#please toss a like to me i spent three hours on this

[lymtw]

When Toji finds out that you get yourself off when he's not around, he's blatantly offended. You recognize jealousy on Toji's face when you see it. It's not always pretty, but sometimes you think it's the most beautiful way you'll ever see him. He looks at you with those eyes. Those merciless, yet disarming, green eyes. You've told him before that they are one of your greatest weaknesses, and since then he uses them to his advantage at any given chance.

Shiu called Toji to notify him about a last minute mission, and though you begged him to stay, he reminded you of how this could be the one that brings both of you out of the struggle to make ends meet.

You were blinded by the amount of time you had spent with him. A week straight, no interruptions until Shiu called. It was one of the best weeks of your life, and that only further devastated you when you couldn't talk him out of leaving.

To make things worse, he wasn't able to reconcile with you and comfort you before he left. Shiu was rushing him, but all he could think about was how you turned your back to him, not even wanting to look at him before he left.

He answered Shiu's phone call for three seconds, an enraged, "I'm going. Jesus, fuck," before hitting the end call button. He stands at your shared bedroom doorway for a few seconds more seconds, still only getting a look at the back of your head. "I'll be back, princess. Gonna make it up to you, so wait up for me."

—

The mission wasn't difficult at all. It was so easy that he even attempted to contact you while he scouted the close quartered area. You didn't pick up a single one of the six calls he made, letting them all go straight to voicemail each time. It was irritating. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted you to listen to him, he wanted to tell you that he was rushing this mission so that he could sprint home to you.

Once he got his dirty work done, he tried your phone again, and again, but you were still letting his calls go to voicemail. So, he decided to text you.

Babe, answer.

I know you're upset, but i'm on my way home now

Baby, please

You read his messages, sighing before throwing your phone across the room. He never says no to Shiu when it's about a job. You've accepted this before, but after spending a whole uninterrupted week with Toji, feeling like things would remain that way for longer than they did, it was hard to remember that life was gonna merge back in again at some point. Your vacation hours would run out and you would have to go back to work, and Toji would be hired to hunt someone down again. It was just disheartening to find out that it would happen so soon, and that Toji would jump back into routine so quickly.

You see one of his shirts at the end of the bed and reach for it. It was flipped inside out and balled up, so you know it was worn by him. Just holding it in your lap, you can smell Toji's scent. You bring it up to your nose, and your heart begins to race. Toji wore this. He's not there with you, so that's the closest you'll get to him until he's physically in front of you again.

You bury your face into the rolled up shirt, inhaling deeply. The scent really works at pushing you to forgive him for leaving. His scent was debiliating. It brought vulnerability to a moment where it was just you on the bed you share with your man. You were missing him and wishing he weren't so obligated to his work. It stirred up feelings that couldn't be contained.

In this whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't reject the feeling that blazed in you the most. Your need for him. Your desire to have him all over you, with those hands that don't quit when you waver between feeling like you've had enough, and wanting more of him than ever.

You crawl back to the top of the bed, Toji's shirt dragging on the sheets beneath your palms. Your shorts are peeled off and tossed to the floor. You grab his pillow from his side of the bed, slipping it between your thighs before laying down flat on your stomach. You spread his shirt out on your pillow, and lay your face on it, allowing your mind to fill with thoughts of Toji. You used this internal shrine to fuel the languid roll of your hips against the pillow.

Toji called one more time. He was two minutes away from the house. Your phone is on silent mode, still on the floor on the other side of the room. Besides, you were too distracted to see your phone screen light up, anyway.

"We're literally here, already. Quit stressing," Shiu says when he sees Toji scoff after putting his phone down, a deadpan expression on the former's face. The second the van stops, Toji hops out, and without another word to Shiu, he slams the door shut.

The door barges open and slams shut behind him. Had you not been in your blissful haze, you would have been concerned. Toji's footsteps echo on the hardwood floor as he looks around in search of you. You're not on the couch, you aren't in the kitchen. Where the hell could you be?

"Ma," Toji calls, walking through the hallway. He peeks into the bathroom, not digging further because the light was off. He hears heavy breathing nearby, so he keeps going down the hall. It's one of two doors. Luckily, he chooses the right one.

He slowly creaks the door open, his shoulders dropping immediately at the sight on the bed. He sighs in awe, leaning against the doorframe.

Your hips rolled a little faster against the pillow now, your arms curled tightly around the pillow for your head. Your face remained buried in Toji's shirt, your moans muffled as you gnawed on the black fabric. You were so close to unraveling, you could feel it building up in your lower abdomen.

Toji really liked the little arch you made everytime you pulled back and then dragged forward to get the longest amount of friction between your legs. He could see your body trembling, and your moans were getting louder.

"Oh, Toji..."

The monster in his pants came to life, prominently bulging through his pants.

"F-Fuck... fuck me, please," you gasped, keeping your rhythm but grinding harder against the pillow. "Oh fuck, oh fuck..." you moaned, higher in pitch as you reached the brink of orgasm. You dragged your panty clad cunt across the pillow one more time before completely falling apart on it. Cries of pleasure shamelessly filled the room as you continued to shakily rut against the pillow through your peak. You whimpered, your abdomen quivering with your shuddered breaths as you kept grinding.

Toji's boxers were drenched with precum, just from watching you go wild on a pillow. You were thinking of him while he was gone. You wanted him. You called his name while you got yourself off to his scent on a shirt he wore yesterday, and now you're just there. A breathless, panting, needy, beautiful mess.

Toji straightens his posture and enters the room. He sees your phone on the floor and picks it up, the screen lighting to show his most recent missed calls. His footsteps pull you out of your climactic trance, a starry-eyed look on your face when you see him approach the bed.

"Couldn't pick up the phone even once?" He presents your phone to you. "Too busy fucking yourself on my pillow?"

"Toji..." you start, waved off immediately by his hand.

"Heard my name in there a couple times, princess. Thought you were upset with me." His eyes rake down your body, focusing on the way your thighs clamp around his pillow. He sees the wet spot on the front of your panties, and for some reason feels envy begin to bubble up in his stomach. His hand reaches for the elastic band of your underwear, simply feeling the material that hugs your hips.

"I was," you mumble.

"Uh-huh. So, instead of waiting for me like the perfect angel I thought you were, you made yourself cum on a pillow?" He scoffs. "Don't know about you, but that's borderline selfish to me." He notices the involuntary pout on your face, your guilty eyes trying to hold eye contact while he scolds you. "I make you cum. I fuck you until your damn claws are digging into my back. Tell me, doll, and be brutally honest, for me. How is it not enough?"

"I missed you..." you say, a last resort. All you can do is back yourself up now.

He laughs in disbelief. You really were ruled by your own desire. "Try again, doll."

"I needed you, Toji, and the closest thing to your presence was your pillow and a stupid shirt you wore yesterday. We have a dirty clothes hamper, you know?" You point at the tall basket in the corner of the room. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had thrown it in there."

"Show me," he says, a twisted grin on his face.

"What are you talking about? Show you what?"

He pulls the pillow through your thighs so that you're centered on it again. "Show me how much you missed me." He sits in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. "Show me how this flimsy replacement for me, made you lose your shit."

You sit there, flustered by his silence as he watches you, waiting patiently for his hands to get gentle friction from your skin.

"Oh, you need some help winding up? I was so sure you were good at this, seeing as though you made yourself spill, but, guess not." He looks down at the front of your panties. The wet patch was growing with no movement from you at all. This made his ego sky rocket, but also reminded him of how unpredictable you could be. "I'm not gonna hold your hand the whole time, baby. You're supposed to be putting on a show for me."

His grip on your hips tightens and he starts assisting you with rolling your hips against the pillow. He watches your face, a bright shade flourishing on your cheeks when you make eye contact with him. It was like he had a spotlight on you, and he was expecting you to perform well for him under the harsh light.

You let out a shaky breath, your palms settling on his thighs. Your head hung low, hiding the bashful look of bliss on your face. It was a gesture that Toji did not approve of.

"Let me look at you," he says, still maneuvering your hips in a constant rhythm. You lift you head but turn away from him. "Keep those eyes on me." He manually turns your head, one hand releasing your hip in favor of forcing you to look at him. His hand returns to its spot when he has your glossy eyes on his. "I'm right in front of you. There's nothing over there that demands your attention, so focus."

"Toji," you whine, humiliation flooding your body.

"Gonna let go in a few seconds, so you better fall into some sort of rhythm, doll."

You try to pretend like he's not there, but it's hard to do so when he's staring straight into your soul. Watching every expression you make, watching every tremble of your lips, every swipe of your tongue. You feel total vulnerability.

His hands are off and you stutter for a second before picking up again.

"There you go," Toji mutters. You took control, and ground yourself harder against the pillow.

"Toji, touch me, please." You pull your shirt off, baring more of yourself to Toji. His lidded eyes take in the newly exposed skin. He can see your breasts rising and falling now as you breathe, and he can't deny how badly he wants to hold them. He gives in, his hands going to your back to unclip your bra. His hands immediately grope your boobs, testing the malleability like he always does. They're just so perfect.

"Aren't you a sight... You just have to be so fuckin' pretty all the time, don't you?" He rolls your nipples with his thumbs, taking in the way you shudder at the contact. "Fuck, it's hard to stay mad when you look like that."

You feel that familiar ache begin to form again, when the roll of your hips starts leaving a lingering pleasure behind.

"You're about to cum again, aren't you?" Toji asks, knowing the answer. His eyes are narrowed on you, his dick twitching even if his blood is boiling at the thought of you enjoying this so much. You're doing those little arches again where you pull back and your stomach is quivering every time you drag yourself back forward.

"Mhm..." your nails dig into Toji's thighs, using them as leverage to facilitate your movement even more. "Toji, can I cum?" you ask, your submissive tendencies coming out right on time, as usual. You like handing over control to Toji, even if it means you don't get to cum when you're seconds away from being an absolute mess. "Toji, can I, please?"

How can he deny you when you've complied with what he asked you to do? How can he turn you down when you're so driven with pleasure that you look like you're about to cry just from slowing down for a couple seconds, awaiting his response?

"Only if you do it on my hand." His hands still your hips, holding you down firmly to stop your movement completely.

"What?" Your cunt aches from holding back. It's pulsing, craving the return of stimulation.

Toji's hand slides into the front of your underwear, cupping your slickened folds. "Do it on my hand," he repeats.

"O-Okay," you comply, once again. You start rocking against his hand, the roughness of his skin adding more friction to your sensitive core. You were bound to snap any second now.

"God, you're so wet, ma. All for me?"

"Mhm... all for you, Toji," you whimper. "Gonna..." you gasp. "Oh, fuck-"

Toji devours your expression and the shaky pressure of your silkiness against his hand. His pupils are enormous, ridding him of almost all the green in his eyes. He loves the sounds you make, he loves that you adjusted to the spotlight he put on you and gave him the best show, but most of all, he loves that this was all the product of you just missing him.

You're left breathing shakily, your head hung low, and your eyes lidded with exhaustion.

"Did it feel the same?" Toji's voice brings you back. His hand retracts from your underwear, and he gets a good look at what you left behind on him, wiping it off on his shirt. It'll be removed soon enough, anyway.

"Not at all." You giggle. You look at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "You're irreplaceable, baby. Inanimate objects don't do it for me like you do."

He chuckles. Your voice is adorable, all quiet yet still able to communicate your reassuring words.

"I need a nap," you mumble, retrieving your shirt from the end of the bed.

"Wanna shower with me, instead?"

Your attention directs towards him like a homing bolt of lightning. He gives you a smug grin, and you know exactly what he's thinking.

"Spare me some company and one of those massages you're so good at giving, yeah?"

You give him a deadpan expression, almost refuting him until he hit you at another point where he knew you were weak.

"Please, mama?"

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[landosjpg]

risk | ln

lando norris x teammate!reader

the one where you find your crush with someone else.

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: just a little bit of angst with happy ending

note: based on this request. i haven’t written anything longer than 500 words in so long so bare with me please, i hope this is good enough :) reader is a driver but it doesn’t play a big role on the story/is only mentioned like once or twice!

you felt anxious, the nerves eating you alive as you lied in the darkness of your hotel room. you knew it was normal, in only a few hours you would be on your way to your first ever home race as a formula 1 driver.

but you also needed sleep, and as hard as you tried, nothing seemed to put your mind at ease, your mind just going back to making up every possible scenario of what would happen as you stepped in the car the very next day. the good, and also the bad.

after hours of tossing and turning around in bed, you desperately sighed: there was only one thing that could help you relax. someone.

cozied up in your pajamas you silently made your way out of your room and walked down the corridor to lando’s room. you knew he was, most likely, still awake despite of the late hour, well aware of his bad sleeping habits.

while most people thought your relationship was merely professional, during the previous months lando and you had grown extremely close to each other. too close, some would say.

countless nights, you had spent hours in each other’s rooms, trying your best not to wake up the whole building with your laughter. and most of those nights had finished with your limbs tangled with his under the thin blankets, whispered conversations and lingering touches lulling you to sleep.

you weren’t sure where your relationship really stood; every time you took a step forward, it seemed like you went back another three the next morning, the few moments of intimacy quickly forgotten as soon as the sun came up.

but he was the only person around who could make you forget about all your worries in just a few minutes, so you knocked on his door, hoping to not wake anyone up.

you heard his voice on the other side of the wall, but you couldn’t quite understand his words. only a few seconds later, the door swung open, a dishevelled lando standing before you.

“hey,” he greeted you in a whisper.

“hey,” you repeated, trying to catch on the undertone of his voice. normally, he would had pulled you inside already.

“i wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“i…” you started explaining, your words cut off by a figure walking out of the bathroom. your eyes widened and you took a step back. “oh my god, sorry. i didn’t know you were… i’m just gonna…” you said, slowly walking back.

you heard lando sigh and close the door as you made your way to your room again, your chest tightening at the realization. You had completely misunderstood your relationship with him, and now you felt stupid.

you crawled under your sheets with a heavy heart, and as much as you tried to think about something else, the image wouldn’t leave your mind.

the soft knock on your door only a few minutes later startled you and still with a blanket wrapped around your body, you made your way to open.

what you hadn’t expected was to find lando in front of you again, leaning against the doorframe.

“can I come in?” he straight up asked, his eyes analyzing your form.

“I thought you were…”

“she just left,” he cut you off, rising his eyebrow as if to ask you again to let him in. you stepped aside, inviting him inside and closing the door behind him.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” your voice was almost a whispered, embarrassed every time the scene played in your mind again.

“you didn’t,” he said, taking a sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve been crying?”

no,” you quickly lied, shyly drying your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“your eyes are red,” he tried to ignore your gesture, but curiosity got the best of him.

“i’m just tired and can’t fall asleep,” you weren’t fully lying.

“mind if i..?” he mumbled, leaning back on the mattress.

He didn’t have to finish his sentence; you already knew what words followed: mind if i stay the night?

And normally, you would have giggled and told him that he didn’t even have to ask, but this time it felt different.

“i don’t think your girlfriend would like that,” you said before you could even think about your words.

an amused chuckled left his lips, “is that jealousy i hear?”

your cheeks heated up at his question, embarrassment growing inside you. and you couldn’t answer, too scared to mess up again.

“we didn’t do anything,” he explained, a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “realized I would rather spend my time with someone else.”

your heart skipped a beat at the implications behind his words, silence falling hard between the two of you.

“really?” you finally managed to quietly ask.

he patted the spot next to him on the mattress, silently asking you to join him, “you’re that oblivious, huh?” he chuckled.

slowly, you made your way closer to him, his hands reaching for your body as soon as you were at arm’s length; his hands were hooked at your hips and he pulled you into him, standing in between his legs.

he looked up at you, a sly smile spread on his lips when your hands rested on his shoulders.

“you’re not just saying that, are you?” you questioned again, not completely sure of if he was just playing with you.

“don’t be silly,” he shook his head. “i’m actually crazy about you.”

your fingers found home in his curls, softly running a hand through his hair as your gaze met his, “what does this mean for us then?” your voice came out in a nervous whisper.

“i don’t know,” he answered in the same low tone. “but i’d really love to kiss you right now.”

your breath hitched at the statement, and you only could give him a slight nod of your head before he closed the gap between your lips, freeing you from all the worries that had been tormenting you for hours.

[bloatedandalone04]

Sweet Spot

➪the one where hayden goes down on you.

Warnings: soft dom hayden, smut, fluff, oral (f receiving), swearing, rare blurb from me

Word Count: 1.4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANKS FOR 3.9K FOLLOWERS XXXX

“Fuck,” you gasp as Hayden pushes you down onto the bed. “What’s gotten into you?”

Hayden grunts as he kisses all along your exposed collarbones. You were really glad you decided to pick a strapless dress tonight as it made access to your shoulders and chest extremely easy. “The thought of getting you out of this,” he muttered as he reached behind you and fumbled around with the zipper on your back before pulling it down. “You’ve been on my mind all night.”

You laugh a bit when he tugs your dress down and tosses the white fabric off the side of the bed. “You were the one who wanted to go out tonight,” you pointed out as he peppered kisses along the skin of your abdomen. “You’re the one who insisted we have a date night.”

“Stop me next time,” he grunted as he kissed your inner thigh. “Don’t ever let me make plans that require us to leave our house, okay? It ends the same way every single time.” 

“With you begging me to let you take me home,”

“Exactly,” he murmurs as he pulls down the black lace of your panties. “I know I usually take my time with you, but I can’t tonight. I’ve been turned on since the second you walked out of this bedroom nearly three hours ago.”

You laugh again and it quickly turns into a moan as he runs the tip of his nose along your folds, collecting your wetness on his skin with a sigh. “Hayden,” you nearly whisper, reaching a hand down and running it through his neat, though soon to be messy, hair. “Don’t tease me. Not tonight, please.” 

Hayden smirked and kissed along your core, his mouth never actually making contact with your slick folds. “Why not?” He mocked, inhaling your sweet scent before lifting his head to look up at you. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

You huff as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “I have not,” say. “All I did was get ready for the night you planned. It’s not my fault you have no self control.”

Hayden runs his hands up your body until his fingers graze the cups of your bra. “Keep running your mouth like that and I’ll leave us both unsatisfied,” he warned, making your eyes widen as bit as he continued, “Even though I want you so badly right now, I don’t mind walking out and proving just how much self control I really have.”

Gasping quietly, you further test him, “You wouldn’t dare,” and when Hayden makes a move to get up, you quickly pull him back down. “Do not leave me like this when you’re the one who got me in the mood.”

He smirks again and settles between your legs once more. “Don’t act like you have any more self control than I do,” he rasped before delving his tongue within your walls. 

You moan instantly and arch your back, your hand tangling in his hair again and successfully making it messy. 

Just the way you liked it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine as he slides his tongue up. His lips wrap around your clit and he gives it a sharp suck, making your whole body jolt at the sudden stimulation. “Hayden.”

Hayden grins against your clit, poking his tongue out and licking a flat stripe up your wet folds. “Feel good, baby?” He asked, knowing damn well he is a pro at going down on you and how he never failed to get you off this way. 

“Yes,” you give in and feed his ego, anyway. “Feels so good, Hayden.”

He smirked up at you and before you could call him out on being too cocky, he was licking up your arousal and slipping his tongue inside your core. You moan loudly, your hand coming down to tug on his hair again. He had spent at least ten minutes on it earlier in an attempt to make it look good for his and your night out, so to be the one who gets to mess it up was truly an honor. 

He was still fully clothed, his dress shirt beginning to form wrinkles the longer he went down on you, but he didn’t care at all. His mouth explored the most private and sweetest part of you as if he were a starved man, and you were struggling to hold back a way too soon release.

“Fuck, Hayden, you’re so good,” you praise, telling him something you have told him countless times before. 

“So I’ve heard,” he says, further fueling his own ego. He smirks up at you before slipping his tongue inside your wet and welcoming walls. Your hands pull at his hair as he tugs your legs up so they’re draped over his shoulders. 

He fucks the muscle in and out of you as quick as he could and holds your hips down against the bed when he felt you try to buck up into his mouth. “Hayden,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your core as he relentlessly invaded your slick entrance. “Oh, fuck.”

Hayden hums against you, sending vibrations deep into your body and making you squirm a bit. “You drive me crazy,” he commented, nudging your clit with his nose as his lips brushed against your folds. “All the time.”

Your mouth parts in a desperate moan when you catch sight of his lips and chin that were covered in a thin  layer of your sweet juices. 

“You’re right, I have no self control,” he states as he kisses along your inner thighs before glancing up at you. “Not when it comes to you.” 

Then he was flattening out his tongue and licking up your folds again. Your body shook a bit as you fought off the urge to lift your hips and grind against his mouth, not that his tight hold on you would actually let you do that, anyway.  

You bite down harshly on your lip as he fucks his tongue into you again, but this time he keeps eye contact with you as he does it. “Fuck,” you curse, your brows furrowing as the knot that had been quickly forming since he pulled you all the way to your bedroom begins to tighten. “It’s too much.”

You hadn’t even come yet, and aren’t necessarily sensitive at the moment, but having him look at you with his lust-filled, blue eyes was making your brain feel fuzzy and had your sight blurring a bit. 

Hayden pulls away with a smirk on his wet lips. “Too much? Baby, we’ve barely started,” he informed you, dragging his bottom lip up your folds. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth first, then my fingers, then I’ll let you ride me.”

“Fuck,” you huff out, the long night he had in store for you making you feel exhausted already. You drop your head back against the mattress and blindly reach for one of his hands, lacing your fingers together once you feel him in your grip. “I’m close, Hayden.”

He moaned deeply at your warning and the sound once again vibrated your core and caused you to clench down around the tip of his tongue. With his hand held tightly in yours, you arch your back a bit as your first of many orgasms washes over you. 

Hayden cleans up any and all evidence of it with his mouth before pulling away and beginning to place delicate kisses to your throbbing and overly-sensitive clit. He kisses his way up your body, your quiet whines making him smile once he reaches your lips. He kisses you softly there before pulling away as his body settles between your still shaking legs. “How are you doing?” He asked, keeping one of his hands locked with yours while his free one reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face. 

“I’m good,” you tell him, a bit breathless as you wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m so good.”

He hums, kissing you again before trailing his mouth down your neck. “That’s good,” he murmurs, glancing up at you with a small smirk. “Because that was just the beginning.”

[jupipedia]

— mine yours. - s. gojo. playboy!gojo x reader. warnings : nsfw [ minor do not interact!! ], cunnilingus, orgasm denial, possessive!gojo, praising, lowkey angst, tbh this is pretty tame, not beta read lol, idk if i missed anything !

gojo was infuriating to say the least.

he was beyond spoiled, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. he was used to the best. he had the best clothes, the best schools, the best friends, and even the best women. he's known for having a new girl every now and then, always just as beautiful as the last, driving them around his luxury car until he got bored of them and dropped them.

he's used to getting his way every time, not settling until things were in his favor. he hates being told no when he wants something. he's persistent in all of the wrong ways and for all of the wrong reasons.

however, you couldn't bring yourself to complain as he was knuckles deep into your core, curling his fingers perfectly as he sucked on you clit. your hands were tangled in his white hair, back arched off of your comforter as you withered in pleasure.

the arrangement between the two of you was a bit different that gojo was used to. the girls he was with usually like being shown off. they liked being spoiled with the little gifts he would give them. they would brag about him to anyone who would listen, even going as far to post pictures of the two of them kissing, not that he minded.

you, on the other hand, acted like he barely existed despite spending almost every night in his bed and almost every morning eating at his house, wearing one of his shirts. you didn't go out of your way to see him, you didn't accept any of the things he bough you aside from a necklace on your birthday, hell you didn't even speak to him when you were in the same room if other people were there. he would be lying if he said his pride wasn't hurt.

"got the sweetest pussy, pretty girl," he muttered around your clit, the vibrations adding to the stimulation as you tightened your grip on his hair. he'd spent the last half hour between your legs, having pulled three powerful orgasms from you. he would deny you your release and have the ache build up a few times which led to an earth-shattering orgasm that made your ears ring and vision blur.

"everything about you is just so cute," he released your clit and took one last swipe through your folds before he began to kiss up your torso, stopping to deliver a harsh suck at each nipple before continuing his path to your lips. "so. fucking. cute."

"toru," you whined out as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his lips to suck clean before kissing you deeply, your heady taste present on his tongue.

"patience, beautiful. you and i need to have a little chat," he said, opening the foil of the condom with his teeth and rolling it on. as he lined himself up with your entrance, he spread your legs, offering himself a full view of your cunt.

"we have to talk right now? it can't wait—ah!" gojo ignored your words, pushing slowly into your heat and pausing when he was mostly inside.

"please move," you tried to thrust your hips, but gojo was quick to pin them back to mattress.

"here's how this is gonna go. i'll move as much as you want me to, but you don't get to cum until you say that you're mine," he groaned in your ear, unable to resist the shiver crawling up his spine as he settled deeper into your core. you tossed your head back as the tip of his cock scraped your walls deliciously.

"didn't know—fuck!" your snarky remark died on your tongue as he suddenly began to thrust his hips, setting a pace that numbed your mind.

"you can keep the sarcastic remarks. not interested in those right now," he grunted, biting down on your shoulder, hoping to ground himself. your mind grew foggy as you grew closer to your release. you couldn't form coherent words, let alone fulfill gojo's request.

you weren't totally clueless as to where this behavior came from. if anyone asked you if you even knew gojo, you would deny it without hesitation. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you or how many late night dates the two of you went on, you would not admit to dating the man.

and it wasn't even to save face, you just didn't think what you and gojo had going on was that serious. you knew his track record and thought it'd be best to skip any unnecessary future drama that would come with being "satoru's girl".

"'t-toru~ i'm gonna—n-no, please~," you whined as gojo's thrusts paused as your release approached.

"aht aht aht, you haven't said it so you don't get to cum," he said, continuing his pace when he was sure your pending orgasm subsided.

"satoru please! i just wan' cum on your cock," you whined in his ear, arching your back as he grazed your g-spot.

"and i wanna hear you say that you're mine. mine to kiss. mine to hold. mine to fuck," he emphasized his sentences with harsh thrusts. "my girl."

"why—ah! why w-would i say that when y-you aren't mine? i k-know how you work, 'toru," you pushed out, forcing yourself to focus on speaking as he fucked you dumb.

gojo paused in his thrusts to look at you, disbelief painting his face. "you think i spend my friday nights watching scooby doo movies with you just so i can fuck you? you think i wake up before you to cook you breakfast just so i can get some pussy? you think that i help you go over your proposals a thousand time as test runs because i just want to have sex with you? i must've fucked you stupid or something because that's the stupidest shit i've ever heard you say."

"'toru, you know that's not what i meant. i was just saying—fuck!" your arms shot out to hold gojo's hips, hoping to stop his resumed thrusting.

"i know you meant, pretty," he hummed as he picked up his pace. "change of plans. you can come as many times as you want, but i'm not stopping until you understand that not only are you mine, but i'm yours. got it?"

fuck, you were in for a long night.

© JUPIPEDIA. all rights reserved.

[xoxoladyaz]

Deep down, Steve knows that it's only a matter of time until he gets caught.

It feels like he's gone through the five stages of grief, like, twenty times. He can't count how many hours he's spent rationalizing it: what Eddie doesn't know won't hurt him, this is normal, people do it all the time, and besides, Eddie would feel completely betrayed if he knew and their relationship is so new that it's just not worth the risk. The absolute last thing he wants is to upset Eddie and this will just make him upset so really, Steve is doing the honorable thing by just not telling him, by pretending that he's not hiding anything, that everything is fine.

But it's not Eddie that catches him; hell, it isn't even someone in the Party; it's Jeff, Eddie's friend/Hellfire Club member/Corroded Coffin bandmate who shows up too early for D&D at Steve's one day and sees something he shouldn't have.

"This isn't what it looks like."

Jeff walks into the kitchen and frowns, like he's confused by what he's seeing and why Steve is so anxious, why he's sweating like he's just run a marathon. "It looks like you're blending a bunch of veggies together in a blender."

Shit. "Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

Jeff still looks confused. "And this is a big deal because - "

"Because I haven't told Eddie that the 'special pasta sauce' that I've been using the last three months whenever we have spaghetti and meatballs is actually entirely made of, like, ten different kinds of vegetables," Steve rushes out, and Jeff's face smoothes in understanding.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. The dude has a weird vendetta against veggies."

Steve groans, slumping in relief. "Tell me about it. Do you know how hard it is to hide veggies in every single meal that I make for him? Because if I don't, then he's never going to eat them, and I'm worried about his health enough as it is."

Jeff nods. "It's the smoking, right?"

"The smoking, and the drinking, and I know he's sneaking out to smoke with Jon and Argyle, but he doesn't exercise and he only eats highly processed cereal with loads of sugar and I just don't want him to have a heart attack before the age of forty!"

"Hey, hey, Steve, man, your secret's safe with me." Jeff holds his hands up in supplication. "And for the record, I'm on your side. The dude is like a feral raccoon."

"I know," Steve sighs. "But he's my feral raccoon."

That makes Jeff start laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom and I have been doing the same thing for years now. If you want, we could exchange recipes sometime."

"Really?" Steve perks up and now, now he's excited. "That would be great!"

"Sick. Need some help with the meatballs?"

"Please!"

And that is how Eddie and Gareth and Phil and Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica and Will find them later, chatting and laughing while Steve tosses his homemade noodles into his now-simmering pasta sauce, Jeff sitting on the kitchen island and drinking a beer.

This time, it's Jeff who looks like he's seen a ghost. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh?" Eddie asks, and his voice is totally controlled, which means that Jeff is screwed. "So you're not hanging out with my boyfriend and making him do that cute little blushy giggle that is my cute blushy giggle?"

"Eddie!" Steve scolds, but it's too late, Jeff knows his fate is sealed.

"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

(Jeff's rogue is caught in the blast zone when Dustin's ranger kills a large acid toad. Still, he can't feel too mad when he sees Eddie smirk and then lick the veggie sauce out of his pasta bowl.)

[wileys-russo]

KCC, “if you think I’m cute when I’m mad I’m about to be gorgeous”, at home or training🫶🫶

forgotten coffee II k.cooney-cross

today was not a good day.

normally you were someone who let issues run away from you like water off a ducks back, who brushed hardships off and continued forward with a smile on your face and optimism on your tongue.

you had to in order to have dated kyra for as long as you had, as everyone loved to remind you had the patience of a saint and you had years of experience in calming down and dealing with the sporadic and often juvenile behaviours she displayed.

the two of you growing up in the youth teams and progressing through the a-league together you'd realised on a team night out you were harboring more than just friendly feelings for her.

never one to shy away from what you want you were the one who made the first move though fearful of rejection. but luckily that rejection never came, and years later you were still going strong.

but today, today was not a good day.

you'd had one of the worst night sleeps you thought possible, waking up what felt like every half an hour with a groan and a huff tossing and turning until finally you'd drift off again only to wake up a few moments later and start the routine over again.

normally kyra would be there to try and help you but she'd spent the last few days helping charli move in and you'd encouraged she spend the night there to really help your friend feel settled and at home.

plus you knew better than anyone how much kyra truly missed her best friend now they weren't both playing in sweden and able to see one another whenever they pleased.

you contemplated calling the girl around three thirty wondering if even the sound of her voice might help but you decided against it, not wanting the interrupt the night you insisted they both have despite how much both girls tried to invite you to come along.

so when your alarm finally went at seven thirty indicating you needed to get up and ready for training you were positively exhausted, miserable and grumpy.

which was obvious to your girlfriend the very moment you stepped outside, the brunette having taken her training things to charli's but offering you a lift she sat in her car in your shared driveway not bothered to go inside as she waited you to come out.

"for fuck sakes!" you threw your head back with a groan as the keys slipped from your hand as you tried to lock up, kicking the door with a grunt as kyra watched on cautiously.

you slung your gym bag over your shoulder grumbling obscenities under your breath as of course because you were already in a foul mood you caught your foot on the edge of the steps and went tumbling down to the ground.

kyra went to unbuckle herself and help you but you were already to your feet, snatching your bag and storming off to the car with a scowl plastered into your features.

"good morning sunshine." the midfielder greeted as you slid into the passenger seat after tossing your bag in the boot. "fuck off." you mumbled with a frown, catching yourself and sighing. "sorry, had the worst night sleep." you apologised, leaning over the console to peck her lips.

"babe why didn't you call me? i can sleepover at char's anytime i would have come home." kyra grabbed your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles with a frown as you buckled in.

"because you deserved a nice night with char i know you missed your little sleepovers. but its fine i just need a fucking coffee!" you exhaled deeply as kyra's eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip as suddenly you noticed the coffee you assumed was yours in the cup holder was not.

"you didn't get me a coffee?" you asked in disbelief as kyra winced. "i assumed you'd make one at home! we can get one on the way?" kyra tried, starting up the engine as you sank deeper into the seat. "we don't have time for that because you're late because you stopped to get a coffee and didn't get me one." you mumbled grumpily, scowl returning as kyra grimaced.

"i'm sorry!" your girlfriend apologized again as you hummed, refusing to look at her. "baby, please i'm really really sorry." her eyes burned into the side of your head as you continued to ignore her.

"babe!" the girl whined, reaching out for you as you pushed her hand away and huffed. "i have never ever gotten a coffee and not at least offered you one, we always get one another a coffee." you finally looked at her though the look in your eyes had kyra breaking it and glancing away.

"babe i really am sorry. i love you?" kyra tried as you hummed, pulling out your phone. "i love you so much?" she tried again with a charming smile, met with even more silence. "you look really cute when you're mad?" kyra poked at you, still met with silence as she gave in and started up the car backing out of the driveway.

"hi lessi." kyra's head whipped toward you at a red light as you held your phone to your ear. "have you grabbed coffee yet?" you questioned hopefully, knowing the blonde lived a lot closer to colney than you and kyra did.

"oh my god yes please, kyra doesn't care about me and my needs anymore." you shot her a pointed look as she gasped. "less she's lying!" the midfielder yelled as you rolled your eyes. "i love you! and i owe you, thanks less." you blew her a kiss and hung up the phone.

"so you'll tell less you love her but not me!" kyra scoffed as you shrugged, head buried in your phone still grumpy, ignoring all of her attempts at conversation as she gave up with a groan and turned the music up louder instead.

you sighed in relief seeing alessia, vic and emily waiting around for you, a coffee held securely in alessia's hand which you knew had your name on it, the three girls hovering near where kyra always parked in waiting.

barely putting the car in park kyra had hopped out and darted around to the side opening the door for you with a wide eager smile. laughter rung out as kyra tried to kiss you but you ducked under her arm leaving her behind with a frown as you popped her boot and grabbed your bag out.

"trouble in paradise cooney cross?" vic teased with a smirk as your girlfriend shot her a glare, slamming your door and grabbing her own bag with a huff. "you alright?" alessia murmured with a concerned gaze as she handed you the coffee.

"i am in a terrible mood." you muttered, sighing in relief at the first sip of your coffee, melting into a hug from the taller girl who patted your back. "oh kyra! get off." you heard steph groan as you pulled away from the hug seeing your girlfriend latched onto your national teammate.

"call her off! please." steph caught your eye and begged as you sipped on your coffee and walked off without a word, kyra clambering off steph and chasing after you.

"that was frosty, ouch." steph winced as the four girls followed after the pair of you, watching in amusement as your girlfriend tried routinely to grab your free hand or sling an arm over your shoulder as you pushed her off time after time.

you continued to ignore kyra's attempts to charm, flirt and schmooze with you as you entered the locker room. "oo ouch. now what did you do?" caitlin caught on instantly, steering kyra away from hovering after you as you dropped down into your cubby to change shoes.

"didn't get her a coffee and she's extra grumpy today because she didn't sleep and i slept over at charli's." kyra mumbled with a huff, fighting to wrench off caitlins arm which only tightened around her neck.

"oh girlfriend of the year!" caitlin whistled as kyra broke free and jumped onto her back wrapping her arm around the older girls neck now. "get off ya leech!" caitlin groaned trying to shake her off with no real luck as you laced up your boots and grabbed your coffee ready to head off for the team briefing.

but what kyra failed to see as she was clinging on tightly to caitlin was you try to shuffle past, accidentally kicking your coffee right from your hand as it clattered to the floor and kyra dropped away from caitlin who winced and hurried away.

"baby-" kyra started as you held up a hand, silencing her.

"if you think i'm cute when i'm mad i'm about to be gorgeous." you warned calmly, eyes narrowing as you let out a war cry and charged at your girlfriend who sprinted off away from you.

"come here babe i'm gonna kill you!"

[venus-haze]

Watch Honey Drip, Can't Keep Away (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: America’s golden son can't keep his eyes off of you, almost like he wants to devour you whole...or something like that.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. This is kind of in the same universe as She’s Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best. I know generally men in the ‘40s, let alone Soldier Boy of all people, wouldn’t really consider going down on a woman, but it’s my fic and I get to decide he eats out. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Period typical misogyny, power imbalance. Explicit sexual content involving masturbation and oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

“Which city are we going to next?” you asked, finally comfortable in the swanky hotel room in Chicago you were roomed in with three other girls from the troupe. Soldier Boy’s Sparkling Sweethearts. People came from miles around to show their patriotism–and get a look-see at the acts. If it weren’t Soldier Boy, it was you and the other Sweethearts. Something for everyone, really. Even in places like–

“Wichita.”

A collective groan filled the space, littered with makeup and dresses that’d inevitably shoved into suitcases in a hurry the moment of checkout. There were more important things to worry about than being organized.

“Better than wherever the hell we were last week. Couldn’t get enough of us on Saturday, and then nearly ran us out with pitchforks after the preacher was through with them Sunday morning.”

“I’m going down to the bar while we’re still in a hotel that has one,” you said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Not if Soldier Boy’s there.” A giggle tore through the room. “Did you see him earlier? He looked like he could eat you alive.”

You weren’t even supposed to have been up there with Soldier Boy during his act, a routine that showed off his powers and preceded his usual rousing speech to get the American public to open their hearts and wallets to the war bonds drive. But Darla had broken her leg while ice skating on a day off in Milwaukee, and Soldier Boy had specifically asked for you to fill her spot.

Your role involved memorizing a few lines from a script and looking pretty while Soldier Boy understandably took the lead, but your “rehearsal” just hours before was little more than going through your lines once before Soldier Boy poured you a shot to “calm your nerves” and spent the following fifteen minutes fucking your mouth before sending you off to get ready for the show. 

Walking up on that stage again after your usual routine with the Sparkling Sweethearts was nerve-wracking. Though you knew what to expect, you still felt like your heart was going to pop out of your chest every time he lifted you above his head or tossed you up in the air and caught you, to the raucous applause and cheers of the Chicagoans and celebrities who’d packed the theater to see him.

“Betty Grable’s in town, so I think she’s the main course,” you said as you left, closing the door behind you and leaving your coworkers to tease you in private.

Among the various hobbies you’d taken up since becoming a Sparkling Sweetheart, people-watching in hotel bars was one of your favorites. He would almost always be there too, an otherworldly presence with an abundance of movers and shakers rotating in his orbit, unable to resist the pull of America’s golden son.

Some of the girls in the troupe didn’t care for him, found him too brash and handsy. You could think of at least one who’d been unceremoniously replaced after loudly complaining one too many times. No one really knew what the extent of his powers were, but after that incident, you suspected enhanced hearing might be among them. Or someone was just a snitch. 

When you stepped into the bar, a quick scan of the room revealed Betty Grable to be nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Soldier Boy either, until a deep voice wrapped around you like velvet.

“There’s my girl.”

“Who, me?” you asked teasingly.

“‘Course you are, honey.”

“Because I heard Betty Grable’s in town—“

He scoffed. “That broad? Who needs her?”

Your chest filled with pride at his statement. She was the pin-up girl of choice for every GI in Europe and the Pacific. Well, almost all of them. His arm settled around your waist as he told the bartender to give you whatever you wanted. The overhead lights in the bar were nice and low, you felt warm beneath Soldier Boy’s gaze. Being the object of his attention always carried weight. He was the world’s first superhero, after all. A living legend. Plenty of other women he could be spending his time with besides you.

Pressing your lips to his cheek, you whispered a ‘thank you’ for the drink, taking in the way he licked his lips, his handsome face so close to yours, still under the slight cover of the shadows. Whoever decided a helmet that covered half of his face would be part of his costume needed serious help. 

“Y’know, if you hadn’t come down here, I might’ve gone up to your room and dragged you out,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “It’s like you were shakin’ your ass just for me on that stage.”

“It’s called shimmying, and I’m glad you liked it.”

“I was thinking, how about you replace Darla for my act?”

“Permanently?”

“Sure, we’ve got great chemistry,” he said, squeezing your hip, “on and off stage.”

As the night progressed, your conversations with Soldier Boy were interrupted by the slew of people who recognized him, excitedly introducing themselves and asking for a few minutes of his time. He graciously accepted with a ‘You don’t mind, right honey?’ And you shook your head, watching him humor politicians, business moguls, and socialites.

You smiled when the latest one had made their departure, tilting your head the slightest bit. “Do you even remember what my name is?”

“Honey suits you better,” he said, his tongue darting out between his lips. “Bet you taste like it too.”

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess so.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, passing you his room key. “You go make yourself comfortable while I close out my tab.” 

As if he’d even be paying for the drinks himself. It’d probably be billed to the Department of Defense, or that strange company that sponsored the tour. You didn’t pay much attention to who was signing your checks, just that they cashed out when you brought them to the bank.

You balked at his hotel room, far more space than a single man could possibly need. Then again, he rarely spent his nights alone. 

Comfortable. Ridding yourself of your clothes, you climbed into the giant bed, pulling the covers just over your breasts. As you laid back on the plush pillows, you recalled earlier that day when he had swatted your ass as you walked off stage after your act with him was finished, playing it off as a joke to the crowd who cheered and whistled. The simple yet slightly painful gesture had gone straight through you, however, and you worried that there’d be a noticeable wet spot on your satin panties when you and the other Sparkling Sweethearts returned for one last routine to close out the show, your high kicks telling on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the door and slipped a hand between your legs. He had only said to make yourself comfortable, nothing specifically about waiting. Gently prodding two fingers against your pussy, you weren’t surprised to find that you were wet already. Your eyes fluttered shut as you pushed your fingers inside, thinking about how his hands felt on you earlier. Strong and steady, big hands that could break you so easily but didn’t.

“Couldn’t wait?” He stood at the end of the bed, fully clothed with his arms folded over his broad chest as he pinned you in place with his disapproving glare.

You gasped, pulling your hand from between your legs. “I was just–”

He clicked his tongue at you, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “My fault for keeping you waiting too long, doll.”

Soldier Boy joined you on the bed, pulling back the covers you’d pulled over your bare body. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with an overwhelming fireceness as he groped your breasts, squeezing down your stomach to your hips and finally your thighs. His lips followed that same path, kissing and biting along your skin that suddenly felt feverish beneath his touch. Still, your pussy ached for him, especially since he had walked in while you were pleasuring yourself, but he wasn’t paying any mind to it.

Until he dipped his head down, licking your wet cunt. In your shock, you pushed your thighs together, as if his intrusion were unwelcome. 

His strong hands held your legs apart, gently squeezing the tender flesh. “I jerked off thinking about this earlier, but nothin' like the real thing, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes focused on the ornate ceiling. Gold leafing, a Renaissance-esque painting, surely Soldier Boy didn’t care much about that. 

“Eyes on me, honey. You got that?”

Immediately, you looked at him, his blazing green stare burning through you until you nodded. He wasted no time in burying his face between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with such force that you realized you had no idea what getting eaten out by a superhero would actually entail. 

He lapped at your pussy with an insatiable fervor that made your legs shake beneath his steady grip. Your moan caught in your throat when he plunged his tongue deeper into you, his nose brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves he’d already teased. 

A whine tore from your throat when he pulled away for a moment, smugly admiring your glistening sex. His lips appeared coated in your juices, and you nearly came at that sight alone.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he growled appreciatively. “This all for me?”

Who else? As if any other man could make you feel pleasure so intensely, as if that were yet another superpower of his. For a moment you bemoaned a possible future of unsatisfying sex with some regular old Joe–not America’s hero, its fucking sex symbol. But all you could manage was a weak, “Yes.”

Satisfied with your response, he closed his plush lips over your clit, sucking on it like he was pulling from a cigarette, your arousal burning deep in his lungs. You grabbed at the sheets, digging your hands into them as you grind your pussy against his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a split second, shooting open when he smacked your thigh. Eyes on me.

“Fuck—Soldier Boy,” you moaned. “‘m close.”

He growled against you, the vibrations from his throat edging you closer to orgasm. His inhuman stamina meant he hadn’t given you much of a break since he lowered his face between your thighs. He’d been content to tease you for a while, but he seemed more focused, intentional with the way he ate you out, his attention especially focused on your clit. 

You could feel it, that tightness in your abdomen that was about to snap. Involuntarily, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were on that stage again, in his big arms, bright lights blaring as you stared dreamily at him. Then he threw you in the air, higher and higher until you came back down and–

“Soldier Boy, oh my god–don’t fucking stop,” you pleaded, riding out your orgasm on his face.

His hands held down your bucking hips, your ecstasy overpowered by his determination to bring you over the edge until you were an incoherent mess, muscles aching at the exertion of each orgasm despite him doing all of the work. Light-headed, seeing stars, you reached down, tugging at his hair. That was it. You were tapping out. Mercy.

He granted such, though he pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, nipping at the tender skin. All you could give him was weak moans in return. If you expected to be able to go anywhere else the rest of the night, he’d made damn well sure you couldn’t so much as move from his bed. Maybe that was the idea.  

Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted his head, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand, though the evidence of your orgasms was still all over the rest of his face. He kissed you, the foreign taste of yourself filling your mouth, sending a deliciously obscene rush through you. His mouth broke from yours, just for a moment, as he whispered your name against your lips. You realized you didn’t actually know his.

[firewasabeast]

prompt: buck finds out tommy was a pow

how'd this get so long? I truly do not know.

They were four months into their relationship when Tommy started clearing out half of his closet for Buck. Others might've thought they were moving too fast, but that didn't matter to them. Buck spent most of his free time at Tommy's place anyway, and his lease was up in a month. There was no way either of them wanted to wait another whole year before living together.

So, on a random Saturday, they decided to do it. Clear the closet so Buck could slowly start moving stuff in.

They had invited Eddie over too, possibly under the false pretense of sitting and watching a game, but they needed someone around that would keep them on task. Or, at least keep them from getting distracted with each other's mouths.

“Can someone please tell me how my life became so dull that this is the most exciting thing I've done this past week?” Eddie asked, seated on the bed and folding up a shirt before placing it into the donation box.

“You really wanna go there?” Buck asked.

“No, I do not.”

“Eddie, I've got an extra pair of boxing gloves in here!” Tommy called out from the back of the closet. “They're new. You want them?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I've got like three pairs already.”

He came out and tossed the gloves to Eddie, who looked them over briefly. “Thanks, man!”

“Of course.”

Buck headed back into the closet and reached up for an old cardboard box high on the top shelf. As he lifted it, an item fell out and down to the floor. “Oops,” he breathed out, moving the box to one hand as he bent down to pick the item up.

It was service medal. Buck stared at it for a moment, lets his thumb brush over it. He'd done a lot of research on anything and everything military related, but he could not for the life of him remember what this particular medal was for.

He walked out to the bedroom, where Tommy and Eddie were in the middle of discussing how the team who won karaoke trivia last week definitely cheated and should be investigated, and dropped the box onto the bed. “Not sure what all this is,” he said, the box catching Tommy's attention.

“Oh, that's just army stuff,” he replied, sliding the box toward himself and starting to close it back up.

“This fell out of it.” Buck handed over the medal, noting Tommy's pause before he plucked it from his hand. “What's it for?” He could feel Eddie's eyes on him, could sense a tension in the air, but he couldn't figure out why. Tommy had talked to him about his time in the military before, but he'd never mentioned a medal.

“It's a... a Prisoner of War Medal,” he replied, dropping it into the box. He closed the box and plopped it onto the floor directly between the keep and throw away piles.

“Oh. Is it your grandad's?” One day Buck would learn to read the room before speaking, but today was not that day.

“No. Um, no it's not.” Tommy was still turned away from him, his attention now focused on a pile of old CD's they'd already gone through earlier in the day.

Buck took that all too quiet moment to glance over at Eddie, who was shaking his head and silently telling Buck to let it go.

The dots connected, and Buck felt a pain in his chest he hadn't felt since he got struck by lightning. This might've been worse actually, because he didn't technically remember the feeling of being struck by lightning.

“Lunch!” He exclaimed, a bit too brightly, but desperate to move on so he didn't cause unwanted pain. “I should make lunch.”

Buck excused himself from the room and headed into the kitchen, pausing to take a few deep breaths and calm his pounding heart. He could hear the low rumblings of Tommy and Eddie talking in the bedroom, but made no effort to listen to what they were saying.

He knew it wasn't for him to hear anyway.

*****

Twenty-seven hours later, Buck and Eddie were starting a shift. Buck lasted all of half an hour before sitting down across from Eddie on the couch and staring at him as he read a magazine.

“Can I help you with something, Buck?” Eddie asked, keeping his eyes on the magazine.

“You knew about it, didn't you?”

“Knew about what?”

Buck reached over and grabbed the magazine, yanking it from Eddie's lap and tossing it onto the table.

“That could've given me a paper cut!” Eddie whined.

“Eddie, this is serious.”

Eddie sighed. “You know my rule Buck. I don't discuss Tommy's business with you, I don't discuss your business with him. It's how we all live in peace.”

“I'm not asking you to discuss it, I- I'm just asking if you knew.”

There's a pause. Eddie stared at Buck, Buck stared back. They might as well have been having a contest; whoever blinked first won.

Eddie was the one to give in, rolling his eyes at Buck's stubbornness. “Yes, I knew.”

Buck huffed out a humorless laugh. “Great. Great, you know my boyfriend better than I do.”

“Buck, come on-”

“No, it's true! I'm- I'm not being an ass, it's just true. He's never mentioned that to me before. I've asked him all about his military career and I thought he'd told me everything, but i- it turns out he gave me a censored version.”

“It's not like that, Buck,” Eddie replied. “Listen, it was not long after Christopher left, Tommy invited me over for some Muay Thai. I thought he was doing it as a favor, so I could get all my aggression out, but it seemed it was more for him that day. I asked what was up and I guess it was the anniversary of the day he was captured. Don't be mad at him for this, man.”

Buck's face went from concerned to puzzled. “I'm not mad. I- I'm worried. Listen, I'm glad he has you to talk to, and I know I don't... get it like you do, but I'd like to know he trusts me with the tough stuff too. I don't want to move in with a guy who thinks he has to hide part of his life from me.”

“That's not it, Buck. It was literally just a right place right time thing. You had plans with Maddie that day, and apparently it's not something he ever talks about to anyone outside of therapy. It has nothing to do with you.” Eddie spoke the final sentence pointedly, making sure Buck comprehended the words.

Buck nodded. He did understand, and he really wasn't mad.

He hated that Tommy had gone through something so awful. Hated that he'd been going through it alone for all these years, however long it had been.

The worry lingered though.

Because if Tommy didn't tell him this, was there a possibility he'd been telling him revised versions of everything in his life?

Did he really know him at all?

*****

Two days passed before they got to see each other again. Buck was already at Tommy's place, settled into the sofa and reading a book on Egyptology when Tommy got home.

“Hey, hun,” Tommy greeted with a smile. He bent down, one hand on the back of the couch to hold him up, the other hand on Buck's cheek as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Hi,” Buck replied with the soft grin he always got after one of Tommy's kisses. “How was work?”

“Surprisingly calm.”

“Not a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Tommy agreed.

Buck returned his attention to his book as Tommy sat across from him. His eyes drifted toward the TV but he made no effort to reach for the remote and turn it on.

“Evan?”

“Hm?”

Tommy reached out and held onto the edge of Buck's book. “Can I?”

Buck eyed him, confused, but closed the book and let him take it. Once Tommy had set it on the coffee table, he returned his attention to his boyfriend.

He stared at him, mouth pursed, and each second that ticked by worried Buck a little more.

“Are you-”

“It was 2004,” Tommy started, “I was twenty, in Afghanistan. We were on a recon mission, our chopper got shot down.”

“Tommy, you don't have to...”

His voice trailed off as Tommy held out his hand for Buck to take. Tommy squeezed it, then continued, “It happened so fast, we didn't have much time to think let alone fight back. There were four of us. We all survived the crash somehow, but... anyway, I got shot in the thigh, and all the other guys were shot too. Weirdly, it's the only injury I've gotten that didn't leave a scar. We were blindfolded, had these sacks put over our heads, tied up, and thrown into the back of a truck.”

“My God.” The words slipped out without Buck even realizing. The thought of Tommy, not even old enough to legally drink, going through something like that was horrifying.

“I don't-” Tommy cleared his throat, and Buck could feel his hand starting to get clammy. “We were there for forty-three days. I didn't know that until we were rescued, had no idea when it was day and when it was night.” Tommy shifted, dropping Buck's hand so he could move around and try to get more comfortable. “Evan, I don't talk about it with anyone outside of therapy. Even my therapist doesn't know everything, and I- I just try not to dwell on it.”

Buck nodded. “I understand.”

“And I'm sure you know Eddie knows.”

“I figured it out,” Buck replied simply.

Tommy let out a deep breath, his eyes searching Buck like he was trying to read his mind. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, I know I should have said something.”

“No,” Buck assured him. “No, that's- I'm not mad about it or anything. That's a horrible thing you went through and I completely understand not wanting to get into it.”

Tommy eyed him carefully. "Evan."

Buck let out a groan. “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

“If there's one thing you're not, Evan, it's stupid.”

“I- I'm endlessly grateful you have someone like Eddie you can talk to,” Buck started. “Seriously, I get that you need someone who can understand. Eddie was in the army, he gets it in a way I never will.”

“But?”

Buck pointed at Tommy. “See, this is the stupid part. I did feel jealous, at first. That he knew a part of you that I didn't. And it made me worry that there might be other things I don't know, or pieces of you that you kept hidden from me to protect me, or something?”

“Ev-”

“No, I know that's not true. I had like fifty conversations with myself to get there, but I got there,” he added with a laugh.

“Did he tell you why I told him? Or what I told him?”

“He briefly mentioned a Muay Thai session when I went to him with questions. He's apparently very strict on not being a go-between for us, which is healthy I guess. It wasn't his place to tell me anyway.”

“Right.”

Buck moved closer to Tommy. “I'm not saying it was yours either, Tommy.”

A deep breath, then Tommy continued. “That day- the anniversary, or whatever- is not a great day for me. Usually I work, it keeps me distracted, but I was off and shockingly no one needed me to take their shift. You had made plans with Maddie, and I was... struggling. I invited Eddie over for a sparring session and I got a little, um, intense with it?”

Buck raised an eyebrow in question.

“There was blood.”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy nodded. “Not much. Cut the lip a bit, but he knew something was up and it came out. I didn't even tell him as much as I just told you. All I said was it was it had been twenty years since I'd been shot and captured. He asked how long I was a prisoner for and I told him. That's it. Then he put down the ice pack I'd given him and we went another round.”

Buck truly was endlessly thankful that Tommy and Eddie had each other. “He's a good friend to have.”

“Yeah, he is. Ev, you know things about me, my life, my family, that I've never shared with anyone before. I have never felt so comfortable with anyone; never was able to let my guard down until you. That- This thing, is something I'm still trying to share with myself. It's been twenty years, but I'm working on it.”

Buck nodded. “Take all the time you need. If you ever do need or want to talk about it though, I'm here. Or Eddie, or Bobby, or literally anyone.”

Tugging on Buck's arm to pull him closer, Tommy turned on the couch, resting so his legs were outstretched, parted just enough for Buck to fit between. He was more thankful every day for the extra wide sofa they'd bought so they could cuddle comfortably on it.

Buck curled into him, head resting on Tommy's chest, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I love you,” he muttered into the fabric of Tommy's shirt.

Tommy planted a kiss on top of Buck's head, running his fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 6

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, sexually charged conversations, teasing/banter. Smut, sex toys, minor bondage, spanking. A guest star of Anthony DiNozzo! I didn't really want to bring in a whole THIRD fandom into this but it ended up working out really nicely and I can play around with it in future chapters too! It feels like it's been ages since I've updated this so clearly the last week was a long one lol. Remember how I said I wanted to be a chapter ahead from now on with my series? Yeah that quickly did not happen. LOL. I'm gonna try to keep up with it, and I promise y'all won't wait longer than a week between chapters, I just need to hunker down and write!

Working for Heather meant that you worked insane hours that could change at the drop of a hat, but it also meant that you could essentially make your own schedule whenever you wanted. You could do most of your job from home or a hotel, as long as you had Wi-Fi you were in the clear, you spent a lot of your time gallivanting around D.C to finish whatever tasks you needed to. Shuffling your schedule around constantly meant that you were more than given the liberty to a Thursday afternoon off and that is exactly why you were meandering down Wisconsin Avenue with Tony in tow. Some of your friends questioned why you always went shopping with him, but the truth was he knew style, understood expensive taste, always told the truth if something looked bad and the entire experience was more efficient. If you went out with your girlfriends on a shopping spree you got dragged into twelve stores you needed nothing from and had to wait while they tried on countless amounts of outfits. With Tony the most that would happen would you’d have some extra browsing time at L. Priori because he got distracted by the watches.

“You got some big White House party coming up or something?” He asked, taking a sip of the coffee you’d bought him earlier.

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder as you picked up the small bag, “no.”

“We’ve done jewels, we’ve done shoes,” he pushed the door open for you, holding it while you crossed through the entry way and back out onto the street, “you dropped off three dresses for alterations and looked through the catalogue of what’s coming in…”

“I just want to revamp my closet a little bit, make sure I’m prepared for summer, you know how many extra garden parties I end up at.”

“And your boss is okay with that amount of cleavage?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

“I got a little carried away doing spring cleaning and tossed half my closet.” You bluffed, “I work so much I forgot I actually wore the other shit and now need to replace it.” Veering off to the side your hand tugged open the door to Jaryam and Tony followed you inside.

“When’s your next date?” He asked with a grin.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“Then why did you just drag me into a lingerie store?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I didn’t drag you anywhere, you love this shit. I just want some new pieces; you’ve got the right eye for colour and the masculine fetishistic imagination to tell me which ones I’ll look the best in.”

He chuckled darkly, not bothering to disagree with you as you made your way further into the shop, he was a pace behind you, fiddling with a price tag when he scoffed and you turned back to him with a raised brow, “I’ve heard you complain about the prices in Victoria’s Secret and that’s got nothing on this, a thong for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“It’s… about the quality.” You shrugged, “thirty dollars for a scrap of fabric that falls apart in a month made in a sweatshop isn’t a good investment.” You picked up the pair that he was looking at, reading through the tag, “something hand stitched made with quality fabric that’s going to last? Worth it.”

“Hmm.” He replied, surveying you for a minute as you put the thong back on the rack, “you know, I noticed when you picked up the coffee that you used a black card…”

“You’re really working those sleuthing skills today, aren’t ya?” You teased back with a grin, moving onto a wall of lace bras.

“It’s not exactly a difficult mystery.” He smirked, following you, “fancy shoes, nice jewels, new clothes, expensive lingerie,” you turned back to face him, an unimpressed look on your face and he practically caged you into the wall, “who’s your daddy?”

“Ew, Tony, fuck off.” You groaned, shoving at his chest as he laughed, “coffee and meals can be turned into a write off. I used Heather’s card.”

“Bah! Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll just run your financials when I get back to the office.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “they call you a very Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“Why yes, yes they do.” He smiled, getting a little smug about it and you shook your head at him.

“Then explain to me how running my financials would let you in on whose card I’m using.” You asked, watching as he opened his mouth to give you some witty response but he couldn’t find one, gaping for a minute before he let out a defeated huff and you tugged him in the other direction, “now c’mon, I know you have a good eye for lingerie.”

“Now that, I will not deny.” He replied with a smile and you did roll your eyes as he followed you deeper into the shop.

You combed through practically every shelf in the place, trying to figure out what kind of styles you were going to settle on before Tony started to share his opinions. He reminded you how good blue looked on you when you picked up a soft pink set and suggested the lace florals over lace butterflies. You were narrowing it down between a handful of choices and he was quick to intervene when he noticed you were eliminating all the variation.

“Wait,” he cut in, swiping the one you were trying to put back on the shelf, “keep that one. Get rid of this one.” He plucked the peach set from your collection, tossing it into the return pile.

“It’s cute!” You protested.

“Exactly. Everything you’re keeping is ‘cute’, you’re playing it too safe and I know that’s not you. The lilac one is the nicest, little hint of lace for a bonus, so get it.” He started flicking through the rack you had your favourites on, “keep the teal one for the crystals, plus it matches that pair of heels you bought. The rest of this batch can go but add these to your buying list.” He picked up a lacy black and red set that was mostly see through and included a garter belt, handing it off to you, and a gorgeous deep green set. “That’ll look great with your skin,” his brow furrowed for a second as he examined it, “wait it’s not your size, you’re what?” His eyes were suddenly on you and you groaned,

“Stop staring at my tits.” You stated dryly as he turned around, grabbing another one of the green set from the shelf.

“Thirty four C, right?”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or grossed out that you were able to figure that out.”

“They don’t call me Very Special Agent DiNozzo for nothing.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to go try these on.” You scooped up the remaining sets, “not for your viewing pleasure! Occupy yourself.”

You weren’t surprised in the least when all of Tony’s recommendations were right and you were happy to be leaving with a variety of options. Returning from the dressing room you found him near the till looking through accessories and he shot you a cocky grin as you placed all of his choices down on the counter. You shuffled the shopping bags in your hand over to the other one,

“Can you hold this?” You asked, handing him your purse as you pulled Emily’s card from within it, passing it off to the cashier. Once the purchase was completed and the cashier was wrapping up the lingerie, she placed the card down on the counter and out of the corner of your eye you saw Tony making a move for it, managing to swipe it up before he could get to it.

“Hey!” You swatted the back of his head and he grimaced.

“Ow. That was worse than Gibbs.” He muttered.

“You fuck around and you’ll find out.” You returned but he was too busy on his phone to really pay attention.

You took your purse back from him, tossing it over your shoulder as you thanked the clerk and added the bag of lingerie to the others with your shopping and the two of you made your way back onto the street. You jumped when Tony’s fingers prodded at your side, digging into your ribs.

“C’mon… let me know something, please.” He batted his eyes at you, “I just helped you pick lingerie; I deserve to know something. Doctor? Artist? App developer? Congressman?”

“Nope, nope, nope and hard nope.” You replied with a huff and he groaned so you finally turned back to him, stalling in your steps, “what I will tell you, is that she most definitely outranks NCIS, so you can officially drop it.”

“Ohoho… a new lady friend…” It was his turn to slow in his tracks, eyes lingering in the window of the next shop, “you need any special accessories for that?”

“Tony you’re insane if you think I’m taking you into a sex toy store.”

“Meh, doesn’t really matter since you’ve already covered that step.” He grinned and your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Swiped your phone and went through your emails.” With a laugh he tossed the device back to you as you let out a gasp, “peach flavoured lube, nice. Nipple clamps? Kinky, didn’t realize you were into that kinda pain.” That earned him a hard punch on the arm, “but that double sided dildo with vibration? Now that sounds like a real party.”

“Anothony DiNozzo!” You scolded and he let out a small whine of a scoff, gesturing toward the sex store.

“I’m the perfect person to give sex toy recommendations, c’mon.” He protested and you sighed.

“Tony. You are a straight man. What could you possibly known about sex toys for me to use with another woman?”

“One of those wand things, Hibachi?”

“That’s Japanese barbecue, but nice try.”

“The wands!”

“You’re going for Hitachi.”

“Close enough!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “the big one’s better but I think they sell smaller ones too, more portable.” He waggled his eyebrows at you and you sighed.

“Think? Tony, pull your head outta your ass. Any self respecting person with a clit already owns one of those.”

“Really?” He smirked at you and you did your best not to groan.

“I’ve got three, a mini pink, a mini green and the big one, which yes, is far superior. Can we go now?”

“Fine.” He groaned, feigning annoyance, “you dragging me to a nail appointment next?”

“No, I was gonna buy you a late lunch.”

“You were? Or is your mommy dearest gonna buy lunch.” He exaggerated the word, nearly moaning as he said it and you immediately grimaced.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Yup, that one felt wrong coming out. My bad, that’s on me.”

**

Emily turned down dessert service, asking for the cheque instead as she gave the server a soft smile, picking up her cocktail once again as she turned back to you. In turn, you finished your drink, placing the glass down on the table as you stood, your hand coming to squeeze at Emily’s thigh softly as your lips brushed against her cheek.

“Give me a five minute head start, I’ve got a surprise for you.” You scooped up your phone, shooting Emily a wink as you sauntered away from the table in the direction of the elevator.

Her eyes followed you through the entrance of the lounge, narrowing in on your ass as you pushed the elevator button and the sparks began to fly through her body. It hadn’t been a particularly long week, but it was very safe to say that you had been on her mind more often than not. Images of your naked body strewn across the bed floating into her brain, making her cheeks flush while she was torturously bored with paperwork. A too long tedious conference call lead to her zoning out, daydreaming all the things she wanted to do to you, the noises you made echoing through her mind. It was almost a given that night that she had a rather self soothing shower when she got home, pulling her laptop out when she finally crawled into bed to take a look at what fun things she could buy to occupy your time with in the future weekends.

Emily settled the bill, slowly draining the rest of her cocktail until she was certain she’d given you enough time to do whatever it was you had planned before she finally left the restaurant. The key card beeped against the lock and she stepped inside the suite, letting the door swing shut behind her before she made sure it was locked. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her purse on the side table in the entry way before rounding the bed into the suite, catching a glimpse of you laid out on the bed and her lips twitched up into a grin.

“Well that certainly is a welcome sight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sitting up and shifting onto your knees, “you see something you like?”

“I see plenty I like.” She walked up to the foot of the bed as you crawled on your knees to greet her, your hands settling on her hips as one of hers curled around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers for a kiss.

Her tongue easily slipped into your mouth when you let out a satisfied groan, both of you relaxing into the kiss, lips dancing with grace against each other. Her hand slipped into your hair, pulling out the pins to let it fall loose around your shoulders, pulling at it lightly. When her teeth scraped against your lip you couldn’t help but moan, your hands drifting up her body as you slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She broke the kiss to help you untuck the fabric from her pants, letting it drop to the floor behind her before her fingers began to trace the lines of the teal lingerie set, floating over the gems decorating your chest.

“You like the crystals?” You asked, small grin on your lips and she nodded.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“They’re Swarovski.” You replied with a near smirk and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“You really went all in, hey?”

“Just wanted to make sure I looked nice and pretty for you.” You shrugged coyly and she chuckled, giving you a once over.

“Well you do.” She leant down, kissing you gently before her hands nudged at your shoulders, “you’re not the only one who brought something fun, lie back princess.”

“I noticed.” You replied, a gleam in your eye as you dropped into the pillows, an arm extending to the nightstand where you picked up a silk tie, “multifaceted, curious as to what your intentions are.”

“First…” Emily rounded the side of the bed, “I want to see what’s under that gorgeous bra.” She nodded at you and you sat up, hands flying behind you to unclip it, gently tossing it to the side, “good girl.” She plucked the fabric from your hands, picking up a longer one from the nightstand before kneeling on the bed. “Give me your hands.” She instructed and you held your hands out for her, wrists gently pressed together as she began to wind the fabric around them, “is this okay?”

“Absolutely.” You replied, looking up at her with darkening eyes as she tightened the silk.

“Do you have a word?”

“I’m fond of peach.”

“Perfect.” With a wicked grin she placed a gentle kiss on your wrist before guiding you to lie back with your arms over your head and she looped the shorter piece through your bonds, securing the other end to the golden bar of the headboard. “No surprises there.” She purred as she slid off the bed, letting out a satisfied hum as her eyes dragged over your body.

“Hm?” You raised a brow, watching as she moved back to a spare chair.

“Just how pretty you look tied up like that.” Emily tossed a grin over her shoulder, “but you are going to need to roll over for the second part of your treat.”

You nearly let out a whine when her hands came to her belt buckle, eager to be able to see both what was coming next and what she had under her clothes. Instead of risking it you decided to behave, rolling onto your stomach, your arms stretching over your head as you twisted it to the side, just barely able to see Emily under your arm. She had busied herself with getting rid of her clothing, a neat pile forming on the small bench next to her bag as she pulled out the strap, swiftly stepping into it and securing it around her hips. Your mouth was practically watering already and then she reached into her bag again, pulling out a crop with a cute little heart on the end and you had to hold back a moan.

Emily could see the way your body tensed, how your hips ground down into the bed as she reapproached it and a dark chuckle escaped her lips. Kneeling on the bed behind you her hand grasped your ankle, spreading your legs further apart and you did your best to arch your back, presenting yourself to her.

“Such obedience.” She murmured, letting the crop lightly trace up your inseam as you let out an airy breath.

Emily slowly trailed the crop up and down your legs, just the slightest hint of touch that she knew you were absolutely begging for in your head. She could see the way your body twitched whenever it got close to the heat between your legs and a wicked grin took over her lips. The crop finally came up over the swell of your ass, softly circling and tracing patterns on your skin and you finally let out a whine. Since this was the first time you’d actually made a louder noise, Emily figured this was the time to both give in and start to really tantalize you now. She raised the crop, swatting it down onto your ass and you let out a low moan.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You eagerly nodded into the pillows and the crop trailed across to the other cheek, repeating the circles before coming down harder on that side and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ohh…” Your fingers interlaced, squeezing tightly, “harder, please.”

“My little princess likes it rough.” Emily husked from behind you, “somehow I’m not that surprised.”

The crop came down on the same spot harder than the first before she flicked it over your other cheek, swatting just as hard, watching the way your body reacted, jolting at the touch before grinding your cunt down onto the bed. She brought the head of the crop between your legs, pushing the fabric of your panties into your pussy, rubbing the leather up and down your folds as you moaned, arching into the touch.

“Fuuckk…”

Emily chuckled darkly, bringing the crop up before hitting your ass with more force, smirking at the louder moans leaving your lips, the way you were pulling against your bonds, wishing your hands were free. The sounds of the spanks echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as your moans grew louder and longer, every time the crop was brought down onto your body it grew from a tingle to a pleasurable burn. Emily continued to trail the leather across your skin, occasionally her hand gently rubbing across the spot to sooth the burn, little praises and coos leaving her lips. The tingles each time she spanked you began to build, growing together with each hit of the crop until there was a fire building right under your skin, whimpers and whines leaving your lips as you buried your face into the pillows. Every swat of the crop made your entire body shiver and you were nearly about to start begging for more when she moved it back between your legs.

“You really like this, hmm?” She asked, pressing it against your cunt again, “making such a big wet spot on these nice panties.” She rubbed it harder against you, watching the way your wetness continued to soak the fabric, “you know, I’d take them off and stuff them in your mouth if you didn’t make such pretty noises…”

You groaned softly, your hips rocking back toward the touch, a little whimper leaving your throat when the crop nearly rubbed against your clit. Emily hummed softly, lifting the crop up before bringing it back down, this time onto your pussy and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you.

“Oh fuucck…” Your head buried deeper into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt your pussy fluttering around nothing, your clit nearly pulsing already, juices smearing across your underwear.

Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, flipping you onto your back watching as your legs instinctively fell open for her to see the growing wet spot on your panties. She brought the crop back to your cunt, rubbing it harder against you as you started to whine, resulting in another swat that brought a gasp from your lips.

“You like this even more, don’t you princess?” She asked with a grin and you nodded, “you want your pussy spanked too?” Spank. “Think you can come from just this?” Spank.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “more, please.”

“Always such nice manners.” She praised, her fingers slipping into the waistband of your thong, tugging the fabric down your legs and tossing it behind her. Her hands soothed up your legs, spreading them even further apart from each other as her thumbs dared to brush the edges of your cunt. “Such a pretty pussy. God you’re just fucking drenched already.”

Emily picked the crop back up, rubbing it through your slick folds, pressing harder as she brought it to your clit.

“Please.” You whimpered and she chuckled softly.

The first hit was on the gentle side, her eyes tracing up your naked body, watching your face for any sign of discomfort but all she found was a look of sheer pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as breathy moans escaped them, it was all she needed to bring the crop down even harder the next time.

“Fuck.” Your body twitched off the bed, cunt pulsing as more juices dribbled out of it.

“That’s it princess.” Spank. “You’re doing so good for me.” Spank.

“Oh god…” Your hands clutched at the silk ties as your body shivered, pleasure building higher and higher with each time the crop hit your cunt.

“I know you’re close.” Spank. “Just a few more.” Spank. “Pussy’s so wet.” Spank. “Let go for me.” Spank.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your back arching off the bed, pulling against the restraints as your orgasm shot through you, pussy pulsating around nothing as your juices dripped onto the bedspread.

“That’s it.” Emily cooed, the crop gently rubbing against your cunt, smearing your wetness all around it and your thighs. “So pretty when you come for me.”

“Please…” you whimpered, “need you.”

“You want more?” She asked, gently spanking your pussy again and you whined.

“No, please! Need your cock.” You were absolutely begging, pussy fluttering, feeling so entirely empty. Despite the powerful orgasm you needed to be filled, stretched around Emily to finally feel completely satisfied.

“So needy tonight.” Emily teased, dropping the crop to the side as she climbed over you, running the tip of the toy through your folds, “this what you want?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously, “please.”

“Alright.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, knowing you were absolutely drenched she sunk her cock fully into you until her hips met yours and you let out a very satisfied moan. She pulled back just enough to sneak her hand between your bodies, turning on the vibration on the base of the toy, just against her clit and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her hips, pulling out until just the tip was left inside you and set a steady pace, fucking you thoroughly. Each thrust of her hips had your body twitching up off the bed, pulling against your restraints as you ached to touch her, pleasure shooting through your limbs.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “feels so good.”

Each thrust of her cock the head brushed right over your g-spot, pulling louder moans from you each time as your pussy began to clench down around her. You could feel your juices smearing across both of your bodies as she fucked deeper into you, picking up the pace as she knew you were getting close again.

“Are you going to come again for me angel?” She cooed, her hands gliding up your body to toy with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in time with her thrusts.

“S-s’close.” You moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet hers with each thrust.

Your hands tugged against the silk ties again, gasping when Emily’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth for her tongue to flick patterns across it. The double, nearly triple sensation if you counted the vibrations hitting your clit each time your bodies met was nearly too much, your pussy making almost more noise than the ones coming from your mouth. All you could do was whimper and whine, your head too fuzzy to get actual words to come out, the coil inside you got tighter and tighter until Emily’s teeth sunk into your chest and it burst through you.

“Fuck!”

Your body trembled, the tingles shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes as Emily continued to fuck you. Her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a low swear, now focused on chasing her own release. She sunk fully into you, pressing the vibrating part of the toy directly against her clit and it gave you the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, grinding the base harder onto her. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes scrunched shut, another orgasm bursting through you from the sensation and Emily let out a soft cry.

“Oh god.” Her hand slipped between your bodies, switching the vibrations off before she sat up.

Emily panted slightly, attempting to catch her breath as she reached out, swiftly undoing the ties and your arms were finally free to drop to the bed. You let out a soft groan, flexing your hands before Emily caught them in hers, examining your wrists to make sure you hadn’t pulled too hard and hurt yourself. Once satisfied that you hadn’t she let them drop and shifted on her knees, slipping out of you and watching your juices dribble onto the bed.

“Mmm…” you sighed, your lips curving up into a grin.

“What?” She asked with a raised brow.

“That was hot.” You replied, “kinda wish you could come inside me though.”

“Well…” she leant over you, kissing you before nipping at your lower lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged for next time.”

_____________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sires-blog

[neopuppy]

I Hit It Like It’s All Mine (M)

pairing. Johnny x female reader

genre. best friends step-mom AU, besties johnjae, college graduate Johnny, pwp, M/F

warnings. profanity, infidelity, y/n is older than Johnny, alcohol mentioned, teasing, overstimulation, breeding kink, rough & unprotected sex, degradation/praise. idk ily Johnny.

wc. 10k

now playing. All Mine//Plaza

Week 1

“Oh,” Jaehyun slams down on the brakes, speaking over the rubble of rocks and engine shutting off. “I should probably mention something important about my step-mom.”

Johnny lets out a confused laugh, pushing his sunglasses up to headband the mess speeding down the coast made of his long locks. “Gee, we’ve been flying and driving for how many hours now? Suddenly you decide this important information is something you need to tell me right before I meet her for the first time?”

Jaehyun shrugs, running a hand through his hair full of mucky sea breeze. “Didn’t want you to hound me about this on the way, I know how you are.”

“I know how you are as well, Jeong Jaehyun.”

“When we’re home, I prefer Jeffrey, dude.” His best friend sneers, exiting the convertible he had to beg his dad to let him rent for a few weeks while vacationing at their beach house.

“Sure Jeff, now please, spare me the details and catch me up on this vital info before I have to pretend your dad isn’t a complete dick with an amazing pool and view of the beach for the next three weeks.” Johnny chides, hauling out a surfboard from the backseat.

“Right right, well my step-mom,” Jaehyun feigns a lack of interest, pulling a trucker hat on to tame his unruly hair. “She’s hot, like.. like she’s really really hot.”

Johnny has to laugh, pausing with a crease between his eyebrows. “You dirty fucking pervert.”

Jaehyun gives him a look, lips tugged back in a way he only displays when he wants to be taken serious. “I’m being real right now man, she’s like..”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Jaehyun’s shoulders slouch, shaking his head at his best friend. “Just be careful dude.”

“Jaehyun—Jeffrey, whatever, what the fuck dude?” Johnny’s face furrows, following after his friend to enter through the back of the house. “You think I’m gonna try to fuck your step-mom or some shit?”

Jaehyun spares him an annoyed look, tossing his backpack onto his bed before flopping onto his stomach with a groan. “Yeah, I think you’re going to try and fuck my step-mom.”

“Have some faith in me dude,” Johnny bristles, lugging his belongings into his best friend's summertime bedroom he hasn’t seen in years. “Should let me sleep on the floor still, you know whenever we come back too late. Don’t want your sexy step-mom finding me drunk off my ass in the hallway— I’m irresistible, you know?”

“Yeah, you really had no reason to keep growing past 5’10. Thanks for leaving me behind, good looking out as always.” Jaehyun grumbles, perching his chin onto his forearm uncomfortably as memories flash across the backs of his eyelids. The last time he’d asked his friend to not fuck a girl had been Senior year of high school, and that didn’t end well for him.

Jaehyun’s throat clears, sitting up with the sudden urge to down a gallon of water. “Remember Sabrina? That transfer I had uh— a thing for our last year of high school?”

Johnny snorts, fingering a polaroid of his teenage-self between two digits. “You mean that blonde you had a fat crush on? Yeah, of course I remember her… great legs.”

“I thought so.” Jaehyun sighs, eyeing his best friend with a scheming gaze. “Whatever happens, I just don’t want to find out. Alright?”

“Dude chill,” Johnny rolls his eyes, opening up the walk-in closet he spent a few blurry nights passed out in. “Let’s get a quick swim in before the sun goes down, yeah?”

Jaehyun lets out an exhausted grunt, muffled and distant, burying his face deeper into freshly laundered bedsheets. “Pass.”

“Boo, you whore.” Johnny jeers, stripping down to nothing as he fiddles with different pairs of swim trunks in search of his size. “Have to make the best of every day here.”

Without bothering to waste more time, he shuffles into much too small flip flops to avoid unpacking his belongings. “I’ll be back.” Cracking a beach towel across Jaehyun’s back, Johnny lightly jogs back out the way they entered, sighing in relief as cool thick air flows across his skin.

Something about summers at the beach growing up always brought comfort back when he needed it. Trudging through the sand with a towel slung over his shoulder, Johnny smiled watching his toes get lost in the midst of granules, chalked up by the residue painting it’s way up past his ankles the more he kicked through. His grin only grew wider when he lifted his gaze to peer around the expanse of space still filled with locals, vacationers, bums and best of all— girls sliding their frames down for a better look at him.

Johnny laid out his towel near the water, just close enough to run in and dose himself in salty waves within seconds, but to avoid any possible high-tide crashing beyond his feet. Letting out a loud obnoxious yawn, he stretches out, allowing the sunglasses holding back his hair to fall into place and shield his eyes. It felt nice to lean back, purposely flexing his stomach muscles under the low sunlight and picking up the whispered hush of gasps and girlish vocals asking ‘who is he?’

Scratching under his chin, he glances around casually, tinted shades disclose well enough to admire oiled up bottoms basking in the sun. If all goes right, he should be getting his dick wet at least five times a week while staying out here. That should be a good enough way to melt off the weight of pre-med stress. Johnny’s tongue clicks, reminding himself to stop thinking about school. The future doesn’t matter right now, his decision to spend a large portion of break with Jaehyun boiled down to one thing and one thing only: getting laid.

‘California girls,’ Jaehyun sang, winking at his friend as he coerced him to purchase his flight. ‘They’re unforgettable.’

Johnny scoffs a bit at the memory, internally nodding as he takes in breasts bouncing beneath barely there bikini tops. He has a point, or Katy Perry did, whoever the hell sang that song. Nights fucking under lifeguard towers, running into the ocean butt naked under nothing but moonlight, slurping melted ice cream off dips and crevices sugary sticky syrup should never be. After months bundled up under thick layers and jackets with his face buried in research papers and endless cups of black coffee, he needed this more than ever. Jaehyun could tell, leave it to his best friend to know what's best for him.

Johnny decides it’s time for a quick swim, shoving up and dusting off sand from his backside, he strolls ahead pausing in his tracks when he sees something that catches his attention.

“My board?”

Johnny squints and shakes his head, blinded by sun cascading behind the figure sitting on top of the familiar surfboard. Turning his foot he moves closer for a better look, jaw loosening as the bright shadow diminishes, unveiling skin… tons of skin. His lip curls, noting the letter ‘J’ he etched into the edge of the board when he was 15, his board, not Jaehyun’s.

‘What difference does it make if I use your board or not?’

‘This is my baby, you can’t ride my baby.’ Johnny said, smoothing a wax down the body of wood with a rag. ‘How would you feel if another man was out there riding your girl?’

Jaehyun sneered, kicking sand at his best friend. ‘How many times have I asked you to not ride my girl and you do it anyway?’

‘Fine,’ Johnny scooped out his pocket knife, digging the sharp edge of it into the wood to carve out his initial. ‘This way, everyone knows who she belongs to.’

Jaehyun leaned over watching as the taller smirked proudly, breaking into a boisterous laugh. ‘You idiot, both of our names start with J.’

Johnny watched Jaehyun fall back into the sand clutching his stomach, twisting his mouth to the side because he just branded his baby for no good reason.

‘Ugh, just stay off my board dude!’

“The fuck..” Johnny watches intently as you emerge from the water, obscene droplets of water rolling off your thighs. “Nice board.”

He speaks before registering how close he’s come to stand near you, catching splashes of your hair across his chest as you wring out the sea water. “Thanks.”

Johnny wants to scoff, too caught up in the way you drop his beloved surfboard down by your feet carelessly. He wants to give you attitude, raises his voice at you for handling his baby so poorly, but he can’t, he can’t with his tongue hanging from his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“You’re beautiful.” His mouth feels dry already, swallowing mucky air down as he takes in your form and wonders how you managed to surf his board in that tiny string bikini leaving barely anything to imagine.

“Thanks.”

Again, you sound bored, not even sparing him a glance while throwing your hair around to air dry, and Johnny thinks it’s amusing. More amusing than any of the girl’s lined down the beach desperate for him to approach them instead.

“That board is a little too big for you, don’t you think?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, tongue rimming his bottom lip to add action behind his condescending tone. “Just started surfing yesterday or something?”

“Hah..” finally you look at him, moreso glare at him, an equally snarky expression to match his written across your face. “What makes you think I can’t handle a board this big?”

Johnny pauses, taking in your features from the confidence in your gaze to your unblemished skin and lips that would look perfect struggling around his cock, and he thinks you’d be fun to ruin. Already dreaming of the hundreds of ways he could erase that cockyness from your pretty face. “You don’t really look like you can handle riding one that size.”

Clearing your throat, you bend over, ensuring a perfect view of your bottom perched between lycra cloth squeezing the fleshy meat out enticingly. Lifting the board under your arm with ease and a flip of your hair. “Now why would a little boy like you think you have a damn clue what I can handle?”

Johnny trails by your side, scrunching his eyebrows when you call him a little boy. “I’m 6’1!”

“No shit,” smiling, you brush him off with a wave of your hand. “Now shoo! Go find someone closer to your age to bother.”

“My age??” Johnny guffaws, too immersed in the way you’re dismissing him to even notice the direction you’re headed. “Uh, in case it’s not obvious— we’re definitely like the same age?”

“Doubt it.” Spinning quickly, you nearly knock him off his feet with a fierce hit from the tip of your surfboard. “Now go play with your toys before I call security and tell them you’ve lost your mommy.”

“I’m twenty-seven!” Johnny splutters, telling himself to ignore the coil in his gut lighting up from your threat. “And that’s my board!”

Akin to a petulant child, he reaches to grip around the wooden body to drag it free from your hold. The two of you going back and forth in a match of tug-o-war for no more than a minute between huffs and puffs and shrieks of ‘let go! I’m calling security!’ before the deep shout of his name distracts him enough to abruptly release his hold and send you crashing into the sand flat on your ass.

“Dude! Johnny what the hell!” Jaehyun runs from the front of his dad’s house, jumping over the pebbles lining the pathway of sand leading to the entrance. Hurling into his friend's chest, he knocks the wind out of Johnny and reaches to help you up, blabbering apologetically as the surfboard lays near you unceremoniously.

“Jaehyun?” You ask, latching onto his forearm to stand up and brush sand off your damp backside. “I thought you were coming in later?”

“Huh?” Johnny(ready to pounce on his friend) pauses and looks between the two of you, slowly glancing around in realization that you’ve walked up to his home for the next few weeks.

Jaehyun explains they ended up catching an earlier flight and hit no traffic, apologizing for being forgetful and not informing you ahead of time. “This..”

He points to the tall brunette that followed you home, letting out a disappointed sigh. “This is Johnny.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nods, motioning between the two of you. “And this— is my step-mom.”

“Oh.” Johnny gulps, convincing himself that his cheeks are burning because of the warmth from the sun and not because of embarrassment, no, not because Jaehyun was right.

“See how I was right,” his friend leans in to mumble, patting Johnny on the shoulder. “Sorry if he was already bothering you.”

“Ahh, it’s okay. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” You say, pulling the board back up and tracing the carving. “I assumed this was Jaehyun’s before, my mistake.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nudging into Johnny’s side. “You see how that made no difference.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath, following the two of you inside, not without wiping off your limbs near the entrance. Quickly pulling on a too big zip up jacket to cover up in front of your new house guests.

“I had your dad’s assistant buy some of your favorites.” You call out, moving to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Fully stocked the fridge with cold brew and those Celsius drinks you like.”

Johnny follows behind, keeping his gaze set on the floor in hopes you’ll forget his lame attempt at flirting just minutes ago. “Don’t know what your friend likes, but we can order food if you guys are hungry?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing two water bottles. “Sounds good, we aren’t picky. Whatever you want to eat we’ll be fine with.”

“Burritos?” You ask between sips of water, flicking to look between the two for approval. Jaehyun nods with a thumbs up, sliding one of the bottles in front of Johnny.

“Sounds yum.”

“Great!” Bouncing onto your toes you place an order on your phone and ask for Jaehyun to keep an ear open for the doorbell. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and rinse off real fast, feel free to get comfortable. The guest rooms all cleaned up and ready for you as well.”

Smiling in Johnny’s direction on your way out of the kitchen, you add a wink, as if to reassure him that you won’t bring up your beach banter again.

Jaehyun waits until he can hear the water running from your bathroom shower, breathily laughing and relaxing back into the chair near his friend's side. “You were trying to fuck her, weren’t you?”

“She had my board.” Johnny says, pretending to care more about scratching off the label on the water bottle melting in his palm.

“And you were trying to fuck her because of that?”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, ripping off the label and crumbling the paper between his fingers. “Just wanted to know why she had my board… She called me a little boy.”

Jaehyun laughs, knowing that must have pushed some buttons. “She’s older than us, not by much but.. surprisingly my dad actually remarried someone older than me.”

Johnny hums, taking a long swig from the bottle to woosh around his tongue. Mouth still dry from embarrassing himself. “So that’s your step-mom.”

“Yup.” Jaehyun’s lips smack, popping as the ‘P’ rolls off his tongue. “By the way, my dad won’t be around, some business deal in Dubai for the next few weeks.. Old bastard didn’t even bother to mention it. He’s already sky-high with his feet kicked up in Emirates first class.”

“So..” Johnny nods, playing with the bottle cap nervously. “It’s just the three of us.”

Jaehyun sighs, crushing up his empty bottle. “Yeah. It’s just the three of us.”

Meeting his best friend’s gaze, a silent exchange of words passes between the two. The small raise in Jaehyun’s eyebrow let Johnny know his thoughts without saying anything.

“I don’t want to know anything.” Jaehyun repeats quietly, getting up at the sound of the doorbell.

Johnny’s lips purse, hunching over onto the counter in thought. Maybe his original summer plans needed a few alterations, tapping the tips of his fingers against the marble counter, he wondered how much talk you were.

One way to find out.

Week 2

Paint fumes spill through the air conditioning vent, penetrating the guest rooms walls much too early to make sense. Johnny sniffs, squinting and groaning as his knuckles drag across his eyelids and he kicks at the sheet covering his lower half. “Fuck is that?”

It hasn’t been the most peaceful week, not quite, his own words of having to make use of each day coming back to bite him in the ass as Jaehyun shouted at him to get ready for another long night of bar hopping and club after club. Johnny realized after the second day of slamming shots that while his 22 year old self would have laughed at him, his present day self was in need of a porcelain bowl to drown his night of fun inside of.

“Ugh, I’m gonna throw up,” he mutters to himself, rolling side to side in bed miserably. The strong scent of paint more acidic than it should be as it mixed with vile poison left in his system from last night.

“That’s because you won’t eat greasy food after drinking dumbass.” Jaehyun says by his bedroom door with shades on inside and a cold brew in hand. “Mr. Healthy would rather suffer and stick to his diet.”

“Ughh.” Johnny fails to chuck a pillow at his friend, mumbling a string of curses.

“I left some medicine and orange juice on the nightstand.” Jaehyun lets him know. “Already ate breakfast, need fresh air, gonna take a stroll down to the pier. You coming?”

Johnny doesn’t bother to grace him with a real response, waving an arm behind to signal for him to go away. The other snorts, mumbling a ‘weak ass’ under his breath before exiting.

Minutes pass before he finally forces himself to crawl off the bed, dragging the sheet wrapped around his hip off as he scatters to collect the anti-nausea pills and cup of pulp-free OJ, that good rich people OJ from Whole Foods, he thinks. Typical Jeong household, nothing but the best.

Johnny slumps against the bed watching the room spin for a minute in an attempt to recall what happened last night.

‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’ Jaehyun kept howling in his ear, slamming wads of fifty dollar bills down on the bar as he ordered another round. ‘Who wants to do body shots!!’

Johnny sighs, having forgotten what a woo woo party girl his best friend could turn into after cracking open a bottle of Tequila. This is Jaehyun’s influence, egging him on with a whispered ‘pussy’ in his ear as he stared at the round of clear vengeful liquid ready to burn his esophagus. “Damn you Jeff.”

Another whiff of paint has chunks rising up his throat, charging up to the nearest bathroom to release the blacked out memories of last night. Johnny splashes his face, rinsing his mouth thoroughly until his teeth slick right off his tongue, shining pearly whites and burning from the amount of mouthwash he gargles to remove the taste. “No more drinking, you’re not 21 anymore.”

Stepping into the hallway, Johnny squints from the smell of paint growing stronger, following the trace of it down the hall to an open door where you bounce about barefoot in a pair of dirtied overalls and what looks like a bikini top. This one less revealing than the others you’ve sported around the house this week.

Johnny did his best to not stare, maybe, he could do better. Even now as he rests against the door frame and follows your every move mixing different paints together, he can’t resist eyeing the dips in your back whenever you shift slightly. He can’t help but imagine how nice his hands could look placed around your carved in waist, gripped between his digits as he holds you down and fucks you until you’re screaming out for him to slow down.

“It’s rude to stare, especially unannounced.” You say without turning to look at him, noting his presence from the sound of light footsteps ending by the door.

“Sorry,” Johnny apologizes, voice coated in heavy drowsiness. “I didn’t know that you paint, I mean..”

“Why would you, right? It’s a hobby,” you explain, stroking a wide brush across a black and grayed canvas. “Mr. Jeong didn’t want me to get bored when he’s away, can’t have a bored housewife.”

“You seem to stay pretty occupied..” Johnny thinks out-loud. If you weren’t stealing his surfboard, you seemed to be running off to some pilates class, or to get your nails done, something about a Erewhon market to grab an overpriced smoothie. Living that Tiktok life according to Jaehyun. “You’ve been painting for a while?”

Johnny enters to look around at what he assumes are completed canvases perched against a wall to dry by an uncovered window. “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks.”

Something about the way you seem unimpressed by him and always reply to his flattery in the same monotone uninterested way tickles him more than it should. Johnny can’t even say he’s caught your eyes lingering on him once yet.

“Shouldn’t you be out with Jaehyun?” You ask, following the movements by your side from the corner of your eye. Johnny’s shirtless, of course, barefoot in nothing but the boxers he probably fell asleep in last night.

“We aren’t attached at the hip.” Johnny shrugs, pretending to seem interested in the tubes and cans of paints scattered near your feet. Squatting down, he looks through the ingredients wondering if you should really be in here inhaling this stuff. “Also, I can’t hang the same way I used to. Age is finally catching up to me I guess.”

“You’re a child.” You scowl, turning to look down at his messy head of hair. “Stop speaking as if you’ve lived 50 years on earth.”

“A child??” Johnny shoots up straight, standing tall in all his half-naked glory. “You’re only a few years older than me!”

“I could be your—“

“You could not.” He interrupts, smirking full of arrogance that only a 20-something year old could possess. “You could be Mr. Jeong’s daughter though.”

“Possibly.”

Johnny’s surprised you garner him with a response, expecting his message to go ignored. Of course he’d dropped hints about the age difference between you and your husband, occasionally mentioning how even if he’s home you must not feel a difference. Pushing it further by joking around if the old man can even get it up anymore.

“Is that what you’re into?” Johnny crosses his arms, leaning back on a wall in front of your painting set-up. “Wrinkled and shriveled?”

“Is that the way a pre-med student should be speaking about his future patients?” Clicking your tongue, you return to your work, not wanting to fall for the game Johnny’s been trying to involve you in since arriving.

“I’ll be starting my residency soon.” Johnny corrects you, counting the different tones of paint splatter on your overalls. “This might be one of my last summers to fuck around, you know.. mess up a few last times.”

“Sounds like you’ve been messing up nearly every night.” You smirk, lifting an arched brow at him. The parade of different girls walking in and out of your house hasn’t gone unnoticed despite Jaehyun’s best efforts to be discreet about it, neither has their obnoxiously loud moans and screams while getting plowed in your guest room.

“Not quite the mess up I’ve been dreaming about.” Johnny says confidently, studying the small changes in your expression this up-close. Between you running around to complete your errands and Jaehyun cock-blocking him, he hasn’t had the easiest time to pick up on your mannerisms. Barely able to lock eyes with you long enough to maintain eye contact with the way you nonchalantly carry on avoiding him, make him feel invisible.

“Imagine if your mother knew of these things you dream about.” You say, peering over the canvas to find Johnny’s honey gaze. “You think she would approve of this behavior?”

“Not at all.” Johnny’s quick to say, pushing off the wall. “But she’s not here, is she?”

“Unfortunately.”

Johnny doesn’t fail to notice the second too long you take to look away from his chest, moving to stand by your canvas with his boxers hung low enough to show off the sharp edges of his jutted hip bones, he flexes intentionally, stretching his waist side to side for his stomach muscles to convulse. The way they would convulse when..

“Do you think I’m a bad boy?” He whispers, as if you aren’t home alone, because he knows that secrets should stay quiet.

“I think you are mentally a young boy, a young boy afraid of your last days of youth slipping through your fingers.” You know Johnny feeds off your attention, casually side-swiping him and refocusing on your painting despite his best efforts to show off his great physique.

“Perhaps.” He shrugs, looping a hand around your wrist gently to tug your brush onto the smooth flat planes of his abdominal muscles. “But I want to grow up, I wanna show you what a man I can be.”

Johnny speaks between bated breath, sweeping the deep red paint up and down the indent of definition lining his stomach.

“What makes you think I want to know what a man you can be?” Words feel heavy sliding off your tongue, dipping the paint brush lower into his twitching navel, blood red trickles down rolling past the scrunched waistband of his bottoms.

“Because, you can handle big things.” Johnny retorts, tilting his head to one side. “At least, that’s what you claim, I’ve yet to see it proven myself though.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove that to you?” arching back your neck to push your chin forward, you have to look up at Johnny, brushing past his waistband to press the bristles of your mostly dried brush against the bulge that’s formed between his hips.

Johnny’s throat bounces, swallowing behind his pursed lips from the stiff itchy friction pushing through the thin cotton fabric covering his groin. Instinctively canting his hips forward in search of more, he has to resist the urge to look down. Grinding the backs of his teeth together as he watches your face lacking any sign of weakness. “Let me fuck you.”

“Spoken like a true bratty child.” You snicker, trailing the tips of your manicured nails down the side of his twitching abdomen. “I’m a married woman.”

“Means nothing to me,” Johnny lilts, throbbing between his thighs from the rough manner you continue to dig into his crotch. “Besides that, I haven't seen you wear a ring.”

“Ah, and you would know, given all the time you spend staring at me.” You say, digging your freshly done nails into the lines of muscles covered in paint. “You think I’m playing some game with you, don’t you? Such a little boy.”

“Maybe.” Johnny’s throat tightens, swallowing the wad of saliva that’s gathered at the back of his mouth. “I find it hard to believe you seriously married Jihoon.. of all people to waste your youth on.”

“Marriage isn’t as simple as you’re making it.” You whisper, tracing one of his hips with the smooth pads of your fingers. “It’s not a waste if you get something worth it out of it.”

“Hmm,” Johnny blows a long breath out, head drooping to concentrate on the brush jabbing at his hardened size. “I’m not oblivious, I understand that much, but what I also know for a fact is that there is no way Mr. Jeong can fuck you the way you deserve.”

“Deserve?” A smile creeps across your lips at that, pinching the fabric of his ruined boxers between your grip to tug lower and unveil where tanned skin meets lines of paleness protected by his swim trunks. “How exactly do I deserve to be fucked?”

Johnny tips forward, nudging his forehead against yours. “Wanna find out?”

“I’d love to find out.” Tossing the paint brush aside your mouth draws out an ‘Ooo’ feeling up his covered size with a push of your palm against his groin. “I don’t believe that you are going to be the one that shows me.”

“You want it?” Johnny’s tongue feels heavier with each press of your palm against the underside of his length, sucking his plump bottom lip under his teeth to suppress a groan.

“You’re asking me to cheat on my husband?”

“I’m asking you to let me fuck you.” Johnny says falling into a deep vibrato. His patience wears thinner with each teasing touch, a few steps closer is all it takes to press you against a wall, arms lifted above your head to leave you feeling caged in. “If I fuck you once, I promise that I’ll have you begging to be mine.”

“What makes you think I want to be yours?” Clasping your fist around his cock, you squeeze the fabric against his shape, pushing one of your thighs between his. “You’re the one begging to fuck me.”

“That’s what you want?” Johnny’s eyes flutter shut, not even trying to hide how aroused he is as he clamps around your thigh, hips jerking forward to fuck into your palm. “I’ll beg all you want— fuck, I’ll get on my knees. I’ll do anything, whatever you want.. just tell me. Tell me what to do.”

Johnny slumps more, catching a moan on your shoulder as his tongue begins to lick at your skin, sweet skin he could devour right now if you’d just let him. “Please, need to fuck you so bad.”

The back of your head knocks against the wall, stroking faster along his length throbbing thick and hot in your grasp. “Fuck..”

Johnny bites down on your shoulder, jerkily thrusting into your palm with three messy strokes, a broken shout lost behind the bite as his teeth bury in hard enough to break skin.

“Johnny!” Hissing, you reach for his hair, using the dried paint on his stomach to clean off the cum seeping from his boxers onto the back of your hand. “That hurts!”

He apologizes weakly, lapping at the fresh teeth marks left behind. Hot breath panting along your throat as he recovers and comes down. “Sorry… really sorry.”

“Think you can fuck me like I deserve?” You say, twisting chunks of his hair between your digits. “You just came from a few touches, kid.”

“I can..” Johnny’s head hangs shamefully, chewing at the insides of his cheeks feeling embarrassed yet again. “I can..”

“Yeah yeah, you need to go clean off.” shoving at his chest you nod to the door. “Don’t get paint all over my bathroom.”

“That’s seriously never happened to me before..” Johnny whispers, more to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck in disbelief.

“Not surprised.”

“Why?” He squints, taking in the sly smile lifting one of your cheeks.

“Little boys tend to be overzealous.” Patting his cheek, you nod to the door again. “Go.”

Johnny has to bite his tongue to stop himself from begging to fuck you one more time, nodding and bowing as he accepts the loss.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe you had him all figured out, Johnny contemplates, scrubbing the paint from his stomach under the stream of hot water hitting his skin, leaving behind pelts from the boiling temperature he’s set it at. A cold shower would have been for the best, especially now as he lathers up your body wash onto a cloth. The scent that clung to your skin still stuck to the backs of his teeth.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

He sighs, dropping his head to rest on the shower tiles as his fist wraps the cloth around his length, half mass already just from the intoxicating scent of your steaming around his skull.

You never said no, and that’s enough to shoot dopamine through his veins, jolting his hips up as he turns and fucks faster into his palm; eyeing the red stained water swivel it’s way down the drain.

One way or another, Johnny was set to have his way with you. No married woman jerks off another man besides her husband willingly like that.

Shouting between gritted teeth he watches release mix in with the red, more than determined to paint your insides the same way and make you regret toying with him.

Week 3

‘Headed out to meet the girl from the party last night. Probably won’t be back until late. Stay out of trouble will you?’

Johnny’s eyes squint, rubbing his forehead to will away the nasty lingering sensation of a hangover attempting to ruin his morning. Groaning, he lowers the brightness on his phone screen to give his friends message a thumbs up, that should be enough of a response.

Trouble is the last thing he wants right now, bending over to roll his forehead against the marble kitchen tile, he groans wondering if that party was even worth it.

It wasn’t.

Not really, not when all he could think about while different girls approached him with high hopes of hooking up was the pretty desperate housewife home all alone..

“Johnny?”

Trouble called for him, slowly pushing himself to stand straight and swallow down the breeze of salty beach air entering from the sliding door he’d opened earlier, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand; pushing a mess of highlighted brown locks away from his face before forcing a smile to greet you.

“Morning!” His teeth chattered together upon finding your concerned gaze, blinking to disguise the quick scan of your figure covered by nothing but a thin baby pink negligee.

“Morning..” You say softly, slowly tip-toeing closer to the end of the kitchen counter he’s gripping onto to stop himself from keeling over. “You guys must have had fun last night?”

Johnny nods, adding a bored shrug. “Nothing amazing, I was just about to go for a run along the beach. Need some fresh air to blow away the remnants.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bumping into his side to examine his face up-close, your tongue clicks, raising your fingers to drag through messy strands of hair masking his eyes. “You look like shit, kid.”

Johnny cuddles into the touch with a low groan, similar to a cat purring and burying its cheek into your palm, the corners of his lips lifting at the nickname. “Thanks, you almost sound like you care about me.”

“Don’t go for a run.” Dragging him to sit at the kitchen counter, you instruct him to stay put. “I’m gonna make you my hangover smoothie, always remedies Jihoon after a night of drinking.”

Johnny’s face immediately dips into a frown, perching his chin onto his palms with sad puppy eyes. “Must you mention him right now?”

Gathering up ingredients to cure your guests current problem, you dryly laugh, beginning to chop up ginger and garlic cloves. “Have you ever heard of this thing called gratitude? You’re living under his roof for free after all.”

“It’s a shame really..” Johnny grumbles, rubbing circles into his temples.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“That I have no other way to thank him than by fucking his young hot wife.” He grins lazily, sighing between a laugh at the dramatic gasp you let out and your jaw plunging down to the floor. “You’ll have to relay the message for me— you know, if the old man can even handle what I’m going to do to you.”

“God, here I am trying to relieve your pain, and all you can talk about is your stupid horny teenage boy fantasies.” You sneer, tossing the concoction of ingredients you’ve readied into a blender before twisting about the kitchen to grab a cup, cursing under your breath as you reach a top shelf and trigger a pesky kink in your neck.

“Need help?” Johnny’s already on his feet before you can protest and insist he needs to stay put again, pressing to your back to reach overhead and set down the glass before you. He hums, pinching the part of your neck that meets your shoulder. “You pull something?”

Swatting at him, you nod, clenching your eyes shut. “Think I fucked up my neck between this new pilates class and lugging around new appliances for my paint room. Ahh—“

Johnny kneads harder at a knotted muscle between his thick fingers, pressing the heel of his palm in to add pressure. “And Mr. Jeong hasn’t hired you a personal masseuse yet? Someone’s worried about his pretty trophy getting polished off by another man.”

“Ugh..” hunching forward to grip on the counter you gasp between trying to keep your breath calm. “That hurts!”

“Yeah, I bet it does.” Johnny moves your hair aside, pressing his nose closer to inhale the scent of your shampoo still clinging to your scalp. “Do you always smell this good first thing in the morning?”

“I don’t know..” answering mindlessly under his weighty palms, you let out an embarrassingly satisfied groan, pushing your hips back to get comfortable with your elbows on the counter. A choked sigh emits from behind you using the opportunity to press closer and lock his hips to your barely covered backside.

“That was too easy,” Johnny snickers, rocking his girth between the dip that's formed on your bottom. “Mrs. Jeong, what would your husband think??”

“Ugh.. you little..” between staggered breaths you curse him, reaching back to push at his abdomen only for Johnny to tether your wrists together with one hand, his other unwilling to release the back of your neck.

“Little?” Johnny says brazenly, pushing roughly against your lower half, the toes of his sneakers knocking your ankles apart until you spread eagle over the counter for him. “Say that again?”

Another powerful cant of his hips has you gasping, struggling to release from his unyielding grip. “Fuck..”

“What was that Mrs. Jeong?” Johnny tsks, throwing a twist between his eyebrows to display the foul act. “What would your husband say? Acting like such a slut for his damn near second son? Have some shame.”

“Johnny!” Between gasping you manage to pinch at his hand and free one of your wrists. “Jaehyun could walk in at any moment!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head off about him,” Johnny sucks in his lower lip, maneuvering his hips back enough to view the stain that’s formed on your pathetic excuse for sleepwear. “Would you look at that?”

“Stop! Don’t look!” You almost believe your pleads, knocking against the cabinets before your legs when the cool blow of air conditioning shivers up your bottom as Johnny leisurely gathers the fabric of your negligée with one fist.

“Soaked right through your underwear sweetheart. Tell me to stop, tell me this isn’t because of me.” Johnny says heatedly, wedging your underwear higher with his other hand, the fabric bubbles with more wetness as he tugs it between your folds, kissing the backs of his teeth. “So fucking wet.”

“You c-can’t..” you gasp, bouncing against the burning pressure Johnny’s created down your center.

“That’s cute..” He chuckles, grinding together the backs of his teeth from the way your ass jiggles, just begging to clap back against him the more you shake at your knees. “Who’s going to stop me baby?”

“Ja-Jaehyun, he—“

“Jaehyun doesn’t give a fuck.” Johnny interrupts your sad excuse to make him stop, sliding one of his digits up your thigh to collect a dollop of wetness that's begun to trickle down past mid-thigh. “Your husband can’t do shit either. So bold and moronic to leave his pretty little slut of a housewife home alone, allow you to prance up and down the beach showing off your perfect tits, fat peachy ass.”

“He-he could..” You gulp, losing train of thought when he slaps at your butt, a large palm cupping the pert round of your ass hard enough to leave prints behind to catch sight of in a mirror the next day. “..wa—walk in.”

“Shut up about Jaehyun,” Johnny spits, delivering a rougher slap to your ass. “Suddenly you want to act like step-mom of the year? You knew what you were doing, we all know what you want.”

“Please..” You whimper, reeling from the sting of pain shooting to the back of your thigh.

“You know what could cure my hangover better than a smoothie?” Johnny asks, ripping your soaked underwear down to the tops of your thighs and cursing under his breath at the full visual of your glossy cunt. “Your tight pretty pussy.”

“Ugh!” Groaning, you scratch at the surface of the counter, slipping further and further away from your sanity; the last of it exiting your body at the first brush of his length between your folds. “Johnny!”

The shrieked scream of his name has him bending over, pressing the full amount of his weight onto your back to smash your breast on the cold surface. “What was that?” He grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn to the side and plant your cheek on the counter. “Speak up, tell me to stop.”

“Please..”

Johnny’s tongue clicks, wrapping a fist around the base of his girth to control swiping the tip between your folds. Teasing you with the occasional press of his cockhead against your pulsating hole. “Please stop Johnny, I’m an honest married woman.” He mocks, pouting and pulling your bottom lips open, your heavy breath leaving a cloud of moisture along the marble.

“Please..”

Johnny sneers, twisting your neck to a more pained angle to refocus your eyes on him. “Please spit in my mouth, treat me like a nasty cock slut, fuck me like a whore with your big cock.”

He nods your chin up and down, pupils blown wide as he dips the tip of his cock inside your entrance. The rim of it snapping like a rubber band around his bulbous size as he draws away. “Slutty fuck hole has more to say than you? Fine.”

Keeping your lips propped open with his fingers dug into your cheeks, Johnny gathers up saliva, lapping it from corner to corner inside his mouth. His plump lips purse together to pour it out slowly, a thick wad of it stretching out to land on your tongue with whimpered cries following behind. The act pushes tears from your eyes in disbelief.

Jaehyun’s father would never spit in your mouth, let alone call you any type of degrading names. As if able to read your mind, he snaps you out of it by jerking your head around, landing soft slaps on your cheek. “Swallow.”

Johnny waits until your throat bounces, evidently sucking down his spit and smiles as you gaze back with large watery half-dazed eyes. “What do you say?”

His thumb smears your lips, shoving the fat of your lower lip side to side with a glint in his eye. “Thank You..” You say, almost timidly, shivering at the thought of giving him the wrong answer.

“That’s right.”

“I shouldn’t..” You say nervously between inhaling, thighs wobbling in anticipation of knowing what comes next.

“You shouldn’t? Or you don’t want to?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, eyes half-lid as he watches thoughts run rampant behind your gaze.

“Want to..”

Johnny licks his lips, alternating to cup your pussy from the back and slot his palm against your entrance cruelly, the tips of his calloused fingers pressing down on your clit. Cock landing in rapid slaps on your ass leaving a mess of your wet arousal with each hit. “You hear that? So fucking wet for me sweetheart. Here I thought only a real man could turn you on this much.”

Johnny leans back down again, capturing your lips and the moan you let out as two fingers push past the heat of your entrance. The sound of wetness echoes throughout the kitchen, obscene and loud, sprouting out onto his palm like a broken faucet. “Love how I play with your pretty pussy don’t you baby?”

He licks between the seam of your lips, demanding to be let in with a firm push of his tongue. Easily dominated by his larger mouth finding control as you gasp out a moan, scissoring apart his fingers to stretch you open. He bites at your upper lip, pulling the fleshy meat between his as he shifts to hover over you and lick the swell that's begun to form from his bite. “So tight, knew that your husband couldn’t possibly be making use of your perfect pussy.”

Johnny grunts, shoving a third finger inside of you to push against the inside of your velvety dripping walls. “God, how am I supposed to fit in here?” Raising his voice over the sound of your slippery wet cunt, he grins, forcing a fourth finger inside of you and working into a speedy pump. “Your useless husband should thank me, finally someone to satisfy his pretty little trophy wife, make use of her young tight body. Ruin you for any other man.”

Shifting to grab the back of your neck in a chokehold, Johnny keeps your upper half held down flat on the counter, working his other arm to a rapid pace that has you shouting. Tip-toeing off the ground from the throttle of his fingers, pushing the coil in your gut to constrict your insides and spill over the tears you’d been holding in. A slew of pleading and curses spilling out between the sound of creamy wetness hitting his forearm and hips.

“That’s it, opening up so fucking nice for me pretty.” Johnny pulls out abruptly, mouth desperate for a taste. Having to wipe his hand off on his shorts just to get a proper grip on your ass. He falls to his knees quickly, pulling your buttcheeks apart to drag his tongue from clit to your wrinkled hole, missing your dripping entrance just to hear you suffer. Squirming and quaking under the fierce hold he grips you in.

He bites down on the swell of your ass, groaning between sucking at the fleshy meat, fingers pressing in harder to fully display where you leak for him. The complete visual of you so obscene, clenching around nothing with your fingers buried in your mouth to contain your cries. “Fuck. So fucking tiny..”

He prods at your entrance, circling the stubby tips of his nails against it to watch another tremor of anguish roll up your thighs. “Tell me baby..”

Johnny glides two digits back inside, having to tuck his lip in to lower the growl in his chest. “Want me to fuck you?”

His tongue curls up, tracing the outline of your hole squeezing his fingers, swirling around your clenched rim that taunts him with the idea of fucking your ass until you’re pitifully groveling. Sulking and begging for him to slow down, go harder, fuck my ass until I break.

“Not…n-not right..” you whimper in spite of your desire screaming out otherwise from every direction. Fighting back the orgasm his fingers are plowing out of you, curling up where you need and pressing with a hard wiggle until your ass jiggles against his face. Tightening around his fingers too much as you hit release, having to stop his ministrations from the grip. “please..I’m married.”

“That makes one of us.” Johnny sighs, popping his fingers free to glide against his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull, dizzy just from the taste of your hitting his tonsils. “Only one of us has to care.”

Pushing up off his knees, he loops around your waist from behind, chin perched on your shoulder to lick at the shell of your ear, whispering close enough for your eardrums to vibrate. “And it’s not me.”

Hauling away from the counter, Johnny directs you toward the living room with his knees banging into the backs of yours. Protests falling silent as he spins you to face him and cups your cheeks with damp palms. “No one has to know.”

Not allowing you more time to think, his mouth crashes down on yours to stop the next thing you can say to convince yourself that this is wrong. If it’s so wrong, then why do you like it so much?

Johnny doesn’t have to ask you, he knows you’d put up a fight if you really cared. Knows you’d yell at him and push him off instead of lifting your arms above your head for him to strip you free of your nightgown, freely exposing your bare breasts for him to grab and massage, pinching your already hardened nipples as he sucks on your tongue.

“This is what you needed all along, someone to put you in your place.” Johnny’s lips lower to your chest, wrapping his mouth around your nipple to suck on, pulling it between his teeth as his hands cup your ass. Bending at his knee to lift you off your feet, he turns effortlessly, laying you down on the couch you’ve spent many nights with your husband watching movies; more nights alone scrolling through your phone burning through his credit cards.

“Told you I’d fuck you how you deserve baby.” Johnny says, wishing you hadn't insisted on acting so resilient. Now he’d have to make use of the next few days to fuck you morning and night until you have to beg him to carry you, legs too worn out. Leave your cunt raw and used, not like Mr. Jeong would even fathom the idea of his son's best friend since childhood doing something this low to him, not Johnny, the alleged ‘good influence’ on his son.

“Gonna be good for me? Take it like you deserve?” Johnny kicks off his running shoes, easily shoving aside the throb in his skull in favor of devouring you. Pushing his shorts off in one sweep, he positions between your thighs as if his life depends on it. As if you’ll suddenly wake from your spacey horny daze and slap him across the face.

Gripping your chin, he forces your glossy eyes back on his face, sharp features more shadowed from the light streaks of sunlight entering the mostly dimmed room. He’s straight out of a wet dream above you, hair tousled, sweeping down above his strong eyebrows and hooded eyes. Lips swollen fat from the assault delivered to your mouth, and a body you can only squeeze your eyes shut tightly to imagine on top of you while your husband sloppily thrusts and cums too fast.

“Want you.. want you to fuck me.” You drawl, ready to wail as you clutch at his waist. The dips of muscle melting beneath your palms. “Please.. fuck me like I deserve.”

Johnny’s nearly mortified by how red the engorged head of his length looks, stroking up the base as if he needs any help to fully harden, aching between his thighs where his balls sit heavy; dying to release load after load inside of you.

“I know, pretty baby.” Johnny has to take a deep breath, pushing at the back of one of your thighs to swipe between your creamy coated folds, biting down on the tip of his tongue as you tremble in his hold and let out a wet pleading sob to get fucked.

He struggles to slide inside despite how wet you are, mentally and physically cursing, sucking at the drool ready to pour from the corners of his lips. He has to shut his eyes to not cum already, the image of your perfect pussy taking his cock finally feels overwhelming, it’s too much, a culmination of his every thought since the moment he saw you sat on his board with your thighs spread open. He knew he had to have you.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Johnny hisses when he bottoms out, his heavy sack smacking at your rim as he lodges himself in place. Head swirling as you clench up around him and let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

“Big… s’big..” more tears brim your eyes, tugging your lip between your teeth to not wail as a batch of salty wetness rolls down past your lips and pools at your neck.

“Just for you.” Johnny tries out an experimental roll of his hips, stomach sucking in rapid convulsions from how deep inside of you he’s reaching. Unable to even bring himself to take in the hint of bulge protruding on your mound. “Need to get fucked stupid so bad, don’t you sweetheart?”

He can’t wait anymore, patience out the window as he draws back to the tip and rams forward, earning an ear shattering shout from the confines of your chest. He grips onto your thigh, hoisting it around his hip for better leverage as his other hand stays splayed on the back of your knee, pushing your flexibility to its limits with each thrust.

Johnny can see your breasts rise and fall between labored breaths, the rapid motion forcing your tits to bounce delectably, leaving his mouth no choice but to capture your nipple between his teeth and bite.

The drag of his cock feels heavy, near painful from after already cumming. It hurts in a good way, in a way you’d begun to forget. Lost to the torturous slam of his cock spacing out your insides, as if to claim your cunt for no one other than himself.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Johnny says between raspy short breaths. Pistoning into you roughly, nearly inaudible above the booming sound of skin slapping skin. “You’re just too fucking good.”

“You.. you have to..” struggling to breathe too, you can hardly form your thoughts coherently, fucked into another dimension as Johnny keeps going. Cock plunging in and out of you faster, faster than your husband’s ever been capable of.

“No.” He grits, planting his palm against the back of your knee to keep you held in place; not that you have anywhere to go.

“Johnny.. have to..” You start to say again, another orgasm threatening to silence you when he slams in at another angle. Shocking you with the press of two fingers on your clit, working the stiff little bundle of nerves expertly. The relentless pace he fucks into you with never faltering, hip bones smack against your pelvis with a sharp clap. “P-pull out.. can’t.”

“No.” Johnny repeats, sinking in impossibly deep. Delirious as you think the length of his size reaches what feels like the back of your throat. The constant reminder that you haven’t been fucked this good in years echoes at the back of your mind. Perhaps you’d never been fucked this good, definitely not since before the days you found yourself sat across from Jeong Jihoon interviewing to be his secretary fresh out of university. The thought that he’d end up asking you to marry him after a year of fooling around never once crossed your mind. The thought that you’d crave for another man to disrespect you in your happy home, cheat on the man you allegedly love; the man you married for an easy life, never once had occurred to you.

“You’re mine now, don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Johnny rages, bending closer to hover his face above yours. “You make your husband pull out?”

Johnny jaw locks, flexing at the sides where his cheeks start to hollow. His muscles tight and corded from staving off the release he so desperately wants to fill you with, release he wants to keep you full of, watch it swallowed up ensuring you have a piece of him inside of you forever.

“Johnny..” You whimper, pushing a palm against his chest as fresh tears line the rims of your eyes. “S’too much.. can’t anymore.”

“Liar.” Johnny can feel moisture itching at the backs of his eyes, ready to tear up himself from the way your tits bounce with every brutal jostle of your bodies colliding together. “What happened to handling big things, huh?”

A wash of pride puffs out his chest, dipping at his waist as he drives every inch of his length inside, the stretch hurting more now as he barrels another orgasm out of you, much weak this time, still gushing enough clear liquid out to drip down past his balls.

“Fuck, you’re such a mess for me.” Johnny can feel his long overdue orgasm building to its breaking point. Choking on his saliva as he focuses on where the two of you connect, cock drenched with the glisten of your never ending release. “Look so pretty when you’re getting fucking ruined.”

“Joh-johnn—“ You try to speak, digging your nails into his chest, may as well be babbling in another language for all he cares. “Too big for me, too m-much.. please..”

His hips finally come to a stand still, groaning from the depths of his chest in a guttural tone. Johnny should be ashamed of the whined shout that breaks out of him, fucking into you with three rapid fire thrusts that send him over the edge. Pushed hard enough to lurch him forward, boneless as he plants on top of you and punches the air from your chest with his, the hold on your thighs weakened, flopping your legs around his sides numbly as his cock throbs against your insides. The tip of it painting your cervix with spurt after spurt of thick white ropes.

Johnny’s not sure he’s ever cum this hard before, the sensation rattles up his spine, buried balls deep as he trembles and falls apart. The amount of release is too much, pouring out around his thick size to drip it’s way down between his inner thighs; sticky and hot where it glues his skin together with each slight circle of his hips. “Fuckfuckfuck..”

Between his eyelashes fluttering, Johnny watches your chest heave, mind continuing to spiral from your release. He thinks you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen, especially fucked full of him, euphorically blissed out at his hands. He knew you’d be even prettier after ruining you, stripping you down to submit for him.

Mine. Should be mine. Fucked like you’re all mine.

Drawing back from between your legs as slowly as possible, Johnny admires how wrecked your core appears, twitching around his size as each inch glides free. It’d be a shame to waste all this cum, if not for how debauched and pretty your cunt looked like this. Covered in release that you took out of him. Mine. Mine. All mine.

“So.. Mrs. Jeong..” Johnny falls to your side, huffing as he lands.

“Ugh.” Smacking his chest, you roll your eyes. “Stop calling me that.”

Johnny licks up your neck, biting down on your jaw until you let out a pained squeak. “I’ll have to come back next summer, don’t you think?”

His pouty lips litter kisses higher, tugging your earlobe between his teeth with a light teasing bite. “Maybe even Christmas, Thanksgiving? Hmm, I know how busy your husband can get.”

“What would my husband think? Suddenly his son's friend has decided to hang around every holiday?”

“Best friend, you know Mr. Jeong says I'm always welcome. A polite and intelligent young man such as myself.” Johnny informs, lapping at your ear between words. “He really thinks of me as his own son.”

“My husband’s a very cunning man..” You retort, twisting your neck to face him. “He managed to make me his, you know.”

Johnny’s eyes flicker over your face, the regular pace your chest rises and falls at again, thumbing at your bottom lip. “He’s smart.”

“Really smart..”

“I’m smarter.” Johnny says confidently, pushing the tip of his thumb past your lips. “And I always get what I want.”

Always get what’s mine.

[randomshyperson]

R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time. 

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission. 

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device. 

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for. 

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs. 

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you. 

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you. 

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?" 

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up. 

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?" 

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again. 

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?" 

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

[jasmines-library]

Could you please do a Winchester sister story where there’s a hex bag hidden in the hotel room her and the brothers are in and the boys have to find it before she dies

Hexed

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Word count: 1k

Warnings: Sickness

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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You knew it would have been famous last words when you said that things were going smoothly. As usual you had packed your small bag and tossed it in the back of Baby before climbing in the backseat. Normal. Routine.

It was a warm day and you had even rolled the window down slightly to let the cool breeze in. Dean was blasting some classic rock and the three of you sung along. The hunt was a few states over from the bunker and the drive was long, so you were glad for the nice day, even if you couldn’t be outside enjoying it: it lightened the mood.

And the motel was just like any other. Two beds and a couch that the three of you would fight over later. The walls were bare besides a few questionable photos they had hung squiffy, and the light didn’t quite work properly. Nevertheless it was a nice room; perfectly suitable for a week or so. Less, you hoped.

You were hunting a particularly troublesome witch: you were just hoping that you would get it over and done with a soon as you could. Witches were a pain in the ass. The three of you had arrived early afternoon so spent the rest of the day scouting out the town and getting to know the local waitresses in Deans case. By the second day, the three of you were certain you had figured out who was causing all of the trouble: a blonde haired man that appeared to be in his twenties. You were moving quickly.

It wasn’t until the third day however that things started to go to shit. When you woke up, groggily stretching out on the couch, your entire body ached. Your head throbbed and your throat felt like it had been torn apart by a thousand razor blades. You groaned.

“You okay?” Sam frowned, looking up from his laptop where he was scanning police footage.

“Mmh” you nodded, pushing yourself up. When you stood, your vision blurred together and you swayed on your feet.

“Woah.” Sam stood up quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just feeling a little rough.” Your voice was like sandpaper as he guided you to sit down at the kitchen table. He frowned, wrinkling his nose. “I probably picked it up from someone at the bar.” You recall sitting awkwardly at the table with Sam while Dean tried his luck flirting with the waitresses.

“Probably.” Sam pressed his hand against your forehead. “You are warm though.”

You hummed in response.

“What’s going on?” Dean grumbled as he rolled over in the bed, pulling the covers over his face.

“Y/N’s sick.”

“Am not.” You pouted. “I’m just feeling a bit rough. It’ll pass in a few hours.”

It did not, in fact, pass in a few hours. I fact it got much much worse in a matter of a few hours. Your skin grew clammy and paler, your joints ached and your movements were slow. Yet you were still determined to help with the hunt. Sam and Dean had finally had enough when you, leaving heavily against the impala to stay upright, you dropped a second pistol on the floor whilst trying to reload them with ‘witch-killing-bullets’.

“Alright, that’s it.” Dean said taking the weapon from your hands. You whined in protest. “I’m taking you home.”

“No.” You protested. “I can help. I want to help.”

“No.” Dean told you firmly. “You’re sick, y/n. Very sick. Just look at yourself you can barely stand.”

“You need to rest.”

“I can-“ you were cut off by a coughing fit and a stabbing pain in your gut. When you pulled your hand away, a splatter of crimson plastered itself against your skin. You glanced up warily at your brothers.

Their eyes widened in surprise and Sam had to grip your arms to keep you upright when your knees buckled beneath you.

“S’mmy…” you slurred. “What’s hap’ning to me?”

“The witch.” Dean said suddenly. “She’s been hexed. Get her in the car.”

Your body careened forward, slumping into Sam and he struggled to get your stubborn limbs into the car. Your breathing was fast as you wheezed, clinging on to your brother.

Dean slammed the door shut and pressed his foot down hard on the gas to send the car speeding down the road. He cast glances at you through the overhead mirror. Your eyes were slipping shut as your head hung limply against Sam: he held you close trying to get you to stay awake: alarmed at your rising temperature.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” Sam pleaded.

You made a noise of acknowledgment, whining against the hurt of your body. When you coughed again, more blood stained your teeth. And then you were fading in and out.

“Dean……up!”

“Trying….”

More hurt. More nothing.

“Get her….car.”

Hands on your body, sliding under your back and knees. Someone was lifting you. There was a loud clanging and a pained wheeze that squeezed itself from your lungs.

“Shhhh.” Hands smoothing the hair on your head. Sam? You couldn’t see; your vision had blurred together.

Sam and Dean were frantic. They moved without much coordination as they shuffled you into your room. Sam held you in his arms as Dean tore apart the room, searching under the mattress, tearing the pictures off the walls and up turning the chairs. He had been moving quickly since you stopped responding.

“Sammy, help me look!” Dean barked.

Sam hesitantly lay you down on the bed that Dean had finished tearing apart and began to search. Inside the couch, inside the lampshades, under the couch until Dean plucked out the Hex bag out from your bag with an exclaim of relief. The witch must have slipped it in there whilst you were at the bar. Dean disposed of it quickly and immediately rushed over to your side too late. You had already lost consciousness but your chest was still rising and falling. He let out a breath.

It took a long time for your temperature to come down. Sam and Dean had taken off your extra jacket and even placed an ice pack on you to help. At least one of them had an eye on you at all time. Eventually, it had dropped to a regular temperature and slowly but surely you opened your eyes.

“Oh thank God.” Sam sighed “we were so worried.”

“Sorry….” You mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

You leaned into him. Safe.

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TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx @hearts4robs @harleycao @hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale

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[katsu28]

Steve and hugging from behind would be so cute 🥺

anything for u my dear nova <33 the hugging from behind part is literally just a speck in all this fluff oopsie but pls enjoy

steve harrington x reader, 1.4k

There was something about Steve Harrington that made you unbelievably nervous. A good kind of nervous, of course—the kind that sent your stomach into a fluttery mess and made your fingertips tingle every time he touched you.

You shouldn’t be nervous around him, but you’d been together for three months and still found yourself fighting the urge to unabashedly stare at him whenever you spent time with each other. 

Another reason to be nervous—you were spending the night at his place for the very first time.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend a whole day together, but you always went home at the end of the night (much to Steve’s dismay). So a few hours ago when he casually suggested you just stay the night instead of leaving and coming back in the morning, you almost freaked out. 

Now you were here, standing in his bathroom fresh out of the shower, staring at yourself in the fogged up mirror and willing yourself to just be normal. It was Steve. There was nothing to worry about. 

Steve was sprawled out on his bed when you finally mustered up the courage to make your way to his room, tossing a raggedy baseball above his head and catching it.

Well, trying to catch it was a more apt description. His focus immediately shifted to you as you padded in, the ball bouncing off the mattress next to his head and nearly hitting him in the face in the process before rolling onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, ball forgotten. 

“Hi.” He said softly, smiling at you with the brightness that rivaled the sun. You echoed his greeting, clutching at the towel around you. “Uh, here. This is for you.” He held out a well worn looking shirt, soft cotton brushing against your fingers as you took it gratefully. “I can—I’ll turn around while you get dressed.” 

“Thanks, Steve,” You mumbled, suddenly feeling shy. There were those damn nerves again. Steve turned around like he said he would, rocking back and forth on his heels while you pulled the shirt over your body. It smelled like laundry detergent and cologne and so very Steve you decided right then and there you were definitely keeping this shirt. “You can turn around now.” 

He whirled back around, letting himself take in the sight of you in his clothes. It was something straight out of a dream he’d had a few times. “You’re so pretty.” 

“You’re not so bad looking yourself.” 

Steve preened at the compliment, looking mighty pleased. He’d already changed while you were in the bathroom, clad in only a pair of old Hawkins High sweatpants slung low on his hips. 

His chestnut hair was free of product, fluffy and a little all over the place with a artful curl hanging over his brow. You had to fight the urge to brush it out of his eyes, though you suspected he probably wouldn’t have minded one bit if you did. 

“C’mere,” He murmured, stretching out an arm towards you. The look in his eyes held so much warmth, so fond and sickly sweet you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up with a toothache come morning time. It spurred you forward, folding yourself into Steve’s embrace like it was second nature. Like it was where you belonged. His nose dipped into your hair and he inhaled, arms wrapping around you tight. 

“Did you just sniff me?”

“You smell really nice.” He defended meekly, cheeks turning an embarrassed pink. You kissed him to remedy it, smiling against his lips when he kissed you back immediately. His hand rubbed along your back whilst he maneuvered the two of you towards the bed without managing to break the kiss, but the need for air unfortunately won out. 

Steve pulled the covers over the two of you swiftly, settling close—but not too close, in case you liked to have your own space while you slept. 

You tucked yourself snug against his side instead, cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you again, and you were content there. The sound of his heartbeat hammered a million miles a minute in your ear, and it made you feel a little better knowing that he was just as nervous as you were. It actually eased your own nerves a tenfold. 

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?” Steve asked worriedly. It was cute how attentive he was. You wanted to tell him that being wrapped in his arms was one of the comfiest places in the world, but just opted for a nod, nuzzling a little closer to him in lieu of an answer. Steve still got the message loud and clear, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, you because of the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest, and him because of the soothing warmth you radiated. He could fall asleep like this every night and still never get tired of it. 

-------

You were expecting Steve to be next to you when you woke up the next morning. But when you opened your eyes and rolled over to look at him, the space beside you was empty. 

He was in the kitchen when you finally found him, standing at the stove when you padded in, humming along to the song playing softly from the radio over on the other counter. His back was towards you as he poured batter into a pan on the stove. 

A sizeable stack of perfect pancakes sat on a plate beside him, with crispy edges, just the way you liked it. You wondered how he knew that, seeing as you’d never told him before. Then again, Steve always seemed to know what you liked. 

You crossed the room quiet as a mouse, sliding your arms around him once you were close enough. 

Letting out a surprised noise at the feeling of your embrace, it only took him a second to realize it was you.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He hummed, settling his free hand over your linked ones at his navel. You pressed your forehead between his shoulder blades, reveling in the warmth of his freckled skin and stayed there for a while, feeling him inhale and exhale with every breath he took. It was quite soothing. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Good. Really good.” 

“Sure sounded like it, what with the way you were snoring in my ear the whole night.” 

“I was not!” You gasped, rearing back. Steve’s body shook with laughter, and you realized he was just poking fun at you. “You’re an asshole.” 

“An asshole who’s making you breakfast right now.” He pointed out, flipping the pancake for good measure.

“True. You’ve been promoted to just a little shit then.” 

“Lucky me.” Steve snorted. “As much as I love this, you’re kinda cramping my style. I don’t wanna accidentally elbow you when I try to wow you with my triple pancake flip. Go sit at the counter and do what you do best—look pretty.” 

You obliged, but not before sighing overdramatically. “Trying to get rid of me already, Harrington?” 

“Dunno…is it working?” 

“Just for that comment, no, it isn’t working.” You huffed, propping your chin up in your hand. 

“Oh, good. Was kinda planning on keeping you around for a while.” 

“Just a while?” 

Steve shrugged without turning around. “Maybe forever.” 

You sat in silence with his words, maybe a little longer than you meant to, because Steve whirled around, brows crinkled with worry. 

“I’m sorry. Was that—that was too much, wasn’t it?” He blurted, shuffling over to where you were. “Did I just make things super weird? I didn’t mean like forever forever, I just thought it sounded smooth. Which, obviously it didn’t ‘cause—” 

Leaning over the counter, you slid your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was sweet and firm and had Steve melting faster than the pad of butter he’d placed atop the pancake stack. 

You let your forehead press against his when you pulled away. “I like forever.” 

“I do too.” He grinned, nearly going cross-eyed trying to look at you up close. He dotted another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Y’know, I’m really enjoying the whole shutting me up with kisses thing you’ve got going on lately. I think you should keep doing it.” 

“Oh, do you?” You chuckled, sitting back down in your seat. Steve came around the counter to slide onto the stool next to you, scooting your own stool close enough to his that his knees bracketed yours. Now it was his turn to bring you in for a kiss instead of an answer. 

Forever with Steve suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world, especially if it meant you’d get to have mornings like this all the time. 

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[romanshomeonwattpad]

Girl in New York | 5

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au! |

“_ _" = Y/N

masterslist | next chapter | last chapter

sypnosis - you have lunch with Art’s girlfriend and your parents….

warnings - messy blowjobs, dirty talk, slut shaming, cheating, voyuerism

word count - 2k

© elliotsblunt 2024. do not repost, modify, or translate.

You and Art….came to an understanding.

It was odd. Although it was winter—the sun was shining today. White shorts hugged your hips, showing off the curve of your ass. A black tank top let your breasts spill out just enough without flashing the entire tennis club. Birds chirped at the sudden heat, spreading their wings and able to fly away from their problems.

Sweat had gathered at the top of Art’s lip as he drank from his hydro. You two had agreed to meet on Fridays instead. He hadn’t mentioned what occurred Sunday night, diving right into your usual routine. The both of you had just finished an hour long practice—but Art didn’t seem it was long enough. “Let’s go again.”

You groaned, throwing your head back before plopping down onto one of the chairs. There were a ton of tables since there was a food court nearby and people liked to judge the players while stuffing themselves. “My legs are killing me. Can’t we just wait until tomorrow?” You kicked your legs onto another chair, looking up at him. “Matter of fact, let’s get ice cream. I’m craving it.”

“You should lay off the carbs,” Art placed his hands onto his hips, raising a brow at you. Something glinted in his eyes. “It could mess with your cardio.”

You sleep with a guy once and he thinks he could tell you what to eat.

“Whatever. I’ll get it myself.”

Art lit a cigarette, “Least you’ll be getting off your ass.”

You pushed yourself off the chair and hit his shoulder whilst passing him. As if you hadn’t just spent the last hour aggressively dodges Art’s stroke’s. You were pretty sure there were three bruises on your knee from falling to strike back. And on top of that, the concealer you applied on your neck to cover his hickeys was melting off. It was fucking December—why was it ninety degrees?

Bees buzzed around lavender colored flowers. You spotted around the corner the food truck. A familiar pair of pretty brown eyes and a charming smile popped into view. Humming to yourself, excitement flourished within you, approaching him. “Oh hey—it’s you again,” his brown orbs not so swiftly racked up and down your figure. “I was gonna text you but my phone broke. It like won’t turn on…it’s a piece of shit.”

You raised your brows, “Can’t even trust your own phones these days to not cockblock you.”

He laughed, “Literally. What can I get you? On the house.”

“A chocolate ice cream on a cone, please.”

A wink was thrown your way—shooting right down into your core. But his eyes didn’t swirl with the same hungerness as Art. This was more like desire…curiosity. It didn’t feel as exhilarating as tossing flirty banger with the gorgeous blonde. This guy was younger, and seemed like he tried too hard to impress you. Whereas Art didn’t give a fuck what you thought, he still said it regardless.

It didn’t irritate you that he wasn’t acknowledging the situation. All you knew was that it surely wasn’t a one time thing. Whether he expects it or not, he’ll eventually give in. And if he didn’t—you wished to savor his taste on your tongue for as long as possible.

“Here ya go, gorgeous.”

You snapped out your daze. There was a cutie in front of you—and were off thinking about Art. Get it together _ _.

He handed you the vanilla cone. There were sprinkles on top of the perfectly scooped ice cream. But before you could thank him, Art grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the guy. You knitted your brows, “Art what the f—thanks uh, Chase! Or Chad!”

“It’s Chris. How do you flirt with guys you don’t even know,” Art eyed you from the corner of his eye, not fully turning his head. Once you two got far enough, you tugged from his grip.

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Says the guy who cheated on his girlfriend.”

That shut him up. Ignoring the non-staggering death stare he was burning into the you—you licked at your ice cream. His eyes focused on the way the tip of your tongue twirled around the cream. “Perhaps I should’ve went with vanilla,” you tasted, locking eyes with his. They were hooded and cloudy, drinking in every movement you made with your mouth. No longer thinned into knives penetrating your skull.

And then it flew out your hand. You’re ice cream.

“What the fuck, Art—“

“Get behind that wall,” he sneered, shoving you anyways. You almost tripped before his hands pushed your shoulders downwards—guiding you to your knees. When you got the message, your eyes rounded up at him. “Art—we’re at the club. Your girlfriend—“

His fingers gripped your chin in a bruising hold. Taking out his cock with the other hand by pulling his sports shorts down, he then tapped the pink top onto your bottom lip. “Don’t mention her before I’m about to throat fuck you,” he smirked, before watching his head vanish between your lips. A salty undertone filled your taste buds, his thick head pulsing on your slippery tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as you hummed, savoring the taste of his pre-cum. Sucking and swirling with your mouth, and jerking the rest with your hand, you put yourself to work.

His hips harshly snapped into your mouth. Art’s eyes were barely open, bliss taking over his features.

You couldn’t get enough of him. You wanted to see him break above you. Moaning around his dick, you felt it twitch in the warm walls of your mouth— before more of his salty liquid dribbled out. Signaling he was getting close already, your wrists began to twist the base of his cock. A patch of blonde hairs resided above it. He held his shirt up with one hand, holding the back of your head with another.

“Fuck, that’s it. Take it all like a good fucking girl.”

Sticking out your tongue, you continued to jerk off his huge cock. “I’m gonna—fuck—“

His cock twitched, blue eyes boring into your wicked ones—taking everything he had to offer. The liquid shot out all over your tongue, and on the ground.

“We would like to meet your instructor.”

You almost dropped your spoon, choked on your mashed potatoes, and screamed at the top of your lungs. Perhaps your mother had gone crazy. She took a sip of wine, shrugging her shoulders at your father. “She seems passionate about Tennis. It seems as if he inspired this newfound hobby.”

Oh…you have no idea.

“We’ll come watch you play next week. It’s set,” your father nodded, taking a bite of steak. A know it all look crossed his features. “You know—I used to dabble in the sport back in high school…”

You tuned out your father out.

Your parents were going to meet Art?

This could not fucking happen.

“How ya doing? I’m Bradford Smith, and this is my wife—Fiona Smith. _ _’s mother.”

Art’s eyes flew over to you. The sun shined without mercy, the tight long-sleeve that covered your tits due to your parent’s presence making you itchy. And to make matters worse, a high pitched hello sounded from behind. A pair of blonde pigtails came into view, and as soon as she spotted you, her arms clung to Art. “_ _! What a surprise! Speaking of those—I was planning on surprising Art. I didn’t know you were bringing your family as well.”

You laughed in disbelief that this was all happening. “Well isn’t that just strawberries and confetti throw up fun.”

Art sent you a behave look, earning an eye roll from yourself. Your mother chuckled, probably just as confused as everyone else, “_ _ wants to show us what the two of you have been working so hard doing.”

“I love watching you play, baby. Let’s do it!” La-la loopsie cheers, clapping her hands excitedly. You refrain from rolling your eyes again, grabbing your racket from the table and heading to the court. You overhead your mom tell your dad that Art’s girlfriend was cute—leading you to make a disgusted sound and warm up.

Art bounces his ball of the ground before hitting it with the racket. Just how you liked it. He started out aggressive, but you expected that, hitting it with yours quickly. The both of you dove into your skills, hearing your current audience clap every once in a while.

After about thirty minutes, you began to grow winded, and called for a break. Your father ended up talking to Art about his old tennis team. Surprisingly, the two got along—sharing a few chuckles here and there. Tiffany kept kissing your mother’s ass, asking her about the mug’s she liked to design. Just from listening to the conversation, you began to grow nauseous.

“I’m getting slushie,” you muttered, walking away from the scene. But before you could get too far, Art overheard you—his head whipping away from your still speaking father.

“I’m actually thinking about getting something too. I’ll go instead,” he offers, Tiffany noticing his sudden interest. You knit your brows together.

“I got it.”

“No seriously. I’m good friends with the dude anyway.”

“Chad?” You raise your brows, causing him to send you a glare before walking away. Tiffany followed him—wearing a painted smile. You thought the encounter was weird, but before you could think too deep into it, your mother pulled you aside.

“You should wear longer skirts, _ _.”

“Mom—I’m an adult. Please.”

Your father kissed the side of your head, “Why don’t the five of us have some lunch. There’s a cafe right there. Go let your friends know and we’ll grab a table.”

Before you could reply, they walked away to find a spot. Tiffany and Art returned back, him handing you a cherry slushie. “It was all they had.”

“That cashier guy asked about you. Is he like, your boyfriend?” Tiffany asks, sipping your Diet Coke. You didn’t see the point in diet anything if there was no sugar. It made everything taste a million times better.

Art pressed his lips together. You shrugged, sipping your slushie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your tone was uninterested. Being in the same vicinity made your blood boil. She had the ability to kiss him in broad daylight—and didn’t even take advantage of it. No wonder Art came to you for his sexual needs. It seemed like she was plain and simple. If a boy likes you, date him. If he doesn’t, run away.

She doesn’t know how to take care of someone like Art. Someone like you.

“Anyways,” you look at your nails, tension in the air. “My parents what us to have lunch together. I can tell them you guys are busy.”

“No that sounds fun!” Tiffany chimes in, holding onto Art’s arm again. His eyes slightly widen, face paling into a white sheet. He ground his jaw.

“I’m actually really tire—“

Tiffany tugged on his arm, whining in a tone that made you want to pierce your ears. “Please babe…”

“Yeah,” you smirk, thinking of a fun idea. Art’s eyes instantly met yours, a worried look crossing his features. While his girlfriend was looking at him, your tongue poked out and swirled around the straw—his teeth gritting at the sight. You noticed his fists ball at his sides. Tiffany looks at you, beaming excitedly. You send her a fake smile,

“You should taste this slushie I had last week. It was super creamy.”

“Alright let’s go.” Art grabs Tiffany, dragging her over to find your parents. You giggle to yourself, enjoying seeing him flustered.

“My mother is a Stanford graduate. That’s actually where Art and I met.”

Tiffany wouldn’t stop rambling about the history of her and Art. It was driving you literally insane. Your father helped himself to his club sandwich, barely listening to what she was even saying. Your mother on the other hand was absolutely ecstatic for the couple, sharing her own experiences about meeting your father.

You picked at your salad, glancing at the fair haired boy. He had been sipping his coffee—clearly uncomfortable with this entire situation. You decided to tease him a bit, taking advantage of the fact that you were seated beside him. Brushing your heel against his calf, he suddenly jerked, catching the attention of everyone at the table.

He cleared his throat, “Uh—a bee. It flew away.”

“Right. You remember that time we went to Cuba for that tournament, sweetie.”

He hummed, pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket. Tiffany made a face, “If you’re going smoke, at least go to the parking lot. Everyone’s eating.”

Jesus. What a bitch.

“I don’t mind,” your mother placed her hand on Tiffany’s. She smiled warmly at Art afterwards. “Bradford used to chain smoke those things until I eased him off then. Looks like we’ll have to do the same thing to you.”

Art returned her smile, ignoring Tiffany’s eye roll, sparking the cigarette. “_ _. Tell them about how you used to dance in the bathroom with my old tennis racket. It was the cutest thing. She’d be naked—“

“Actually, I’m gonna spark one up too. I’ll go to the parking lot though so no one complains.”

“I’ll come with you,” Art shot up, offering a nervous smile to everyone. “I just—feel so guilty.”

“Okay kids. We’ll be here.”

“What the fuck, _ _?”

You never thought it would be so hilarious to see someone smoking a cigarette whilst looking immensely frazzled. As soon as the two of you reached the back parking lot, out of sight of people, Art let you know how he truly felt. Fortunately, you weren’t in much of a talkative mood, so you listened patiently whilst finishing your cigarette.

“Not only are your parents here—but your mom loves my girlfriend. This fucked situation just got entirely more fucked.” He ran a hand through his light strands, pacing back and forth.

“I hate when she does shit like this.”

“Who?” You mumbled, leaning your back against the wall.

“Tiff!” His hands flew in the air, shaking his head. “She always pops up unannounced. I hate that kind of shit. She has no respect for my time nor schedule. I mean—what makes her think she can crash my lesson? “

“Why are you even with her?”

Art looked at you with a sudden calmness. It was as if your words urged him to think.

“I….don’t know.”

That made you pause. The cigarette burnt as the both of you stared at one another. For the first time, he was expressing his feelings. It was different than usual. “She doesn’t let you breathe. You’re a free soul, and she wants to keep it caged. You won’t stay with her for long. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I guess I like her company. She’s always there for me when I need it,” he shrugged, standing beside you. He looked away from you, “But if it came to actually being in love with her—I couldn’t tell you. She doesn’t accept me for me.”

“Then she’s a fucking idiot,” you smirk, “—because you’re like…kinda cool I guess.”

His eyes twinkled, your gaze meeting once again. You smirk was met by a sheepish smile from him.

“You’re pretty aggressive, you know that?”

“You love it.”

His eyes fell to your lips. “We should stop sneaking around, _ _. This is going too far.”

You laughed, throwing the cigarettes off the ground before crushing it with your heel. “C’mon, lover boy.”

[saturnville]

in the dirty south.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: the people have spoken. cowboy!coriolanus is here. definitely called on my grandmother's southern roots for this so be prepared. I don't know who started cowboy!coriolanus, but all respect and credit to the individual who did. please let me know what y'all think of this!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

Outside visiters were not a common occurance the city. The town was small and everybody knew everybody. One would be a fool to think anything that occured in their lives wouldn't be common knowledge to the inhabitants of the town. She wished she had the same type of delusion.

Once every few months, the mayor of the town found it suitable to host a fair. Something to ease the growing tensions between the families and to usher in a type of fun no one had seen since the rebellions took place.

She wouldn't say she didn't enjoy the fairs, but she knew there were other ways to spend her time aside from handing out freshly baked slices of poundcake and a cup of milk, courtesy of her mother and grandmother.

"Delilah! It's time to go, baby." Her mother's voice was rough like gravel yet soothing like silk. Everyone called her comparison foolish, as they didn't understand. But, until they felt the way her words calmed their soul like a newborn being rocked by its mother, they never would.

Delilah hollered back, "Comin', mama!" She stood in front of the mirror--dingy and stained from being passed down from her great-great-grandmother, and so short that she had to stand on her toes to see her full outfit. Her hands swiped over the fabric of her dress. It was new; her grandmother spent 3 weeks making it. A corset dress as bright as the dust that left her shoulders exposed to the kisses of the sun. She smiled at her reflection and pushed her hair away from her face. She shoved her feet into her boots and ran down the stairs.

Delilah questioned if they arrived late or if everyone else arrived early in anticipation. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of black and brown with a smile on her face. Small "pardon mes" and "excuse mes" poured from her lips like water as she attempted not to knock anyone over with her basket.

She followed her mother like a lost puppy to their assigned tent. Right next to Uncle Turner's barbeque restauraunt and the bathroom. Perfect, she said to herself. Lucille dropped the basket against the wood table and began plucking out the tablecloth and napkins.

"Lilah, I'm gon' grab some pitchers of water inside Turner's. I'll be back shortly." Mama's lips turned upward with a soft smile. Delilah nodded and continued her setting up the table.

Beads of sweat gathered at her forehead and her brown skin stung under the gaze of a burning sun. God, she hoped they wouldn't be outside for 10 hours like they were the last time. She couldn't sworn she melted like an ice cream cone within an hour.

Delilah hummed a church hymn to herself and tossed the basket behind her. She plopped down on the ragged bench and crossed her legs just as her mother taught her years ago, folded her hands over her lap, and watched as people walked passed.

People watching was one of her favorite pasttimes. To her left was a young girl riding on her wooden rocking horse, squealing with glee. To her right was a group of young boys tackling each other to the ground as their mother hollered for them to quit roughhousing. Delilah giggled.

She raised her eyes and jerked backward when she saw a group of men walking past. Four of them to be exact. Three were familiar faces: Elijah, Malachi, and Ezra. The boys whom she grew up with. They used to sleep in the same bed together when their mothers worked at the restaurant late at night. But, there was another one she'd never seen before.

He was unfamiliar. There were a few white boys sprinkled here and there, but in her town, it wasn't a frequent occurance. He seemed comfortable, too, with a boyish smirk on his face as he made the boys' head fly back with glee.

She could tell his hands were strong by the way they latched around the harness that allowed him to control the beautiful horse he rode upon. She looked around and saw other women eyeing the stranger. Who was he?

The man slid off the horse and tied the harness against a stake, and followed the men as they approached her mother's tent. His eyes were curious as they examined his surroundings. Delilah brushed the loose curls away from her face and smiled. "Hi, boys."

A series of disgruntled greetings came from them as they padded around the bench to engulf Delilah in a hug. The stranger stayed in front of her, eyes narrow.

"Where's Mama?" Elijah asked. His green eyes searched for the middle-aged woman.

"She's in Turner's getting some water. Might as well help her while you're lookin' for her," Delilah suggested with a shrug. She could feel icy eyes on her. "She'll mess around and drop them tryin' to do the most. Go catch up to her."

"Delilah," said Malachi. "This is Coriolanus. We, uh, we go back. Old friends. We're gon' help, Mama, but Lilah, don't scare him off." Delilah met his eyes. "I won't."

The boys shuffled off to the restaurant to find her mother, which left Delilah in the presence of Coriolanus. It was unique. She'd never heard anything like it. It sounded prestigious, elite.

He was handsome. Messy curls underneath his hat. Strong stature covered by a thick long-sleeve shirt and vest. Her gaze dropped to his belt. Brown with a holster that held, what she assumed was, a fully loaded pistol. And his boots, worn, dirty, and scuffed, just like hers. A country boy.

"Delilah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Coriolanus." Delilah extended her hand slowly. Coriolanus turned his head to the side. Her hands were slender and her nailbeds were painted a blood red. His tongue danced over his tooth.

"No need for that, darling. Nice to meet you," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His hand was much bigger in hers. Calloused like he wrestled animals in the wilderness. Strong like they'd hold her body upright with ease. His eye contact was strong and he could feel it melting her chocolate orbs away.

When he spoke, she noticed that his accent was nowhere as thick as her own, but a southern twang was laced in his words. Almost like he'd been taught. "Where are you from?" To keep herself from getting weak in the knees, she decided to start setting out the serving ware for the cake. Coriolanus' eyes followed her every action.

"Up north," he replied shortly. "Got in a bit of a mess. Decided to come down south for a while."

Delilah hummed and pulled the lid off the poundcake. Its glaze glistened underneath the sun. Just like her. Coriolanus chuckled to himself. "Do you like it?" She looked up at him through her eyelids.

She was so beautiful. He'd seen his fair share of pretty women since being placed in a new District. But she, Lord, this Delilah was something different. She was short in stature with strong shoulders and hips that were not well hidden beneath her dress. She had a cute smile that was covered by full, cherry colored lips. And her hair, so coily and full in a bun upon her head.

Coriolanus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I like it a lot."

Delilah detected the tone of his voice and fought the urge to smile. "I'm glad that's the case."

It was difficult for Delilah to keep her eyes off Coriolanus. Where he moved, her eyes followed. When he spoke to another woman and charmed her with his smile and bright eyes, she felt a twing of jealousy hit. Then, she'd call herself foolish for even being the slightest bit possessive over a man she'd only known for five hours.

She did her best to keep herself preoccupied with the poundcake in front of her. It worked for the most part, until the bench wobbled by the weight of another. Delilah turned to her left and found Coriolanus leaned against the side. "Can I join you, pretty?"

Pretty. Delilah's body warmed as she nodded. Coriolanus swung his leg over the side of the bench and took a seat. His clothed thigh brushed against her exposed once, causing her leg to jump slightly. He noticed, but chose not to say anything.

"You enjoying the fair?" Coriolanus asked.

"Yeah. It's always a fun time. Plus the food is great, too." She raised her fork that held a piece of cake on it. "Have you tried the poundcake? My mama makes the best ever."

Coriolanus shook his head. Delilah gathered a piece on the fork and held it out with the intention for him to pluck it off, but she was shocked when his full lips wrapped around the edge of the fork. His eyes were trained on hers. A gasp fell from her lips.

He hummed softly. "Delicious." He prepared to spur her on further, finding amusement in her disheveled state, but was called back by Elijah. "I'm comin'!. Save some for me later, darlin'. I'll see you later, alright?"

Delilah nodded and bit her lip. "Alright."

He threw her a wink and walked away. He was far from done with her.