappe.

you blink at him once, twice. “if god gave me strength, you’d be in a casket right now.”

beomgyu simply cackles at your response, feigning a scared face with his hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint before he continues to laugh at his own mockery. you kick him under the table, successfully wiping that wide smile off of his dumb face.

“what was that for?” beomgyu whines with a pout, reaching down to rub his shin. a few heads turn to see what the ruckus is about and you shoot them a polite, apologetic smile and bow before turning back to mr. drama queen. the kick wasn’t even that hard.

“did you even think about what would happen if we actually won? we don’t have the time nor the money for a resort in greece.”

“oh, calm down, y/n. you know no one ever actually wins those things, right? they’re all scams.” beomgyu waves you off with his hand before bringing the green straw back up to his lips, your ears bleeding at the sound of his obnoxious slurping. you can’t stand his face.

“and how are you so sure of that?”

“because i entered that nickelodeon giveaway thing when i was 11 and never heard back from them.”

you blink at him again, thrice this time—just in case you’ve been transported into a different dimension and a stupidity demon has possessed your best friend’s body. nonetheless, beomgyu is still grinning idiotically as he chews on his straw, tilting his head at you like a maltese.

“please be so serious right now.” 

“i am! plus, even if we do win—which we won’t—and it’s not a scam… shit, that’s a free trip to greece!”

the joy on his face boils your blood to no end. he’s truly dense; you can’t believe you’re insane enough to call him your other half. everything on earth must be balanced out, you suppose—the yin to your yang.

“have you considered the fact that we aren’t married?” you cock your head at him, hands folded on top of the table, speaking slowly as if you’re talking to a child… hold on, wait—you literally are.

“shoot—could’ve fooled me!” beomgyu lets out a puff of laughter. “we might as well be.”

you blink at him again.

“please don’t ever say that again. i think i just threw up in my mouth.”

beomgyu rolls his eyes before snatching his phone out of his pocket with the speed of light to show you the flier he had screenshotted. he shoves the phone in your face, tapping incessantly at the bottom text of the photo.

“look. it says all expenses paid.” 

you stare at him with a silent ‘so what?’ and beomgyu sighs dramatically as he lowers his phone. he has the nerve to be exasperated with you? you’ll never understand where men get the pure audacity.

“so you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t pretend to be my wife for a few days so we can get a free trip to greece?”

you look him straight in the eye. “beomgyu, i’d rather be burned on a stake.” 

“yea, 'cause you’re a fucking witch,” he mumbles under his breath, trying to hold in his laughter. you don’t know how much more patience you have with him, so you simply exhale, checking the clock on your phone.

“i don’t have time for this—i gotta get to my lecture,” you huff out, standing as you grab your bag that sits by your feet. beomgyu pitifully whines, looking up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

“would you seriously not do it?” 

it’s now your turn to laugh, picking up your coffee to take a big sip. you’re gonna need the caffeine. 

“those things are scams, gyu—you said it yourself! see you later.”

☆

nights are oh, so serene, you think, as your head hits your fluffy pillow later that night. you’re freshly showered and tucked under your covers, snug as a bug in a rug as you doze off to the lovely scent of your hibiscus air freshener and the quiet waves of your sleep sounds machine. there’s no need to count sheep—you’re completely drained from all of the walking you had to do today. all of your classes just so happen to be on opposite sides of the campus, and you’re sure your step counter is on the verge of exploding by now.

your mattress feels even comfier today, a slight breeze coming through your cracked window, balancing out the heat from your thick duvet. it takes no time at all for you to be tugged under by the lust of sleep, drifting off to a perfect dreamland full of bright colors and open fields and your blaring ringtone.

wait.

your ringtone?

you don’t even bother to open your eyes, patting around your bed for your phone before you feel the cool screen against your fingertips. it takes a few failed swipes to actually answer, mumbling out a half-asleep “hello?” as you lazily press the device to your ear.

“hi, my wonderful bff. my world, my girl, my bro, my home-shizzle! hypothetically, on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i told you that the greece trip thing wasn’t a scam? and that we won? and that we leave in 2 days? hypothetically.” 

the silence is incredibly loud.

…

“eleven.”

[NEWLYWEDS.]

three months ago, if you were to tell yourself that you would be adorning a fake amazon wedding ring with your best friend’s arm wrapped around your waist as you stand inside some modern insurance firm being interviewed as a newlywed couple—well, you probably would’ve admitted yourself into the nearest asylum.

you don’t know what choices from your past led you to this moment, forcing a smile as a middle-aged woman with the cleanest-cut bob you’ve ever seen enthusiastically shakes your hand before moving on to beomgyu’s. he seems completely unfazed and the thought alone irks your soul to no end.

truthfully, this is all your fault. if you would’ve just told beomgyu that you are not going to pretend to be his wife for a week, you would’ve never ended up in this situation in the first place. but can anyone blame you when he offered to pay for your coffee every single day for the next 6 months, and wash your car, and take out your trash for as long as you ask him to? 

right! any sane person would’ve said yes, too!

so here you are as mrs. choi (gag), laughing along as the lady cracks a few jokes, complimenting beomgyu’s silky hair and your bright smile before sighing dreamily.

“my goodness, aren’t you two just the cutest newlyweds i’ve ever seen! how many months has it been?”

beomgyu looks down at you with a soft smile; anyone who is meeting him for the first time would’ve taken the gaze as something filled with pure adoration and undiluted love… but you know him. you see the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, the annoying quirk of his playful grin, and the pure amusement that washes over his features at your subtle glare. 

he’s having way too much fun with this. 

you pinch his side hard, a small bout of victory washing over you as he flinches.

deserved.

“we’re coming up on three months now?” beomgyu speaks through slightly gritted teeth before looking back up at the short woman, sending a charming smile her way. she squeals, bouncing on her heels and you bite back a grimace at the sheer volume.

“we decided to travel a bit before settling down and buying a home here in seoul,” you speak robotically, following the exact script you both came up with in your notes app on facetime last night. beomgyu hums in affirmation, tapping your side in a silent “good job”.

“awe! how sweet is that? what a wonderful idea to travel together while you're still young and nimble, unlike this old lady right here.” the lady honks out a laugh as she points to herself with her thumbs. you glance over at beomgyu who seems to be having the time of his life and—the regret of saying yes quickly settles deep in your bones. “you pair are such a lovely and beautiful couple!”

her high-pitched and overly enthusiastic voice pierces your ears and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“well, what can i say? it was love at first sight. i knew i had to make her mine and see the world with her as soon as possible,” beomgyu smoothly recites, gazing back down at you with the same look as before. you feel the bile rise in your throat. the words are so foreign to your ears, it’s almost jarring. the lady doesn’t even notice your discomfort and continues on and on about how cute you both are, how you remind her of her niece, and how beomgyu should totally be a model.

you force the fakest smile ever as beomgyu pinches your side, a cue for you to speak up. resisting the urge to punch him for pinching you (even though you had done it first), you simply nod along with an artificial laugh, your hand coming up to rest on his chest in faux infatuation.

ew. 

“marrying beomgyu was the best decision i’ve ever made. i’ve never been happier.” 

you swear you feel your eye twitch as the lady coos—she claps her hands excitedly, her short bob bouncing with the movement.

“how heartwarming! i’m sure this trip will bring you even closer, shedding a new light on the glitter of your love for decades to come!”

you and beomgyu are silent for a beat—because what the fuck is she even saying?—before awkwardly laughing, nodding along in hopes that she’ll wrap this up quickly. the lady’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as a stiffness fills the air, clapping her hands again as he ushers you two towards the lyft.

“better get a move on so you don’t miss your flight! i hope you have a wonderful time, lovebirds! and congratulations once again!”

the car is absolutely silent as you both settle in after all of your luggage is loaded up. beomgyu has this annoying, close-lipped smile on his face, his lips pursed like a duck—he’s so obviously trying to hold in his laughter as you grumble under your breath, snatching that stupid plastic ring off of your finger. 

you glance at him before rolling your eyes. “go ahead.”

in the blink of an eye, his boisterous laughter fills the car, high and squeaky, and you silently empathize with the lyft driver who subtly turns the radio up to combat the intrusive noise. beomgyu’s doubled over, patting his leg as he gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut; and as much as you hate to admit it, your own lips quirk up into a small smile at the sound. curse your best friend and his contagious laughter.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” beomgyu heaves out before another round of giggles leaves his lips. he reaches up to push his hair out of his face before wiping at his eyes dramatically. 

“i didn’t think i had it in me,” you agree, giving in to the grin that slowly spreads across your face. you make the horrible decision of meeting beomgyu’s eyes, and it takes less than a millisecond for you both to aggressively burst out laughing, bodies falling against each other's as your limbs grow weak.

“no, that was the funniest shit ever, i swear. we sold it.”

“for a second, i actually thought you were really in love with me.” your laughter slowly dies down as beomgyu lifts himself off of you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath. you’re sure you don’t look any better—you definitely have abs after all of that.

“i just had to pretend that you were i.u,” beomgyu admits with an overexaggerated dreamy look off into the distance. you’re quick to fall into another fit of laughter but for a different reason this time.

“i.u doesn’t date freaks.”

beomgyu’s lips dramatically pout as he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid, scoffing at your comment. “why do you always have to crush my dreams?”

“i don’t always crush your dreams. only when they’re stupid.”

“so… always?”

“no—yes.”

beomgyu’s quiet for a moment, turning his head to look out the window. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, but the expression quickly smooths out as he turns towards you, uncrossing his arms to play with the fake ring on his finger.

“i’m not taking the couch.”

“what?” 

“it’s a couple’s suite. i’m taking the bed since i’m the one who entered us in the first place.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes again—your mother had told you that one day your eyeballs would get stuck in the back of your head, and right now, that idea didn’t seem so bad. beomgyu’s teasing smile is anger-inducing, and you think you might rip it off if you have to look at it any longer. 

“what happened to chivalry? i’m your wife now, so as the man, you have to give me the bed.”

“fuck chivalry! you’re mean to me. i owe you nothing,” beomgyu huffs, squinting his eyes at you.

“i’m not mean to you,” you immediately defend, hitting his arm for even making such heinous accusations. beomgyu gasps, reaching up to hold his arm where you made impact.

“see? mean!”  once again, the dramatics are almost admirable—there’s no way that hurt. he’s been hitting the gym with his roommate taehyun lately, and you’ve seen the way he’s bulked up from the scrawny shrimp boy he used to be in high school. if anything, the hit hurt you!

“let’s play rock paper scissors, then. two out of three gets the bed.”

beomgyu huffs, but obediently holds up his fist. “fine.”

three games pass by in a blur.

“you cheated!” he whines, pointing his finger at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“how did i cheat? just admit you suck ass, mr. couch.” your triumphant smile results in another whine from the loser next to you, putting his fist back up for a rematch. “no, i already won!”

“you’re lucky i love you.” beomgyu’s quick to give up, a tiny smile appearing on his face at the way you pretend to gag at his words.

those butterflies in your stomach are only because you skipped breakfast that morning—totally not because of the soft gaze he sends your way, mindlessly playing with the plastic ring on his finger as you two fall into a comfortable silence. totally.

☆

this sucks.

today is the first time you’ve ever ridden in first class, and you can’t even enjoy it because of the exhaustion running rampant through your veins. there’s a reason why you picked all afternoon and late night lectures; why you avoid any invitations to go out for breakfast with your friends; and why you have blackout curtains on all of your windows. you are not a morning person, whatsoever, and with that 8 a.m interview and your flight at 10 on the dot, you’re absolutely beat.

for starters, pretending to actually be in love with your best friend in front of a lady who cannot speak at a normal, human volume is more taxing than swimming from portugal to australia with no breaks. you swear. second, beomgyu has apparently never ridden an airplane before and therefore has no idea what airport etiquette is. 

(“you have to put all of your electronics in the bins, okay?”

“when i go through the x-ray thing, will they see my underwear? oh my god, no, will they see my dick?”

“no, they won’t see your dick, beomgyu.”

“but how do you know they won’t see my dick? sick fucks.”

“they’re literally doing their job, beomgyu.”

“they can do their job without looking at my dick!”

“they aren’t going to see your dick!”

the lady in front of you covers her kid's ears as she shoots you two the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen. you both bow in apology before you flick beomgyu on the back of his neck.)

you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch some marvel movie on the little screen in front of you, fighting to at least stay awake long enough to order dinner. it’s futile, though, because you’re already blacking out every few minutes, head lulling side to side like a bobblehead. 

you finally give up the battle, reminding yourself that there will be endless food at the resort, so you settle yourself into your plush seat, resting your cheek against your neck pillow. from this angle, you have a perfect view of beomgyu who’s in the secluded seat next to you, and—oh.

he looks… he looks softer than usual, only illuminated by the natural light emerging through the circular windows. his hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his long fringe hanging over his eyes in such a way that he has to keep shaking it out of his vision. he has his earbuds in, watching the sky through the tiny window next to him with his bottom lip in between his teeth—a habit he’s had since he was young. you know he’s thinking, lost in his mind abyss by the way his fingers fidget with the end of his shirt, his leg shaking incessantly.

“hey, gyu,” you call out quietly so as to not disturb anyone else around you. his music must’ve been turned down low, seeing as his eyes find yours at the call of his name, taking an earbud out to hear you better. “you okay?”

if there’s one thing you know about your best friend, it’s when he’s nervous. it shows with the way his leg doesn’t stop moving, even as he nods out a yes in reply to your question, seeing his jaw move as he grinds his teeth together. 

“the plane keeps shaking,” he whispers, eyes wide and worried as a little bit of turbulence rocks the cabin right after he finishes speaking. even in your tired state, you can’t help but laugh softly at his animated expression, shaking your head.

“are you scared?” the teasing tone in your voice is apparent—beomgyu rapidly shakes his head in disagreement, but you see right through him as his hand grips the armrest, eyebrows knitted together. everything in your nature tells you to tease him, rile him up a bit, poke fun at him—but he genuinely looks concerned, and you’re too tired to come up with anything witty to say. instead…

“it’s just turbulence. you’re okay, gyu.”

you watch the way beomgyu relaxes ever so slightly, nodding his head as his grip loosens. you send him a little smile, not bothering to wait for him to smile back before turning your head the other way, finally letting sleep pull you under.

[FREE MARGARITAS.]

you don’t get a single moment to look around the resort because as soon as you both lug all of your things into your suite, you’re told a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the beach just down the hill has been reserved for you two as a welcome gift by the company. you’re not complaining of course, but you still would’ve liked to at least get acquainted with the area before indulging in everything.

it takes you an hour and a half to get ready; partially because beomgyu’s showers take forever. he’s in there singing along to some random 70s hits playlist, having the time of his life, while you take the time to look around the suite. 

it’s huge, to say the least. a single pod building that sits on a hill full of others alike with pristine white walls and elegant decoration—it’s almost 3 times bigger than your own apartment and you can only imagine how much all of this would’ve cost. wide, open windows line the walls with marbled tile underneath your feet, the furniture ranging from white to beige to a palette of blues, mimicking the colors of the beach in the distance.

outside is a wide patio with a glistening pool and comfy lounge area, complete with a loveseat and a swing. it has the perfect view of the coast, the sun already lowering behind the horizon. it’s absolutely breathtaking, and you make sure to take plenty of pictures, even posting a few on your instagram story (without tagging beomgyu, because you’re pissed at how long he’s taking in the bathroom.)

by the time he comes out, his hair is blow-dried and pushed out of his face with a headband. he looks like casper the friendly ghost with the white facemask he adorns and you stifle a laugh at the thought. 

you force yourself to dismiss the way he only has a towel wrapped around his waist, chest completely bare as he strides over to his suitcase—he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence as he pulls out the most formal thing he can find, dropping it onto the bed.

“you gonna shower or what?” he asks over his annoyingly broad shoulder, hands reaching down to undo the towel around his waist. a yelp leaves your lips at the sudden movement, covering your eyes as you rush towards the bathroom.

“you’re disgusting!” you yell before slamming the door shut, locking it for good measure. his cackles ring throughout the suite and you flick him off from behind the wall—he can’t see it, but you want to at least get it out of your system.

halfway through your shower, you realize you forgot to bring your clothes into the bathroom to change. you blame this all on beomgyu—half because somehow every inconvenience in your life is all his fault and half because you just want a reason to ignore the way you keep thinking about how toned he’s gotten recently. you mentally make it your mission to shut down every single gym in his vicinity.

you wrap your towel tight around your body before cracking the door open, the cool air from the a/c attacking your skin like icicles. poking your head out, you scan the room for any sign of your counterpart, but the room seems to be completely empty. you wait a few seconds, just in case he decides to make any unannounced appearances before deeming the room safe enough to enter. the coast is clear.

you rush over to your suite case, unzipping it to find an appropriate dress, deciding on a white one to match the white button-up beomgyu had pulled out. you grab your makeup bag, as well as your perfume and it isn’t until you stand back up to find refuge in the bathroom that you notice the figure in the doorway. you jump in surprise, a small scream escaping your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself defensively. 

“you fucking stalker,” you huff as he doubles over in laughter. 

“oh my god, you should’ve seen your face,” he gasps, holding his hand to his stomach as his entire body vibrates with cackles. despite the venomous glare you send his way, your eyes can’t help but catch onto the fact that beomgyu cleans up nicely. 

you’ve gotten so used to beomgyu’s endless collection of sweatpants and hoodies that the thought of him looking like an a-list celebrity never once crossed your mind. the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest, appropriately decorated with a few layered necklaces. it seems like he decided to trade out his usual dangly earrings and ear piercings for simple studs that shine when the chandelier above you hits them. 

those black dress pants hug his legs in a way that makes you swallow, feeling your body grow warm at the way he tucks his hands into his pockets. he cocks his head at you curiously, a jesting smile on his lips—he looks infuriatingly good, to the point where you have to physically rip your eyes away from him.

“like what you see?” he badgers while he strolls into the room, as if he can see right through your little facade. you scoff, holding your stuff tight to your chest as you flee towards the bathroom again. 

“what happened to privacy?” you make sure to completely ignore his previous question—he can tell all too easily when you’re lying, and you really don’t feel like being teased relentlessly tonight.

“what’s the issue? you’re my wife now, aren’t you?” his voice is provoking, playful as you burn through him with another intense glare.

“beomgyu, i promise you, i will drown you in that pool if you say another word.” and then you happily slam the door shut in his face.

“no, you won’t! you love me too much,” he singsongs from behind the door. all you can do is roll your eyes because—yes. yes, you do.

☆

you don’t think you’ve ever seen beomgyu act so… gentlemanly ever since he tried to get his 6th grade crush to like him back—but this time, without the weird phrases he stole from western movies and the electric blue braces that lined his teeth.

he’s committed to this husband act; pulling your chair out for you and pushing you in after you take a seat, kissing the back of your hand (you kicked him under the table at that), and even telling you that you look, and you quote, “absolutely stunning, baby.”

you hope your discontentment isn’t showing too obviously through your forced smiles and giggles, that plastic wedding band around your ring finger uncomfortably sticking to your skin. 

you can’t deny the fact that the dinner is really nice, though. never in your life would you have thought you’d be drinking expensive wines and eating 5-star cuisine on a beach with your childhood best friend—you’re pretty sure 14-year-old y/n would’ve complained about how it should’ve been choi soobin from 4th period instead of beomgyu, but you’ll take what you can get.

in all honesty, it simply feels like a normal dinner out with your best friend. you both still laugh and joke as usual, reminiscing on the time when beomgyu forgot to take out his retainer before his band performed at the school festival in 10th grade, resulting in a slurred rendition of sk8er boi by avril lavigne and a crowd full of giggling onlookers. (if you had to threaten a few people to leave beomgyu alone about it afterward, then so be it.)

the thing is, it’s not hard to let go around beomgyu. you’ve known each other since you were in diapers; defending beomgyu from bullies in elementary, attending all of his self-made band’s concerts, and hanging out on your rooftop eating popsicles and gummy worms. you could complain all you’d like about his teasing, his constant, exuberated nature, and his inane questions, but there’s no one else that you’d put your life on the line for, other than the puppy-like man in front of you.

his eyes sparkle with the reflection of the candlelight as he rambles on about how he genuinely thought planes did a loopty-loop before taking off and your heart aches with a sort of warmth you’ve been trying to dismiss for so long. 

the dinner ends all too quickly, and by the time you down your last glass, you realize you’re slightly tipsy. you’ve always been a lightweight, but you really didn’t think you drank that much—you must’ve been too distracted by beomgyu’s crazy stories to acknowledge the waiter constantly filling your glass after every few sips. at least it was free.

you slightly wobble on your heels as you take a stand in the sand, a little noise of surprise leaving your lips as a warm hand meets your hip, swiftly steadying you. you look down and automatically recognize the amazon ring, your head turning to meet beomgyu’s gentle eyes.

“don’t tell me i have to carry you all the way back.” and even though it’s a joke, there’s a layer of genuineness in his tone as you stumble again.

“‘m not that drunk,” you reply with the slightest of slurs, quietly giggling at the simple image of beomgyu carrying you bridal style to the bed. now that would truly sell the act, for sure. beomgyu shakes his head with a small smile, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist as he guides you back towards the suite, his touch firm and sturdy. 

you’re almost across the beach when you stumble again, but this time, your heel actually gives out as you trip, a tiny yelp leaving your lips right before you hit the ground. you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact—but it never comes.

“yep. i’m carrying you.”

you crack an eye open to see beomgyu with an amused smile on his face, both of his hands holding onto your hips. turns out you weren’t even close to hitting the ground at all… okay, maybe you are drunk.

“piggy back ride?” you ask with a little giggle. you’re reminded of that time beomgyu had to give you a piggyback ride all the way back home from the park after you sprained your ankle trying to do a backflip off of the swing in elementary school. what a time.

beomgyu rolls his eyes fondly, but gives you a little nod, letting go of your waist to kneel down by your feet. “give me your foot.”

you give him a quizzical look, cocking your head at him in pure confusion before he pats his thigh, motioning towards your leg. still a bit out of it, you hold onto his shoulder as you lift your foot, feeling a weird sensation rush up your spine at the way he gently holds onto your calf to slip your heel off of your foot. he does the same to the other without a word, completely unfazed by the way your mouth remains slightly ajar in shock. his fingers are gentle and soothing against your skin, despite being mildly calloused from his guitar back home.

it’s enough to throw you off, swallowing as his eyes meet yours again. his eyes are incredibly soft as he smiles up at you—he motions towards his back with a quiet “hop on”.

you obey, only faltering slightly as your arms sling around his shoulders. with the new proximity, you can smell his cologne, something sweet and woodsy. his hands grab onto your thighs—one decorated with high heels hanging off two of his fingers—before hiking you up a bit. he begins walking, saying something about how he thinks there’s 10 tons of sand in his shoes by now—and if he notices you’re too distracted by his hands on your legs to process what he’s saying, he doesn’t mention it.

☆

the view is absolutely breathtaking through the glass tall windows of your suite, the rays bouncing off of the pool as you watch beomgyu wade in the water, his eyes shut. it’s weird seeing him like this—fully relaxed, calm, and still. 

it seems like ever since you met beomgyu, all chubby-cheeked and busy-bodied, he’s always been on the move. whether it be to sprint down the road to meet you at the corner so you can walk to school together, or high in the air as he jumps on your trampoline… and even when his body is physically still, his mouth still runs a mile a minute, talking about anything and everything in the entire universe, letting his thoughts run wild around you.

as much as you truly do adore his silly side, him being the main reason why you were able to break out of your shell in the first place, you can’t help but be slightly fascinated with this alternate side of him.

it’s morning now; the yellowish-white hue of the blinding sun bounces off of his skin as he soaks up the moment, his brown hair getting so long it falls down the back of his neck in soft layers. you feel like a creep, watching him like this, but something about the entire atmosphere makes your eyes unable to look away as you slowly sip on the complimentary margaritas. 

your best friend has always been attractive—that’s one thing you cannot deny. he’s had his fair share of flings, and partners (and even a throuple once) throughout the years while you’ve only endured a few situationships here and there. he’s been called handsome his entire childhood and well into his adult years, taking the compliment in stride. he never let it get to his head or fuel his ego, though; for some reason, that fact makes him even more appealing.

he’s always just been your best friend, and you both are incredibly okay with that label—you know each other best, and that’s all that really matters. never mind the way his eyelashes flutter like monarch butterflies, or the way his cheeks flush when it’s too cold outside, or the way his leg bounces when he’s excited or nervous, alike. you try to ignore the way his laughter always manages to make the sun come out, and the way he always orders for you at restaurants because he knows you aren’t a fan of talking to strangers, and the way he seems always to know what you need, right when you need it.

he’s truly the yin to your yang. but there’s something else bubbling under the surface that you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to acknowledge yet. 

a loud call of your name grabs your attention, your vision focusing on a grinning beomgyu waving you down from the edge of the pool. you don’t even have it in you to huff at the prospect of moving from your comfortable lounge chair, standing up to make your way to the large patio. sliding the door open, you poke your head out, immediately feeling the muggy air of midday wrap around you like a heated blanket. 

“get in with me! the water is super warm,” he calls, motioning you towards him with his arm, the action flicking water everywhere. you frown a bit, looking at the pool behind him before meeting his eager eyes again.

“you know i can’t swim, idiot.” 

beomgyu’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as he shrugs, holding his hand out.

“then i’ll do the swimming for you.” 

the offer is so light-hearted and casual—it shouldn’t make your heart lunge in your chest, your gut twisting with anticipation at the simple implications of his words.

you’re already in your bathing suit from the mirror selfies you took for simply the aesthetic—a simple blue bikini tied tightly around your frame. you really don’t want to waste your time here; when else will you get the chance to stay in greece for free with your best friend? 

so you let your feet carry you to the stairs of the pool, your fingers wrapping around the metal railing as you slowly step in, foot by foot. by the time you’ve made it waist deep, you begin to feel the fear creep into your bones.

“i won’t let you drown, y/n,” beomgyu laughs as you suspiciously eye the deep end of the pool, unable to even see the bottom of it. your hand tightly grips the rail as beomgyu wades his way toward you, holding his hand out for you to take. “i promise. just hold on to me.”

you nibble on your lip as your eyes flicker down to his hand, feeling the water move gently around you. drowning has always been one of your biggest fears, and because of that, you’ve always stayed far away from any body of water capable of swallowing you up whole. 

but beomgyu’s eyes are warmer than the water, the most delicate of smiles resting on his soft features. there’s no room to be scared—not with the way his hand is so grounding as you take hold of it, squealing a bit as he tugs you closer. 

“do you trust me?” and when he speaks, his voice is just barely above a whisper, his face so close to yours that you can individually count his eyelashes. his margarita-tinted breath fans over your lips and you find yourself unable to cringe away, nodding cautiously in response. 

your hands tightly grasp his shoulders as he wraps a strong arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he uses his other arm to swim deeper into the pool. his doesn’t let up, even slightly, his grip sturdy around your figure as he utilizes one arm to keep you both afloat.

“here, wrap your legs around me,” he speaks, tapping your thigh under the water. you’re sure your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, your mouth bobbing open and shut like a fish out of water.

“wha… huh?” you question oh, so eloquently, the rumble of beomgyu’s laughter transferring against your skin. his nose crinkles up in the way it always does when he finds something to be a bit too entertaining, his eyes forming those pretty crescent moons as his eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

“it’ll make this easier. i’m not trying to carry a dead weight,” beomgyu speaks as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. you’re still dumbfounded, blinking at him blankly—so he decides to take matters into his own hands, reaching down to situate you against him by himself. “there, that’s better.”

a persistent heat surges through your stomach as your brain slowly registers the position. beomgyu’s arm tightens around your waist as you adjust your hips in a way that makes your clothed core brush against his bulge. you almost see the way his eyes darken, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his bottom lip. it’s quiet, still as the distant sound of the beach’s waves and the gentle trickle of water fills in the silence. 

your arms slowly come up to wrap around his neck—you don’t know what possesses you; some weird entity that makes beomgyu’s lips look all too kissable, and his eyes sickeningly alluring. his adam’s apple bobs as his eyes flicker across your face. you don’t register the way he slowly wades you both toward the wall of the pool, effectively caging you in as your back gently presses against the tile.

you have the chance to run, to push him off of you, and go back inside—to pretend your core doesn’t pulse with want as he presses his entire body against you. his chest is warm and his eyes are blown out, and you can say no.

but you don’t want to.

his eyes search yours for something before they trail down to your lips, his hips meeting yours in a way that renders you slightly dizzy with the proximity. 

“tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop, right now,” he whispers, his fingers leaving a ticklish feeling against your exposed skin under the water. you swallow.

“i want this, please.” and his lips are on yours before you can take another breath.

it’s nothing gentle; as if he’s been starved for your taste for all of eternity. the kiss is bruising as he nibbles on your bottom lip, his tongue meeting yours as you gasp into his mouth. he takes control easily, his hips moving against yours as the water moves around you, the sound mixing in with your quiet moans and beomgyu’s sparse grunts. 

he swallows all of your sounds, holding you down against him as he bucks up into your core, his dick hard and heavy in between your legs. you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist as you match his movement to the best of your ability. you’re nearly unable to think straight as he kisses the oxygen out of you, your mind growing hazy as pleasure shoots up your spine when he rubs against your clit just right.

beomgyu breaks the kiss to dive into your neck, sucking and biting small marks onto your unblemished skin before kissing over the soon-to-be marks. he can’t keep his mouth off of you as he trails his lips under your jaw, over your clavicle, nipping at your cleavage. your own voice sounds foreign in your ears as every lick and bite shoots straight to your core, feeling that knot in your gut tightens with every thrust.

“think you can cum just like this, hm? just from humping my cock?” beomgyu pants against your skin as his lips brush over your cheek, his breath fanning your ears. the head of beomgyu’s clothed dick catches onto your slit for the slightest of seconds, and you have to clench all of the muscles in your body to not cum on the spot.

“ye—yes, please don’t stop,” you whine, tilting your head back to invite his lips back to your neck. you’re sure you’re leaving marks on beomgyu’s shoulder blades from how hard your nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, it makes his hips work faster against yours, pressing you full-on against the pool walls. 

“so good for me, fuck.”

beomgyu kisses up your neck, a low groan leaving his lips at the way you’re bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat, clawing at his skin as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“gyu, ‘m—can i cum? please, please, please.” you can’t hold on anymore—not with the way beomgyu laughs against your skin, his free hand reaching up to grab your chin, forcing your lips against his again. he licks into your mouth with fervor, your teeth clashing together. your spit-slicked lips slide against each other, wet and messy, and he finally decides to take pity on you.

“go ahead, cum for me, baby.”

your brain goes blank as you finally come undone, blindly sinking into beomgyu’s lips and his faltering thrusts. your entire body tenses up as you moan against his lips, feeling like a ragdoll in the way he leaves soft kisses against your lax mouth. a low, rumbling groan emits from his chest as his hips still, twitching against yours subtly. he exhales once he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

it takes a second for you both to catch your breaths and when you finally blink your eyes open, beomgyu’s puppy-like eyes are already on yours.

“you okay?” his voice oozes with a type of concern; care that feels all too intimate. his pupils are blown wide, alluring and deep as they scan your face. you nod with a small sigh, leaning forward to drop your head onto his shoulder. you feel his torso shake with a chuckle at the action, feeling an unnamed emotion run through your chest.

you don’t pay any mind to it, though. not while you're ruminating in a cum-contaminated body of water.

“we should probably call someone to clean the pool.” and the laughter that bubbles out of beomgyu’s mouth is enough to distract you, just for a moment.

[I DO.]

it’s a weird, strange domestic feeling waking up to a fluffy head of brown hair resting on your shoulder, caged in by gentle arms around your waist. beomgyu’s always been a cuddler, and a week ago, you would’ve cringed at the simple thought of indulging him.

but now, a warm feeling blooms in your chest like a hydrangea as your fingers slip into his mussed hair to play with the strands. you’ve been cowed by your emotions, unable to fight off the fond smile that climbs onto your lips at the sight of the teddy bear-esque man clinging to you in his sleep. 

you don’t know what to do with all of these butterflies swarming in your chest, flapping against each other, kicking up a sandstorm of admiration that runs wild through your veins. he’s your best friend—and at this point in time, you know he’s more than that.

it’s crazy to think that romantic feelings can accumulate overnight, and you’re starting to suspect that maybe these feelings have existed all along. he’s the only one capable of rendering you speechless, whether it be from the crazy things he says or the way his eyes sparkle with a sense of youthfulness that tethers you two together. he’s the only one who can make you feel so carefree and in the moment—you don’t worry about the future or what’s to come with beomgyu. you simply enjoy the now, soaking up his blinding smiles and outlandish stories.

he’s waking up, you realize, as he mumbles under his breath, nuzzling closer to you. his lips brush your neck, his hair tickling your cheek in a way that makes your nose scrunch up with a small giggle. you feel drunk despite the fact that all of the alcohol has long dispersed in your body overnight—you blame it all on the fact that the sun sits high in the sky, shining kindly through the wide, open windows. it lights beomgyu up in a way that squeezes your heart painfully, the white sheets strewn across his waist making him look so soft and gentle.

“good morning,” you mumble with a tiny smile as beomgyu begins littering faint kisses against the expanse of your neck, brushing over the previous marks he’d left there yesterday. he simply hums in response, his arms loosening from around your waist to trail up the side of your body—his touch is so delicate, you let yourself get lost in the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he softly nips at your skin. 

he situates himself so that he’s hovering over you and you open your eyes again, feeling the sudden urge to shy away from his gaze. you’ve never seen such a look in his eyes—something so heavy and raw. as if he’s prying you apart and putting you back together again. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

“good morning, beautiful,” he finally replies and you can’t help but giggle again—you feel like a teenager, the way your stomach flutters at his morning voice, all deep and raspy and sultry. his brown eyes are half-lidded from sleep, his skin warm as his fingers brush your cheek.

the tension in the air isn’t incredibly prominent—it still lingers but with a less demanding presence. it’s natural and easy in the way it always is with beomgyu. existing with beomgyu is just so uncomplicated. 

you feel yourself melt into the sheets as he presses closer, molding himself into you perfectly—as if he was destined to be right here all along. his nose brushes yours as he leans in, and when his lips touch yours, any thoughts clouding your mind immediately disperse, making room for the sun itself. your arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, feeling his heartbeat against yours. you feel safe, lax, content; all things good in the world. 

his lips are unrushed as they move against yours, silently speaking a thousand words as he cups the side of your face, his hips subtly moving against yours. you sigh into his mouth, tilting your head to deepen the kiss—you don’t care about morning breath or the fact that you probably look a mess with your ridden-up shirt and tired eyes. and beomgyu doesn’t care either, licking into your mouth as if you’re a rare delicacy, grinding down against your thin panties. 

he’s half-hard in his pants, desperately rubbing against you to chase whatever pleasure he can get. it’s endearing almost, the way he moans into your mouth as you reach down to slip your fingers past his waistband to trail a light touch over his dick. his voice is deeper than normal, stirring something inside of you that makes your legs clamp around his hips.

“i want you, gyu,” you breathe out once his lips finally leave yours, pumping him slowly. his lips catch in between his teeth as your fingers run over the head of his dick, feeling your fingers coat with sticky precum.

“hm? gotta be more specific than that, gorgeous,” beomgyu teases despite the way he’s slowly thrusting into your hand, smiling down at you in a way that usually would’ve pissed you off—but right now, it only makes your pussy drip with want. 

“i want you inside of me. want you to fill me up,” you whine out as his fingers rub your clit over your panties, moving lower to press against your damp entrance. his resolve crumbles all too quickly as you peer up at him with your doe eyes, lips parted as you whine softly, moving your hips against his fingers. 

“fuck, okay baby.”

you let him move away to strip himself of his sparse clothing as you pull your shirt over your head. the butterflies return quickly as you realize this is the first time you’re seeing each other completely unclothed and—oh god. he’s huge. your half-asleep state didn’t realize the sheer amount of dick between your fingers, but now that you’re seeing it in the morning light, you aren’t even sure if it’ll fit.

beomgyu makes his way back over to you, his fingers hooking onto the band of your panties to drag them down your legs. his eyes are almost predatory as he takes in your glistening folds, unable to stop himself from running his fingers over your cunt, collecting your juices.

“you’re dripping,” he awes, his eyes flickering up to yours with a small smile. a heat rushes up your neck, shyly covering your face with both of your hands. beomgyu’s small laugh resonates throughout the room, feeling his clean hand come up to gently move your arms away.

when you meet his eyes again, they’re filled with a sort of fondness that makes your head spin, makes your heart stutter—it’s horrible and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips as his fingers return to your cunt, slightly dipping into your hole, soaking them even more.

“i want you to look at me. can you do that?” beomgyu gently requests and you’re nodding before you can fully register his words. he flashes you a proud smile before he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. an airy, surprised moan leaves your body against your will at the sight, and his smile broadens. “you taste amazing, baby.”

his middle finger enters your entrance with no resistance, and you feel yourself clench down as he curls it upwards to gently explore your walls. it’s all too much and not enough all at once. he’s going incredibly slow, as if you two have all the time in the world, but you can’t wait. you need him now.

“please, just fuck me. ‘m ready,” you demand through a whine, pleading with your eyes, an action that effectively softens beomgyu's gaze. he doesn’t remove his finger, but instead adds another alongside it, his thumb coming to brush against your clit. you buck against his hand with a small moan as he moves up your body, trailing kisses from your hipbone, to your breasts, and finally your lips.

it’s a chaste peck, but it’s enough to leave you wanting more, chasing after his lips once he pulls back. you whine at the loss, already feeling your brain turn to mush with the way his fingers slowly drag against the walls of your cunt, his thumb just barely applying pressure to your swollen nub.

“are you sure?” 

“yes, yes, ‘m sure. want your cock, gyu. just—” you’re nearly hysterical as your hips grind down on his fingers. you can already feel the frustrated tears brimming your eyelashes, reaching up to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his. “please, please…”

“shh. it’s okay, baby,” beomgyu coos, pressing a few soft kisses to your lips. you quietly gasp as he removes his fingers from your hole. he kisses your cheeks all too delicately, his forearm resting by your head to steady himself. “i’ll take care of you. just relax.”

you almost cry happy tears with the way you feel the head of his cock tease your hole, dipping in but not fully entering. his lips find yours again as he drags his dick in between your sopping folds, swallowing his low moan at the feeling. “my perfect girl. so pretty, so wet for me.”

when he pushes in, your arms tighten around his neck, your enter body locking up at the intrusion. you feel like a virgin again, his girth stretching you open almost uncomfortably. his thumb rubs your hips to soothe you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss to distract you from the feeling. he stops for a second, letting you get used to his dick as he peppers kisses across your face.

“fuck, it feels like you’re splitting me in half,” you blurt out and beomgyu can’t help but laugh softly, his forehead resting against yours. “i think i can feel you in my throat.”

“can you stop making me laugh so i can fuck you stupid, please?”

his words are lighthearted, but the thought of being fucked to the point where you can’t even speak has you shutting up in no time. you whine quietly as beomgyu continues pushing into you until he’s fully situated inside of your cunt—you’re fluttering around him like crazy, feeling the faint pain slowly dispersing into pleasure as he kisses your jaw.

“you can move now,” you mumble, and beomgyu wastes no time pulling out, almost all the way, just to snap his cock back into you with a force that rocks the bed slightly. you can’t cover up the choked-out gasp that leaves your lips, eventually turning into a stream of moans and whines as he quickly sets a brutal pace. 

his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, your mind clouding over as pleasure fills your bloodstream, your pussy clenching around his thick cock. he places one last kiss on your lips before sitting up, both of his hands moving wrapping around your thighs. you’re so wet that his dick easily glides in and out of you, wet, squelching sounds filling the room as you drip around him. 

“you’re so tight, god. letting me fuck you raw like the needy slut you are,” he chastizes, groaning as he pulls your body in to meet his hips. his strokes are so deep, you already feel yourself nearing your high.

“yes, yes, yes. need you,” you cry out, hands gripping the sheets. “so big, gyu. ‘s too much, i can’t—” 

“you were the one crying for my cock, so you better take it.” his sudden demeanor change sends a tingly rush up your spine, leaving your brain a muddled mess. his bangs have fallen into his eyes, his cheekbones flushed with a slight pink from the physical exertion and the warmth of the sun beaming through the windows. his stomach contracts with every thrust into your wet heat, low moans and sharp gasps leaving his lips as his eyes fall shut, his head lolling back at the feeling.

your core throbs, gut tightening with every passing moment—at some point, he brings his fingers down to circle your clit, whimpers leaving your mouth at the overwhelming feeling of it all. you clench down around him, hand stretching out for something, anything; and it only takes a few seconds for beomgyu to notice. his fingers interlace with yours, giving your hand a grounding squeeze.

“gonna fill you up—gonna make a mess of this pretty pussy,” beomgyu pants out, a low moan leaving his lips as his hips slightly stutter.

“‘m gonna cum, gyu, ‘m cumming,” you babble out, your head rolling to the side as your eyes shut, the immense pleasure coursing through your body becoming all too much. somewhere through your muffled ears, you hear beomgyu praising you for taking him so well, but by that point, you’re already gone. 

the moan that leaves your lips is nearly pornagraphic, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you. all the air is punched out of your lungs and beomgyu thrusts deep into you before settling there, a low groan leaving his lips as his dick twitches inside of you.

“fuck, baby, i love you. i love you so much,” he breathes out as he cums—you feel the hot streaks of his cum painting your insides, shooting places you weren’t even sure existed inside of you. it leaves your mind hazy, unable to even process the way he pulls out, his cum dripping out of you and onto the white sheets.

the feeling of a hot, wet tongue against your entrance makes your hips buck up—you let out a surprised gasp that’s quickly overtaken by a whimper, your hand reaching to entangle itself in his hair.

“wait, gyu—fuck, i’m sensitive,” you whine, feeling your eyes brim with tears at the overstimulation. his tongue flicks against your abused cunt as he cleans up his own cum, fucking it back into you with his tongue. 

“you can take it, baby. i know you can,” he pants against your pussy before his lips encircle your clit, sucking and nibbling ever so slightly. you can’t control the noise leaving your lips, whining and moaning as your legs clamp around his head. beomgyu simply chuckles against you before two of his fingers enter your pussy, teasing and prodding at your sentive walls.

“gyu, i can’t, i can’t…” you sob, tears running down your cheeks as the overstimulation sends painful shocks up your spine. you’re gushing around his tongue, the sheets beneath you completely soaked through. your brain fights against itself, your body unsure of whether to press closer or pull away. you can’t think about anything other than beomgyu’s fingers and mouth, eyes squeezed shut as your body racks with sobs.

“yes, you can. cum on my tongue, pretty girl.”

and you do, your back arching as you moan loudly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your hips frot against his face, waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning you. your entire body trembles with shocks as your mind goes blank, flopping back onto the bed as you attempt to catch your breath. tears are still running down your cheeks—your entire body feels like it’s floating. you’re completely wrung out. that was probably the hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

you don’t even register beomgyu’s soft hands on your cheeks as he wipes your tears away, his lips pressing against your forehead, your nose; anywhere his lips can reach. it’s grounding as you slowly come back down to earth.

“you did so well for me, baby. so, so perfect. so beautiful. you took it all, i’m so proud of you.”

you blink your eyes open at his words, feeling those butterflies flock with the way he’s watching you so attentively, his eyes flitting across your face quickly. 

“i didn’t go too far, did i?” beomgyu’s voice is almost nervous, low and quiet in your ear as he strokes the side of your face. you crack a small smile at how cute he looks, reaching up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes.

“no, not at all. i liked it,” you reassure, your fingers trailing down his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. he visibly melts into your touch at the words, shoulders slumping in relief. 

“thank god,” he breathes out, slumping on top of you—you half-heartedly protest, but the weight is nice, loving the way it feels to have his chest rise and fall against yours, his head resting in the crook your neck. you wrap your arms around him with a little giggle, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“you big baby,” you tease. he’s completely unbothered, though, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before settling against you again.

“only around you.”

the quiet is relaxing, hearing the calm waves of the beach down the hill and the slight buzz of the air conditioner. as much as your brain wants to believe that you imagined it, his words from a few moments ago ring like a mantra in your head. words that make your chest tight, and your mind spin, and your stomach flutter. having him in your arms like this makes you sure that what you heard wasn’t made up in your mind.

“you said you love me.”

a beat of silence.

“hm?” he hums inquisitively as if he didn’t hear you correctly the first time.

“when you, um—when you… came…” you whisper the last part, feeling the vibrations of beomgyu’s laugh fill your own chest.

“you’re still shy after all of that?” beomgyu asks incredulously as he lifts his head to look at you. a tiny, playful smile sits on his lips and you pout, nudging him softly.

“stop changing the topic!” beomgyu laughs again as he relaxes back into your hold.

“okay, i did say i love you. because i do. i love you.”

the words hit you deeper this time, now that your mind is clear—he sounds so sure of himself, and the confidence seeps into you, confirming your own feelings that have been threatening to spill over these last few days.

“i love you too.” you pause for a second. “ like, love love you.” 

beomgyu chuckles against your skin, his arms tightening around your frame as he nuzzles in closer to you, despite already being skin to skin. he’s cute, you think.

“i’d hope ‘love love’ is what we’re talking about right now,” he speaks almost sarcastically and you lightly tug his hair for being a smartass—you get the opposite reaction you were searching for though because beomgyu dramatically moans at the action just to rile you up even more.

“oh my god, you’re insufferable,” you huff, but the smile on your face is telling enough as he lifts his head once again to meet your eyes—his hair is all messy and strewn about, lips bitten red and raw, cheeks flushed; and that fact that you’re in love with your best friend full sinks in. he’s everything to you.

“but you love me.”

you sigh.

“yea. i do.”

a blinding smile breaks out on beomgyu’s lips as he leans in to peck yours a few times, your body melting as he kisses you with so many emotions, it makes your heart get caught in your throat, your skin buzzing with contentment. 

he pulls away, sitting up to climb off the bed, searching for his sweatpants.

“come on. time for me to do my husband duties and run you a bath.”

“you’re still comitting to this, huh?” you giggle as you sit up too, watching his figure retreat towards the bathroom. beomgyu turns slightly, the smile on his lips absolutely menacing.

“so? i gotta practice for the future.”

your future, you brain tells you.

and that idea isn't so bad, you think.

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Meaningful Kiss 4

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋

CHARACTERS: Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive

WORD COUNT: An average of 430 words per character.

COMMENTS: The last part of the Meaningful Kisses series. These were the four least voted characters, however, I had a lot of fun writing them.

I hope you enjoy reading it too. 😘

Meaningful Kiss (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

CONTEXT: This can be seen as if you were at the beginning of the relationship, or already in an established relationship.

Cater is into PDA for sure! He likes to be lovey-dovey and flirtatious. And especially enjoys showing it on his social media. EVERYONE knows about your relationship. You are "that" couple. Or at least that's what Cater's photos and PDA suggest.

Whenever you two are together, you are glued to each other. He will always have one or both arms around you. Especially if you are on a date. Of course, if you're not that into PDA yourself, he'll respect it, but in that case you'll have spoil him with cuddles in private, kay~?

However, this fact that Cater likes to show his feelings for you in public and on social media will end up bringing you some "hate". People saying he's only with you because your relationship is aesthetic pleasing. That you like to have coordinated clothes is just a facade for an exaggerated and false romanticism.

He gets a little sad and hurt when people say bad things about him in the relationship, like when they imply that he's just using you. But whenever an attack is directed at you, like when saying that a person like you doesn't deserve a boyfriend like him, the people pleaser side of him disappears. And he starts using his social and conversational skills to defend you, even if he has to insult the other person to do so. This is if it is IRL, which rarely happens. On social media, he just deletes the comment and blocks the person. Good vibes only.

But of course you also feel bad when you read or hear things like that. A lot of people criticize the fact that Cater only shows the good parts and that's why it's all fake. Of course he only shows the good things, that's what social media is for. He likes the popularity and all that, but, unlike certain influencers, he knows what limits are. He would never publish anything bad about you, much less humiliating like an argument or you crying. Mainly because at these times, if they happen, he will be more concerned with consulting you or making you feel better to the point of forgetting his cell phone somewhere.

This can lead to his most meaningful kisses. The ones he gives you when these things affect you, to prove that those things people say are lies and they don't know anything. When he is hugging you and saying cute and funny things to make you feel better. Everything he does in public he also does in private, including kissing your cheeks and lips. But this specific kiss is one that is exclusive to the private sector.

It's not extravagant like the ones he usually gives you, this one is soft, sensitive, and slow by his standards. Basically the opposite of what he usually shows himself to be. You feel that they are calm and that he is enjoying the moment.

Trey is not really into PDA. I mean, it's not like he's averse to it, but it's just not his thing. He is a simple man, he shows and knows how to see love in small things. That and he's not, shall we say, the flashy and extra type. Too much attention can embarrass him.

However, even though he's not much of a show-off, he thinks it's fun to mess with you in public without anyone seeing. Like kissing your cheek discreetly and casually when no one else is paying attention to you and surprising you in the process. Beside that, you continue to behave like good friends. Nothing very different from how he would treat any other friend.

In private, it often doesn't change much. Just like I said, he's a guy who likes his peace and quiet. So the two of you end up looking like a long-term couple even if you aren't yet. However, it is also in private that he feels most comfortable hugging and kissing you. He's more welcoming to you doing the same to him.

If there's one type of surprise he's a fan of, it's you hugging him from behind when he's cooking. Many of your cutest moments happen in the kitchen. He likes to have you as a tester to his food and sweets.

The problem is when he feels more naughty and takes advantage of your trust in him to use his signature spell to change the flavor of what you taste to play a trick on you. For example, you're expecting to taste the sweetness of strawberry cake, but instead you taste the saltiness of an oyster. He will laugh at your reaction and your sulky face.

Then he will apologize, without regret for what he did, and that won't be enough for you. By feeling comfortable being himself with you, you'll end up getting to know his cheekier side. He hugs you around the waist with his rare smug expression and his gaze fixed on you. He's "really sorry" but maybe he can redeem himself. He runs his thumb over your slice of cake to remove some of the icing and puts it on his own lips. Why don't you try it again? No tricks this time, he promises.

And this leads to his most meaningful kisses. Not the soft, sweet, affectionate ones he usually gives you in private, but the ones that show that sassy side of him that most people don't think exists.

It depends on Floyd’s mood, obviously. But as a general rule, he likes PDA, more giving than receiving. He likes to be in control of these things, he doesn't like to be the one being "squished", you know.

He does what he wants, if he wants to hug you, he will hug you, if he wants to kiss you, he will kiss you. And no one will even have the courage to look at him the wrong way. No one wants to get in trouble with an Octavinelle student, especially Floyd Leech. This ends up guaranteeing you instant security and a sense of immunity. Everyone will know that you are together, not in a gossip way, but more in a sense of warning other students of the danger of messing with you.

He will hug you and kiss you however he wants, whenever he is with you. This part doesn't differ much from public to private (with one or two exceptions of course, chill!) If anyone can be embarrassed by PDA here, it's you, because he's never embarrassed. If others have a problem with it, that's their problem, and if they upset him... well... let's just say it will be the first and last time.

His affection only fluctuates when he is in a bad mood, and he becomes even more unpredictable. You can never predict whether he's in an "I want to be alone" bad mood or an "I want to hug you like a stuffed animal" grumpy mood. Either way, you don't need to know because he'll tell you. When he's in a bad mood he's not one to make people guess what he wants, he'll tell them directly and specifically.

Floyd’s good-mood kisses range from casual and lazy kisses just because to passionate and cheeky kisses to mess with you. But surprisingly, his most meaningful kisses are when he's in a bad mood and wants to be with you.

Just like he secretly likes to entertain and cheer you up when you're in a bad mood, he loves that you can do the same for him. He can be very clingy when he's in "I want you to hug" grumpy mood. He likes that you let him hug and kiss you however he wants to make him feel better.

This may lead to him starting to kiss your cheeks, moving on to your neck and finally your lips. His kisses are like his mood, in this case, grumpy, but not for long. Kissing you is fun for him, so you'll start to feel the kiss change at the same time as his mood. His pout starting to change into a lazy smile. And if you're not “careful” and he ends up in a REALLY good mood...

If words of affection could be considered PDA, well, I think you know. Rook is a man of words and everyone knows it. Some even know it too well. Prepare to receive the same treatment as Vil.

Surprisingly, he's not much of a toucher. He’ll never think twice before greeting you with charming words and a tender kiss on the cheek, or on the back of your hand like a prince, but never on your lips. At least not initiated by him.

He won't take the initiative to hold your hand or hug you. He will only do so if you ask or in response to your initiative. In this case he will gently hold your hand and caress it with his thumb, or hug you gently as if you were a precious little thing.

And why? One of the reasons is because he likes it when you ask. There's something about the need for his touch that he enjoys. Luring you with words to deliberately make you fall into the “trap” of wanting his touch. And the more “difficult” you are, the more he loves it.

Another reason is that, when hunting, touching the prey is usually the last step, right after finally catching it. He's a hunter, not a pet owner. He uses words because they are his bait, physical touch is the prize. And he likes that each other's touch is as much a reward for you as it is for him. He wants to make you want him as much as he wants you.

And that's why true physical touch only happens in private. He likes to show through words how much he likes something or someone, but he is also a man of secrets, and how he enjoys the prize of having you in his arms is one of the secrets between the two of you. Especially because his touch manages to be as flattering and appreciative as his words.

He likes to run  his hands over you like someone appreciating a work of art. Kiss your neck and lips like someone savoring an exquisite delicacy. And these are his most meaningful kisses. Kisses of appreciation, of care, of passion and at a certain point, of desire, for a prize that can slip out of his hands at any moment because you have your own free will and that is exciting.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX