#unwanted flirtation

[jrob64]

Taking on Mrs. Jones - a Captain Swan Modern AU story

This one-shot was inspired by a prompt on the CSMM Discord which ended up lending itself to a request made by @cs-rylie after my ‘heatwave’ story A Pirate’s Guide to Surviving the Heat. She wanted to read more about Emma and Killian role playing with him wearing his red vest, so I wrote this as a birthday gift for her. It’s a little late, my friend, but I hope you still like it!

Thank you to @everything-person for sharing the prompt, @motherkatereloyshipper for working her magic to turn Killian into Silver Fox for this story, @kmomof4​ for helping me plot out the story and @hookedmom​ for, you guessed it, being a rock star beta! 

Story summary: Killian Jones loves his wife Emma and his job as a history professor. When Zelena Green joins the department, she makes Killian uncomfortable with her relentless flirting, but she’ll find out that it’s not wise to mess with Mrs. Jones’s man!

Rating: M (for smut)

Words: 9935

Also found on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“Hey, Babe. How was work?” Emma Jones asked her husband of seven months as soon as he walked in the door.

“It was, uh…it was okay,” Killian answered haltingly, crossing the room to kiss her.

She pulled back, studying him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “What have we planned for dinner?”

She knew a diversion when she heard one and could tell by his body language something was bothering him. “Uh-uh. Nice try, buddy. Did something happen at work today?”

He dropped his eyes and began rubbing at his jaw with his thumb under his chin. Seeing one of his telltale nervous habits, Emma began to get a little worried. She stepped closer to run her hands up his chest, looping her arms around his neck.

“Talk to me, Killian,” she crooned. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He gripped her hips and dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “You know how I told you there was a new professor starting in the history department this week?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, she’s…a bit…flirtatious.”

Emma wasn’t surprised in the least that another woman was attracted to her husband. When she met him as his grad assistant in college, she was so tongue-tied she could barely speak. With his strong, scruff-covered jawline, dark hair with streaks of silver, muscular body, and eyes the color of sapphires, he was the most exquisitely handsome man she had ever seen. Then, just when her brain reminded her she actually did know how to form words, he spoke to her and she was a goner. His smooth, British accent curled around every word and sent shivers racing down her spine.

As gorgeous as he was though, she never worried that he would ever want to be with another woman. He told her he had been completely smitten from the moment they met, and would always be unwaveringly faithful to her. She was the love of his life and he was hers, and when they eventually spoke their wedding vows, they both meant every word.

Her fingers feathered through the silver strands of hair at his temples. When they started dating after she finished her master’s degree four years ago, he planned to get the gray touched up. He reasoned that he was already twelve years her senior and didn’t want to appear even older, but she wouldn’t allow it. She adored the fact that he was turning into a ‘silver fox’ and paid special attention to those areas of his hair quite often.

“Did you hide from her in your office all day?” Emma teased, pleased to see it had the desired effect of making the tips of his ears turn red - another trait she found adorable.

“You could stroke a man’s ego by showing a little bit of jealousy, Swan,” he groused.

“There are a lot of things you have that I love to stroke,” she giggled. “Your ego does not happen to be one of them.”

He sighed dramatically, but couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from turning up. They had known each other for over five years, and dated for three before getting engaged. They knew each other in nearly every way possible, so he was completely aware she was secure in their relationship.

“Seriously,” she went on, “how exactly did she flirt with you and why did it bother you?”

“I’ll tell you as we prepare dinner,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

*********

Killian had just gotten to his office with his morning cup of coffee the first time Zelena approached him.

“Well, good morning neighbor,” she greeted loudly from his doorway. “My office appears to be right next to yours. I’m sure you remember seeing me when the department head’s assistant showed me around. In case you have forgotten, my name is Zelena Green. Yours is Dr. Killian Jones, is it not?”

He rose and walked around his desk to meet her. “Welcome, Professor Green,” he said, offering his hand. “And you are correct. Killian Jones, at your service.” He wasn’t impressed that she remembered his name, especially since it was on the plaque beside the door.

She shook his hand with both of hers, holding on for longer than necessary. “Please call me Zelena,” she simpered with a wicked smile on her bright red lips.

He refrained from wiping his hand on his trousers once she finally released it. “Well, Zelena, if you, um, if you have any questions, just let me know,” he said, resuming his seat behind his desk.

“Oh, I most definitely will,” she grinned, standing in the same spot several moments longer, before finally disappearing down the hall.

Killian was still checking his emails ten minutes later when Zelena’s face appeared around the doorframe once again. “Killian, would you be a dear and show me how to scan and email a document?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, minimizing his mailbox and rolling his chair away from his desk. He followed her to the copier room, wondering if she always had that much sway to her hips as she walked.

As he pointed out how to enter her copier code, where to place the document, and how to type the email address into the little keyboard which pulled out from the front of the machine, she stood as close to him as possible, her shoulder brushing against his.

He finished his explanation and turned to go, but she reached out and wrapped her hand around his forearm. “Oh, please stay to make sure I do it right, Killian,” she purred.

Attempting to wiggle out of her grasp, he replied as politely as he could, “It’s really not that difficult, Ms. Green.”

“Now, Killian, I told you to call me Zelena. We are going to be working together very, VERY closely and it just won’t do for us to be so formal with each other.”

He swallowed down his agitation. “Very well, Zelena. I’ll stay to make sure you get the document sent correctly, but then I really must get back. I have to verify my class lists and begin preparing my lessons.”

“Oh, poo,” she scoffed. “Classes don’t start for another two days. You have plenty of time to get ready.”

“That’s not the way I operate,” he stated. “Now, if you would be so kind…” Gesturing toward the copier, he raised his brows at her, clearly indicating his wish for her to proceed.

Giving him another toothy smile before turning back to the machine, she took her time placing the document on the glass, adjusting it several times before finally closing the lid and hitting the scan button. Then she pulled out the keyboard and slowly entered the email, looking at the slip of paper on which it was written after every letter.

Anxious to return to his office, and get away from Zelena, Killian gritted his teeth every time she bumped her hip into his. Finally, with the document scanned and emailed, he said, “See? Nothing to it.”

Her hand fastened around his arm again. “I’m never any good at figuring out these machines. You must be a very good teacher, Dr. Jones.”

“Well, that’s why they pay me,” he replied blandly.

Her raucous laughter grated on his nerves as he exited the room.

*********

“Did she leave you alone after that?” Emma asked, cutting the tomatoes into wedges before adding them to the salad.

Killian reached around her to take a paring knife out of the block, leaving a kiss on her cheek as he did. “I would love to tell you she did, but I wasn’t that fortunate.”

*********

Killian was in the staff lunch room, chatting with his colleague Jasmine as they ate, when Zelena marched into the room.

“Oh, goody! I’m just in time! I hate eating by myself.” She pulled a gaudy green lunch bag out of the refrigerator and plopped down in the chair beside Killian, scooting it closer to him in the process.

He gave Jasmine an apologetic look. “Have you met the new addition to our staff?” he asked her.

Before she had a chance to answer, Zelena spouted, “Oh, yes. I met everyone this morning. You’re Josephine, right?”

“Actually, it’s Jas-” Jasmine attempted to correct.

“How are the lesson plans coming along, Killian?” Zelena interrupted, knocking her elbow against his as she removed a container of yogurt from her bag. “Oh, drat. I seem to have forgotten my napkin. May I borrow one of yours, Josephine?”

She stood from her seat and leaned across the table, positioning her ample cleavage mere inches in front of Killian’s face.

What followed was a very awkward lunch, with Zelena dominating the conversation, practically ignoring Jasmine, and touching Killian every chance she got. At one point, she dropped her hand to the inside of his thigh, giving it a squeeze. He nearly jumped out of his seat at the unexpected contact. Quickly, he pushed away from the table, and declared that he was finished eating, then left the room, his face burning with embarrassment and annoyance.

*********

Emma squeezed his wrist above his prosthesis as they sat down to eat at their dining room table. “My poor lover,” she sympathized. “Maybe once the newness of being around you wears off, she’ll stop flirting with you.”

Killian let out a deep sigh. “I hope so. I don’t want to have to fend off her advances every day.”

Emma wasn’t at all jealous of the brash woman, but hated that she was changing the pleasant atmosphere of her husband’s workplace into one he might begin to dread.

As she sprinkled sunflower seeds on her salad, she asked, “Did she bother you at all after lunch?”

He swallowed his bite of salmon before answering, “I had a meeting with my new grad assistant for most of the afternoon, so she didn’t have much of a chance.”

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What’s your new ‘grad ass’ like? Anyone I should be worried about?” she smirked.

“Only if you’re threatened by a twenty-six year old man with a wife and toddler. You know there will only ever be one grad whose ass I love,” he said, his dimples flashing.

“Yeah, I do,” she assured him. “It was just a one time thing that will last for the rest of our lives.”

Once dinner was finished and the kitchen set to rights, Emma asked to see Killian’s class schedule. The museum where she worked as curator was close to campus, so they always tried to find at least one day during the week to meet for lunch. She found a mutual time period on Tuesdays and they entered it as a recurring event in their phones.

When she noticed he had clicked from his schedule to his lesson plans, she reached over and shut his laptop. “All work and no play makes Dr. Jones a dull boy,” she sing-songed.

He set the computer on the end table and turned back toward her. “What kind of play did you have in mind, Mrs. Jones?” he asked with a knowing smirk. His wife had an almost insatiable libido and he was more than happy to satisfy it.

“Mmm, let me see,” she hummed, climbing into his lap to straddle him. Immediately, she felt his cock beginning to swell against her thinly covered core. “I was thinking maybe we could play the princess and the pirate.”

Killian’s grin stretched across his face. As a history buff, he had a small collection of period clothing, and one of Emma’s favorites was a red, double breasted, brocade vest which she insisted made him look like a pirate captain.

His hand and prosthesis moved to her hips. “Is the princess my captive, or has she boarded my ship on her own accord?”

She threw her head back and closed her eyes, the back of her hand resting against her forehead as if she felt faint. “Oh, I simply couldn’t take staying in that stuffy old castle another moment,” she sighed theatrically. “I just had to stow away on your ship, seeking adventure on the high seas.”

“Well, milady, if it’s adventure you seek, adventure you shall have.” Pulling her tightly against him, he stood to his feet and swiftly made his way to their bedroom, while her fingers tangled in his hair and her tongue traced the shell of his ear.

He deposited her on the bed, then unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Moving to the closet, he emerged a few minutes later dressed in a black shirt with billowy sleeves, and the red vest.

“No leather pants?” she pouted.

“Removing my jeans and getting into my leathers seems like too much work,” he explained, “especially in my…condition.” He gestured toward the noticeable bulge beneath his zipper.

Shifting into character, Emma crawled across the bed to kneel on it in front of him. “I can help you with that problem, Captain,” she purred.

“You’re the cause of this problem, Princess,” he growled, reaching forward to twist a lock of her blonde hair around his finger.

Her hands stretched toward his chest, but he batted them away. “Ah, ah, ah, Princess,” he barked, his voice deeper than usual. “You might be royalty on your shores, but here, you are a mere stowaway, so let me tell you how it works on my ship. I make the demands, you follow them, and if you desire anything, you must ask with all due respect to your Captain.”

He watched her pupils dilate with desire. These were roles they had played several times over the years and it always turned her on immensely.

Acting on his instructions, she dropped her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “Please, Captain, may I have permission to touch you?”

He widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head and poking his tongue into his cheek as he considered her request. Finally, his left brow raised high on his forehead and his glower morphed into a sly grin. “You may touch me, but only with one hand,” he lifted his left forearm to show her that he had replaced his prosthesis with a metal hook, “for that is all I will use to touch you.”

“Yes, Captain, but if I may…” He nodded for her to continue. “I would not mind you touching me with your hook. In fact, I think it would be quite…enjoyable.”

Killian saw the flush of desire creeping up her chest and throat into her face. She was still dressed in a simple V-neck blouse and leggings, but he didn’t want to interrupt their role play to allow her to change.

Unfolding his arms and stepping closer, he replied, “As you wish,” then slid the hook up her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Emma’s right hand slid up the front of his vest, toying with the brass buttons. When she reached his skin, her nails scratched into his dark chest hair, flecked with gray.

His hook found its way to her neck, pushing strands of hair over her shoulder. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to the newly exposed skin and sucked. Knowing he was leaving a mark gave him a thrill and he left two more just above her collarbone.

“Captain,” she moaned, “may I touch you with my mouth?”

“Not yet,” he mumbled against her throat.

She grumbled about his answer and he pulled back to look at her. “Is the Princess complaining?”

“No, Captain, it’s just that you’re bringing me so much pleasure, I want to reciprocate.” He kept his intense gaze on her for several seconds, until she began to squirm. “C-Captain, please. I meant no disrespect,” she assured him, bowing her head.

“Remove your garments,” he ordered. As she quickly crossed her arms and reached for the hem of her shirt, he added, “Slowly! I want to savor seeing every inch of that creamy skin as you expose it.”

Swallowing hard at his seductive tone, she dragged her blouse up her body, feeling his hungry eyes on her the entire time. Once her shirt was tossed on the floor, she wasn’t sure whether to remove her bra or her leggings next.

Sensing her indecision, Killian stepped forward to trace his finger across the cup of her royal blue bra. “I would like to see the treasure hidden underneath this,” he murmured.

She reached behind her back to unhook the undergarment, her eyes never leaving his face. She adored how he still looked at her with a mixture of love and lust, even after being together for several years. When the bra was unfastened, she dipped her shoulders to shrug out of it, letting it drop to the bed.

Killian licked his lips, his eyes darting up to hers for a fraction of a second before returning to her breasts. He brushed his fingertips over her already hardening nipples, bringing them to sharp peaks. “Bloody glorious,” he whispered.

Emma stayed still, awaiting his next command while enjoying the sensations he was creating. His hand fondled her left breast, his hook lifting the right so he could dip his head and suck the nipple into his mouth.

Her head fell back, moans moving up her throat. They doubled in intensity when his gravelly voice vibrated against her sensitive skin, “Do you like that, Princess?”

“Y-yes, Captain,” she answered breathlessly.

His hook glided down her belly, the cool metal producing shivers throughout her body. He slid it under the waistband of her leggings and down to the apex of her thighs, rubbing it against her mound. “You have pleased your Captain, so I’m going to give you a choice. Shall I fuck you with my fingers and hook, or my cock?”

Emma’s hooded eyes found his and he nearly broke character seeing how black with wanton passion they were. “Can I choose…both?” she asked in a small, wary voice.

“No!” he barked. “One or the other, greedy lass!” He could see the desperate indecision in her expression and softened a bit. “However…you may earn that reward, if you make the right choice.”

She bit her lip in contemplation for several moments, before quietly saying, “Please fuck me with your fingers and hook, Captain.”

He grinned salaciously. “You have chosen wisely.”

A tingle of excitement zipped through her. “What must I do to earn the reward?” she inquired eagerly.

“You will have to wait and see. Now, bare yourself completely for your Captain.”

She clambered off the bed to hurriedly shed her leggings and underwear, standing naked before him on legs trembling with anticipation when she finished.

He sauntered over and stood before her, his thumb hooked over his belt buckle as he looked her up and down. “Lovely,” he breathed. “Now, if you can undress me, you will get what you are craving.”

Emma grinned, happy the reward was going to be easily earned. Her hands reached toward his belt, only to be knocked away once again.

“If you cannot follow the rules, you will get nothing!” he spat.

Her lust hazed brain tried to remember what rule she was breaking. As it finally dawned on her, she tucked her left arm behind her back and gave him a questioning look.

“That’s better,” he confirmed. “You may only use one hand, but…” she looked at him expectantly, “you may use your mouth, if you wish.”

Licking her lips, she grasped the end of his belt and tugged, pulling it loose before tucking it through the buckle. Glancing up at him, she bent to take the leather between her teeth and moved backwards to pull it free of the belt loops. It took her a frustratingly long time to pop the button of his jeans using only one hand, but she made quick work of lowering the zipper over his hardened cock.

Instead of pushing his pants down his legs, she straightened up and began unbuttoning his vest. The brass buttons were easier to push through the soft material and she soon had all of them undone. The small shirt buttons were next and she huffed in annoyance before starting on them.

He was growing impatient, anxious to touch her again, the scent of her arousal hitting his nose and making him ache with need. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, he stepped away from her, shrugging out of the vest and stripping off the shirt, then shoving his jeans down, leaving him in only his boxers.

“Now, finish the job, Princess,” he ordered.

Her hand darted out toward the elastic of his underwear, but she pulled it back at the last second. After throwing him a sultry look, she took the waistband in her teeth and lifted it over his swollen erection, dropping to her knees to drag the boxers down his legs. Her hand pushed them over his ass, which she then squeezed.

He used his fingers to tilt her chin up, making her look at him. “Ha-have I earned my reward, Captain?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him.

“Aye, Princess, you have,” he said hoarsely. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

Her eyes widened, understanding his meaning. A slow smile spread across her face and he answered with one of his own. He was quite aware it was one of her favorite positions.

She climbed onto the bed and positioned herself in the middle of it, looking back at him over her shoulder as she swayed her ass back and forth.

He knelt behind her on the mattress, running his hand and hook over the perfect globes in front of him. As his hook slid through the cleft, he bent forward to hold his index finger to her mouth. “Open,” he demanded. She obeyed immediately, sucking and licking his finger when he inserted it, knowing he wanted it to be nice and wet.

Once he was satisfied, he brought his hand back, briefly rimmed her puckered hole, drawing a moan from her, then slid his finger through her folds. She was already slick and ready for him, but he decided to tease her a bit first. He could hear her draw in a breath every time the tip of his finger brushed her opening, but he stopped short of pushing inside. Instead, he bumped it against her clit before drawing it back slowly, over and over. He heard the wet sounds and smelled the strong scent of her arousal.

Deciding to add his hook to the foreplay, he brought it between her legs and began rubbing it against her clit. The effect he was having on her was apparent in the way her thighs were shaking and by the quick gasps coming out of her mouth.

“Killian…” she panted.

He jerked both his hand and hook away immediately.

“Fuck!” she cursed in exasperation, her need for him clouding her brain.

Wanting to bring her attention back to their game, he slapped her lightly on the ass. “Princess,” he growled menacingly, “am I going to have to gag you?”

Suddenly, she realized her mistake. “No, Captain! I’m sorry! I…it won’t happen again!”

He slapped her again, making her jump. “See that it doesn’t, or as punishment, you will have to watch me pleasure myself as you remain bereft of my touch.”

She groaned at the thought. Even though it turned her on to see him stroking himself, to be deprived of his promised rewards would be torture. “Yes, Captain. I understand.”

Satisfied, he resumed his actions, slipping his fingers and hook through her slick folds a few more times until he finally pushed two fingers inside her. She whimpered and thrust her pelvis backwards, seeking even more friction.

He rested his left arm across her lower back and began plunging his fingers in and out of her in earnest. Her hands gripped the sheets until her knuckles were white, her mouth emitting a string of pleading moans. “Pleeeeease, Captain! Oh, pleeease!”

Adding a third finger, he leaned forward and whispered hotly into her ear, “Tell me what you’re begging for, Princess. I want to hear those filthy words falling from that pretty, little mouth.”

She drew in a ragged breath before gasping, “Please, use your hook…make me come. Make me fucking come!”

He grinned and did as she asked, lightly grinding the curve of the hook against her clit as his fingers continued bringing her pleasure. Her arms could no longer hold her and she dropped her head to the mattress. Seeing how close she was, he increased the pressure on her bundle of nerves and she fell apart with a scream of “Yes, yes!”

A wave of frantic need rushed through his body as her walls clamped tightly around his fingers. Pulling them free, he wrapped them around his engorged shaft and lubricated it as he stroked. Grabbing her hips, he plunged inside her.

She widened her stance and turned her head to the side, her searching hands finding a pillow to grip. The sight of her tightly closed eyes and open mouth, puffing out guttural sounds with every thrust he made, had his orgasm slamming into him much sooner than expected. His hot seed shot deep into her as he jerked and rutted against her.

Completely spent, he pulled the brace and hook off of his arm and tossed it on the floor, then withdrew and gently eased her to the mattress. Laying down beside her, he tenderly brushed sweaty, tangled strands of hair out of her face, waiting for her eyes to open. When they did, his breath caught at the depth of love and bliss he saw there.

“You alright, Love?” he asked.

“Mmm, yeah, I’m good,” she murmured. “Really good.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he worried.

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb softly caressing his bottom lip. “You could never hurt me, my love. I trust you completely. I always feel very comfortable asking you to role play with me.”

His dimpled smile was one of relief and admiration. “I’m glad you do because it’s extremely enjoyable for me.”

She gave him a sleepy smile, and he kissed her briefly, then rolled to the side of the bed. “I’ll get a warm cloth for you, Sweetheart.”

Once he cleaned her and himself, he got their pajamas out of the dresser. They donned them, then cuddled together under the covers, sharing kisses and murmuring endearments into each other’s skin.

Killian was nearly asleep when he heard Emma mumble, “You’re mine, Killian. No one and nothing will ever take you away from me.”

“Aye, that’s right, Love. I’m yours forever. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she yawned, then fell asleep in his arms.

*********

It seemed working with Killian daily did not cause Zelena to back off. Nearly every evening when he came home, he shared another story of her flirtatious behavior.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he complained to Emma one evening as they relaxed on the sofa together after dinner. “I blatantly twist my wedding band around my finger when talking to her, I put our wedding photo in a prominent spot on my desk where she’s sure to see it when she stops in, and I talk about you all the time. She has to know that I’m very happily married, but it doesn’t phase her.”

“Maybe she’s just that way to every man,” Emma suggested.

“No, I’ve seen her interactions with other men in our department and she acts nothing like that around them. She’s usually very snarky and keeps her distance. Some of the other staff members have even started making remarks about how flirty she is with me.”

She sat up and looked at him. “Do you think you should report her for sexual harrassment?”

He sighed. “I’ve thought of that, but honestly, she hasn’t done anything truly inappropriate; it’s just innuendos and brushing up against me, but never in areas that are strictly off-limits. I don’t want to be downright rude, but I’m not sure how to navigate this short of filing a formal complaint.”

Emma brushed his wayward hair off his forehead then bent to press her lips to it. “If I know my husband, and I do, you don’t want to hurt her feelings by saying anything, but I think it’s time you do. You shouldn’t have to put up with unwanted comments and being touched.”

Heaving another deep sigh, he agreed, “I guess you’re right. I’ll do that next time.”

“Good,” she said, laying her head back down on his chest. “You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

*********

Two days later he came home and reported that it hadn’t gone well.

“Why? How did she respond?” his wife asked, brows furrowed. The woman was beginning to really get under Emma’s skin. As Killian related the story, her anger started to build. She didn’t see Zelena as a threat to their marriage, but she could see how much it bothered Killian and she wanted it to stop.

*********

“Killian, would you be an absolute dear and help me with my computer?” Zelena said, striding into his office five minutes after his final class of the day ended. “It keeps kicking me off of the Wifi.”

“That sounds like a job for the tech team,” he replied, not looking up from his computer screen, where he was answering an email from one of his students.

She clicked her tongue. “You know how they are - you put in a request and it takes them forever to get back to you.”

“Ask for Jeff. He always shows up as soon as I make a request,” Killian informed her, his fingers still pecking away at the keyboard.

He hadn’t even realized she was behind him until her hand came down on top of his to stop his movements. He sucked in a breath and bit back a sharp retort.

“But I just know you can fix the problem in a heartbeat,” she simpered. “Won’t you please try for little old me?”

Withdrawing his hand from underneath hers, he rolled his chair to the side and spun it around to face her. “Look, Zelena, fixing computers really isn’t my area and I find it very uncomfortable how you’re invading my personal space right now.”

She brought a hand up to her chest as she gave a surprised gasp. “Oh, Dr. Jones, I never meant to make you uncomfortable! How very thoughtless of me!” Instead of moving away from him, she leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and making her ample cleavage more apparent. Her eyes bore into his until he swallowed and looked away. When he did, she barked out a short laugh and quipped, “There’s no reason to be afraid of me, you know. I’m just being…friendly.” Pushing herself away from his desk, she walked her fingers up his bicep to his shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, he reached up and used his index finger and thumb to lift her hand away. “I would very much appreciate it if you would keep your hands to yourself. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a happily married man.”

Laughing again, she walked around his desk, turning to him in the doorway to say, “I really don’t see that as a problem, Dr. Jones.”

*********

Emma’s blood boiled. Was that woman really saying she had no regard for the sanctity of their marriage? It certainly sounded like she meant to continue making the moves on Killian, in spite of him telling her to stay away from him.

“What are you going to do?” she asked her husband.

He shrugged. “I guess I’ll just keep rebuffing her and hope she finally gives up. She’s rather like a gnat - annoying, but not any kind of threat. You know my heart belongs to you.”

“Yeah, and your body, too,” she replied, sliding her hand up inside his shirt and along his ribcage.

“Every. Single. Part. Of. Me,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss.

*********

Killian was scheduled to attend a three-day conference in Denver during Fall break and Emma cleared her work calendar to go along with him. They planned to stay two more days after the conference was over to spend more time alone together and do some sightseeing.

Then he came home and told her Zelena Green also planned to attend the same conference.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma lamented. “Can you not get away from that witch?”

“The good news is she’s on a different flight with the other staff members who are going,” he informed her. “However, she did send me an email asking for my cell phone number so she can contact me while we’re there.”

“She doesn’t already have it? I thought there was a staff directory with all that information.”

“There is, but apparently she hasn’t discovered that yet. It really won’t do her much good anyway because the number in there isn’t correct. Remember how we switched numbers when we added your phone to my plan? I never changed it in the directory.”

Inspiration struck Emma. “Does she know I’m going with you?”

“Nobody does. I didn’t think it was any of their business.”

“Good. Don’t change the number in the directory and tell Zelena she can find your number there,” she grinned. “I have a plan.”

He tilted his head and raised a brow. “Just what are you plotting, my devious wife?”

Giggling, she said, “Let me have some fun with her and maybe when this trip is over, she’ll finally leave you alone.”

*********

After Killian sent the email telling Zelena his number was in the directory, she wasted no time sending a text, which went through to Emma’s phone while she was still at work.

Z: I’m trying to contact Dr. Jones. Please let me know if I have the correct number.

E: You do.

Z: I’m looking forward to going to this conference. It will be nice spending time with you away from campus.

E: Please use this number for professional purposes only.

Z: LOL! Whatever you say, Dr. Jones!

Emma forwarded the conversation to Killian, who replied by sending an eye-rolling emoji.

*********

Killian and Emma arrived in Denver early Monday afternoon a day before the conference. He knew the other three members of the history department, including Zelena, wouldn’t check into the hotel until that evening, having taken a later flight.

The couple had discussed Emma’s ideas for showing the bothersome woman how much they loved each other, hopefully convincing her to stop her flirtatious behavior. To make it happen, they had to use the element of surprise, which meant none of his colleagues could know Emma was with Killian. He wasn’t keen on the idea, not wanting her to have to stay in the hotel room while he spent time with the others, but she assured him she had plenty to do for work and didn’t mind having time to herself to watch movies and catch up on sleep.

In the meantime, they decided to take advantage of their hours alone in the city. They walked hand-in-hand through the streets, enjoying the crisp Autumn air as they window shopped, enjoyed a steak dinner and found a bakery that offered them a variety of sweet treats.

Once they were back in their hotel room, relaxing as they watched Monday Night Football, Emma’s phone dinged with a text. Reading it, a grin slowly spread across her face. “And so it begins,” she said, showing it to her husband.

Z: Just got to the hotel, safe and sound. I’m so happy I have a room to myself. How is your room?

E: It’s a typical hotel room. I’m glad all of you arrived safely.

Z: I might unwind by watching a movie. You’re welcome to join me.

E: No, thank you. Please remember that I’ve asked you to use this number only for professional reasons. I’m expecting to talk to my wife very soon.

Z: Gotta stay in touch with the old ball and chain, huh? LOL!

Emma read the message and scoffed. “I’m not even going to send a response to that.”

“Grand idea, Love,” Killian said, taking her phone and tossing it into the chair across the room. “Now, I’d really like to do what she said and stay in touch with my ball and chain.”

Her giggles at his words soon turned to moans when he used his mouth much more pleasurably.

*********

Killian hated leaving Emma alone when he left the hotel room early the next morning. He wanted to at least eat with her, but the conference was providing breakfast and lunch and he knew his colleagues would wonder why he was eating in his room if he didn’t join them. They settled on having a cup of terrible coffee together from the two-cup coffee maker in the room.

She assured him she had plenty of work to do on her laptop preparing for an upcoming event at the museum, kissed him goodbye, and sent him on his way. As soon as he entered the great hall where the first session would be held, Zelena spotted him and drew his attention by standing, waving madly and shouting, “Over here, Killian!”

Making his way across the room, he felt his face heating as many heads turned his way to see the target of the outburst. He sat in the seat beside Archie, not missing the pout Zelena sent his way because he chose not to sit beside her.

After the opening session, they broke into groups to attend workshops and Killian was relieved to find he was in a different room than Zelena. It was short-lived however, as fifteen minutes after the presentation started, Zelena slid into the vacant chair to his left, loudly whispering that her workshop was ‘as dry as the Mojave Desert’.

Killian tried to stay focused, purposely ignoring her when she kept asking him to explain what the speaker was talking about. He suffered through lunch with her, enduring smirks from Jasmine and Archie, then excused himself to go to the restroom before the afternoon session.

Instead, he went back to his room, breathing a sigh of relief when he was on the other side of the door. He found Emma sitting cross-legged on the bed, her laptop in front of her. She looked up and gave him a beaming smile.

“If I sat like that to work on my computer, I’d have to go to the chiropractor for two weeks,” he laughed.

Hopping up off the bed, she hurried around it to envelop him in a hug. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you until late this afternoon.”

He kissed her temple and muttered against her hair, “I needed a break.”

“From Witchy-poo?” she asked cheekily.

Sighing, he nodded his head and told her about Zelena’s antics that morning, adding, “I really wish Tom hadn’t backed out of this conference. That’s the only reason she was able to come.”

She squeezed him tighter, then pressed her lips to his, murmuring her apologies against them once the kiss ended. When her phone vibrated on the bedside table, she kissed him again, then turned to pick it up.

After glancing at the screen, she bit her lip, trying to hide her mirth.

“What now?” he asked.

“She wants to know what’s taking you so long.”

“Oh, for the love of fuck,” he groaned.

“Do you want me to answer?”

He checked the time on her phone. “No, I’ve got to get back anyway. The next session starts in ten minutes. I’m going to go straight to the room so she won’t know where I am. I feel like I’m playing hide-and-seek.”

She laughed and kissed him one more time before turning him toward the door. “Well, I hope you win, Babe.”

“I already won when I married you,” he quipped.

She giggled. “You’re such a nerd.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Mmhmm, and I’ll be waiting right here to show you how much when you get back,” she said, pinching his ass.

“Bad form, Swan. Now that’s all I’m going to think about for the rest of the afternoon,” he growled.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I said it,” she smirked.

He spun around and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly and leaving her breathless. Then he went out the door, throwing her a shit-eating grin before closing it behind him.

*********

He got through the afternoon workshop without Zelena joining him, but when it was almost over, he got a text from Emma.

E: Thought I would send you this conversation I just had with the witch.

Z: This day has been so dreadfully boring and long. Why don’t we meet this evening for a drink?

E: No, thank you. Jet lag is setting in and I want to get my notes organized from today. Please remember that I’ve asked you to send only professional texts to my phone.

Z: How could I forget? You really need to loosen up a bit, Dr. Jones.

Killian glanced around the room, then tapped out a quick response.

K: Did you end it there?

E: Yeah, I didn’t dignify that with a response.

K: You did well, Love.

The session ended a few minutes later. He sent a text to his colleagues telling them he was ordering in for dinner, then headed straight up to his room, where he and Emma spent a very enjoyable evening together.

*********

The second day of the conference was fairly uneventful and Killian thought he had gotten by without being propositioned by Zelena, but when the group of colleagues met after the last session, they decided to go out to eat together. He knew if he declined again, they might start to feel offended, so he texted Emma.

K: They want to go out to eat this evening. I don’t want to go, but I don’t really have a good excuse to give them.

E: Just go with them, Babe. I’m sure you have a lot to discuss about everything you’ve heard over the last two days. It’s not a big deal. I’ll just call DoorDash. I’ll miss you, but I’ll see you soon.

K: If you insist, but you know I would rather be with you. I love you.

E: I do know and I love you, too.

*********

Killian did end up enjoying dinner and the conversation with his fellow professors. Towards the end of the meal, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and surreptitiously checked it under the table.

E: Z just sent you an invitation to have a drink with her by yourselves after the others have gone to their rooms.

He excused himself to go to the restroom, knowing it would be difficult to answer her at the table. Once he had some privacy, he called his wife. “Did you answer her?” he asked.

“Not yet. Do you want me to mess with her or just make up an excuse?”

“How would you mess with her?”

“Tell her you’ll have a drink, lead her on a little to set her up for meeting me?”

Killian considered for a few seconds. “No, I think I would rather do that tomorrow before she leaves the next day. Besides, I’ve been away from you far too long already, Love.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she agreed. “I’ll fire off a text to her, then. She’s probably wondering why you haven’t responded to her yet.”

“I’m sure she is. I’ll wait in here until you send it. See you in a few, Sweetheart.”

A minute later, he got another text.

E: Okay, told her you want to watch the hockey game and get a good night’s sleep. She sent a frowny face emoji. BTW, I didn’t mention she should only use your phone for professional reasons again. Make her think you’re letting your defenses down a little.

K: You’re bloody brilliant, Swan.

When he returned to the table, Zelena had a distinct pout on her face and he faked a cough to hide his laugh.

*********

“Are you really okay with this plan, Love?” Killian asked the next morning before heading down to the conference.

The evening before, they discussed again how they were going to handle Zelena and hopefully stop her advances once and for all. It depended on her once again asking him to get a drink with her, and they were sure she would play right into their hands.

“Yeah, I have a really good feeling this is going to work,” she replied, then sent him off with a kiss.

*********

After three days of workshops and speakers, the group of colleagues agreed they were ready to relax in their rooms before getting up early to go to the airport. Killian still hadn’t revealed that he was planning to stay two more days and went along with their decision.

He went back to his room, where he and Emma waited for Zelena to send a text.

“Maybe she finally gave up,” Emma said, after waiting almost an hour.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Killian said. “I would wager she’s packing or taking a shower first.”

Sure enough, ten minutes later, a message came through Emma’s phone.

Z: It’s our last night here and your last chance to have a drink with me, Killian. What’s the harm in having just one little drink?

Emma shared a smirk with her husband. “Let the fun begin.”

E: Oh, what the hell? Sure, I’ll have a drink with you, but I’d rather not take the risk of our colleagues seeing us. Would you be comfortable coming to my room? I happen to have a bottle of rum.

It took less all of three seconds for the three response bubbles to pop up.

Z: Perfect! What is your room number?

E: 511

Z: I’ll be up in a minute!

E: I’ll be waiting.

Emma grinned at her husband as she went to the closet to grab one of his button-down shirts. “I wasn’t lying. I will be waiting,” she said. “Tap on the door when you’re ready for me to come out. Just don’t let her go too far.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Love,” he assured her. “The sooner we have this showdown, the better.”

She kissed his cheek, wiping away the telltale lipstick before going into the bathroom and closing the door.

Less than a minute later, there was a knock at the room door. Killian drew in a deep breath, blew it out slowly, then opened it to reveal Zelena standing there, dressed in a short, black dress with a low, scooped neckline and black heels at least four inches high.

Without waiting for an invitation, she glided past him into the room. “I was afraid you were going to let this golden opportunity pass by,” she grinned wickedly.

“Golden opportunity?” he questioned.

“You know,” she purred, stepping close to him and walking the fingers of both hands up his chest, “being here without your wife. As the saying goes, when the cat’s away, the mice will play. Or in this case, it’s the cat who is doing the playing. Me-ow!”

“So,” he said, stealthily moving in front of the bathroom door, “I guess that makes you a mouse?” His fingers lightly rapped against the door.

“It does if you intend to play with…” Zelena began, cutting off when the bathroom door opened and Emma stepped out, dressed in nothing but Killian’s shirt and her underwear.

Killian would have given anything to have a picture of Zelena’s face the moment she spotted Emma. Her jaw dropped and her eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Zelena, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Emma Jones,” he said, trying to keep the mirth out of his voice.

“Your w-wife?” she squeaked.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Emma said, interlacing her fingers over her husband’s shoulder, thoroughly enjoying the stunned look on the other woman’s face. “And just to clear things up, he might want to play, but it will be with me, not a rat like you.”

“But…you…we…how…?” Zelena stammered.

“You see,” Emma began, “Killian has been telling me about how uncomfortable you’re making him at work, and how he’s tried to rebuff your advances. Since you’ve chosen to ignore his wishes, we thought we would stage this little intervention. What you need to understand is, he’s MY husband and you WILL stop making innuendos and touching him. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

When Zelena didn’t answer, but just stood there gaping like a fish out of water, Killian spoke up, “I think you stated that quite succinctly, Mrs. Jones.”

“Why, thank you very much, Mr. Jones. I don’t want to leave any doubt in her mind that she is to leave you alone. Unless, of course, she wants you to file sexual harassment charges against her. We do have all of her texts as proof.”

They both turned their eyes back to Zelena, who flushed a deep shade of red, her face morphing from shock to fury. “How dare you…” she sputtered.

Emma dropped her hands and took a determined step forward into the other woman’s space, pointing her finger at her. “No, how dare YOU! Killian has told you time and time again that he’s married, but you’ve ignored him!” Emma’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “This isn’t a game you want to play with me, Ms. Green, because I will win! My husband and I have vowed to love, honor, and cherish each other until death do us part, and we meant every word with all our hearts. You have no idea what I’m capable of when it comes to protecting our marriage! There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let a two-bit hussy like you come between us!”

Zelena audibly gulped, her eyes darting back and forth from Emma to Killian, who was now standing beside his wife. Still, she gave no response confirming her understanding.

Killian cleared his throat. “If you continue to disregard our wishes, I’ll have no choice but to take my concerns to the head of the department, and the Dean, if necessary. Is it really worth your career to continue this futile pursuit?”

Zelena finally seemed to overcome her shock. Crossing her arms over her chest, she spat, “You would never do that.”

“If you refuse to stop, I won’t hesitate,” he assured her. “I love my job and have always enjoyed working with the people in the department, but I’ve been on edge ever since you started there. This comes to an end right now, Zelena.”

His wife noticed the challenge the other woman still had in her eyes. Grabbing Killian’s tie, Emma pulled him to her and kissed him passionately. His arms wrapped around her, his hand tangling in her hair.

Both of them were breathless when the kiss finally ended several seconds later. Momentarily forgetting about their company, they rested their foreheads together and licked their lips, humming their satisfaction.

“I suppose you’re trying to prove a point with that display?” Zelena sneered.

Emma’s brows knit together as she glared at her. “You seem like an intelligent person - figure it out.”

Zelena widened her stance and placed her fisted hands on her hips. “What kind of answer do you expect me to give you?”

“Maybe I don’t need answers,” Emma ground out. “Maybe I just need to punch you in the face!”

Taking a step forward, Zelena gritted her teeth and snarled, “Bring. It. On.”

Killian stepped between them. “That’s enough!” he declared. “Zelena, trust me, you do not want to challenge my wife. You have exactly zero chance of being with me. Zero. Get that through your head. I’m completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with Emma. Nothing you, or anyone else, says or does is ever going to change that.”

He felt Emma’s arms wrap around his waist and he tugged her closer, before continuing to address Zelena, “Now, you have two choices - we have a completely professional relationship from now on, or you prepare to answer for your actions. Which is it going to be?”

Zelena’s eyes shifted between the two people in front of her, both of them staring back at her while they embraced each other. After a few moments, her countenance changed from defiance to surly submission. “Oh, fine. I choose the professional relationship, Dr. Jones. I don’t know why you both got so up-in-arms about this anyway. I was just trying to have a little fun.”

“It might have started out that way, but you carried it way too far, sister,” Emma said firmly.

Zelena shot her one last glare before striding past the couple towards the door.

“Zelena?” Killian called out.

“What?” she asked, not turning to face him.

“I hope you have a safe flight back. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, an angry but defeated look on her face, then she exited, the door clicking shut behind her.

Killian looked down at the woman in his arms. “You are a force to be reckoned with, Mrs. Jones,” he said fondly.

“You should have let me hit her,” Emma commented.

He chuckled. “As enjoyable as that would have been for me to watch, I’m sure Zelena is just the type of person to press assault charges. It was enough seeing you threaten her.”

“Nobody messes with my man and gets away with it,” she smirked.

“I rather like this possessive side of you, Love.”

“Yeah? Does it turn you on?”

“Very much. And you know how much I love seeing you wearing one of my shirts,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

She pulled his face down to kiss him, long and hard, whispering against his lips when it ended, “Lock the door.”

“As you wish,” he said, hurrying to do as he was told.

By the time he turned back, she had already crawled into the middle of the bed, where she sat with her legs folded beneath her. She beckoned him forward with a crooked finger and he obliged, climbing onto the mattress and kneeling in front of her.

She undid his tie and pulled it from under his collar, then got to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“What, uh, what are your plans for me, Mrs. Jones?” he wondered, his breath catching as her fingers found his skin.

“I want you to make love to me to show just how completely, utterly and hopelessly in love with me you are, Mr. Jones.”

“Now, that’s an assignment I don’t mind getting one bit,” he growled, nosing behind her ear, his tongue teasing the lobe.

She removed his shirt, then ran her hands over the strong muscles of his shoulders and back. “God, I love your body, Killian. I can never get enough of you.”

“I hope you never do,” he answered. His fingers managed to unbutton the shirt she was wearing and pushed it aside, finding her breasts and beginning to caress them.

“I…I won’t,” she mumbled, eyes closing as his thumb brushed over her left nipple. No matter how many times they had been intimate in their years together, his touch never failed to leave fire in its wake.

He bent his head to pull the hardened nipple into his mouth. “Say you’re mine, Emma. I love it when you say that.”

Pushing her chest more firmly into his touch, she moaned, “I am yours, Killian. My heart, body and soul are yours and always will be.”

Easing her back onto the mattress, he made quick work of removing her panties, then scooted backwards, hooking his arms under her knees and dragging her with him. Once he was kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, his gaze moved up her body. Her eyes were still closed, her fingers plucking at her breasts, a sight which hardened his cock immediately.

He lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders, spread her folds with his fingers and licked her from core to clit. Hearing her moan his name in long, drawn-out syllables, he licked her again, then flicked his tongue against her bundle of nerves.

She was so wet, two of his fingers easily entered her, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit. Her warm walls clenched around his digits, pulling them in further. “Killiannnn,” she sighed, “please…faster, deeper…more…”

He grinned, knowing exactly what she wanted. After pumping his fingers into her a few more times in quick succession, he added a third, eliciting a keening wail from her, then bent to suck her clit between his lips.

Emma’s body bucked against him, her orgasm causing her to shudder and shake as she shouted his name. He kept his fingers inside her, enjoying the feeling of her slick walls throbbing around them. When she finally stilled, he pulled them out and made quick work of removing his trousers, underwear and prosthesis.

She watched him through hooded eyes, slowly sliding herself back up the bed. As soon as he laid down beside her, she reached for his erection, sliding her hand up and down, feeling the velvety skin slide over his steel shaft.

He could easily get lost in the sensations her hand was producing, but he focused on pleasing his lady. His tongue blazed a path from her ear lobe, down her throat and across her collarbone, stopping every so often to suck a mark into her skin. He knew she loved seeing them in the mirror the next day, marking her as his.

When he stopped to take a breath, she put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back. Locking eyes with him, she climbed over him, sliding her hand around his cock as she positioned herself over him. “This,” she growled, giving it a squeeze, “belongs to me.”

“It’s yours,” he agreed. “Only yours, my love.”

Lifting her hips, she lined herself up and sank down around him. Both of them groaned in unison at the nearly overwhelming pleasure of being exactly where they wanted to be.

“Ride me, Love,” he gasped.

She did, slowly at first, undulating her hips, but picking up speed as their skin slapped together. His hand and wrist found her breasts, squeezing, rubbing and fondling them as they bounced above him.

As their lovemaking intensified, he gripped her hips and thrust up into her. Their shouted words of bliss filled the room and they found their climax together. The aftershocks rippled through their bodies as she collapsed on top of him, boneless and sated.

He drew the sheet over their cooling bodies once he was able to move and they lay motionless for several minutes, their ragged breathing returning to normal.

Finally, she raised up and crossed her arms over his chest, looking into his beloved face. His bright smile brought one of her own to her lips. “What?” she asked, wondering what was going through his mind.

“I’m just thinking how much I love it when you’re possessive.”

“Some men wouldn’t,” she conceded.

“Well, I’m not one of those men.”

“I’m very happy to hear that, because I imagine this won’t be the last time I’ll have to remind other women that this silver fox is all mine.”

He grinned. “They’ll learn not to take on the incomparable Mrs. Jones.”

*********

Thank you for reading, liking, leaving comments and reblogging, if you’re so inclined. Happy belated birthday, @cs-rylie​. I’m so happy to have you as my friend!

Tagging: @xsajx​ @hookedmom​ @kymbersmith-90​ @kmomof4​ @lassluna​​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @stahlop​ @elizabeethan​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @therooksshiningknight​ @jennjenn615​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @killianswannn​ @stories-enchanted​​ @eleveneitherway​ @withheartfulloflove​ @kday426​​ @lyssapup27​​ @swanlovato @djlbg​ @kristi555​ @laschatzi​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @lkles08​​ @wyntereyez​​ @bubblegum1425​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @yasbio2015​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @winterbaby89​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @let-it-raines​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @dreamingdreamsalways​​ @oncechicagolove​​ @andiirivera​​  @gingerchangeling​​ @everything-person​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​​ @enchanted-swans​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @bluewildcatfanatic​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​ @demisexualemmaswan​​ @lavenderbudd​​ @grimmswan​​ @spartanguard​​ @flslp87​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @thisonesatellite​​ @captainswan21​​ @zaharadessert​​ @mariakov81​​ @snowbellewells​​ @xouatxcs​​ @kiwistreetswan​​ @batana54​​ @nadine200179​​ @probalicious17​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @julesep3026​​ @jackieorioncat​​ @whatthehell102082​​ @jarienn972​​ @sthonour​​ @linda8084​​  @pirateprincesslena​​ @daxx04​​ @winterbythesea​​ @artistic-writer​​ @cocohook38​​ @captainswan4life85​​ @molly958​​ @kingofmyheart14​​ @badwolfreturns​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​@fallingforthecaptain​​  @onceratheart18​​ @strangestarlighttree​​ @omgmarvelousmorgan​​ @justanother-unluckysoul​​ @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato​​ @anothersworld​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @purplehawkcaptain​​  @superchocovian​​ @k-leemac​​ @citygirlscowboy​​ @laughterandbooks​​ @sotangledupinit​​ @apiratewhopines​​ @huntressandlioness1​​ @cosette141​​  @gingerpolyglot​​ @motherkatereloyshipper​​ @cs-rylie​

[davey-in-a-minivan]

appreciating anders li on this beautiful friday

[mellomadness]

sometimes I wonder if I should take a gender studies class just so I can bitch every day about how an imaginary boyfriend is often seen as a requirement for a woman to feel safe enough to have fun at a club, or the idea that an imaginary person with a fake “claim” over me has more influence over predatory men than my own voice saying “No, I’m not interested, get lost”

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then it was Victor and Smiler date time at the Freezer Bunny Arcade in Newcrest! Haven’t been here in a while (I think Smiler was still living in Britechester the first time they and Victor visited), but the arcade was on my mind after watching onlyabidoang’s “Functional Objects” video featuring all the arcade stuff Cepzid created. It was raining when they arrived (and soon ramped up to a major thunderstorm -- great dating weather!), so I sent them inside into the cafe area at the back right away. They sat and chatted for a while, with Smiler telling Victor an engaging story for his entertainment --

As some random sat down at their table with his coffee. *grumble* Fortunately, he didn’t try to join their conversation, and I was able to get the pair to move to another table once Victor ordered some pain au chocolat from the barista (which went a LOT fucking smoother than it did at the other cafe – Steampunk Cafe LOOKS nice, but it doesn’t play very well, unfortunately). They continued having a very pleasant, occasionally flirty chat, sharing the spirit of the day and officially developing a “Close” family dynamic, awww. :) Randos did keep coming to sit at their table, but again, nobody actually tried to TALK to them – they just let the pair get on with their date. Sheesh, wonder why everyone kept bothering Victor and Alice...

-->Anyway – Victor finished his snack, then donated some plasma to Smiler so they could have a snack before grabbing some sleep replacement potion from the aspiration rewards store so he didn't pass out from blood loss on their date. Smiler wandered over to the skeeball machines while Victor found a table to drink his potion --

And ended up next to, of all people, JOAQUIN, who’d showed up here too. >( Fortunately I was able to keep him from trying to talk to Victor, allowing Victor to Energy himself up and join Smiler at skeeball. They both completed a level one game and ended up winning a child’s toy apiece. XD Smiler then went over to the pinball machines and had a good game there, while Victor played some Whack-A-Gnome poorly. I had him go get a gumball to make himself feel better after that (and after seeing Joaquin) –

[nixieofthenorth]

Hello I’m a gentleman who needs a loving and trustworthy lady to treat right pay all her bills support her and spoil her financially I’m not here for games☺️ No sexual activity involved🥰 Do let me know if you’re interested❤️ And I’m willing to send you $5600 as your weekly allowance! Text me on telegram if you’re interested +1 904 800 9174

Hey David! Gentlemen don't send this to women. Gentlemen treat women with love and respect, this is neither loving or respectful. To contact women by telling them that you will pay for them, is actually harassment. Also to other "Gentlemen" who thinks about texting me this... Don't need your money, I have had my own business since I was 16 so I'm good. Honestly David, work on your manners.

[yeeterthek33per]

I want to hear you say it (Zećira Mušović x Reader)

A/n requested

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, jealous Z, unwanted flirtations. Terrible swedish translations.

As if today couldn’t have gotten any worse, it felt like a major kick in the stomach when you were forcibly dragged away from your own car after training and shoved into the back of Sam’s for team social night. 

It had started off with you nearly not waking up to your third and final alarm of the day leaving you running into training late, much to the annoyance of Emma and the girls who had to join you in sprints this morning.

After that rough start to training, you were then volunteered to introduce the new girl to the rest of the team, a young twenty-something fresh out of the Chelsea grassroots academy.

She was nice but a bit overbearing, practically hanging off you for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, this left you with little time to spend with your favourite person.

-

Zećira, much like yourself, was ridiculously grumpy all training. Normally she’d have you to herself for most of it. 

Of course, being a striker and a goalkeeper, you had separate sessions to each other, but the warmups are generally intermingled.

So, when you had paired up for drills, you were the first person to grab her, just about growling at anyone who tried to pair up with her instead of you.

That said, the new kid, Sally?

She doesn’t really remember, nor care…

To be fair, she’d been latched onto you like a leech the whole time. It was obnoxious the number of times she was verbally and physically throwing herself at you.

Zećira could ignore it most of the time, given she had to focus on her own drills with the others, but she couldn’t miss the tone of Sadie’s voice every time she came within hearing distance of you both.

It was a sickly-sweet tone with heavy undertones, and it annoyed the Swedish woman to no end.

Regardless, even if it was annoying her, you looked like you’d been completely oblivious to the most obnoxiously obvious flirtations Sarah sent your way.

That’s what frustrated her the most, your ignorance of the situation at hand and the way you let the twenty-two-year-old cling to you like that.

Now that you’re in the bar, Zećira is watching as Summer leans uncomfortably close to you, hand grazing your arm as she animatedly asks you question after question about your life and what it’s like on the senior team.

You don't step away from it, not really, although, it seems, even you have your friendly limits.

The goalkeeper feels her chest start to heat up with the familiar low burn of jealousy.

A cough from across the table catches her attention.

“Zee, the staring isn’t subtle.”

There’s a raised brow on Niamh’s face as she glances back and forth between you and the goalkeeper with a small smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Even if that’s the case, the poor newbie over there is definitely feeling your laser glare right about now.”

Zećira’s glare moves to the Canadian across from her.

“Good, I hope so.”

Both of them let out a small snort at the Swede, nudging her shin when she turns back to you, making her look away again.

“What?”

“For the love of god, just tell her, she’s definitely not into flirty pants over there, and you have the best chance out of literally anyone here.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. You pair are crazy.”

The pair groaned and just shoved the goalkeeper away from the table and out of her seat.

“Go save the poor woman, at least. If you won’t acknowledge your blatantly obvious love for our Striker, the least you can do is pull McFlirt over there off her."

-

“Oh my god, you’re so right!”

Savannah’s voice was getting a little grating in your ears now.

Flinching away at the loudness of the laugh so close to your ear, you cover it up with a signal to the bartender to bring you another glass of Vodka Soda, given you weren’t driving now anyway and the trainers weren’t here to scold you for drinking midseason.

“So- “

A soft throat clearing from just behind your shoulder makes the newbie in front of you jump a little out of her focus on you.

The warmth radiating from Zećira with how close she’s standing to you makes you relax back into the goalkeeper but also lightly shiver with the proximity.

“Oh... hi. You’re Zekira, right?”

You look up slightly at the raven-haired woman just in time to see her eye twitch slightly at the pronunciation.

“It’s Zećira actually.”

“Of course, right.”

There’s a small, awkward silence before Zećira clears her throat again.

“So Selena-“

“It’s Savannah.”

“Right, I think Niamh and Jessie were looking to talk to you.”

The blonde lights up suddenly at the mention of the two, to which when she makes eye contact with them as they look towards the suddenly excited new girl, they glare back at her when she smirks at them.

Once the girl disappears to go find the Canadian and English friends, Zećira turns to you with a small smile that you gratefully reciprocate.

Leaning back into the taller woman, you offer her the seat now free in front of you next to the bar but she shakes her head, instead gently grabbing your hand, leading you towards the outdoor area of the bar, settling in by one of the heaters.

It’s not a particularly cold night, but it’s just chilly enough to have a reasonable excuse to tuck yourself under her arm and lean your head on her shoulder.

It was silent now, but not like before.

The quiet was a welcome one, and it was quite common between you.

Zećira was your favourite person for the same reason you were hers.

Not that either of you really knew that.

You were both quiet people. You enjoyed the company of the rarely brooding but often times peacefully listening goalkeeper.

If you’d needed to rant, she’s always been an open ear for you.

If you needed a hug, she’s right there to give the warmest, tightest, sweetest hug you’ve ever had. They’d send tingles down your spine, and her hands are always sure on your lower back as your arms wrap around her neck.

The smell of her shampoo leaves you feeling slightly dizzy when you’d bury your face there after long and tiring days.

Her hand would settle on your knee comfortingly when you curl up beside her while binging tv shows after every one of your breakups.

Her overall presence keeps you going day to day.

Despite that. You were only friends.

Good friends, but friends nonetheless.

Right?

“Hey, I have to pee, I’ll be right back.”

Zećira hums softly and lifts her arm to let you out of the booth again.

Making your way over to the bathroom, you do your business, and as you're washing your hands to touch up, the door creaks open behind you, and you lift your head to look at them.

It’s Savannah.

“Oh hey, I was looking for you, I was wondering if maybe we could, you know, hang out some time?”

“Like to practise and stuff?”

“Well, I mean more like, come to dinner with me.”

Oh.

Right as you’re about to answer with a soft no to let her down easy, the door opens behind her and Zećira walks in, looks slowly between the two of you before slipping into a stall herself.

There's a small awkward silence now as you shift uncomfortably under the stare of her.

“Look, as nice as you are, I’m not interested in dating right now. And you're far younger than me, I'm sorry but I'm just not interested.”

“At least give me a chance to- “

Zećira steps out of the stall at that exact moment, moving to the sinks.

“Look, kid, she said no, maybe take that as an answer instead of embarrassing yourself further, alright?”

She punctuates it with little flicks of water at the sink after washing her hands.

Savannah’s face turns bright red, and she mumbles a quiet apology and ducks out of the door swiftly.

You turn to the Swedish woman with a raised brow.

“What’s up with you, grumpy?”

She feigns confusion and looks at you funny, moving to dry her hands on some paper towel.

“What are you talking about?”

“You never get that snappy with anyone, even the persistent ones.”

Zećira steels her expression lightly but stays quiet.

“Zee…?”

It catches you off guard when she steps forward, hands grabbing your waist to walk you back into the wall.

The small “oof” you let out echoes in the small dimly lit bathroom, and your cheeks flush as her grip tightens on you.

“Zee… what are you- “

At that, she swiftly leans down to capture your lips with her own. A small gasp leaves your mouth but is quickly smothered, and one hand reaches up to grip the back of her neck while the other rests on her cheek.

The more your lips move together, the more antsy you get, and you nip at her lower lip slightly as she pulls back to take a breather.

Her lips are slightly swollen, and you can’t imagine yours aren’t the same.

With flushed cheeks, she dips back into you again, this time, though, her hands grip the underside of your thighs and lift you up onto the counter with a small squeak erupting from your lips.

“Zee, we’re gonna get caught -"

“So let them, even better if it’s that little-“

With a soft shake of your head, you pull her back in again to shut her up.

It’s a softer, slower kiss this time, one that she takes her time pulling away from.

With slow abated breaths, you move your other hand to cup the other side of her face.

“If you’re gonna kiss me like that in a bathroom, give a girl a warning first.”

Zećira blushes harder this time and almost pulls away out of fear of rejection, but you quickly tighten your legs around her waist, holding her to you.

“Something you wanna tell me, Zee?”

The small, curious, and teasing smile on your lips makes her stop.

Though, there must be something in your eyes at that point because she relaxes against you, hands moving back to grip your thighs again.

“Can I tell you later, because you and I both know what’s gonna come out of my mouth next and I really want to keep kissing you.”

A finger on her lips stops her from leaning down again and you raise a brow giggling softly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Du betyder allt för mig.” (You mean everything to me)

Your heart races. You knew Swedish enough to understand what she just said, and it completely catches you off guard.

But you release a shaky breath and let your hand fall onto the back of her neck again.

“Inte vad jag förväntade mig....” (Not what I expected)

She stops for a second. You continue.

“But it’s what I needed to hear.”

Her breath hitches at that, and you tug her down again, her hands tightening their grasp, nails digging slightly into your skin, leaving you keening into her.

At the noise escaping from the back of your throat, she slips them up to ride under your shirt, tracing a small path into the skin beneath the fabric.

You make a half attempt to pull her closer yet, pressing yourself right to her, hips rocking into her softly.

She groans at the way your nails dig into her shoulders when she trails kisses down the side of your jawline, tracing a line straight down to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Tilting your head to give her more access, your breathing becomes more ragged, and your eyes flutter shut as her teeth take the skin there and tug lightly, her lips soothing the ministrations behind them.

Shifting to give herself a little space, her fingers move to swiftly unbutton the fabric currently standing in her way and with a soft growl, she finally tugs it open, head dropping to press kisses to your collarbone, nipping occasionally.

“Fuck.”

You breathe out when Zećira’s fingers dip below the waistline of your slacks, half tugging at them.

“Off.”

The commanding tone is firm but a little breathless as she pulls back to look you dead in the eye.

Letting out a soft pleading whine, you obediently lift your hips to let her tug them down along with your underwear at the same time, leaving you bare to the cool air, to which you shiver slightly.

A slight brush of her fingertips on your clit is enough to have you whimpering into her mouth.

You’ve never been this sensitive to someone’s touch but there’s something about the taller woman in front of you now, teeth digging into your lower lip, fingers still teasing you, that has you losing your mind on a public bathroom counter.

“Please.”

It’s a soft, keening whine, but it makes her chuckle, and she hushes you, thumb coming up to tug at your lip before her other hand finally applies enough pressure to your clit to have you bucking up into her hand.

“So wet for me already, Princesse.”

There’s a small tone of surprise behind it, and you nod at her, guiding her hand down lower with small encouraging whispers of “Please baby. I need you.”

She traces small circles around your clit for a moment and slowly dips her index and middle finger down, working them into you from the awkward angle of the sink.

She uses her hand to muffle your moans before they become too loud and starts thrusting at a fast pace, fingers bending at the right spot, leaving you a moaning mess embarrassingly quickly, completely at her mercy as she fucks you.

Her wrist moves her thrusts into you a bit harder, and you have to fight not to moan any loader lest someone catch you like you’d been fearing this whole time.

When she ducks her head down to mouth at the skin of your collarbone again, you know you’re a goner. 

A whimpering, keening, moaning mess.

The fact she’s got you this close this fast has you a little concerned for your own stamina, but it’s wiped from your mind the moment her lips are on yours again.

Hearing you moaning like this for her only makes her double her efforts, fingers tapping your g-spot with renewed vigour, and it throws you close to the edge swiftly.

You can feel your legs start to tremble a little, and she can feel you tighten around her, her thrusts meeting a little more resistance now.

“That’s it, älskling.”

The soft praise only spurs you on and your hips lift to meet her thrusts and it takes but a few brushes of her thumb on your clit to send you over.

Thighs twitching, legs tightening around the goalkeepers hips as your back arches into her.

She’s muttering sweet nothings to you as you come down, soft muttered "you're so beautiful"'s and "Good girl"'s.

If you weren't already mid orgasm, that in itself would have sent you over.

“My sweet, beautiful girl.”

There’s a slight whine in your throat when her thumb moves against your clit a little, still sensitive from your orgasm just mere seconds ago.

“Zee.”

It’s a soft, breathy whine, and she smiles, removing her hand slowly and taking your lips with hers again.

“I love hearing my name on your lips, I need to hear it more, back to my place?”

You nod swiftly, letting her guide your underwear and pants back up, the haze of an orgasm still very much on your mind.

On shaky legs, you clean up a little, settling the sex-mussed hair on both of you and attempting, albeit failing, to cover up all of the marks left on your neck with her jacket which she settles around your shoulders after you shiver a little when you step out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, the bathroom is around a corner from where your teammates are tucked away in a set of booths so you both wave at them from a distance as you exit the bar, ignoring the looks you get from them.

Zećira guides you down the concrete sidewalk towards her car in the small parking lot beside the building.

-

Zećira can hardly focus on getting her keys in the lock with you nipping at her collarbone the way you are. That and your hands have slipped under the fabric of her button-up shirt to gently scratch at the skin of her abs.

“Älskling, please, need a second to get the door open.”

You feign innocence, a small pout on your lips, but they quirk up a little at her while she shakes her head lightly at the cheeky expression on your face.

Slipping your hands further up, she whines when you cup her through her bra, hands cold against her skin.

She curses the key in her hand when she finally gets the door unlocked, dragging you inside by the collar to slam you against it.

"Couldn't behave for one second to get us inside, could you?"

Chuckling, you tug her closer by the belt loops.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure you don't."

Following swiftly with that, her knee presses between your legs, hands fully unbottoning and removing your shirt now, tossing it to the side.

"Eager?"

The smug grin on your face has her a little flustered, but she raises a brow down at you.

"I've finally got you here to myself, I'm not wasting anymore time getting you in my bed."

You chuckle softly, hands grabbing hers to steady them before pulling off and throwing her jacket to the side, hands tugging at her button-up to slowly remove it, softly grazing the skin of her shoulders as you push it off.

"We have all the time in the world, Baby. I'm not going anywhere."

She softens, and her hands grasp yours, gently tugging you down the hall to her bedroom, walking half turned towards you, eyes locked on yours.

"I'm right here, Zee. I'm all yours."

The soft reassurance has the last of her nerves settling once again, making way for the sweet, charming Zećira you know and love.

The shakiness in her limbs disappears altogether, making it easier for her to pull you back into her, hands settling on your hips, and she kisses you.

You lean up into it, pushing back as she applies a little more force into it, letting it fall naturally heavier with every move, nip, and caress.

A warmth starts to settle back into your stomach, and you nudge her towards the bed, to which she flips you back onto the mattress, hovering over you.

It's in slow movements, met with kissing you all the way back until your head hits the pillows.

You're craving her warmth a little more, so you tug the swede down onto you rather forcefully, leaving little room for argument as her hand slips under your shirt to grip at your chest, kneading the soft flesh there with a small sigh.

A whine slips out from the back of your throat when her fingers roll your nipple between them, pinching and tugging at the skin gently.

The taller woman pushes herself up slightly, kneeling, and pulls you up with her.

Soft, tender hands move to the buttons of your shirt, move, and undo each one slowly until reaches the bottom one, to which her two fingers under your chin bring your gaze back up to meet hers.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart."

You just about melt under the slowly darkening gaze of the woman.

The single flick of her fingers to unclip your bra and throw it to meet the discarded shirt has your mind nearly turned to mush right there.

With a soft muttered, "So beautiful."

She's swift to kiss you and push you back into the pillow, resuming her previous actions.

The cool air in the room does little to sate the heat taking over your skin, everywhere she touches, feels like a small fire under her fingertips, leaving you keening into her touch.

One hand remains on your breast, the other tracing a minuscule path over your ribcage and to the edge of your pants, tugging at the fabric.

She doesn't have to ask this time, though, as you immediately lift your hips to allow her to pull them off.

Her kisses trail away from your lips, shifting down across your jawline, to your collarbone, occasionally leaving small nips on the way down.

Down to your chest, lips wrapping around your nipple, suckling and leaving you a whimpering mess.

The more your whines turn to soft pleas, the more she smirks against your skin when she lets the nipple go and continues a featherlight trail of kisses across your stomach.

"Baby, please."

You can feel the wave of hot air come from her as she chuckles against you.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"I need you."

The keening whine behind the words just have her amused as you buck up into her.

"Yeah? Tell me where. Where do you need me?"

The fact she’s trying to make you think like this, is criminal alone, and it makes you whimper when she extricates herself from your vicinity, a soft but stern tone behind her words.

"Tell me, Y/n. What do you need from me?"

"I need your mouth, fingers, anything. Please just touch me, baby."

A smug, mocking tone makes you whine.

"But I am touching you baby."

Attempting to grab her and pull her back into you, she chuckles and tuts at you, pulling away from your grasp.

"I need you inside me, on me, anything please."

It seems she's satisfied with that because she leans down once again.

Peeling off your underwear, she groans softly at the dampened fabric, head immediately moving to press kisses to the insides of your thighs, hands slipping under them and urging your legs over her shoulders, manoeuvring herself to be directly over your centre.

Hot puffs of air directly hitting your clit leaves you gripping the sheets tightly, breathing more than a little ragged.

"Look at me."

Your head lifts from where it had fallen back, eyes flitting to meet hers in the faintly lit room.

"Good girl."

With that, her mouth is on you swiftly, tongue taking in your taste with a breathy groan.

The warm, firm muscle makes you buck your hips up with a small jerk.

"Jesus, Zee."

Your hand shoots to her hair, gripping the raven locks tightly.

The grunt you're rewarded with has your legs shaking a little with the vibrations and it only makes her grip on your thighs tighten.

Her tongue laps at you, lips taking in your clit with a sharp suck before releasing and returning to thrust into your entrance.

Inevitably, when you let your head drop back against the pillow, a sharp pinch to the leg jolts you back to watch her again

"Keep watching, älskling, don't make me ask again."

The slightly cooler warmth of her breath contrasts against the startling heat of her mouth as it once again latches itself around your clit.

With the way she's devouring you, it feels like her tongue has found a home between your legs, the skillful swift flicks and swipes have your legs trembling beneath the strong grip of her hands over the skin of your thighs.

The moans she's drawing from you feel unrestricted, being released with no thought to them like you’d always done with everyone else.

She makes you feel safe here, in the dimly room of her home, secure beneath her sure touch, without need to restrain yourself.

You feel freer and safer than ever.

One hand releasing your leg brings you back to her, to the warmth of her taking you in with small, breathy groans.

It trails over your hip, gliding over your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast before sliding off to slip your hand into it, tangling your fingers together like they had been in the sheets only moments ago.

The build-up in your gut suddenly alerts you to the oncoming orgasm, the wave having completely snuck up on you.

"F-fuck. Zee, I'm gonna.."

You barely have time to register the small hum against you that's paired with the harsh suck that sends you kareening over.

Her hand squeezes yours, your legs wrap tighter around her shoulders and head, and her eyes follow the way your back arches up and your hips buck into her mouth, her other hand forcing your hips back into mattress.

She can feel her own arousal building just at the sight of you writhing beneath her, chest heaving with the efforts of her mouth on you.

The way her already dark brown eyes dilate at watching you cum on her tongue, the flood of your taste meeting her tastebuds as she slips her tongue inside you to clean up.

Her hand never leaves yours until you're needily fisting at her to pull her up to eye level once again, wasting no time kissing her.

The sweet, slightly tangy taste of yourself on her lips has you whining softly, and it takes little effort to push her onto her back, straddling her waist.

"Okay?"

You raise a brow at the soft pout on her lips.

"Who said I was done with you?"

Chuckling, you lean down to capture her lips in a brief, soft peck.

"No one, baby, it's my turn, now relax. I've been dying to taste you."

Clearly, your words have an effect on her, because you can feel the shiver run through her beneath you, and the way her fingers grip your hips tighter along with the small sigh she let's out when your lips trail down her exposed collarbone.

You're met with little resistance once your teeth dig into the soft pale skin of her chest, above the line of her bra, as you pull her up to sit up so you can reach behind to tug open the clasp.

Tossing it away, her hands find the back of your head, pulling you back down to kiss her again.

A smile crosses your lips against hers, and you press her back down into the mattress once again, hands holding you up either side of her head.

It takes but a small whine from her when you kiss down to her chest to have you nearly grinding down into her again.

Instead, you focus on the growing want to absolutely ruin the woman below you.

Teeth nipping small marks into her chest, your lips wrap around her nipple, tugging at the nub and releasing it with a small pop, relishing in the ragged gasps coming from above you.

Her fingers have fully tangled in your hair, pleading tugs every now and then, urging you on.

You only chuckle softly at her insistence.

"What's the matter, baby?"

Taking on the same mocking coo she held with you earlier, which she whines and almost rolls her eyes at, your hands still, laying flat over her stomach with your hips settled on top of her own.

"Älskling, baby, please..."

You gently smack away the hand that reaches for you with a smirk.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

The huff she lets out only widens your smile.

"I did not tease you this much."

"Answer the question, Zećira."

Ignoring her indignant whine, you slide a hand up her chest again, fingers twisting and moulding the soft flesh of her breast.

Hearing in that moment, the moment she gives in, the exhale.

A soft curse in swedish, followed by a whimper when you playfully grind your hips down and she's pleading.

"Älskling, god, please baby, fuck me."

"What was that, baby?"

It earns you a small, frustrated whine.

"Your fingers, fuck me with your fingers, your tongue baby please, anything, I need you."

A triumphant grin crosses your face as you lean down to reward the woman, lips meeting hers, hand slipping down to tug at the button on her jeans.

The way she eagerly lifts her hips up, her own hands encouraging yours as you tug down the fabric obstructing you, has you grinning up at the goalkeeper.

Not wanting to tease the woman any more than you had already, you tug down her underwear almost immediately after.

Frankly, you didn't feel like waiting any longer either, only torturing yourself more the longer you waited.

Sitting back on your haunches, just below her knees, reaching out a slow, gentle hand to trace a path down from her stomach to her hip.

To her inner thigh before finally settling, hovering over where she needs you.

Your forefinger and middlefinger apply a small amount of pressure, testing the waters as she watches with shallow rises and falls in her chest.

"Älskling.."

It would sound like a warning if it wasn't paired with a sharp gasp, eliciting when you glide your fingers further down to slip them inside her.

She's soaked through, and you have to hold back the soft groan as you feel her clench around you.

The feeling makes you shift downwards almost immediately, making slow, long strokes as you do so, with gentle curves of your fingers.

Hearing her beg and curse for you like this, you never want this to stop.

With that, your mouth lowers to take her, her hand in your hair now an encouraging force on your head as your tongue drags over her clit.

Her head falls back onto the pillow with what you can only describe as a small pleasured sigh of relief, and you giggle softly, letting your drag down, and back up again, lapping at the wetness accumulating around your hand.

Your other hand keeps her leg steady against the mattress, allowing you easier access as your thrusts speed up.

"Fu-"

She's never been an overtly loud person, so having her moan and curse for you like this, underneath your mouthing ministrations, only drives you even more crazy.

"Så vacker." (So beautiful).

It's a soft mutter against the skin of her inner thigh, paired with small kisses that you trail up to her hip again, meanwhile keeping pace, fingers curling inside her.

With the way her hips buck up into your face, you get the inkling that you speaking swedish to her has her losing her mind above you.

Or it could be the fact you're buried between her legs eating her like she's your last meal.

You don't mind either way.

Getting to hear her like this fuels you alone.

It feels like no time at all passes before her moans shift, and she's crenching a little harder around your fingers while her own tightens in your hair.

"Fuck, Y/n, I-."

"I know, baby. Go ahead, cum for me."

Curling your fingers just right in time with her thrusts, her moans halt as she seizes up, legs trembling around your head.

She's absolutely beautiful when she cums, you've decided.

Her hands slowly release their grip on your tresses and the sheets below the both of you, breathing slower and deeper as she comes down.

Zećira's eyes meet yours once again, noting the shining smug but also awed glint in them.

In that moment, she's decided she's going to drag as many orgasms out of you as she can tonight, unable to be patient enough to wait to see the look on your face once again as your legs shake around her head.

"Get up here."

There's no hesitation. You're up straddling her waist once again as she's sitting up to grip your neck to pull you down to her level.

Her hands settle on your hips once again, sliding back around to cusp your ass, giving the cheeks a quick squeeze, and you giggle softly at the blissed out look in her eyes.

She's absolutely gorgeous with swollen lips, purple marks marring her collarbone, and hair mussed from your hands being buried in them earlier.

They quickly return to that position, fingers carding through the dark locks, thumbs coming to caress her face as you lean down again to kiss her, slower and softer this time.

Loving.

Caring.

Thankful.

Both of you are more than feeling all of that.

There's a shining, loving look in her eyes as she looks up at you, and you feel it flow through your chest in a wave of warmth that makes your skin tingle.

"Hey Zee?"

She hums softly.

"Du betyder allt för mig också." (You mean everything to me, too.)

She grins up at you and the sound of your giggle can be heard as she flips the both of you over onto your back with her on top, lips taking yours in a very much smile filled kiss.

"Feelin' okay?"

"Amazing, you?"

You've never felt safer than here, in her arms.

-

[yanderes-galore]

May I ask for a Daemon Targaryen concept from A Song Of Ice And Fire?

Daemon is certainly... terrifying as a yandere, actually-

Yandere! Daemon Targaryen Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Flirtation/Implied unwanted advances, Possessive behavior, Controlling behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Threats, Isolation, Mature themes, Mentions of bedding, Toxic behavior, Forced marriage, Biting/Marking, Forced relationship.

Daemon is arrogant, a prince uncontrolled and demanding of approval.

He's known for seducing those that capture his interest.

Out of most of the ASOIAF yanderes, I assume Daemon is among the worst.

He's persistent, demanding, and controlling.

He wants power as much as he wants approval.

He has a twisted form of love towards those close to him and isn't afraid to do immoral acts to get what he wants.

Need I remind you Daemon had his original wife killed as he didn't like her?

I imagine Daemon would trail behind his obsession like a shadow if they caught his interest.

It's nearly impossible to get rid of him.

Plus, Daemon has one of the fiercest dragons at his disposal, Caraxes.

The Rogue Prince is described as charming yet dangerous.

He is quick to take offense and hates others wounding his ego.

Which means if you refuse him, he tries harder.

Daemon is used to people finding him attractive.

He could take anyone he wants to his bed.

Except you.

You refusing his interest... would no doubt wound him and his pride.

Daemon definitely likes what he can't have.

He's someone who has learned he has to fight for the attention he deserves.

In fact, it's canon he cherishes the approval of his brother Viserys.

He hates being neglected.

He hates being controlled.

I'd imagine Daemon's courting is not only persistent, but violent.

Daemon would fight in tourneys for you, find you gifts, anything to impress you.

Daemon originally saw seducing you as a challenge, yet another little conquest to add to his belt.

But over time I can see Daemon... crave your presence.

A way I think a yandere Daemon could start is certainly with someone who doesn't immediately give in to him.

At first he's obsessed with the challenge, but soon realizes he can't bring himself to stay away.

Daemon can't even distract himself with other partners.

Brothels don't have much appeal anymore, maids offering themselves to him just makes him irritated.

He wonders if he can't part from you due to his ego at first.

He can't admit that you won this little game of his.

In reality, he's obsessed with you.

He craves your praise, your attention, your approval.

He no longer wishes to seduce you and be done with it.

Now he feels he needs you... all of you.

It's not just about bedding or pleasure now...

He feels no one else can satisfy him but you.

By this point... he'll do anything for you.

Just so he can get that approval he craves, even if it harms his ego.

Daemon is known to quickly take to violence.

With you it's rare, thankfully.

To others? Well... it's certainly more common.

Daemon wouldn't want anyone else courting you once he has his eyes on you.

Daemon pays close attention to those around you.

Servants, knights, lords....

The moment he sees someone court you, he's quick to stop it.

He may simply step in the way, perhaps even threaten them in a low tone as he grips his sword.

I wouldn't put killing other suitors past him.

He may excuse it as a "duel gone wrong", even though the reason his sword is dripping blood is because he played unfair.

Daemon's selfish, he doesn't care about your freedom.

In the end he ultimately wants you as his.

He even turns down other proposals for a betrothed, his gaze fixed on you.

After all, he's willing to go beyond immoral to have you.

He'll spill the blood of countless others if it means locking you into a marriage with him.

You could have a betrothed, or merely a secret lover, Daemon will find out.

Is it really that much of a surprise to learn he's killed them?

The scene is no doubt grotesque, his blade deep inside their flesh as their blood pools on the ground.

Surely you'll see just how serious he is, yes?

Which means... you should know what your answer is when he asks you to marry him, right?

Obviously, Daemon is possessive.

Possessive to the point he'd paint the streets red without even needing Caraxes to make you his.

You, as his beloved, can only resist his need for so long.

It feels fantastic when he marries you, a traditional Targaryen wedding.

By the end of it he knows you're his.

No one can touch you without expected consequences.

Touching what belongs to Daemon is the same as disrespecting him.

He never wants you far from him, keeping you by his side with a hand around your waist.

Any who insult you are met with their tongue taken... in the literal sense.

It's hard to calculate how many would fall to Daemon's blade over you.

The blood means nothing to them.

In fact, their corpses help feed his steed Caraxes, the blood wyrm even seeming to appreciate your presence.

Daemon doesn't understand why you bother mourning.

He's making a point, he's showing you're his.

You're his to possess.

You could try to flee, you could try to hide, Daemon knows you're his even if you don't.

Why bother looking so upset...?

Daemon showers you in affection and gifts, anything to earn the approval he craves.

He wants you to feed his ego, to tell him you love him.

He wants you to kiss him as he holds you in his lap.

He wants you to squirm when he digs his teeth into your neck.

You should be happy he's so dedicated.

He's even had his previous lovers killed to show you he's focused on you.

Is that what you wanted?

Do you crave his dedication?

If that will make you his... then he'll do anything.

To Daemon, he takes his House's saying seriously.

Daemon would spread 'Fire and Blood' if it meant you'd be his alone.

You'd be mistaken if you still thought he did all this just to bed you.

No, Now Daemon has truly given into his obsession... He only wants you...

No matter how many have to burn or be cut down... you'll always be his.

[lustlovehart]

Caught In Her Web

A/n: I love women

Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka

Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss

Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.

"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."

At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.

"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"

"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."

"Cut it out."

"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"

You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.

You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.

The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.

She has that effect on people you assume.

Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.

"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"

"I'm not gonna look at you."

Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.

"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."

"I doubt you'd give me a choice."

"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."

You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.

You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.

"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."

You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.

"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"

"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."

"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"

"Was that not obvious?"

"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."

"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."

"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."

"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"

"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.

You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.

"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"

The more you think, 3 hours left till what?

"Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."

Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.

"You don't, but I wish you did."

Keep... Date... As long... Possible...

She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.

"How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.

"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."

Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.

"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.

The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...

"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"

Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?

1 hour left.

"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."

"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.

"I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.

Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.

"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.

"Boom."

Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.

"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."

------

A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.

It's not beating. Your hearts not working.

"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.

She's familar.

"Do you remember me?"

"..."

She waits.

"Do you like me?"

“I…”

She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.

“Who are you?”

——

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

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After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to. 

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door. 

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him. 

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said. 

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—” 

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town. 

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?” 

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head. 

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.” 

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference. 

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight. 

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother. 

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust. 

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter. 

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke. 

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother. 

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly. 

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord. 

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up. 

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders. 

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door. 

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway, 

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said. 

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged. 

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed. 

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car. 

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

[nickeverdeen]

Overwatch characters and their PDA

Genji

5/10

Given Genji’s reserved nature and background as a disciplined ninja, his enjoyment of public displays of affection (PDA) would likely be moderate.

Hand Holding: Genji would intertwine his fingers with yours, showing a secure and intimate connection between you two while walking together

Hand on Lower Back: While navigating through crowds or walking side by side, Genji would place his hand gently on his lover’s lower back, offering subtle guidance and protection

Forehead Kiss: In a moment of tenderness, Genji would lean in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, conveying affection and care in a discreet yet meaningful way

Cheek or Temple Touch: Genji would lightly brush his lips against his partner’s cheek or temple, showing affection in a gentle and respectful manner

Arm Around Shoulder: During moments of closeness or comfort, Genji would drape his arm lightly around your shoulder, offering support and solidarity while maintaining a sense of respect for your personal space

These gestures reflect Genji’s reserved yet caring demeanor, emphasizing his desire to express love and connection to his partner in a subtle and respectful manner, even in public settings

Mei

7/10

She appreciates opportunities to express her love and affection for her partner openly, but she also values maintaining a level of respect and consideration for others’ comfort in public settings. Therefore, while she enjoys showing affection, she may do so in a tasteful and mindful manner.

Hand Holding: Mei would happily hold your hand, intertwining their fingers as they walk together, symbolizing unity and closeness

Hugs: Mei’s warm and nurturing nature would lead her to readily give you hugs, wrapping her arms around you in a tight and comforting embrace

Cheek Kisses: Mei would affectionately kiss you on the cheek, expressing her love and fondness for you in a sweet and gentle manner

Arm Linking: Mei might loop her arm through yours arm or link elbows while walking, showing a sense of intimacy and companionship

Shoulder Lean: When standing or sitting together, Mei might lean her head or shoulder against lover’s, seeking closeness and physical contact

These gestures reflect Mei’s affectionate and caring nature, as she expresses her love openly and warmly in public settings with her partner

Sombra

7.5/10

Sombra appreciates the opportunity to show affection for her partner openly and boldly, and she enjoys the playful and flirtatious interactions that come with it. However, she also values maintaining a level of control and discretion, so she may not engage in PDA excessively or in situations where it could attract unwanted attention.

Arm Wrapping: Sombra confidently wraps her arm around your waist or shoulder, pulling you close as you walk together, showing a sense of possession and intimacy

Playful Shoulder Bump: Sombra playfully bumps her shoulder against yours as you walk, adding a touch of flirtation and playfulness to your interaction

Hip Touch: Sombra assertively places her hand on your hip, guiding you or pulling you closer in a confident and affectionate gesture

Quick Kisses: Sombra steals quick kisses from her lover, whether it’s a peck on the lips or a playful kiss on the cheek, adding spontaneity and excitement to their interactions

Hair Play: Sombra playfully runs her fingers through her partner’s hair or tucks a strand behind their ear, adding a flirtatious and intimate touch to their interaction

These gestures reflect Sombra’s confident and assertive personality, as she shows her affection for her partner in bold and playful ways that suit her.

Tracer

10/10

Given Tracer’s lively and outgoing personality, she likely enjoys public displays of affection (PDA) to a considerable extent. Tracer’s enthusiasm and warmth make her naturally inclined to engage in PDA, but she also respects boundaries and would adjust her behavior based on her girlfriend’s comfort level and the situation.

Hand Holding: Tracer enthusiastically holds her girlfriend’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they walk together, radiating joy and affection

Quick Kisses: Tracer frequently steals quick kisses from you, whether it’s a peck on the lips or a playful kiss on the cheek, adding spontaneity and warmth to your interactions

Hugs: Tracer enthusiastically embraces you in tight and energetic hugs, lifting you off the ground or spinning you around in a joyful display of affection

Shoulder Bumps: Tracer playfully bumps her shoulder against you as you walk, adding a touch of playful intimacy to your interaction

Back Pats: Tracer affectionately pats her girlfriend’s back or shoulders in a friendly and reassuring manner, showing her support and affection openly

These gestures reflect Tracer’s spirited and affectionate nature, as she shows her love and affection for her girlfriend in a lively, enthusiastic, and playful manner that I’d personally say suits her

Mercy

5/10

While she appreciates opportunities to express her affection for her partner openly, she also values professionalism and may prefer to keep displays of affection subtle and understated, especially in certain settings. Overall, while she enjoys showing her love openly, she may do so in a more reserved and considerate manner.

Hand Holding: Mercy gently holds her partner’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they walk together, symbolizing unity and support

Arm Around Shoulder: Mercy might place her arm around your shoulder or waist while walking, offering comfort and closeness in a protective gesture

Forehead Kiss: In moments of tenderness, Mercy leans in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead, conveying affection and care

Cheek Caress: Mercy affectionately caresses her your cheek with her fingertips, expressing warmth and love in a gentle manner

Hugs: Mercy embraces her lover in warm and comforting hugs, wrapping her arms around them in a nurturing display of affection

These gestures reflect Mercy’s nurturing and compassionate nature, as she expresses her love and affection for her partner in gentle and caring ways that provide comfort and support.

Cassidy

7/10

While he appreciates opportunities to express his affection for his partner openly, he also values his personal space and may prefer to keep displays of affection relatively subtle and understated, especially in certain settings. Additionally, McCree’s enjoyment of PDA may vary depending on the situation and his partner’s comfort level, as he respects boundaries and prioritizes mutual respect in his relationships.

Hand Holding: McCree casually holds your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walk together, showing a sense of unity and closeness

Arm Around Shoulder: Cassidy may drape his arm around your shoulder or waist while walking, offering a protective and comforting gesture

Quick Kisses: He steals quick kisses from you, whether it’s a peck on the lips or a playful kiss on the cheek, adding a touch of affection and spontaneity to your interactions

Shoulder Lean: While standing or sitting together, Cassidy leans his shoulder against yours, seeking physical contact and closeness in a relaxed and casual manner

Hand on Lower Back: McCree places his hand on your lower back while navigating through a crowd or entering a room, guiding you with a gentle touch while showing a sense of protectiveness

These gestures reflect McCree’s laid-back and affectionate nature, as he shows his love and affection for his partner in a casual, supportive, and playful manner that suits his cowboy persona

Hanzo

4/10

While he may appreciate moments of intimacy with his partner, he values privacy and may prefer to keep displays of affection relatively subtle and reserved, especially in public settings. Additionally, Hanzo’s enjoyment of PDA may vary depending on the situation and his partner’s comfort level, as he respects boundaries and values mutual respect in his relationships.

Hand Holding: Hanzo gently holds your hand, showing a subtle yet meaningful connection as you walk together

Arm Around Waist: Hanzo may place his arm around your waist while standing or walking, offering a protective and comforting gesture

Forehead Rest: In moments of intimacy, Hanzo may rest his forehead against yours, conveying a sense of closeness and trust

Shoulder Touch: Hanzo lightly touches his lover’s shoulder in a gesture of support or reassurance, showing his affection in a subtle and understated manner

Quick Kisses: Hanzo may offer quick and discreet kisses to his partner, whether it’s a soft peck on the cheek or a brief kiss on the lips, adding a touch of affection in a reserved manner

These gestures reflect Hanzo’s reserved yet genuine affection for his partner, as he shows his love and care in subtle and understated ways that reflect his stoic demeanor.

[zorosbeau33]

Oi, you wanna die? Zoro x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

❖ One Piece, Zoro x gender neutral reader

❖ Scenarios/Drabble, Established Relationship AU, Protective Boyfriend Zoro

❖ TRIGGER WARNING Unwanted advances from a third party, 18+ Only due to theme

❖ wc: 1706

❖ Prompt "You said no and they didn't listen how does your partner respond?" ❖ Masterlist ❖ Luffy Version

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~ A couple people had requested more of the crew so here is Zoro for a start! I wasn't quite sure where to go with it but I think this will suffice for now!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The marines didn’t seem to notice things were amiss, then again none of them probably dared to imagine the legendary Straw Hat pirates would crash a military gala. Zoro himself fidgeted behind his mask, eye sweeping the room and numbering dozens of high ranking officials. This was definitely not his scene, stuffed into a black and sparkly prince costume with black jewel encrusted mask? Yeah not his style at all. The amount of men and women he’d shrugged off, or downright snubbed tonight in favor of finding more alcohol to drink was staggering. Not that he’d noticed, after one dance that he’d only done because Nami threatened him to do it to blend in long before they’d actually broken in. Flirtations were not his strong suit, and being a firm believer in no ending all advances he was disgusted when several people tried to laugh it off and continue in their attempts to touch him. 

All of this has culminated in the pursing of his lips as he tried not to sneer in disgust. Leaning against a pillar during a brief moment of quiet to himself Zoro once again scanned the room. It was beginning to unnerve him, sure he could see Nami fitting in without any issues wrapped in the arms of a high ranking admiral. Hell he could even see precious precocious prince Sanji with a line of women waiting to dance with him. That might come to bite them in the ass soon if the jealous glares of the womens husbands and wives said anything. However Zoro believed the cook would reap what he sowed and that it was none of his business. What nagged at him however was the evident lack of…you.

For three hours they had patrolled the floor and the garden, and yet you were no where to be found. A frown did manage to tug his lips downwards when he moved around a thick crowd of people and up the stairs. Yes, he should leave it be and concentrate on the mission of extracting all the information they could while Nami stole the key off the admiral and passed it along to Luffy, Robin and Brook. But the nagging sensation of you being missing for THIS long? Nothing normally could stir him to panic-reasonable panic. His captain falling in the water or slingshotting directly at his face was reasonable panic. This was not such a time, bubbles seemed to turn to knots in his gut. His scar itched. 

Halfway up the stairs he heard it, unable to hide his reaction as he perked up swinging his head around towards the sound of a familiar laugh. Zoro felt you before he saw you, Haki registering your presence far closer to him than he had anticipated. In fact there in the middle of the group of people he had been made to work around several times, stood your glorious form. Nami had outdone herself with your outfit and Zoro had almost swallowed his tongue on the ship when he first saw you. Now even more so under the glitter and glow of the chandeliers, your laugh made the tension melt from his muscles while he stopped his prowling to take you in. In this atmosphere you were radiant, seemingly to have been born out of the most beautiful emerald just to grace the presence of those around you. The jewel encrusted mask covering your face only added to the mystery around you, causing those around you to lean in all the closer. Perhaps you needed no savior, though Zoro felt it his first duty as the man that belonged to you. Swordsmiths above he was so smitten with you, lingering on the stairs above your group to watch you, scowl melting into a tender smile. He would have to apologize to Nami and Luffy later, his sword was supposed to belong to his captain then the mission. But here the only person he could allow claim to him was your radiance. A betrayal he was sure they would understand, it was common knowledge to all of the crew that his heart and soul had found their home in your hands. 

So imagine his rage when your smile fell away into a look of shock, yanking your arm back from the grips of a pot bellied slobbering ‘gentleman’. Capable like he knew you were, you quickly extricated yourself from the pudgy admiral who reeked of weaks old cheese and beer. The gaudy prince attire nearly popping buttons off as the heavy drinker puffed himself up indignantly. Zoro would miss the next few moments as he rushed down the staircase and began to force his way through the gasping and shocked onlookers who had until this moment been fawning over your intelligence and eloquent words. His fury was three fold for he knew how hard you had practiced to learn all these speech patterns and points of talk to be a good distraction as needed by the plan. However when the noise of a slap rang out he couldn’t help but bark a command for the people in front to move.

Being all of military standing or married into, they felt his haki and heard his commands and moved apart at once. Years of training telling even the higher ranks this must be someone  with power and the gravitas of higher station To do such a thing at the military gala. Relief infantesimally warmed his cold gaze, the sound of the slap had in fact come from your strike and not the admirals. Zoro knew this man too well, he’d bought and blustered his way up to the position he was in now, and falling out of graces with Akainu’s strength based rule had resorted to underhanded trickery and binge drinking. 

“Once a sleeze ball always a sleezeball.” scoffed someone in the crowd as a woman pulled you closer to herself and away from the enraged man before you. Bits of wien splattered down his front as he spluttered and clutched his hand to his chest, beer belly nearly busting his gaudy belt buckle. 

“Admiral he started it! They told him no and he tried to force it! Should we court marshal him?” A young Captain stepped forward to report to Zoro, also taking on a defensive stance in front of you. To your credit you were playing the distressed and meak house spouse very well, although he knew just from looking your strike had most probably broken at least two of the mans meaty fingers. Thankfully it seemed his display had caused others to believe him to be an important military official rather than raise suspicion about his person. Zoro gathered himself together, he couldn’t afford to make too much of a scene here. While everyones masks and disguises made the party much safer for them to intervene. They did not need to draw to many eyes upon themselves or else the costumed Zoro’s in the crowd might jog someones mind to realize the real one was standing in front of them. After that it would only be a matter of minutes before the others would get picked out from the crowd as well. 

He needed to protect you, but in a way that would seem appropriate and take attention off of you both and quickly. Squaring his shoulders Zoro tutted and switched all his weight to his right foot, arm resting on the hilt of his single sword. Adapting the posture of a haughty admiral was not difficult it often amused him when he was a bounty hunter to see all of their posturing, the arrogance was easy to emulate. A flick of the hand had several people stepping forward seizing the admirals wrists and forcing them behind him. 

“This is a party, I advise you keep your voice down before I report your misdeeds to headquarters directly…” His deep voice rumbled and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Take him out of here without a scene, knock him out if you have to. The part-the gala is a place only those of high standing are allowed. Such behavior will not be tolerated, have him placed on trial…tomorrow morning he can sit in the cells for tonight.” 

The man bellowed his outrage, stating his rank and to unhand him right this moment. In an instant Zoro’s hand was around his skull, and squeezing. Rage turned into pain and he gasped spluttering in pain, the captains almost dropping him in shock at the speed of Zoro’s moves. 

“OI…do you wanna die?” Zoro growled lowly so only he and the two captains could hear. They froze and stared in shock and fear. The rage he had felt upon seeing the man place his hand on you without your consent, causing his pupils to dilate. Haki spreading over his fingertips hidden only by the gloves that accented his outfit. Blood pounding in his ears, ready to lay this man to sleep for his crime. The smell of the admiral wetting himself hardly registering to his senses, how dare this scum…Barely reeling himself in Zoro leaned back out and let him go. “You already placed your hands on my partner and now you disgrace this place. Get him out of our sight.” 

Turning quickly on his heel Zoro took his handkerchief out and wiped the makeup from the admiral off his fingers in a show of disgust. Reeling in his rage before stopping in front of you again, thanking the woman in a low murmur as he took you from her grip. People bowed and scuttled out of his way while he hurriedly guided you away to the gardens, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Once in the open air he sighed in relief and slowed down checking on you now as he readied himself for Nami to beat him over the head once you returned to the ship. Yes you could have defended yourself, and you certainly had but he would always be here to ensure that you would be okay. Even if you teased him for his bad acting skills for the rest of his life, you being safe and your boundaries being respected were far more than worth it in his mind.

[tinytinyblogs]

Feeling spark? Me too.

The feelings were mutual! They found out you like them too.

(Skz reaction, non-idol)

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray kids masterlist here

Chan

The unexpected voice sliced through the charged atmosphere, shattering the delicate web of unspoken emotions you and random guy had been weaving. You turned, adrenaline flooding your system, only to see Chan's familiar figure approaching, his cologne a comforting scent in the sudden turmoil. His hand landed on your shoulder, a tangible anchor in the swirling sea of your emotions. His smile, usually playful and carefree, held a steely edge as he surveyed the scene. "There you are, honey," he said, his voice laced with a possessiveness that made your heart skip a beat. Chan's gaze flicked to that guy, lingering for a moment too long for your comfort. The random guy, who had only moments ago been sending shivers down your spine with his unwanted flirtations, seemed to shrink under Chan's scrutiny. "A friend of yours?" Chan inquired, his tone polite but firm. You struggled to find your voice, a tangled mess of emotions rendering you speechless. Finally, a tiny "no" escaped your lips, barely audible in the sudden hush. Your fingers fumbled with the belongings on the table, your escape route taking priority over any explanation. Chan, ever perceptive, caught your silent plea. He leaned in, his voice now a soft murmur meant only for your ears. "Breathtaking, right? I know it," he whispered, his words sending a familiar blush creeping up your neck. "But this person you flirt with is my partner," he continued, his voice rising slightly, just enough to reach that guy ears. "So it's best if you keep your flirtatious charms in check."

The impact of his words was immediate. That guy face, once alight with anticipation, fell, replaced by a flicker of surprise and, you thought, a hint of disappointment. You held your breath, caught between the two men who held such different places in your heart. But Chan wasn't finished. He turned to you, his smile back in place, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's go, we have a date, remember?" he asked, his hand reaching for yours. You found yourself nodding numbly, your body moving on autopilot as Chan's warm fingers intertwined with yours. The feeling of his hand enclosing yours, a familiar gesture now imbued with a new significance, sent your heart into overdrive. You stole a sidelong glance at Chan, the awkward silence stretching between you like a tightrope. "Uhm, thank you, Chan," you finally blurted, the gratitude in your voice genuine. He had skillfully extricated you from that unsettling situation with effortless charm, leaving you feeling safe and protected. The hum that echoed from his chest was punctuated by his gaze fixated on your face. His hand still held yours, the warmth radiating from it almost as intense as the heat blooming in your own cheeks. You realized you'd walked quite a distance, putting that tense scene further and further behind you. "I think we can stop pretending we're still running from that guy," you ventured, the words carrying the weight of the unspoken tension.

The moment Chan stopped walking and pivoted to face you, the air itself seemed to crackle with anticipation. "Who says we're pretending?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. You held up your hand, the one still entwined with his, a silent question mark against the backdrop of the city lights. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I was deadly serious when I said we were going on a date," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. You blinked, confusion momentarily clouding your eyes. "What?" His hand reached up, gently sweeping a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch drawing your focus back to him. "I would love to go on a date with my crush," he said, his smile slow and deliberate. "The one who, coincidentally, happens to have a crush on me too, isn't that enough reason?" The audacity of his words stole your breath away. But as the shock receded, it was replaced by a dawning realization, a warmth spreading through your heart like wildfire. The secret you'd harbored for so long, whispered only to the shadows, had found its way into the open, embraced by the gentle light of his confession. He started walking again, your hand now linked with his, his gentle tug guiding you along. "And," he turned his head to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "while I believe your 'friend' was a complete tool, I'm kind of glad I overheard your little secret. It gave me the confidence to know I wasn't chasing a ghost."

Minho

The nervous ticks of your wristwatch were the only soundtrack to your uneasy reflection in the mirror. A blind date should have sparked giddy anticipation, not this gnawing uncertainty. Hiding your infatuation with Minho for so long had become a second skin, and now, venturing out to meet someone else felt like a betrayal, not just to him, but to the secret blooming in your own heart. The click of the lock echoed in the silent hallway, a hollow sound mirroring the emptiness in your heart. As you swung open the apartment door, sunlight streamed in, a stark contrast to the shadows you felt cloaked in. Each step out felt like wading through molasses, slow and reluctant. Truth is, this departure was a charade, a masquerade you'd donned to escape the suffocating cage of your concealed feelings for Minho. For far too long, you'd buried them deep, a secret garden blooming in the dark corners of your soul. He, a distant sun, had warmed others with his light, but your corner remained perpetually in the shade, yearning for a glance, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He wasn't oblivious, not entirely. You'd catch him stealing fleeting glances, fleeting brushes of his hand against yours, moments that ignited a spark before vanishing like wisps of smoke. But they were just that - fleeting, ephemeral, leaving you clinging to the ghost of what could be. Taking a hesitant step into the hallway, you barely registered the hand grabbing yours, spinning you around with a force that sent your pulse into overdrive.

Minho's scent, a familiar comfort you'd kept locked away, filled your senses as his voice, ragged from exertion, rasped, "Don't go." His name tumbled from your lips in a whisper, "Minho?" Why was he here, breathless and flustered like a boy caught stealing cookies? "Don't go," he repeated, his words pleading as he closed the distance between you. The world narrowed to the depths of his beautiful eyes, his nearness making your breath catch in your throat. "You shouldn't look this good for anyone but me," his voice rumbled, a possessive edge painting his words. His touch lingered on your arm, a gentle pressure that felt less like restraint and more like a lifeline. It was a silent plea, a desperate attempt to anchor you in place before you drifted away into the unknown. In his eyes, a storm raged - a cocktail of fear, hope, and something akin to raw need. He couldn't bear the thought of letting you go, not like this. The confusion that had swirled within you began to clear, replaced by a dawning hope. This blind date, a flimsy veil you'd drawn over your true feelings, was being unceremoniously ripped away. "Don't meet anyone else," he blurted, the question spilling out before you could even voice it. "I just know you like me too. You didn't give me a chance, did you? You just... decided on a blind date? Don't you think that's a little unfair, sweetheart?" The secret you'd so carefully shielded from Minho's gaze, once nestled deep within the chambers of your heart, was suddenly blooming into a vibrant garden.

Hearing his words echo the melody of your own hidden feelings sparked butterflies in your stomach, each flutter painting your cheeks with a blushing warmth. His rushed confession, "Running like a madman to find you before you met someone else... you don't know how terrifying it was," hung in the air, soft and vulnerable. The fear in his voice morphed into a gentle embrace, his strong arms enveloping you as you burrowed into the haven of his chest, your ear close to the frantic symphony of his heartbeat. "Don't scare me like that, Y/N," he murmured, his voice warm like freshly brewed coffee. "I like you too. No, it's love." The words were a caress, each syllable melting away the years of unspoken longing. Time seemed to warp and bend, the world shrinking to the universe contained within his warm gaze. He pulled away, his eyes twinkling with a playful charm. "Since you're already looking breathtakingly beautiful," he teased, "what if we skip the blind date routine altogether?" His voice dipped into a low hum, "How about... we go out on a proper date?" You lifted your face, meeting his smile with a grin that mirrored his own. His hand, hesitant at first, cupped your face softly. His thumb skimmed over your cheek, a whisper of touch that sent shivers down your spine. "A date?" you began, a playful lilt dancing in your voice, "yes," he cut in, his laugh like the clinking of wind chimes. "Absolutely, it's a date."

Changbin

The rain hammered down on the asphalt, a relentless rhythm that mocked your forgetfulness. You huddled under the meager shelter of the bus stop, frustration gnawing at you. The umbrella, meticulously chosen and placed by the door that morning, now mocked you from its perch on your desk. A chuckle broke through the raindrop symphony, drawing your attention. Beside you, Changbin perched with the nonchalance of a seasoned urban warrior, rain beading on his impressive form as he patted his damp clothes. "Forget your umbrella too?" he asked, his voice warm and friendly despite the meteorological turmoil. "Yup," you admitted, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the downpour. "Seems like we're both in the same boat." Changbin hummed, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint. "So, any grand plans for after work? This monsoon doesn't look like it's giving up anytime soon." You shook your head, picturing the lonely evening stretching before you. "Nope. Just staying home, doing nothing." He nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. "Same here. But what if we… spent some time together? You know, talked, got to know each other a bit better." His suggestion cut through the rain's monotony, making you forget the dreary weather for a moment. You looked up at him, surprised. "Your friend mentioned you like cozy nights in. So, if you're okay with it, I could keep you company. We could grab some hot chocolate, or maybe I could whip something up at my place – your call."

"My friend?" you echoed, a knot of suspicion twisting in your gut. You knew your friend had a tendency to be, well, enthusiastic, but you weren't expecting Changbin to have picked up on it so quickly. "What... what else did you hear?" Your voice was barely a whisper, lost in the symphony of raindrops drumming on the bus stop roof. Changbin shifted on the bench, his playful demeanor replaced by a nervous charm. "I, uh, heard that you might like me too," he admitted, wincing slightly as if bracing for your reaction. "Sorry if I overstepped, I didn't mean to pry. I just... couldn't help but ask your friend about you, you know?" His words sent a jolt through you, a flicker of warmth battling the storm of your surprise. Your heart echoed the rhythm of the downpour, threatening to thump out of your chest. "Too?" you croaked, desperate to confirm what you thought you heard. Changbin met your gaze, his normally confident eyes holding a vulnerability that was almost disarming. "Too," he breathed. "I really wanted to get to know you better, and, okay, maybe I like you too," he confessed, kicking at the wet pavement with his sneakers. His usual swagger had melted away, replaced by a shyness that was oddly endearing. "So I kept asking your friend about you," he continued, a sheepish grin creeping back onto his face. "And, well, she spilled the beans, including the juicy detail about your absent umbrella." You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a melody playing counterpoint to the rain's mournful song. The tension of the moment relaxed, replaced by a delicious uncertainty.

Changbin, the confident charmer, reduced to a blushing mess? It was a sight you never thought you'd see, and it held a certain charm of its own. "So..." you tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "Don't tell me the only reason you forgot your umbrella was to share this bus stop with me?" Changbin chuckled, a warm rumble that reverberated through the cozy space. He sheepishly rubbed his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper over the raindrop symphony. "Let's just say the rain seemed like a convenient accomplice in my plan to steal some time with you." Your heart fluttered like a hummingbird caught in a blooming vine. The sight of Changbin, normally so boisterous, reduced to a shy boy trying to win a girl's heart, was undeniably endearing. A soft laugh escaped your lips, tinkling like wind chimes in the breeze. "Silly," you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. But your eyes glinted with a warmth that rivaled the city lights reflecting in the puddles. A charged silence crackled between you, pregnant with unspoken possibilities. The rain, no longer a nuisance, became a backdrop to this unexpected encounter, a shared secret whispered in the wind. Looking into Changbin's eyes, their depths reflecting the neon city lights, you felt a certainty settle in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, forgetting an umbrella wasn't such a bad thing after all. "My place it is then," you declared, a newfound confidence blooming in your voice. "And I promise, the hot chocolate will be worth the rain-soaked shoes." Changbin's smile softened, a touch of awe in his eyes. "Lead the way," he said, extending his hand towards you. "Your rain-soaked sunshine knight is at your service."

Hyunjin

The crisp aroma of chocolate swirled around you, clinging to your fingertips like a whispered secret. You carefully tucked the tiny box behind your back, its shimmering heart-shaped decoration hidden from view. Across the bustling courtyard, your gaze locked onto Hwang Hyunjin, the object of your Valentine's Day adoration. He, a radiant sun surrounded by a constellation of admirers, wouldn't notice your offering, you thought. Surely, his arms would be overflowing with extravagant chocolates, each one more alluring than the last. You were just a moonbeam amongst stars, your simple, heartfelt creation destined to remain unseen. With a heavy heart, you averted your eyes, your gaze falling on the intricately piped heart adorning the box. It was a silent confession, a testament to your unspoken crush. But you wouldn't burden him with it, not today. Turning to leave, you were startled by Hyunjin's voice, a warm melody cutting through the schoolyard's cacophony. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, his hand nonchalantly tucked in his pocket. Hope, a tentative butterfly, fluttered in your stomach. Could he possibly be talking to you? Turning cautiously, you met his gaze. His eyes, usually brimming with mischievous charm, held a gentle curiosity. His stance, relaxed and open, invited you to linger. Hesitantly, you mumbled, "Um, back to the classroom." His gaze drifted downward, landing on the hidden box clutched behind your back.

A knowing smile graced his lips as he spoke, "Aren't you going to give me that?" Your cheeks burned scarlet as you stammered, "Huh?" With a playful glint in his eyes, he gestured towards your hidden treasure. "The chocolate," he clarified, stepping closer. Panic seized you. "No, it's not." you blurted, wishing the earth would swallow you whole. He chuckled, his laughter the soft chime of wind chimes. "Really? Then who were you planning to give it to, with a crush staring you right in the face?" Your eyes widened, meeting his with a mixture of shock and dawning hope. "Who said that?" you whispered. He leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Your dear friend might have accidentally spilled the beans," he teased, reaching for your hand with a gentle persistence. Under his touch, the box surrendered its secret. His fingers brushed yours as he unwrapped the packaging, revealing the meticulously decorated heart. A slow smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes. "I've been waiting for your chocolate all day," he confessed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The surprise on your face mirrored the swirl of frosting on the cupcake you nervously clutched. "You... waited for me?" you stammered, your voice barely a whisper in the bustling school hallway. "With all that chocolate floating around today, why me?" Hyunjin, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, turned to you, his eyes shimmering with a playful warmth.

"Do you see a single one of those in my hands, sweetheart?" he countered, his voice rich like melted chocolate. "Besides, when you know the one who holds your heart is baking you a treat, who needs anything else?" He held up your creation, the box adorned with tiny, heart-shaped sprinkles, a silent testament to your unspoken crush. A smile, as sweet as the aroma of vanilla that hung in the air, stretched across his face. With a gentle touch, he opened the box, revealing the cupcake nestled inside, its delicate frosting peaks dusted with golden light. "You made this yourself?" he breathed, his gaze softening as he brought the cupcake closer. You watched, your heart a hummingbird trapped in your chest, as he took a bite. His eyes lit up, the corners crinkling with delight. "Sweet," he murmured, his voice a caress against your skin, "just like you." The world spun, the chatter of the hallway fading into a distant hum. His words, simple yet laden with unspoken meaning, sent a wave of warmth through you. The cupcake, once a symbol of your timid adoration, had become a bridge, connecting your hesitant heart to his. "Let's get something to eat after class," Hyunjin suggested, his hand brushing yours as he extended it in an invitation. "Consider it... our first date." A shy smile blossomed on your face, mirroring the sweetness blooming in your heart. Your fingers, like two halves of a puzzle, fit perfectly into his.

©Tinytinyblogs

[tommystummy]

you keep saying that your homphobia accusations are only about violent language or calling tommy a predator or being bothered by sex/sex jokes or other manner of things that i agree are homophobic. but then you also did a whole ass two part post about that deleted scene saying it was homophobic not to like every aspect of it because it's the perfect representation of a gay man. you have a lot of other posts saying if you don't like this line or that mannerism or the way he responded here or whatever, that you are wrong because you he is the perfect representation of a gay man. so i genuinely believe there is no criticism i could make of tommy that you wouldn't twist into an accusation of homophobia.

You misunderstand. When I talk about how people make bad faith readings of these scenes, I point to ways in which his being a gay man affects how and why he does certain things and how certain scenes should be read. I do this not to twist up an accusation of homophobia but to encourage empathy with Tommy Kinard as a character, using my experiences as a gay man as the basis.

A refusal to empathize with mlm (and wlw) is often at the root of homophobia, so in trying to get people to better understand and empathize with Tommy as an individual character, I’m trying to get them to avoid falling back on prejudices that lead to them trying to twist him into something he’s not because it better fits the archetype they want to fit him into.

So for example: in the dinner scene, when Tommy’s flirtations with Buck are seen as “sexual harassment” it’s because people that refuse to empathize with him (in large part due to shipping biases) fall back on stereotypes of the gay man as an unwanted sexual predator and twist that scene accordingly. Buck started the flirting by saying they both have daddy issues, but they ignore that because it doesn’t fit the schema they’re trying to build. Buck kept pushing on Tommy by asking if he thought he had daddy issues, but people ignore that because it doesn’t fit the schema of “Buck is being harassed” and “the daddy kink came out of the blue”, because they are working backwards from a predetermined conclusion. All things considered the intentions aren’t consciously homophobic, but socially ingrained biases will sneak their way in, especially when you’re doing mental gymnastics that require ignoring half the scene’s lines in order to complete the line from point A to point BuckTommyBones

And I know this sounds incredibly pedantic but my point is that no one is setting out to be homophobic, they just keep stumbling into it on accident because we all grew up in a homophobic society and have those biases hidden within us, it’s recognizing when they rear their heads that keeps us learning and improving. Just as it’s refusing to acknowledge those biases that pushes us further into doubling down and reinforcing those biases.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Unwanted Attention

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

The boys have brought you along for a party at the NYPD headquarters, where a police woman finds your crush, Leonardo, very interesting. Leo on the other hand is not interested and turns to you for help.

Warnings: Spelling and an annoying police woman that doesn't understand no.

All characters are at least 21.

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

The atmosphere at the NYPD headquarters was vibrant, filled with laughter and cheers. Drinks were served along with snacks, and a table where everyone was free to serve themself. It was police chief Vincent’s idea, as a way to celebrate the new partnership between the NYPD and the mutant turtles. It also served as a way to celebrate the defeat of Kraang, and to let the rest of the department meet the four turtle brothers that had saved New York City once again.

The brothers, not sure what to do with so many humans around them, had invited you, April, Caesy and Vern. They insisted that the four of you had as much to do with the saving of New York City, yet they failed to remember that it was them that came up with a plan and guided everybody through it.

Yet there you were at the NYPD headquarters, with a drink in hand chatting and laughing with the people around you. Raphael was having a conversation with Caesy about motorbikes, Donatello, April and police chief Vincent was talking about something techy, while Vern and Michelangelo was trying to see who could drink their drinks the fastest. You had been standing with Leonardo and a policeman, talking about your experiences during the Kraang invasion.

As the three of you spoke, you couldn’t help but throw glances in Leo’s direction. You had known him for two years now, and you couldn’t deny your growing feelings for the leader in blue. Especially not after the ordeal that was the Kraang invasion. There was just something about him that drew you in - his confidence, his leadership, his unwavering dedication. And his eyes. Those pretty blue eyes that made your stomach tingle. But little did you know that Leonardo harbored feelings for you as well, just as you secretly held a crush on him. He had been aware of these growing feelings ever since April pulled you to the roof where they had asked her to meet them so they could bring her to Master Splinter.

As the night unfolded, Leonardo found himself trying to enjoy the celebration, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. And it wasn’t your beautiful eyes looking at him every once in a while. No, it was some new strange eyes on him. Unknown eyes. Glancing around, his eyes met those of a police woman, her gaze intense and determined. Curiosity piqued, she made her way through the crowd until she stood beside him, right next to the police man. You saw her as she came over, a nauseating feeling growing in your stomach. You did not like the way she looked at Leonardo.

"Leonardo, right?" she asked with a coy smile, her voice carrying a subtle flirtation.

Leo nodded, a bit caught off guard, slightly fidgeting with the glass in his hand. "Yeah, that's me. Can I help you with something?"

The police woman leaned in slightly, her eyes locking onto his. Leo leaned away, clearly not expecting it. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. A fearless leader, I presume?"

Leonardo chuckled nervously, his eyes darting around the room. "I don't know about fearless, heh. We just do what we can to keep the city safe".

She playfully twirled a strand of hair with a smug smile. You wanted to yank her hair to whip that smile off of her face. "Well, a brave man deserves a reward. How about another drink, or maybe a dance, Leonardo?"

Leo hesitated, glancing around as he searched for a polite way to decline. You could see the “nope” written across his face. "I- I appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my brothers and my best friends… Maybe some other time?"

She didn't seem deterred, stepping closer. You were getting mildly shocked. Wasn’r she supposed to be a police officer? "Come on, Leo. We're here to celebrate. Loosen up a little".

Leo felt the awkward tension, realizing he needed a way out of this encounter. That's when he remembered you stood by his side. He turned to you, catching your eye briefly.

"(Y/N)... Babe?", Leonardo said, trying to keep his tone casual as he turned to his friend, noticing your surprised look at the sudden nickname. "We have plans later tonight, don’t we?"

You stared at him for a second, heart skipping a beat when you suddenly realized what was happening. The urgency in his eyes and the way she started to look at you in confusion. The police man the two of you had been talking to looked even more confused by the sudden change in your demeanor. "Yeah, we agreed not to go home too late, since we have that thing with your dad tomorrow".

“I knew there was something”, Leonardo said, acting relieved, before placing a hand on your back, making your knees go a little weak. “Thank you for reminding me, babe. I don’t know what I would do without you”. That’s when Leo pulled you close and placed a kiss on your forehead. You could feel your knees buckle and your head spin as he turned to the woman, and told her he couldn’t go out for a drink or a dance.

That was when she finally took the hint and left, you and Leo watching to make sure she wouldn’t be back. Once she was gone for good, you and Leo let out a sigh of relief, turning back to continue your conversation with the police officer, only to realize he had left, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned to Leonardo with a teasing smile, and smacked him gently on his strong bicep. "You know, you owe me for saving you back there".

Leo chuckled, rubbing his arm as if you had actually hurt him. "I owe you big time, (Y/N). Thanks for being my fake girlfriend".

Your heart warmed and broke at the same time. The word “girlfriend” brought you happiness, but the word “fake” tore it apart. Yet you had thought that was it. That Leo would take a step back and leave you alone. But he didn’t. The rest of the night Leo stayed close to your side, placing a hand on or around you every once in a while. You thought it was because he caught a glance of the police woman or something, and therefore you didn’t think much more about it.

As the night continued one, the two of you found a quieter spot away from the crowd. It was down one of the hallways from the big area the main body of the part was held in. Here the light was dim, with an empty couch with space for the two of you. You took a seat, laughing at a really bad joke Leo had told you. It was nothing new. Every once in a while Leo would make you laugh with his dry humor, to the point where you would be in tears.

“You can’t say stuff like that Leo”, you laughed, drawing away the tears that had formed in your eyes. “We’re surrounded by police”.

Leonardo smiled as you laughed, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He looked into your eyes with a warmth that went beyond their charade. It was a look that made your laughter quite down, feeling excitement and nervousness grow in your stomach. Leo’s eyes just had this power over you, that you couldn’t explain.

"I have something to confess," Leo began, his tone serious yet sincere, causing your breath to hitch for a moment. Leo fidgeted with his hands, looking at them instead of your eyes now. "(Y/N), I... It’s really not easy to say, but I think it’s about time. I… I've had feelings for you for quite a long time now. I just didn't know how to tell you, at least until now". Leo swallowed a lump, still not looking you in your eyes. “When you played my fake girlfriend I realized… how badly I really want to. I mean, how badly I want you to be my real girlfriend. I know it’s strange, but I just couldn’t do this without telling you”.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and a blush crept onto your cheeks as you felt your smile growing big and bright. "Really?”. The happiness in your voice made Leo look up at you. “Because I've kinda had a crush on you too for some time now".

Leonardo smiled, a mix of relief and happiness crossing his face. He breathed out a sigh of relief, his head working to find a way to answer you. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one".

You both chuckled, unsure of what to say or do. You cursed yourself for being so awkward, and Leo yelled at himself for being so nervous around you, even after he had fought an alien from another dimension.

Then Leo finally asked. “(Y/N)? Can I kiss you?”

You could only imagine how you looked when you heard his question. “Of course you can Leo”.

The kiss that followed was soft and unsure, yet with a passionate undertone. Leo held you close with a soft hand on your face, as if he was scared he would break you by accident. But once you placed your arms behind his neck and leaned further into him, the kiss ever so slowly turned more and more passionate. Leo’s hands moving from your face to your back, pulling you closer to him.

Who would have thought that some unwanted attention from a flirty police officer, was the push the two of you needed?

[byuljoonie]

P*$$Y Fairy // pjm

read the title…

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: one shot, quick smut, one take, unedited

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut, extreme dirty talk, spit play, fingering, riding, oral, overstimulation, begging, exhibitionism, dom!jimin sub!reader, nipple play, degradation, dumbification, mild non-con (read at your own risk seriously)

note: This is really for me because I need park jimin right now, biblically, but enjoy if you want at your own risk. Playlists and other works in bio, or tagged under bts fanfic. Submit requests in bio. Yes the Namseok fanfic is still planned to come this Sunday, but who knows I might post it in the middle of next week. Have a great week nasties☆ -dubu

As you and Jimin sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit restaurant, the warm ambiance of your engagement dinner filled the air. You had just savored the last bites of your delectable desserts, relishing in the sweet moments you shared.

However, as the evening came to a close, a flirty waitress approached your table, her intentions clear as day. Ignoring you completely, she leaned in toward Jimin and playfully inquired about the bill, her overt attempts at flirtation leaving you no choice but to dryly chuckle at the waitress's rather poor timing.

Unfazed, Jimin paid the bill without acknowledging the woman's advances, his unwavering devotion to you shining brighter than any fleeting flirtation.

“Did you see how she was practically hanging on you, Jimin?” You said slightly upset at the unwarranted encounter. “Yeah, I noticed, sweetheart. Trust me, it didn't go unnoticed. But you know I only have eyes for you, right?” Jimin said, reaching his hand across the table to rub yours. Admiring the diamond that rested on your delicate finger.

“I know, minie. It's just... It bothers me when people act like that, especially when we're out together,” you said quietly. You moved your hand away from his, grabbing your purse and standing up to leave.

“Y/N, babe. Where are you going?” Jimin said pushing up from the table with a huff. He pushed through the double doors easily catching up with you in the small parking lot. He screamed your name causing you to freeze next to your vehicle.

“You listen to me when I’m talking to you Y/N,” he pushes you against the car, not waiting for you to turn around. “I don’t care about that woman in there, I only need you my love, but you’re pushing your fucking limit,” you gasp out, Jimin’s hand coming in direct contact with your clothed pussy. Your legs shiver in the cool night air, miniskirt flowing effortlessly as the wind grasps ahold of you.

Jimin starts pulling your panties to the side, breathing heavily on your neck as he forcefully grinds against you. His lips are close to your ear, making the hair on the nape of your neck stand in anticipation.

“Look at you darling, already submitting to my touch,” he says whispering into my ear hotly. “This is mine, I’m gonna do whatever I want to you doll, right here where anyone can see you being a pathetic slut.”

Jimin doesn’t bother to give you a warning, he dips two fingers into your wet center, using his free hand to grab your neck. His rough calloused fingers sending you into a frenzy, you tried to stifle your moans, equally afraid and aroused at the thought of getting caught.

His fingers felt like fire inside you, you whimpered at the sweet pain of his unwanted intrusion. Your body betrayed you in every way, his breath was hot against your neck.

He started rubbing you torturously slow, the fabric of your panties pressing into your skin. You felt your arousal drip down your leg, whimpering at how exposed you felt. He left a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck, biting and sucking near your collar bone.

You hissed at the stinging sensation, sighing as he licked over the forming bruise to sooth your sensitive skin.

“Look at how wet you are, such a slutty little thing,” he taunted, you could hear the mocking pout that grew across his plush lips.

You needed him, sinfully, your body reacted before your mind. You clenched around his fingers in desperation. He used his free hand to yank your skirt up, roughly turning you around to face him. He smirked arrogantly, relishing in the control he has over you.

Slowly, he ran his finger along the slit of your pussy, earning another string of pitiful whines from you. “What if we get caught sweetheart? Hmm? You like the idea of someone catching me knuckle deep in your cunt? MY cunt,” he said chuckling at the broken moan you choked out.

“M…minie I think someone’s coming please stop,” you say, trying to move his hands away from your body. Gasping as his grip tightens on your neck.

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

You tried to fight against him, when did his grip get so strong. He moved his hand from your neck, placing it over your mouth as he plunges his fingers back into your pussy.

“Look at how ready you are for me, honey,” he taunts, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your stomach tightening again in response to his touch.

He pins you against the car, ducking down as someone walks in front of your parked vehicle, his fingers moving at lightening speed.

You felt like a dirty whore, getting fingered in a dark parking lot by the man you loved most. He kneads his palm against your clit as his fingers work inside you, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

“Aw I know baby, you gonna cum for me?” He coos, caressing your pussy in a come hither motion, sending sparks through your body. You nodded frantically, clenching around his ring adorned fingers, crying out into his hand as he pulls away before your orgasm.

Your legs shake embarrassingly hard, the knot in your stomach slowly disappearing. “Too bad you have to wait,” he rubs your lower back lovingly, sticking his fingers in his mouth before opening the door for you to enter. You pulled your skirt down hastily, fearing someone would walk by and catch you half naked.

You climbed in quietly, body still reeling from Jimin’s assault. He closed your door quickly making his way into the drivers side door, and pulling out of the dark parking lot.

Your gaze couldn't help but wander to him. His hands, beautifully tanned and veiny, gripped the steering wheel with confidence. The soft moonlight played on his sharp jawline, casting enchanting shadows that accentuated his features.

Lost in admiration, you watched him focus on the road ahead, subconsciously squeezing your legs together as he licked across the plump flesh of his lips.

However, your reverie was abruptly interrupted as he pulled up to your home, reminding you of what was to come.

He turned towards you, tilting his head downward to look at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes widen in suspense, Jimin loving every second of how weak you are.

Even his eye contact was fierce, consuming you as if you were his prey. He eyes you a little longer before unlocking the car doors. He steps out, stalking around to open the door for you.

You don’t say anything, walking hand in hand with Jimin through the threshold of your shared home. Once your shoes are off, you’re being guided to your black sofa.

Jimin sits down coolly, eyes roaming your body carefully. With gaze fixated on your cleavage, he grabs your hand pulling you down to the floor. You fall to your knees with a soft grunt, staring up at him through glossy eyes.

"You see what you did to me, darling," he rhetorically questions, pressing your hands onto his hard on. “Beg for it,” he breathes out calmly, titling his head to the side expectantly.

The warm feeling in your tummy coming back in waves of pleasure. You try to speak but can only muster a feeble whine.

“Look at you in front of me, so sexy. Now fucking beg for it Y/N.” He stared at you, waiting for you to defy him, ready to devour you.

Please…please minie, I need you so bad,” you said panting when he grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly.

“Aww, you sound so pathetic, sweet thing.” He let go of your hair, eyes moving between his zipper and your face. You knowingly move to unzip his pants, a light brown suit tailored perfectly for his body.

He raises up letting you pull them down his muscular legs. Your mouth slightly agape as his dick springs free from its confinement. The pink tip already leaking precum, his size will always make your mouth water. He isn’t long but he’s really thick, girth easily stretching you nearly in half.

You took him into your mouth, choking before his tip could reach the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears, he tasted sweet on your tongue.

He bit his lip as you swirled your tongue around his tip. Groaning and fisting your hair as you licked up the underside of his dick, paying extra attention to the prominent veins.

“Mmm, such a perfect mouth baby.” His hips started to jerk up, causing him to hit the back of your throat. You gagged in response, coughing around him.

You twist your hands around his shaft firmly, roughly sucking on his tip. He groaned your name lowly, hand gripping the soft cushion next to him.

He whimpered as you swallowed around his tip, using one of your hands to play with his balls. Giving them extra attention with how heavy they feel. You craved him dearly, wanting to drain him until you couldn’t take it anymore. You felt his dick twitch in your mouth, making you speed up.

“Look at me baby, look at me with my cock in your mouth.” He commands intensely, smiling at the tears falling from your eyes. He rubs his thumb across your cheek, swiping away the moisture.

He lightly slaps you on your cheek, signaling you to stop. You look up at him in confusion, pulling him from your mouth with a light pop.

He pulled you up by your arms, standing you up and instructing you to lay across his lap. Nervously, you climbed onto his lap, chest coming in contact with the soft black cushion to his right. Your knees rest on the cushion to his left, shivering as you felt a breeze under your skirt.

He unzipped your miniskirt painfully slow, pulling it down your legs and discarding it across the living room. Your panties joining them right after.

He removed the black tie from his shirt, strategically tying your hands behind your back. He ran his index finger down your back until he reached the base of your spine. Chuckling at your body’s reaction to him, you felt his cock twitch against your tummy. Slick against your soft skin, crying to be inside you.

“Such a needy Whore, so stupid and pretty, all for me.” He gushed, bringing his hand down and placing a firm slap on your ass. You hissed at the pain, feeling embarrassed at the arousal dripping down your leg.

“Just a dumb slut, and you’re all mine to use.” He delivered another slap to your ass, the sound echoing through your home. You cried out loudly, sobbing into the sofa cushion.

“I know, baby,” he coos, caressing your ass gently, the cool of his rings soothing your burning skin. He runs a finger between your cheeks, stopping just above the entrance of your core.

“You want me right here baby? Hmm?” He questions running his middle finger over your slit, collecting the wetness to taste. Moaning at the taste, he delivered a powerful slap directly on your pussy.

You screamed in pleasure, squirming on his lap uncomfortably.

“Stop moving and let me see where you need me.” He threatened in your ear, grabbing your throat pulling you backwards toward his face. He placed a kiss on your ear before letting you go, using both of his hands to spread your lips apart.

He moaned at the sight, staring until you felt uncomfortable under his watch. You could feel his eyes on your core, cool air making you clench around nothing.

“Such a pretty hole, Y/N. Gonna fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.” He placed his hands on your hips, carefully lifting you until you were upright on his lap, facing away from him.

He lines himself up and rubs against your pussy, you let out a strangled moaned, struggling against the fabric of his expensive tie digging into your wrists.

He pushes in slowly, you clench unbelievably tight around him, causing him to shudder. He’s so thick you can never fully adjust to his size.

He reaches around sloppily rubbing his index and ring finger over your clit, groaning at the contact you started to bounce on his cock. Taking every inch of his girth, feeling it in your tummy.

“Good girl, take my dick just like that.” He growled speeding up his tempo, rhythmically grunting with every movement. A melody of his name left your mouth, crying as his tip hit your sweet spot just right.

“Mm I love fucking you raw, such a nasty girl taking daddy’s dick like this.” You can’t think straight, the sound of him moving in and out of your pussy is so obscene. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

“Jimin,” you sob out, fighting against your restraints, needing to touch him.

“What do you want, baby?” He grunts in your ear. “Tell me Y/N, tell me what you need.”

You feel your orgasm building, your tummy tightening and tightening with his every thrust.

“Hmmfp…I’m gonna cum, minie please can I cum,” you begged miserably, feeling the stickiness of your love making coating both of your thighs. He pressed the pad of his finger to your clit, rubbing solid circles against you.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

That’s all you needed to hear, shaking uncontrollably you came around his cock. Feeling his movements becoming sloppy as he twitches inside you. You whimper in pain, body over stimulated.

With a few more thrusts, he released inside of you, calling your name out repeatedly. You felt filthy, his cum leaking down his shaft as he lazily fucked into you, milking himself.

He untied your wrists, turning you around to place a kiss on your lips. Your lips molded together perfectly, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. You felt him grow hard again, making you shudder in fear. Too sore for another round but willing to go all night.

He picks you up and carries you to the kitchen table.

“We’re not finished, pet,” you moan his name, arching your back as he sucks harshly on your nipple.

The end.

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia)

7.5K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero helps you out with a sticky situation at the restaurant and you get to know him better.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), very minor angst, unwanted physical touching (not from Pero), petnames (Cookie, baby, princesa, etc.), kissing, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV (discussed), cum eating, reader can wear Pero's jacket and it's long on her, Biker!Pero comes with his own warning.

A/N: I don't know anything about bikes! (Also does anyone have any non-dark biker romance book recs?) Series Masterlist

Pero doesn’t call.  Or text.  Not that night.  Or over the weekend.  By the time the work week rolls around, you make a vow to yourself that you won’t go to visit him during the day unless he does, and consequently you don’t go at all.

Feeling a little hurt, you wonder if maybe you made a bit too much out of what you thought was mutual flirtation.  It was his job, after all, to make it hard to gain access to the restaurant; perhaps he thought that your time together and all your efforts with the cookies and lunches were just a means to an end, and that once you were successful, desire on either of your parts to interact should cease.  That thought makes you even sadder; even though you were trying to find a way upstairs, your daily meet ups with Pero had become more - you had liked him.  He was gruff for sure, but you had enjoyed getting to know him and the discovery that he seemed to be softer than he appeared.  You had thought he enjoyed getting to know you as well.

“I’m sorry he didn’t call, babe,” Dorothy laments, giving you a big hug.

“It’s okay,” you pout, crushed, “…maybe I read too much into it.”

“You’re always so sweet, giving people the benefit of the doubt,” says Eloise, “He really ought to have messaged.”

“Do you think… you would be up for going to Lin?  To eat and drink, I mean,” Dorothy asks, sheepishly.

“Dorothy!!” exclaims Eloise, “We agreed not to-”

“Not to what?” you ask, curious.

The two women look at each other; Eloise looking exasperated and Dorothy trying to look innocent. “Okay, out with it,” you grin.

“So… you know how my friends from college are coming in from out of town this weekend?  I thought… it might be nice to take them to Lin!  It’s this super hot restaurant, still so exclusive, and the food was soooo good last week!  We all loved it!  And they have that extended cocktails list we said we wanted to try, remember?  I feel like it would be such a perfect place to take them!” Dorothy finishes in a hurry.

“You’re right,” you say softly.  You would have given Pero a similar rave review if you had had a chance, “They would love it.  You should totally take them there.”

“The thing is…” Dorothy chews her lower lip, which is generally a sign that she knows she’s about to ask something completely unreasonable, “… we still don’t know how to get it.  Just because we got in once, does that mean we automatically get in again?  Regardless… our chances of getting in or even just finding out how to are probably better if… you’re there?” 

Eloise shoots Dorothy a death glare.

“…but if you rather not see the bouncer guy… it’s totally okay,” Dorothy adds on quickly.

You sigh, but it’s not one of exasperation but of indulgence.  You know if you refuse, the girls would truly let it go, never holding it against you.  But… it’s also such a simple thing for you to do, you can’t really find it within yourself not to acquiesce.  You’ve always been this way: not a people pleaser per say (it’s not in your nature to do anything that truly makes you uncomfortable or against your character), but genuinely happy to extend yourself for others.  If you were to really analyze things, it’s probably that deep down you feel that with the advantages you’ve been afforded, your true grievances in life are little to none; the little things that may be troublesome to you are nothing compared to life’s real misfortunes that you’ve been lucky enough to have avoided.  Why not help if you can, your grateful heart always asks.

And, it’s not like you have to see Pero for more than a minute or two. 

“Ok, we can go,” you smile.  The way Dorothy’s face breaks into an expression of pure joy confirms for you that you’re doing a good thing.  Eloise is a little more cautious; she triple-checks with you later that you’re sure, and you reassure her that you really, truly are.

Pero recognizes Dorothy right away when she strides into the building lobby.  She’s heading up a good-sized group, maybe seven or eight people, and he’s hoping that you’re among the crowd.  As the rest of the party starts to file into the elevator bank, his heart leaps when he sees you bringing up the rear. 

You make brief eye contact with Pero as you pass his desk; the look in your eyes unreadable, but he thinks they’re missing a brightness he’s used to.  Pero wants to talk to you, ask you how you’ve been.  Tell you it’s only been a week but he’s missed you.  Apologize for not calling.  But then he sees Paul’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you after the group.  As he follows, he can’t take his eyes off the sway of your hips and the way this guy is touching you with such familiarity.  Who is this guy, anyways?  Is he your date?  Your boyfriend?

Seething, he reaches in the elevator to swipe the fob and press the button to the restaurant floor, keeping eye contact with you as he wordlessly steps back out into the hall.  You can’t look away from Pero either; you’re not sure if this is the scowl he normally wears to maintain his bouncer authority or if he’s genuinely displeased.

“Man, I’d love a mindless, easy job.  Thanks, pal,” chirps Paul.

You nearly snap your neck turning your head so quickly, unbelieving of Dorothy’s old classmate’s rudeness.  It seems that everyone but Paul takes notice of your horrified expression; you turn to face Pero again, hopefully conveying an apologetic look as the elevator doors close.

---

Pero decides he’s done for the evening.  He calls in someone to cover the rest of his shift and goes upstairs to clock out.  He saw via the computer that you and your friends have been seated in a private room, and he’s sure that you’re in for a fun night of cocktails and good food, maybe even some dancing – he’s not in the mood to see you come downstairs after a night a reverie with that smarmy guy hanging all over you.  Who the hell was that asshole?

Getting his backpack, Pero exchanges his suit jacket for a motorcycle jacket before going by the kitchens to say goodnight to the kitchen and wait staff.  That’s when he spots you.  You’ve tucked yourself against the wall at the very end of the kitchen serving window where the overhang of the counter creates a little nook you’re sinking into.  Pero watches you play on your phone, periodically looking up and scanning the hallway that leads back to the dining room, and that’s when he realizes you’re hiding here.  He can’t think of anything down this way for restaurant goers: there are no patron washrooms, and you don’t appear to be in need of any assistance – there are plenty of staff coming and going but you haven’t made any movement to flag anyone down for help.

Pero takes a moment to admire how beautiful you look tonight; maybe even prettier than he remembers.  Despite not knowing where the two of you stand, he doesn’t think he can pass up this opportunity to speak to you; and although he’s finding your somewhat squirrely behaviour to be adorable, he tells himself that it’s his gentlemanly duty to make sure you’re okay.  Never mind that the dress you’re wearing is doing wonders for your curves, and absolutely nothing for his self control. 

“How come you’re hiding by the kitchen?”

Surprised by Pero’s sudden appearance, you answer a little bit haughtier than you intend, “I’m not hiding!”

“You are!” He can’t help but be playful with you, “Why else would you be tucked away down this-” Pero cuts himself off; he’s just noticed that you’re fidgeting with the hemline of your dress, and not just tugging it down, but wrapping your fingers around a large piece of torn fabric, “How did your dress get ripped?”

You look up at him, eyes wide; you didn't realize it was that noticeable.

“Who did that, Cookie?” Pero’s voice is tight, barely masking his anger, but his eyes are soft, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly you don’t care that he didn’t call - Pero’s here now and he looks like he’s about to kill someone for you; maybe that’s why you drop the hem of your dress and reach for him.  When your hand connects with his chest, it feels so solid and comforting; your body automatically follows, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his chest.  Though caught off guard by your actions, Pero instinctively takes you into his arms, pulling you in close; he brings his lips to your hair and rubs your back soothingly.

“What happened, Cookie?” he asks again when you pull away to look at him with your beautiful, shining eyes, “Who do I have to hurt?”

“Don’t hurt anyone, please.  It’s not worth it,” you lay your head back on Pero’s chest.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You nod, but you seem tired.

“There’s a little terrace where some of us go to take breaks, you want to talk there?” Pero offers.  A quiet spot sounds lovely to you.

Pero keeps his arms encircled protectively around you as he guides you past the kitchens, through what looks like the staff locker room and lounge and onto an adjoining terrace, “No one will bother you here, Cookie.  I promise.”  You sigh comfortably as you take a seat on the patio seating; Pero takes the suit jacket he was wearing earlier out from his backpack and drapes it over your shoulders.

You smile at him gratefully, his presence alone relaxing you.  Pero waits for you to tell him what happened; he doesn’t press or push, just sits across from you and holds your small hands in his.

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, you feel finally comfortable enough to fill Pero in, “The group I’m with tonight, most of them are Dorothy’s friends from college.  They’re fun and nice enough, but there’s this one guy that’s always been a bit handsy.”

Pero’s eyes darken as you continue, “Dorothy, Eloise and I call it ‘octopus hands’.  Just always touching and trying to grab.  Suckers for hands practically. He’s been like this every time we get together with that group, which thankfully is not very often.  Anyways, I had had enough of having to dodge him, so I pushed him away… he grabbed onto my dress and it ripped.  It was an accident.”  You shrug, as if describing the actions of a petulant child.

“And you were hiding from him because you think he might try something?  Get aggressive?”  If he were an animal, you would definitely describe Pero’s hackles as being up. 

You chuckle, “No, I told you I’m not hiding!  I’m avoiding the room.  It’s totally different.”

“Is that so?” smiles Pero.

“I’m trying to avoid the room because I don’t want to try to act like I’m not pissed.  Pretend like things are cool, because that feels annoying to do and I probably won’t be able to do a very good job at it if I’m being honest.  And then there would be a scene,” you say, making a face.

“You don’t think Dorothy will take your side?”

You wave off this concern, “Oh no, I’m not worried about that.  She’s got my back.  And I’ll definitely tell her about it, but I don’t think it’s the right time right now: in front of other people that are friends with Paul, and where everyone has been drinking.  I’d rather not put myself or Dorothy in that position.”

Pero admires the care you’re showing for your friends; if you appeared more upset or avoidant of what had happened, he might gently push you to ignore their feelings and give yourself more consideration.  As it is, you seem fairly in control of your feelings and the situation, so he doesn’t push.

“So, I was just waiting by the kitchens and thought I would go back in with our food when it was ready.  That way I would have something to focus on… instead of punching him in the face,” you finish.

“I’d like to have seen that,” grins Pero, “Is this the same guy who was touching you in the elevator?  The one who wanted an ‘easy job’?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about that, Pero.  That was so unbelievably offensive, I was ready to sock him then.  Yeah, that’s Paul.  I’m sorry,” you look pained at the memory of Paul’s rudeness.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Cookie.  Glad to know that’s not the kind of guy you go for.”

“Nope,” you scrunch you nose up good-naturedly, “I only go for guys who take my number but don’t ever text or call.”

“Oh princesa, I’m so sorry.  I wanted to text, I really tried… I can’t find your number in my phone,” Pero looks down, embarrassed.

“What do you mean?”

Pero unlocks his phone and holds it out opened to the Contacts app, “I looked under your name, then I tried ‘Cookie’, then I just started looking for different cookies: Chocolate Chip, Sugar, Ginger Molasses… I couldn’t find you.”

You take the phone from him and look at him dubiously but ultimately decide that he’s being sincere, “I put it under the cookie emoji.”

“The emoji? Where is it?” Pero really couldn’t look more confused.

Scrolling to the bottom of his contacts list, you show him it’s under ‘#’ and you when you pull it up, the top of the screen displays the silly selfie you took as the contact photo.

“Oh, Cookie… I feel so dumb.  I’m sorry,” Pero looks so much like a dog that’s been scolded that you soften and forgive him immediately. “I should have just texted you right away when you gave it to me,” he types out a quick message and sends it with a whoosh. 

When the notification comes in, you look down at your phone:  I’m sorry.  Forgive me, Cookie? :(

You laugh so hard.  Who would have thought that the scary bouncer with the menacing scar over his eye could be so adorable.  And sweet.  And protective.  And hot.  Your body moves with a mind of its own; to answer his question, you close the space between the two of you and kiss him.

Pero doesn’t know how it’s possible, but your lips are sweeter than your cookies.  He kisses you back softly at first, a gentle introduction of your mouths as he becomes increasingly familiar with the plush feel of your lips, the curve of your soft smile.  When your mouth relaxes into a sigh, followed by an oh, he presses deeper, tongue seeking an invitation; as you open up for him, he pulls you closer and lets his tongue do the talking, saying all the words that he wasn’t able to this past week.  Your hands wrap around his neck and thread through Pero’s hair as you let out a soft hum of contentment; Pero smiles at the sound and strokes your tongue with his a few more times before pulling off your lips, chasing after them with a couple of light pecks.  Opening your eyes, you answer with a flutter of soft kisses to the corner of his upturned mouth before snuggling in under his jaw, “You’re forgiven.”

“Do you want to get out of here, princesa?”

You begin to nod but then stop yourself, “Oh, I would love to, Pero, but… I already ordered and I wouldn’t want that food to go to waste.  Also, do you think I could just pay for it separate so I don’t stick the others with the bill?  Still… it would be a waste.  I hate food waste.  Plus, I can’t just ghost Dorothy and Eloise… I have to at least say good bye…”

“What did you order?” Pero asks, simply.

“The Chilean sea bass.  Oooh noooo… just thinking about it is making my mouth water.  Ok, I’ll admit it, I don’t want to leave because I want to eat it so badly,” you joke.

“Will you let me take care of it, Cookie?”  You nod even though you don’t know what he means to do.

“I’ll be 5-10 minutes, you can stay out here or in the lounge if you want.  No need to hide by the kitchen.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you smile as Pero bends down to kiss you lightly.

“Fine, you can avoid in here if you want.  I’ll be back soon, hermosa,” and he leaves before you can ask about this new nickname that he’s added to the ever-growing roster.

When Pero is gone, you check your phone and see a few messages from the girls:

Where did you go?

Are you okay?

Was Paul being weird?

You type back a quick response: I’m fine!  Yes, he was being a weirdo!  But Pero found me, so…

A string of exclamation points and celebratory gif responses come in in quick succession.  You’re giggling and typing out responses as fast as you can when Pero returns with a heavy paper bag in his hand, “It’s all taken care of, princesa.”

You peek in the bag while Pero puts on his backpack, “I didn’t order all that.”

“I have to eat too, you know,” Pero pretends to scowl at you before kissing you quickly, “plus there’s a few appies and a dessert thrown in there, too.”

“Can… I pay?” It looks like a full feast.

“Don’t worry about it, Cookie.  Staff perk.” 

Not sure you believe him, you look at Pero skeptically, but he cups your face with his hands and strokes your cheek gently before giving you a deep kiss that leaves you dizzy, so you decide to just go with it.

“Ready to go say goodbye to your friends?”  Nodding, you take Pero’s outstretched hand; he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you back to the dining room your friends are in. 

When you walk through the door, Pero drops your hand in favour of curling his palm around your waist protectively and walking a step behind you like a watchful guard dog.  You can only imagine the glower on his face as the room quiets and everyone stares at you; you would roll your eyes and laugh if not for the fact that you see Paul get up from his seat, only to sit down immediately with one glare from Pero. 

“I’m going to go, babes,” you say apologetically when Dorothy and Eloise come to give you hugs.  They both give you big smiles and so many kisses, never begrudging you for leaving – their only request that you promise to text when you make it home.  Blowing them kisses and waving to everyone, even Paul, you breeze out of the room tucked under Pero’s arm with his lips pressed to your hair. 

In the elevator on the way down, Pero helps you button up his jacket that you still have draped over your shoulders before pulling you in by his collar for another searing kiss that lasts the entire way to the ground floor; still light headed from his affection, it takes you a moment to register that he’s walking you towards to a sports bike parked just outside the doors.  Pero is pulling a black bike helmet out of his backpack when you stutter, “We’re going on that?”

“You ever been on a bike before, Cookie?” Pero smirks.

You shake your head, shyly, “Just scooters and stuff… never… a crotch rocket.”

Pero laughs uproariously, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”  And you believe him.

Taking a walk around the bike, you can’t help but admire its sleek design as you run your fingers over the letters on the front frame.  Even though the engine is off, you can feel the bike’s power emanating off the metal; you don’t know anything about bikes, but you can appreciate a well-designed machine when you see one.  You can tell that a lot of care and time has been poured into this vehicle - loving upkeep and carefully selected mods (even though you have no idea what those would be); this motorcycle is clearly a labour of love and you’re starting to feel excited about getting to take a ride on it.  Pero watches you as you take in his bike, appreciating the way your gentle fingers skim over the frame, the handlebars, and then the seat of his Ducati; he spies the glint in your eyes go from trepidation, to awe, to excitement and suddenly he can’t wait to take you out on the open road.

“How do I get on?” 

Pero points to the little foot peg over the back wheel and holds out his arm to help you up.  You’re incredibly grateful for the extra coverage from the length of Pero’s jacket as you grab a hold of Pero’s steady forearm, hike up your left leg to step on the foot peg and swing yourself over the backseat as you would a horse.  Planting your foot firmly on the peg on the other side of the bike, you immediately close your legs; you’re almost thankful for the rip in your dress since it provides you with a little more give to spread you legs over the smooth back seat slant without flashing everyone on the street.  As it is, your dress is hiked up near the top of your thighs and you’re depending on the flaps of Pero’s jacket for some semblance of modesty.  Pero is kneeling next to the bike putting the food in his backpack when he sees you drop your foot from the peg and let your bare leg dangle down, lightly swinging it without your heels ever touching the ground.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything sexier in his whole life.  You’re using both your hands to hold your dress to the seat, leaning forward following the natural decline of the seat and smiling broadly at him, “Where are we going?”

Straightening up, Pero grins, “I can take you anywhere you like, princesa.  If you want to go home and have dinner by yourself, I’ll take you.  But if you’re up for it, we can go to a nice terrace with a view and have ourselves a little picnic?”

You nod at that option and bite your lip a little at how cute Pero looks as he puts on his backpack so it sits on his front like a baby carrier.  Then he does something a little unexpected: he reaches out with his helmet in both hands and holds it over your head, “Cookie, I only have one helmet, so this will have to do, okay?”  When you nod, Pero slowly lowers the helmet over your head then pops open the visor so you can still see him as he adjusts the strap under your chin.  It’s not bad but there’s definitely a little room for your head to wobble around; the inside of the helmet smells vaguely like Pero’s cologne and you feel a warmth spread through you as breath his scent in – when Pero leans back to inspect his handiwork, you give a little giggle and wobble you head around, “I’m a bobblehead.”

Pero laughs and reaches in through the visor opening to pinch your nose, “Ok, when we’re riding, keep your legs on the pegs and hold on to me tight, okay?  If anything’s wrong, tap my arm, and if you want me to slow down, tap my leg.  Ready?”

You give him a big smile that you’re not sure he can see and an enthusiastic thumbs up; before Pero flips down the helmet visor, he definitely sees your bright eyes shining with excitement.  Even though he knows you’re perfectly capable, he makes a show of helping raise your leg up and placing your foot back on the foot peg.  One of his strong hands holds onto your ankle while the other gently runs up your calf and brushes your knee, sending a shiver down your spine.  When Pero repeats the action with your other leg, you let him have complete control to handle and position you any way he wants and he feels his crotch start with how good it feels to have you soft and pliant in his hands.  Once satisfied with your positioning, Pero skates his hand up your thigh, skirting your raised hemline, and when he gives you a light squeeze to let you know he’s done, you inhale sharply and clench down on nothing. 

After Pero swings his leg over the frame of the bike and puts on his gloves, he waits for you to wrap your arms securely around his middle before starting the ignition.  As the bike roars to life, you give a little squeal of delight that Pero can hear even through the helmet and he smiles to himself.  Revving the engine a few times for effect, he takes off carefully but still feels you grip him tighter as you’re jerked back slightly; he can’t say he’s sorry.  Picking up speed as he weaves through the streets, he feels you rest your helmet on his upper back and his chest swells at how easily you’re taking to riding.

After about 15 minutes, Pero pulls up to another office building and cuts the engine.  Helping you take off the helmet, he finds you giddy with a big smile on your face; as you smooth down your hair, you exclaim, “That was so much fun!!”  The ride had been thrilling; you know Pero wasn’t going that fast for your sake, but you found the rush of the wind blowing past you and the freedom and danger of being so open on the road to be exhilarating all on its own.  The hum of the engine had been an unexpected comfort and the vibrations of motor reverberating through you had kept you alert and excited throughout your short journey.  Not to mention that being so close to Pero and his warmth, sinking in to the feeling of security he provides, has you turned on and tingling.  Finding your enthusiasm infectious, Pero helps you off the bike and leads you up to the building to which he gains access with a swipe of a fob he produces from his jacket pocket.

“You have one of those fobs for every building in the city?” you tease.

Pero puts his finger to his lips, “Restaurant industry secret, shhhhh,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

A short elevator ride later, Pero brings you to an empty terrace with a beautiful view of the city lights; you gaze around in awe as he starts laying out the food.

It’s a wonderfully romantic dinner.  The conversation flows easily, and you learn a little more about your grouchy bouncer.  You’re only initially surprised to learn that William, the restaurant manager and sometimes host, is Pero’s best friend, and that the two of them have worked together for years at various different restaurants.  Remembering William’s easy smile and friendly demeanor from when he sat your party both of the times you’ve dined at Lin, you giggle at the obvious dichotomy between the two friends.  If only potential restaurant patrons knew that big golden retriever energy awaited them at the end of the elevator ride should they make it past the scary Cerebus downstairs.  When Pero asks you what you’re laughing at, you simply ask him if he and William have always worked their current roles; apparently not - they both started out as bus boys and worked their way through the kitchen, though Pero’s never had the inclination to work front of house the way William has.  “You don’t say,” you jest, to which Pero gives you his most fearsome glare.  You’re not the least bit intimidated, especially when he follows up with the gentlest forehead kiss.

Between bites of the mouthwatering sea bass, you’re happy to discover that in addition to a common love of food, you and Pero have also both travelled extensively; to your mutual delight, you realize that somehow, you’ve eaten at some of the same restaurants in Europe and Asia.  When you both claim to know the best udon shop in Toyko, you agree to say the name at the same time - doubling over in laughter when you both name the same hole-in-the-wall in Shinjuku.  Throughout the easy flowing conversation, Pero finds ways to stay close and you welcome his every touch: a caress of your hair near the ear, a stroke of your knee under the table, a kiss to your hand.  With the sun now fully set and the chilly evening air giving you goosebumps, Pero pulls you close to his side - tucking your bare legs in between his to keep you warm as you finish dessert.  Pero looks into your eyes with longing as you both savour the last bites of the rich lychee flavoured flan.  When he helps wipe away an errant sugar smudge near the corner of your mouth with his thumb, he brings his face so close to yours that you’re caught short of breath.  He really is so handsome, you think before his mouth descends on yours and you get lost in the way he licks and softly groans into you.  Your tongue chases his as you open for him, and you gasp when Pero, palm under your ass, pulls you into his lap fully one handedly. 

Wrapping you arms around Pero’s neck to run your hands through his hair, you moan as his hands roam your back, pulling you closer against him still.  The kissing is downright urgent: a mirage of open mouths, panting, devouring.  Needing air, and a break if you’re honest with how close you are to just sinking down on him on this terrace, you bite down on Pero’s lower lip and nibble a little before murmuring, “Pero, please take me home.”

Pero’s eyes never leave you the entire time the two of you pack away the containers and make your way back to his bike, his look dark and wanting.  If he takes his time helping you on the bike, letting his hands trail up and down your legs, eyes lingering on yours before he flips down the visor, who can blame him.  If you press yourself tight against his back while he weaves through the streets, inching your hands lower and lower on his torso, seeking out his upper thigh for purchase when he accelerates, who can blame you.

By the time Pero parks in front of your building, the thrill of the ride and the hum of the bike between your legs has only amplified your want; you’re positively dripping for him.  You can barely keep your hands to yourself on the elevator ride up and Pero is on top of you the moment your front door closes.  Your hands fly to take off his jacket, his shirt, reaching down to frantically unbutton his pants without shame; stopped only when he insists on undressing you first, growling, “Need to take this dress off, hermosa.  Don’t want you wearing anything another man has touched for a minute longer.”

You step right in Pero’s space, locking desperate eyes with him as he reaches behind you to undo your zipper; he drags it down slower than necessary, drawing out the process.  When you whine at how long it’s taking, Pero chuckles, “Patience, princesa,” before pulling the zipper down the rest of the way and letting the fabric slip over your shoulders and pool around your feet.

“Holy shit, Cookie,” Pero breathes as he takes in your matching black lace lingerie set, “I think my heart just stopped.”  Suddenly shy under his gaze, you turn away to lead him to the bedroom, but he stops you and pulls you back so suddenly you crash into his chest.  Holding you flushed against him by a strong hand on the back of your neck, Pero uses his free hand to tip your chin up to look at him, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” before kissing you like his life depends on it.  His lips crush to yours, tongue mapping every slope and dip of your mouth, his one hand now gently gripping your neck under your jaw - caging you within his hands so that you’re left to the mercy of his desire.  One rough palm moves down your body to explore all your soft curves, lightly groping and claiming all the spots that make you moan into his mouth.  Pero walks you slowly to the couch in the middle of your living room so gradually you don’t even notice until the back of your legs hit the cushions.  He releases you at this same moment so that the soft impact has you toppling back, sat on the couch with a light bounce; you can only watch with lust hooded eyes as Pero lowers himself down to the floor onto his knees in front of you. 

“Pero,” you whisper, needy.

“I’ve got you, princesa,” breath hot, Pero kisses down your neck, hands holding your legs open so he can slot his wide frame between, getting as close to your body as possible. 

“Ohhhh, god, Pero… baby,” you whimper as his mouth worships your neck, nipping at your décolletage, then licking a wet stripe down to the valley between your breasts.  When his hands abandon their grip on your thighs to trail up, cupping your breasts, you can’t help but buck into his abdomen, seeking more of him.  Face buried in your chest, Pero chuckles, “Such an eager, pretty girl.  Tell me what you need, Cookie.”

Pulling down the cups of your lace bra so that your tits spill out, Pero gropes you roughly before his fingers zero in your nipples, alternating rolling, pinching and tugging on your peaks in an excruciating delicious pattern.  Smiling devilishly at you, “I’m waiting, princesa.”

“Fuc- oh, Pero, please.  Please.  Need your mouth, please,” you plead, desperation lacing every word. 

Without warning, Pero dips his head to take a breast in his mouth, and you gasp in pleasure, hands flying to bury themselves in his hair to grip his soft curls as his nibbles and swirls your hardened nipple.  Back arching off the back of the couch, you try to muffle you moans as Pero’s efforts with his mouth and hands electrify you to your core, heat pooling in your underwear. 

“Don’t do that, hermosa.  Want to hear you, want to hear what I do to you,” Pero comes off your breast with an obscenely wet smack of his lips before switching over to your neglected breast, his hand taking over for where his mouth left off.

“OH!  Pero, feels so good!  Right there, oh, ow!  Oh god, yessss,” the sting of Pero’s attention on your peaks only adding to your ecstasy.  Pero uses your lifted back to his advantage, his free hand now able to claw down your spine, grabbing and massaging your ass.  Having his hands so close to your pussy is sending you out of your mind; Pero’s hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once and you don’t know what to focus on.  It’s almost too much and you gently push him away so you can catch your breath; the dopey, shit-eating grin he gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He does know, and Pero’s damn proud of it.  He’s never seen anything sexier in his life than you splayed out in front of him with eyes glassy from near over stimulation, tits pulled out of your bra and lightly bouncing as you pant, all while you pussy tries to grind down onto him for some friction.  He’s rock hard and he hasn’t even tasted you yet. 

Pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, swollen from where you bit them to keep yourself from crying out, Pero moves back slightly so he can admire you some more.  He can’t believe he’s here right now, that he gets to be the one that makes you feel this good; another smaller, possessive part of him triumphs that Paul never stood a chance - that you were always going to be his tonight.  And now he’s about to show you he’s worthy.

When you look back down at Pero with a lazy grin, breathing more even, Pero presses forward, “I’m going to taste you now, okay Cookie?”  Your soft ‘yes, please’, is all Pero needs to hear before he dives forward towards your dripping core.  Pressing hungry kisses over your panties, Pero growls when he feels the soaked through fabric on his tongue, “So fucking wet, princesa.  Is this all for me?”  All you can do is moan in assent as Pero continues to make out with your pussy.  His mouth never leaving you, Pero tugs off your underwear; tossing the wet scrap of lace aside to reveal your glistening cunt.  Running his fingers through your folds to spread your arousal up and over your clit, he takes a moment to drink in your near pornographic sounds before he lowers his mouth and positively feasts. 

You’re entire being feels like it’s been lit up.  Pero’s tongue presses against your seam, dipping in and out, teasing you with broad strokes and indulgent swirls.  His nose nudges at your clit over and over, as his entire head moves up and down, focused only on bringing you pleasure.  You think he’s giving you a break to collect yourself when he butterfly kisses up to your now throbbing clit, but reprieve is the furthest thing from Pero’s mind.  Just as you’re crying out his name in a heavenly melody, he breaches your tight hole with two of his thick fingers and seals your clit in between his lips and sucks.  You squirm, trying to get away from the sudden onslaught, but Pero lays his other arm across your stomach to hold you down so that all you can do is take, take, take.

“I-I-. I’m so close, Pero.  Ohhhh nghhhh, baby, ohhh, so c-close,” you’re simpering, eyes closed and head thrown back, desperate for more while simultaneously sure you can’t handle it. 

“Open your eyes, princesa.  Eyes on me while I eat your perfect pussy,” Pero commands, nuzzling your aching clit with the tip of his nose to get your attention.  When you look down, you lock eyes with Pero as his takes your nub between his lips again, lightly flicking his tongue while his curls bouncing against his forehead from the force with which his fingers drive into you.  When you grab onto his hair and pull him deeper into you, he hums his approval and the vibration does you in, you step off the cliff and let go as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave.  Pero continues to finger fuck you through your high while rising on one knee to palm at your neglected tits and kiss you long and tender. 

“Oh, Pero. Ohhh, that was- oh god,” you can barely string together your words; you’re completely wrung out and spent.  You’re now Pero’s pliable fuck doll, good and ready for his cock and not much else. He lifts your legs and maneuvers you into a laying position on the couch and it’s all you can do to try and keep your eyes open while you wait for him undo his pants and free his hard cock.  He’s magnificent: long with an impressive girth, a thick perfect vein runs along the underside of his length, ending at a bulbous weeping head; you want to feel the heft of him on your tongue.  Your hunger must show in your eyes and the way your plush lips instinctively part because Pero chuckles, “Another time, Cookie.  Right now, I’m going crazy every second I’m not in this tight cunt.”  He looks around the room looking for his backpack to get a condom, when, as if you’re reading his mind, you offer dreamily, “Pero, I’m clean.  If you want…”

His dick jumping at your words, Pero want you to be certain, “I’m clean too, hermosa.  Are you sure?”

“Want to feel you, baby,” your eyes dark with lust, “Fuck me bare, Pero.”

How’s he supposed to last when you have a mouth like that? “Fuck, princesa,” he breathes as he runs his tip through your dripping folds, adding to the sheen of leftover slick he transferred from his fingers; Pero fists his cock and coats it in your release to ready himself for your tight hole.  Hovering over you, he lines himself up to your entrance and captures your mouth in a passionate kiss as he slowly pushes in.  Every quick inhale of air you take to replace what he pushes out of your lungs is music to Pero’s ears.  Your tight walls almost choke him as he feels you spread your legs further, one leg now dangling off the edge of the couch in order to accommodate his size.  Pero is remiss to leave your lips, but he’s unable to resist the temptation to lean back and watch your face as you take his full length.  You hold his gaze amid your lust-filled haze, a blissed-out smile spreads across your beautiful face that cracks only when you lips form a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing again; Pero is hypnotized by this pattern repeating itself over and over as he pushes in deeper into your cunt.  When he finally bottoms out, you let out a breathy ‘Fuck’ before pulling him in for a slow and patient, soul affirming kiss.

Full. You feel so full.  “Taking me so well, princesa.  God you feel so perfect around my cock,” purrs Pero,  peppering your face and neck with soft, soothing kisses; waiting for your go ahead to move.  When you give it, he starts slow; dragging his cock nearly all the way out, before pushing back in with the same tempered control – you reward him with a call of his name and praise on how good it feels to be split open.  Over and over, he thrusts into you with the restraint of saint until he feels your arousal start to drown his cock, and only then does he pick up the pace; you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into his back to press him deeper, encouraging him to fuck you harder until he’s driving his cock into your cunt with a force that punches the air out of your lungs every time.  His grunts combined with his filthy words affirming how you were made for him, how he wants to stay buried in you, how you’re creaming so pretty around him, push you closer and closer to your edge again.

Snaking his hand between your bodies to toy with your sensitive clit, Pero feels you clenching down, “Come for me, Cookie.  You look so perfect when you come, need to see you come on my cock.”  You want to please him so.  You’ll give him everything he asks for, so long as he never stops looking at you the way he is right now: wrecked, desperate, devoted.  Doubling down on his attention to your pulsating bud, Pero draws perfect circles with his thumbs as he continues to rut into you with abandon, chasing both of your releases.  This time, when you come, your back lifts off the couch and Pero catches you, pulling you close as you shout out his name over and over into his shoulder, biting down and sucking into his skin so to muffle the string of obscenities rolling off your tongue.

The sting of pain from your teeth brings Pero to his precipice, and he manages to choke out, “Where do you want me, princesa,” before laying you down gently and pulling out.  Still lightheaded and cock drunk, you gaze through your lashes at Pero and almost shy, request, “Paint my tits please, Pero.”

Fisting himself furiously, the timidness of your tone in contrast to the lewdness of your words sends a tightness through Pero’s whole body right before he jerks and splashes ropes of cum all over your pretty breasts.

When he’s done, he steps off from over you and kneels by your head, kissing you appreciatively.  He reaches to grab a box of tissues but when he offers them to you, you giggle and swipe your fingers through his milky spend and pop your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean.  Pero feels his softening dick make a valiant attempt to jump back to life as he watches you clean every last drop of his cum from your chest, licking your fingers and swallowing with a hum.  After he helps you up to your feet, you cup Pero’s face in your hands, stroking his scruff with your thumbs, and he melts under your tender affections.  “Stay over?” you look up, doe eyed. 

Grabbing you at your waist and sweetly kissing you as he walks you backwards toward the bedroom, Pero grins wickedly, “Of course, Cookie.  I’m not done with you yet.”