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fillinforlater · 5 months

Text

Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already.

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you.

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess.

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest.

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly.

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her.

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body.

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you.

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung.

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out.

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!”

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock.

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them.

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands.

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh.

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out.

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed?

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph.

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead.

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last.

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous.

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing.

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips.

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties.

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good.

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately.

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her.

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product.

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious.

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type.

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber.

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs, unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before.

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise.

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before.

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?”

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly.

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend.

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal.

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch:

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit.

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

“Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone.

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged.

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies.

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk.

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way.

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision.

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth.

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips.

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll.

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet.

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on.

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake.

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected.

“And you will collect all of them.”

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thisaccountisagainstmywill · 2 months

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BG3 Characters Safest Driver Headcanons

I've been thinking about that poll from months ago way too much, so I've pulled this from my drafts. In this essay, I will explain why Boo is the best driver. Astarion: Terrible. Absolutely terrible driver. He is doing his makeup with the visor down, looking at the mirror more than the road. Suspend your disbelief, he's driving in this universe. He can use mirrors. ♥ You have to grab the steering wheel, regularly. Without warning, the man twists around to find his purse in the back seat because he wants a different eyeliner than what he grabbed. You are on aux duty. He hates everything you've picked. 2/10, he lawyered his way into that license Gale: You would think he would be safe, but then you remember that Gale didn't pay attention in boring classes. And how hard could driving really be?? The man knows how to drive perfectly textbook. He also thinks he knows how to do it better than everyone else. He does not adapt well to poor drivers. The roads are full of poor drivers. He is yeling "Zipper!" at the merging traffic. You spend five minutes in the parking lot so he can find just the right song for the trip.

6/10, you will probably not die Halsin: The man drives slow, I'm sorry. He's fuel efficient as you can get with the windows down. He pulls over and stops traffic for ducks crossing the road, no matter what the current road conditions are. He stops to show you the new tree the neighbor got. He is a Yellowstone Park tourist. He wants to show you the world, one traffic-stopping mid-road parking job at a time. There is no music, we are listening to nature today. 4/10, you will be rear-ended with him and not the way most people want Jaheira: I stand by what I said last time: Jaheira reminds me of so many older women I know. She drives like she wants someone to start shit with her. She's so conditioned by having 5 kids fighting in the backseat at all times that every time she's behind the wheel she's having Vietnam-level flashbacks. Her blood is pumping in her ears. There is no road, there is only the red of her vision. She won't start the road rage incident directly, but by god, she will end it. (You tried to ask about music, but the look she gave you when asked killed the question.) 5/10, you make it to your destination intact. But at what cost? Your pants are a different color at the end of the trip than they were at the beginning. Karlach: Karlach is talking with her hands while she drives. She's fiddling with the radio constantly. You've blown four red lights. Three of them were the same red light because she took a wrong turn. She will not use GPS, she's got the vibe of where she's going. She was trying to show you something on her phone at the same time. It cannot wait. It was so good you have to see it right now. The tunes are so loud she hasn't heard the sirens behind her. 4/10, the tunes almost make up for it Lae'zel: You are helping her check her mirror distance before you get in the car. You are buckled in before the car even starts. You are not allowed to touch the light in the car if it is dark out. She was taught that it's illegal to have on at night and she takes that shit seriously. You are on blindspot-watching duty at all times. You're not allowed to have music on the in car, it is a distraction. 7/10, we are efficient, but we are miserable Minsc: Minsc cannot drive. Minsc was meant to drive today, but Minsc got into the wrong seat. We are all relieved. Jaheira trained him wrong on purpose and will kill you if you correct him. 0/10, don't even try. He will survive the accident, you will not. Minthara: Minthara, light of my life. She is gremlin cackling and riding bumpers the whole time. People are pulling off constantly to get away from her. You are white-knuckling in the passenger seat and are too afraid to let go of the bitch-bar. You pray her airbags are up to date because your life has not stopped flashing before your eyes since you got onto the road. We are exclusively listening to The Flight of the Valkyries. 7/10, it is shockingly efficient when no one else is on the road anymore

Shadowheart: I have been in many a 'Shadowhearts' car. The car is more of a problem than she is. She drives the type of car that makes people go, "You live like this?" She drives a manual. She was not trained to drive a manual. Almost every single dash light is on, the ones that aren't had their bulbs die out years ago. We don't know how old that trash is, but it lives here now. She has one of those cassette players that has to hook into your phone to come out the speakers. Good luck finding the right adaptor in the mess. 4/10, girl get your shit together Wyll: Wyll is the best driver, hands down...when he is alone. Like all things in his life, his greatest flaw is being too polite. He turns his whole fucking head to look at you when you talk because that is the polite thing to do. The road is secondary to how important your conversation and companionship are to him. And you can't not talk him! He's asking you genuine questions about your day because he's interested. You get to listen to whatever you want and he's totally down for it even if it's not normally his thing. He'll find something he likes about it. Alone: 100/10, he somehow makes everyone better drivers by just being on the road With you: 5/10, Wyll, please, look at the road. ;_;

Boo: My eyes are closed. It's better this way. We made it there in record time. I don't know how it happened. I don't need to know how it happened. ?/10, it's best if you don't think about it

#bg3 #bg3 shitpost #shitpost headcanons #astarion #gale #bg3 gale #karlach #lae'zel #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #wyll #bg3 wyll #halsin #minthara #minsc #minsc and boo #boo #bg3 boo #jaheira

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illusionsdelusions101 · 4 months

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Bet~Pedri Gonzalez

Type~Fluff with a bit of kissing

Pedri was an amazing friend. And he called you an amazing friend too. And doing everything together would definitely result in someone falling in love with the other person, right? Sure. Whatever you say. Pedri and you made a bet a year after you met.

You were sitting on the couch watching some cheesy friends to lovers movie when you said “Ugh, why would anyone be with their friend? It’s so awkward, you’ll have nothing to talk about!” You complain and munch on some popcorn, Pedri raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Whatever you say, it seems sweet.” He points out. You scoff and roll your eyes. “Sure. Within a week it would be just radio silence from each other. Pedri, can we just stay friends?” You look up at him. He turns to you “Like a bet that we don’t fall in love with each other?” He gave the bowl of popcorn to you. You take it and then nod. You shook hands and an agreement was formed. Don’t fall in love.

A year later

“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?? YOU MADE THAT BET??” Your friend screams at you on the phone. You cringe at the memory while straightening your hair for a party you decide to attend with Pedri. “Look, I made it as a joke! I didn’t think i’d actually fall in love but he keeps up bringing jokes whenever we’re around Mikky and Frenkie like “Thank god that will never be us!” hits me on the shoulder and runs to the pitch then I always get a reminder how I fucked up!” You put the straightener down and groan. “Y/n. Get that man tonight or someone else will. You know your red dress? Wear that and he’ll swoon!” Your friend makes kissy noises and you groan again. “Fine! Fine! I have to go. Call you later?” You pick up the phone and press the hang up button. You go into your wardrobe and pick out a red bodycon dress. It was time to make this boy yours.

You show up to the party, hosted in a club and walk inside after paying the taxi driver. You didn’t spot Pedri immediately, you also didn’t come together because he thought a lot of fans would assume your together and he didn’t want that for you. You sat down at the bar, the club already full of dancing, electronic music and a strong smell of alcohol. You order a martini and play with the toothpick after you downed it. You glance at the door. When was he gonna be here?

Pedri was shuffling through the crowd of bodies, pushing and shoving a bit sometimes when he finally made it over to the bar, he saw you in the red dress, making his cheeks red and not from the booze. But when he saw you talking to some other guy, he was sent into a quiet rage. Yes, he liked you. But that stupid bet you made felt real so he was respecting your wishes, but if having a relationship with some fuckface then yeah, he was gonna break it. He made his way to you and tapping you on the shoulder. As you turn around, he sees that the guy has put his hand on your thigh. That was the final straw.

“Let’s go.” He said. You look at his confused. “What? I mean alright, you’re my ride so.” You get up, feeling the man’s hand slip off your thigh. “Nice to meet you.” You smile politely. He says the same and you walk away with Pedri. You made the way into his car and after being inside for a minute, he still hasn’t turn the car on. “Pedri, are we-“ “I don’t wanna see you with another guy.” He says, gripping the steering wheel. “What? Pedri, you can’t say stuff like that.” You look at him exasperated. He looked at you and after one minute he was kissing you on the lips. You pull him away a tiny bit and with red cheeks and heavy breathing you ask him “What about the bet?” You gulp.

“Screw the bet, your mine princesa.” He smirks and goes to kiss you again.

#oneshot #x reader #football #soccer #fluff #la liga #fc barcelona #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri #pedri gonzalez #smut?

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6lostgirl6 · 1 year

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Can you do a request for me with Hannibal x Fem Reader where she starts seeing him as a patient and you reveal to him that you have kinda gray morals when it comes to murder and stuff like that and over the course of about 6 months or so you two start falling for each other but he tries to keep it professional until he can’t anymore and fires you as a patient which upsets you until he tells you why he did it (which was so he could date you)

Unexpected Romance

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

TW: slight meltdown, hints of murderous thoughts, dependence, slight angst, arguing, fighting, happy ending

You sighed, walking out of the building that once held your third psychiatrist of the month, clutching onto the white paper labeled 'referral.' It felt like a slap in the face, sitting in a comfortable office chair and spilling your deepest secrets to someone you barely knew, only for them to refer you to someone else.

'I don't know how else to help you.'

They would question you, offering you a false sense of security, yet when their prescribed medications and deeply-rooted questions did nothing, they simply lost hope in rekindling your sense of morality.

You were...beyond saving...

You slammed your car door shut, flinging the piece of paper onto your passenger seat where it lay abandoned, seemingly mocking you that it would add to your collection of your previous referrals, prescriptions, and office information. You sniffled, staring at the leather of your steering wheel. The next second, you were screaming, crying, and slamming your fist against the steering wheel as if it insulted you.

"Fuck!" You yelled, clutching your sore knuckles, staring at the bruises that were already starting to form from the force of your rage. "Fuck..."

You sniffled, staring into your rearview mirror, hastily wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face, eyes bloodshot and nose threatening to plug up from your excessive crying. You tried calming down, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your first psychiatrist taught you about breathing exercises.

Yet, those techniques didn't stop you from the plague that invades your subconscious. The images of your family murdered, blood staining every crevice...

You shook your head before glancing over at the piece of paper, sighing to yourself as you reached over, picking it up. The name of your new therapist stared back at you, promising you of more false promises and hurt.

Dr. Lecter.

A few weeks later, you were sitting in the waiting room waiting for your first session. Well, first session with your new therapist. You were picking your nails as you watched the clock, dreading the unavoidable. The minutes were ticking by, seemingly mocking you of your adversity.

You were anxious all morning, pacing in your room, dressed and prepared only a few hours ahead of schedule. The drive was hellish, thoughts of canceling the appointment, suffering a fee and turning back haunted you. Now, you were in the waiting room with a racing heart, the pattering of the raindrops outside distracting you.

'I am beyond help...'

"Miss (L/N)?" A deep-toned voice asked.

Your head snapped, mind clearing as you faced the person that had called your name. Standing by the door, keeping it open with a charming yet polite smile upon his face, was your new and fourth psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter

"Sorry, yeah, that's me." You said, standing from your seat but keeping your distance, you simply didn't want to barge into his office. You gave him a small smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the beginning of your session. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter."

"Likewise." He replied, stepping to the side with the door still opened for you. "Shall we begin with our session for today?"

"Of course." You walked past him, nodding in thanks before stepping into his office, maintaining from letting out a gasp of surprise over the vastness of his office. If you hadn't known this was his office, you would have guessed it was. The room screamed elegance and filled with decor one would see in an art museum.

"You have a lovely office." You complimented, looking around the room as Dr. Lecter closed the door and walked over to his desk, picking up some papers.

"Thank you, I quite enjoy displaying decorum through interior decorating." He replied, almost in a teasing way. "I apologize that you've been waiting a few weeks before we could start. Your psychiatrist had to send your information over from previous sessions."

"I wish it were longer, actually." You stated halfheartedly, finally taking a seat when he gestured silently towards one of his many available chairs nearby, nodding in thanks.

"Not very fond of sessions are you, miss (L/N)?" He asked, glancing your way as he shuffled through some of your paperwork, most likely your old medications and lack of diagnoses.

"I'm not particularly fond of wasting my time talking about my issues until the person trying to help me figures out I'm just incurable." You refused to return his gaze, fiddling with your nails. "They can't figure out what's wrong with me."

"There is no such thing as being incurable, there's only being overlooked."

"How do you figure?" You asked in confusion, looking up to watch him place down the papers and take a seat across from you. You didn't like the way he refused to look away from you, it made you...fuzzy.

"I believe your experience with your previous psychiatrists are, in better terms, unfit to handle someone like you." He paused for a moment, "You need someone that is able to understand you, discover your innermost self and I'm simply a better fit."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, glancing away and unable to understand that fuzzy feeling you were feeling in your chest. "You make it seem so undemanding." You only glanced back when he called your name.

"You, my dear, are not incurable."

You were speechless, you didn't know what else to say. Something that would make him deter him away, but nothing could cross your mind before he continued.

"You are not beyond saving."

You stared at him for a while, the words sinking into your mind and chasing away some of the doubt that has haunted you for a majority of your life. You decided, against your judgement and the aching of your heart at the risk of more pain, you would give him a chance.

You nodded, which prompted him to give you a polite smile.

Time to restart the process.

At first, it was morbid curiosity.

When Hannibal was notified that he was being referred to a fellow colleague's previous patient, he was curious, very curious. He wanted to know the reason a respected psychiatrist, with an incredible track record, couldn't help a patient for once.

Therefore, he decided he would see the person behind his fellow colleague practically being close to ripping their hair out in stress. However, he was genuinely surprised when he opened his office door and saw you sitting in the waiting room. Your timid form playing with your nails with your gaze laser-focused on the clock that you didn't even react when he stood in your presence. Yet, you were oddly polite and if Hannibal didn't read your paperwork, he would have assumed you were an ordinary girl with her own issues.

However, you were...different.

He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but you weren't like anyone else he had seen step into his office. Your profile made it seem like you were a delinquent waiting to happen. However, you were polite, respectful, and had a deep passion for the arts similar to himself. He's never met an individual who shared a multitude of common interests with him. Perhaps, he underestimated you. He certainly wasn't prepared by how pretty you were and how close you two would become and he wouldn't forget your first session. When he had the opportunity to dig deep within your center and rip out your deepest secrets about yourself, in his own space.

Your gaze was focused on the window, watching the water droplets from the rain slide down the glass, the sleeves of your sweater hiding your delicate fingers. Those slim fingers that he couldn't stop staring at. You seemed so helpless, desperate for validation for the things you were going through, and he wanted to know the root of the problem.

Perhaps then, his curiosity would dissipate and he would have an easier time letting someone like you go.

"You must tell me what you're feeling if I am to help you, Miss (L/N)." He spoke softly, crossing his fingers and catching your gaze as you turned away from the window to return your attention with him.

“I feel…” You muttered with a pause, before turning your attention to the man across from you, “like I’m a danger to myself and others because of the things I think about.”

“And what do you feel?” He asked, voice subconsciously matching your own.

“I think about hurting people, people that I used to care about. Seeing their faces twist in pain as their life drains from their eyes.”

“How does it make you feel? Those thoughts that haunt you, you mentioned that they plague you. Is it because you’re ashamed of them?” He mentally cursed himself, allowing his growing curiosity and obsession to take hold in order to discover you.

“They do haunt me but…it’s not because I’m ashamed of them.” You avoided the intensity of his stare, staring at the loose fabric of your sweater. “I’m ashamed of them because I like the thoughts.”

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

It has been six months since you've become his patient and Hannibal was plagued with conflicted feelings. Over the course of six months, Hannibal began to notice the ever growing affection he held for you. The soft moments between you during the break between sessions where you both would discuss your various common interests of art, music, and food.

He never thought he would find an individual so interesting, articulate, and extremely beautiful. He could still remember your lovely smile when he presented you with one of your favorite books he happened to have in his many collections of literature. He knew that he had fallen in love with you. Something he never quite expected to happen in his entire lifetime.

However, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not when he was still continuing to be your psychiatrist.

A few days after your last session, he turned in his referral for your new psychiatrist and he prayed that you would allow him to reason with you when you find out what he has done in order to be with you properly. From your previous sessions, he knew of the abandonment you’ve feared, however, he didn’t want you feeling like he gave up on you.

He was sitting at his desk, checking his watch as he waited for your arrival. His mind was repeatedly going through the possibilities of your reaction. Your consistent timing insisted that you would arrive any minute. He decided with a heavy sigh, that he would check the waiting room and hoped that you would accept his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, sitting in your usual spot in the corner of the waiting room. You arrived a few minutes early, yet it allowed you to have some time for yourself before you continued your session with Dr. Lecter.

Despite the happiness you felt, you still felt a little nervous. For the past few weeks, you have realized something about yourself that you didn’t think would possibly ever happen. The fuzzy feeling that continued to tickle your mind all those months was the blossoming feeling of love.

It left you scared, scared of the possibility of what it could do to affect the professional relationship between doctor and patient. The possibility of Dr. Lecter discovering your feelings and refusing to continue helping you. All due to the disgust of having someone like you fall for someone like him. It left you feeling defeated already, yet you will allow yourself to continue to be around him. To be around him and never letting your feelings show.

The sound of the door opening made you stand, giving Dr. Lecter a smile which he gladly returned with a soft greeting. However, something in his face made you hesitate in replying. He seemed to have something bothering him and your heart skipped a beat.

This couldn’t be what you think it is…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you quickly returned the greeting.

“Afternoon, Dr. Lecter.” You said, stepping forward when he moved to the side to allow you to walk past him and into his office. “Something troubling you?”

The suit-clad man quietly closed the door, walking past you to stand near his desk, he leaned against the wood, hands perched on the surface. “We have something to discuss.” He finally said, gesturing to the recliner.

“I think I can manage just fine standing.” You retorted, voice full of ice as your eyes hardened slightly. Your body tensed as you continued standing your ground, crossing your arms. “What’s the issue?” you asked, desperately trying to keep the hurt from your voice.

“Please, allow me to explain myself, I do not wish for you to assume-”

“I think I’m assuming correctly, right? Just go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sighed, glancing away, presumably gathering his thoughts.

“I believe it is best if I am no longer your psychiatrist-”

Crash.

Hannibal ducked when something was sent flying towards his head, resulting in a loud crash as the object practically combusted against the wall. In instinct, he was quick to cover his face with his forearm, protecting himself from getting hit directly. He was shocked for a moment, processing what occurred before hearing you rush towards him.

“How could you?!” You yelled, trying to hit him with raised fists, becoming more annoyed when your old physiatrist kept blocking your feasible attacks. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me! You fucking liar!”

“I’ve never lied to you! Let me explain!” You couldn’t bother to see his reaction, his face expressing a mix of emotions of shock and desire. He never witnessed you become so angry before, especially at him. He found his fascination for you grew even more. “You’re only making things worse.”

“I don’t care, asshole!” You screamed, pushing him which didn’t even move him an inch as he stared down at you, gripping your forearms as you started crying. “Why are you getting rid of me!”

“You stupid girl!” Suddenly, you were pinned against the wall, gasping in shock at the warmth of Hannibal’s chest pressed against your own, your wrists pinned on each side of your head. “I only did it to be closer to you!”

“What…?” You were breathless, staring into his eyes that were full of darkness and something else you couldn’t recognize. His warm breath hitting the side of your face from his close proximity. “Then, why would you?”

Instead of answering, Hannibal simply leaned down and kissed you, warm lips pressed against your own, which quickly turned passionate. Eagerly, you returned the kiss, pressing closer to him as Hannibal let go of one of your wrists to grip the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair.

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he slowly pulled away, gazing down at you while you tried catching your breath.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He stated, fingers pulling away from your hair to instead delicately graze the soft skin of your cheek. “I cannot court you properly if I remain your psychiatrist.”

“Dr. Lecter, I-” Your eyes watered, ashamed of your previous behavior.

“Hannibal, darling.” He muttered softly, stroking your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your own. “I accept you as you are and I want you to be mine, always. Will you consider that?”

You smiled softly, sniffling as you nodded, resulting in Hannibal pulling you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned. “You already have me.” You replied.

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@prettywhenibleed

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x y/n #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal lecter fanfic #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x fem!reader #fem!reader #hannibal nbc fanfiction #hannibal nbc fanfic #nbc hannibal fanfiction #nbc hannibal fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic

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wonderingpanda · 4 months

Text

Hey You - Pt.1

Clay x Fem!Reader

My first Trolls fic, hope I did alright. I’ll try to post part 2 as soon as I can.

The sun was setting as Rhonda hurried down a dusty path surrounded by hills. Inside sat Bruce at the drivers seat with Tiny on his stomach holding his mini steering wheel. Y/n stood to their left while Branch stood to the right with his arms crossed as Velvet and Veneers popular song, Watch Me Work, played over the radio.

“Oh my kids love these guys, we’re a total Veneer household.” Bruce happily explained.

“They’re the one’s who have Floyd!” John Dory pointed out from further behind them.

“Ah it’s gonna be hard to seperate the art from the artist.” John Dory rolled his eyes and walked off while Branch and Y/n gave Bruce looks of disbelief. As the song finished, a voice came over the radio.

“That’s Velvet and Veneer’s spicy hot new single, Watch Me Work. Catch them tomorrow night at the Rage Dome where they’ll be receiving the Lifer Award (L-Lifer Award!)” Bruce, Y/n and Branch looked at each other with worry before Bruce turned off the radio.

“Guys, will Floyd even make it through that show?” Branch walked down to where John Dory and Poppy were stood by his clue board.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna make it. We’ve been looking for clues to find Clay.” Poppy placed a BroZone poster of Clay in his funderdraws up on the clue board.

“Oh I’m sorry, the clue board, you mean my clue board?” A quick moment of silence passed as Poppy and John Dory ignored Branch. “That I made?” Poppy and John Dory continued looking at the board, still not giving Branch any response. “We like the clue board now?”

At the mention of finding Clay, Y/n quickly turned around and headed down to the other three trolls while trying to hide her rising panic.

“Do we really need to find Clay?” Poppy, Branch and John Dory turned to face her, confused as to why she wouldn’t want to find him. “I mean, we’ve already got you three.” Y/n gestured to the present BroZone members. “And it would give us way more time to save Floyd if we just headed to Mount Rageous now.”

“Uh Y/n, are you ok?” Poppy stepped forward, concerned for her close friend.

“Wha, me? I’m fine. I’m not panicked, you’re panicked. Like why would I be so nervous to see Clay again after all these years. It’s not like there was anything terrible that happened between us after the band broke up, what makes you think that?” Poppy stepped back to talk to Branch.

“What’s going on with her?” Branch sighed and crossed his arms again, still looking over at their nervous friend.

“Before the band broke up Y/n and Clay kind of had a thing going on.”

“Oh I knew it! There were rumours those two were together!” Branch reached out his hands, signalling for Poppy to calm down.

“But that night, when everyone left, Clay decided to break up with Y/n on the spot and, as you know, leave forever.”

“Oh” Poppy lowered her hands as her energy dropped after hearing the sad story. “That’s why she doesn’t want to find him.”

“Exactly.” Branch confirmed Poppy’s thoughts.

“It’s a shame really” John Dory cut into the conversation. “They were such a cute couple. I even remember when Clay made us pull that whole song together just to ask her out.”

“Oh don’t act so sympathetic.” Branch turned to face John Dory. “You weren’t even there when they broke up.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care.” John Dory tried to defend himself.

“Ok guys, maybe now isn’t the best time for an argument. Let’s all just calm down and- what is he wearing!?” Poppy cut off her previous sentence and pointed at the poster she had stuck up before. Branch noticed what she was referring to.

“Oh, those are just his…”

“Perfect, perfect, perfect.” The music to BroZone’s old song seemed to play out of nowhere as Branch quickly got an idea.

“Funderdraws!” He smashed open a glass case holding Clay’s funderdraws which unavoidably released a disgusting scent along with a bunch of green ghost that flew around yelling ‘Stinky!’. John Dory whacked them away the best he could while Poppy and Y/n held their breaths from the smell. Branch held up the funderdraws proudly.

“John Dory, I have no idea why you saved these it’s incredibly disgusting. But I’m glad you did.” Poppy stood with a dopey smile on her face while Y/n had her arms crossed, not liking where the conversation was going. Meanwhile, John Dory put his hands on his hips in defence.

“What, they’re memorabilia. But I will be good gosh darned if I know how they’re gonna help us find Clay.”

Next thing you know, Rhonda was sniffing the funderdraws dangled in her face at the end of a stick. Branch, standing on her forehead, called out to her.

“Help us Rhonda!” He turned to face Poppy who had her head stuck out the window while keeping a grip on his vest. “She’s got the scent!” The two headed back inside quickly before anything else could happen.

Inside in the background, Y/n helped Branch and Poppy settle back in safely. John Dory came up next to Tiny and Bruce, who now hand one hand on the larger steering wheel, and leaned on the armrest of Bruce’s chair.

“Hey, Tiny, you see that button?” Tiny Diamond’s gaze followed John Dory as he pointed to a button with a swirl pattern and the word hustle above it.

“Uh yeah.”

“That beautiful, shiny button?” John Dory pressed further.

“Oh you mean the button that’s taking every fibre of my being not to press? Yeah I see it.” Tiny Diamond slid off the button as quickly as he had laid atop it. John Dory stepped forward and lowered his voice to a more dramatic tone.

“Press it.”

“Oh heck yeah ooh!” Tiny Diamond jumped off the larger steering that he had a grip on and jumped onto the hustle button causing it to glow and swirl. ‘Hustle Dimension’ began to play as rainbow lights came out of Rhonda. Her eyes lit up and began to glow.

“Let’s hustle daddy!” Rhonda let out a noise before zooming off into the distance, glowing lights trailing behind. She leapt a few times as she ran and jumped into a glowing, star-shaped portal that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

In the hustle dimension, everything was different. Everyone was placed into a two-dimensional state and the gravity that existed before was now lost as Rhonda floated about.

“Woah” Branch called out as he stumbled into what was meant to be the space in Rhonda behind the drivers seat. Poppy followed after letting out a loud gasp as she took note of her appearance. Everything then melted away and while they were still within a two-dimensional space everything about it had changed, including the visual style.

Poppy and Branch now found themselves walking down a black and white road, dancing along to the ‘Hustle Dimension’ music. Bruce then bounced next to Poppy on her left with John Dory bouncing to Branch’s right and Y/n bouncing, landing in the middle. They all laughed together before John Dory, Y/n and Bruce flew off with rainbow trails. Poppy grabbed her own hand and spun away with Branch tumbling after her.

They all flew side by side down the black and white road in the rainbow coloured world. Branch and Poppy were on the right, Bruce and Y/n were on the left and John Dory flew in the middle. They all then flew through another star that once again changed the visuals of the reality they were perceiving. Each zoomed down in their respective colours. Branch was blue, Poppy was pink, John Dory was green, Y/n was f/c and Bruce was Purple. They flew next to stars and swirled together, combining to create Hustle Man who loudly called out.

“Hustle!” Hustle Man flew off into the sky before disappearing. Rhonda finally flew out of the star portal that they had first entered and settled back down to run normally on the road once more. Bruce and Tiny Diamond had been placed back where they were but John Dory, Y/n, Poppy and Branch were unfortunately thrown onto the floor, on their backs, in a heap. Poppy quickly stood up shaking her head for a second as the song ended.

“Wow! Too much hustle is a thing.”

“Huh, look at that.” Branch waved his hand around, hallucinating rainbows following it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was now dark outside. Rhonda nervously ran through a dark forest before stopping in front of a seemingly abandoned building.

“Are we sure this is where Clay lives?” Branch asked as Rhonda opened her door to let everyone step out. Bruce followed behind him with Tiny Diamond in a baby carrier. Tiny decided to reply.

“Are we sure? Our GPS is an armadillo bus sniffing used undies so no, we’re not sure.”

The group continued to walk towards the old building. Bruce spoke as they wandered through the entrance which lead into a bother part of the dark outdoors.

“Eeh. I think this is the place from every true crime podcast I’ve ever listened to.” They continued forwards through the dark, unaware of the ‘golf balls’ rolling around them. The small group of trolls stuck close together until…

“Halt!” Lights switched on revealing a giant clown face with glowing eyes and a giant tongue extending out to them. Rainbow coloured smoke puffed from either side of the clown head as it’s teeth moved while it spoke.

“Who goes there!?”

“Ahhh!” The entire group screamed in fear!

“Agh!” Tiny cried out, quickly climbing out of his carrier and into Bruce’s hair. He poked his head out once before hiding back inside.

“Who dares trespass on these sacred grounds!?” The clown demanded. Branch put on a determined face and began to walk forward strongly. John Dory tried to stop him.

“Branch, what are you doing?” But Branch continued on. He stopped when he was right near the clown head’s tongue, looking up and calling out to it.

“Listen, we don’t want any clown related trouble okay? We’re just here looking for our brother, Clay.”

The clown’s teeth moved down slightly before moving in sync with it’s voice again. “Wait a second, you’re trolls?”

“So what? You’re a clown.” Branch retorted, gesturing to the face in front of him. Unexpectedly, a yellow, golf ball looking thing popped out of the clown’s mouth and rolled towards the group.

“Woah!” Branch stepped back towards the rest of the group as the ball bounced closer to them. The ball then unfurled revealing to be a troll with crazy blonde hair and pink skin. She stood up in a menacing pose for a moment before smiling widely at everyone.

“Oh my gosh, hello! My name is Viva! It is so fantastamazing to see other trolls!” She immediately ran around squeezing John Dory, giving Bruce a big hug, hugging Y/n from the side, spinning Branch around and lifting Poppy up in her own heartfelt hug.

“Hi! Ha!” Viva smiled after quickly setting Poppy down. Poppy slouched froward, feeling slightly drained from Viva’s energetic mood, but stood up properly to hear her speak.

“So fantastamazing is my own personal word it means, um, fantastic and amazing. I used to say amastic but then I was like ‘Mmm, that’s not as good.’”

Poppy immediately tried thinking of her own word to match Viva’s. “Fantasta um awesome.”

“That’s different but that works too! Way to make it your own.” After receiving the complement, Poppy rushed over to Branch’s side.

“Is this how people feel when they meet me?”

“Yes.” Branch replied, just quickly enough to not be cut off by Viva.

“Am I being a lot? Sometimes I can be a lot.”

“Uh I’m not sure we’re in the right place.” Branch mentioned, but Viva easily dismissed his worries.

“Of course you’re in the right place. Any troll is welcome here with us.” Now stood in front of the small group of trolls, Viva clapped her hands and called out. “Okay, Putt-putt trolls, lights on for our new friends” A bunch of trolls had rolled towards Viva and popped out of their golf-ball disguises. Each one was characterised with a vibrant colour, wild hair, and some sort of sweater romper or dress. While most had their hair out, some adorned buckets on their heads while others wore green mossy hats. As Viva finished talking the lights to the putt-putt course switched on, lighting up the whole place in the dark of night. Viva began to tap her feet excitedly, seeing the expressions of wonder coming from each of the new trolls.

“Oh my gosh, are you guys hungry, are you thirsty?”

“Yes!” Tiny cheered, jumping out and back into his baby carrier.

“Fries fries, you guys want fries, I am seeing fries. Bring out the works.” Viva jumped around and gestured to a few Putt-putt trolls who excitedly left to grab the food. “Milkshakes, to celebrate!”

“Coming in hot!” A bright yellow Putt-putt troll called out. Rolling away as a hot dog, fries, banana split, drink and milkshake were placed down around the pop trolls. Viva grabbed onto the straw of the pink milkshake and drank it all in one slurp, wowing the others. She then jumped down and stretched her back.

“Woo that’s better, now I finally have some energy!” Viva ran past Poppy.

“Did you just braid my hair!?” Poppy smiled, noticing the large braid left by Viva who quickly popped back round.

“You’re welcome, it looks so good.”

“I love it!” Poppy smiled brightly as she gripped her hair. Viva then gasped and ran over to Y/n.

“Oh my gosh, your hair is so pretty. How do you get it to sparkle like that?” Y/n laughed and smiled brightly at the compliment.

“Thank you. It’s just naturally like this. The benefits of being a troll, right?”

“Totally.” Viva agreed.

“Wow, these fries are amazing.” Bruce complemented as he lifted up another fry. “They’d really go great with a burger.”

“Aaa!” A blue Putt-putt trolled screamed, leading to a chorus of panic and terror as all the Putt-putt trolls desperately tried to hide.

“What is happening?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah we try not to use that word around here. It’s just that burger sounds a little too much like ah…” Viva leaned towards Bruce and spoke in a hushed tone. “Burgens.” She winced as another chorus of screams were let out.

“We call burgers…” The group looked up to see a mysterious figure walking towards them. “Meat circles.”

“Clay?” Branch smiled.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s face dropped at his arrival.

“Clay, hey what’s up man?” Bruce cheered as he and Clay happily walked to each other.

“Hey, how you been man?” Clay smiled as they initiated their own handshake.

“Clay!” John Dory jumped forward, opening his arms for a hug.

“Hmm, John.” Clay blankly replied, giving him no more than a few seconds of attention.

“Wha?” John Dory’s face dropped at the lack of response he received.

“Spruce.” Clay gave Bruce a fist bump as they finished off hair handshake. “What do you know?”

“Actually I go by Bruce now.”

“Bruce, oh ho someone got fancy. I like it.” Bruce laughed at Clay’s response.

“Look who’s talking, is that a sweater romper?” He questioned.

“What can I say, when you co-run a place you gotta flex the drip.” Clay pulled slightly on the collar of his sweater romper before releasing it.

“Ya, I’m the fun side of the operation and Mr Clay takes care of the boring stuff!” Viva cheered as she slid into the conversation.

“Guilty.” He admitted. The two laughed together until Clay noticed branch. “Woah, baby branch!” He ran over and grabbed Branch’s face. “No way!”

“Actually it’s Big Branch now, or just Branch. Branch is fine.” Branch struggled to speak as his cheeks were squished together.”

“Come here, come here. Yeah.” Clay spoke in a babyish voice as he continued to squish Branch’s cheeks. Only stopping when Branch started to speak again.

“So Clay, this is Poppy.” Branch gestured to Poppy who appeared at his side.

“Hi Clay! So great to finally meet you.” Poppy smiled as she waved and gave Clay a quick hug. “Can you do the Rusty Robot for me?”

“Yeah no, I don’t do that anymore okay?” Clay awkwardly explained.

“Right, kidding. Ha can you imagine? I wouldn’t just ask you to do that after meeting you two seconds ago. Who would do that?” She awkwardly looked at Clay after glancing away for a second.

“Yeah, it’s just that Fun-boy Clay is dead. Serious-boy Clay only does the Well-Oiled Robot.” Clay spoke while demonstrating his new and improved Well-Oiled Robot. “And it is no friki-friki-friki fun.” He stated while ending in a pose, similar to how he would end the Rusty Robot, only with a frown and his hands in the ‘I Love You’ pose.

“I mean, that’s still pretty fun.” Poppy lightheartedly pointed out.

“Ha yeah, same old Clay.” John Dory added.

“Nah, that’s not true.” Clay tried to defend himself. “If I was still fun, would I have chosen the admin building as my bedroom?” Everyone looked over to the admin building, a small wooden shack with nothing but a window, a door, and the capacity to hold barely one troll. “Huh? Huh? Asking the tough questions guys, asking the tough questions.”

“Oh, right.” Poppy nodded.

“Wait, you still haven’t met Y/n!” Tiny smiled brightly.

“No no no.” Bruce looked down at him with worry.

“No no no no no no…” John Dory, Branch and Poppy chimed in, not noticing Clay’s shocked expression.

“Y/n?”

“Oh yeah, you’re other friend. Where did she go?” Viva looked around to try and spot her. Y/n tried to sneak away behind Bruce but was quickly noticed by Tiny.

“Here she is!” He happily exclaimed.”

“Dammit Tiny!” Y/n stomped in frustration.

“Y-Y/n, hey.” Clay awkwardly waved and stepped forward.

“Hi Clay.” The two struggled in finding a comfortable greeting backing out of a fist bump, handshake and high five. After awkwardly trying to move around their hands they tried leaning in for a hug but backed out of that too. Y/n eventually opted to just give Clay two pats on the shoulder as they exchanged awkward toothy smiles.

“Uh anyway.” Clay stepped back, Y/n doing the same. “I can’t believe you all are here. Wait, where’s Floyd?”

“That’s why we’re here. Branch stepped forward. “Floyd’s been taken prisoner in Mount Rageous by superstar singers, Velvet and Veneer.”

“And the only thing powerful enough to free him is the perfect family harmony.” The five adult trolls finished together. Tiny’s face contorted in confusion.

“Okay, either they just made that up or I have not been paying attention.”

“Well why haven’t you just called he authorities?” Clay asked but slowly came the conclusion by himself. “Oh, unless Floyd is being held in an impenetrable diamond prison.”

“Yeah, that.” John Dory confirmed.

“I’m in. I’d also like to volunteer to keep track of our expenses, just cause I think you’re gonna need somebody to be on top of that.” Clay gave the group an almost smug smile.

“Yeah I don’t think you’ll get any pushback on that front.” Bruce spoke up. Branch’s expression turned to a more serious tone.

“Great, but we need to leave for Mount Rageous like now.”

Part 2 coming soon. Have an amazing day/night where you are!✨

#trolls 3 x reader #trolls band together #trolls x reader #clay x reader #trolls clay x reader

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betweenujb · 6 months

Text

acquainted

ceo!momo x supermodel!sana

warnings: smut, dom/sub, posessive momo, implied overstimulation

Momo had just finished closing one of the biggest deals of the year for her company when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She had silenced all her notifications except ones from Sana, and her wife knew that she was in a meeting so it must have been important. Excusing herself, she checked her phone only to see a text that sent her blood pressure through the roof.

sweet girl: i know you're busy with a meeting baby but one of the models is getting a little handsy with me

lover: no, sweetheart. it's not a problem at all. i'll be there in five minutes

The words that Momo typed out were loving and full of nothing but care for her wife, but inside she felt like she was going to explode. Every person who worked with Sana and every person who worked for Momo, all the way down to the cleaning people, knew that her wife was off limits.

Momo was beyond pissed and every single person at the photo shoot site knew it. The second the doors flung open and the people on the site turned their heads, it went silent. With every step Momo took, it felt like a dark cloud was descending on them, the woman's heels reverberating in through the room.

Momo's eyes scanned the male model's faces, jaw clenched. Usually, she had no issue with the male models. They knew to keep their hands to themselves, and they knew the consequences if they didn't. Usually, they didn't have a death wish.

Maybe I'm being too lenient, Momo thought as her sight homed in on the one who was harassing her precious Sana. The bastard who was touching Sana only moments ago still had a smirk on his face that Momo wanted to smack into next week. She pushed her way past the other models and stood centimeters away from him.

Being short didn't stop Momo. In fact, it made her feel even more powerful. Seeing six-foot-tall men cower under her look let her know she was the one calling the shots.

Momo grabbed the model's tie and pulled him down to her level aggressively enough that he stumbled. Her eyes were almost black with rage as she leaned in and whispered, voice barely audible. "If you aren't out of this building in the next 20 seconds, I will make your life a living hell. If you ever touch my wife again, I will make sure you go home in a fucking body bag."

This was all the warning the model needed. In 10 seconds, he bolted out of the building, barely grabbing the bag he brought with him. Momo took a deep breath, only turning around to face Sana once she saw the door slam behind him.

Like a switch had flipped, Momo's expression was gentle again. Her hands were gentle as she wrapped them around Sana's waist. She gave her a quick kiss before walking to one of the chairs behind the studio lights. With the snap of her fingers, the camera crew was back to work.

Fortunately, the rest of Momo's work for the day involved phone calls to other fashion CEOs and modeling agents. She'd be damned if she left Sana's photoshoot before she was done.

"Sweetheart do you know who that dumb fucker worked for?" Momo asked, monotone as she tapped her finger against the steering wheel.

Sana glanced up from her phone, looking up at the roof of their car as she wracked her brain for a company name. "I think he worked for some small sub-company under Dior or something like that."

Momo silently nodded and took Sana's free hand in hers. She intertwined their fingers and placed a gentle kiss on the back of Sana's hand. "I'll make sure to have a word with his agent."

The slightly aggravated tone in Momo's voice caused Sana to blush a bit. She had always been susceptible to Momo's controlling and protective nature. Whether it was firing someone because they forgot her sweet girl's coffee or practically wiping them off the face of the earth because they accidentally brushed against her ass, it caused Sana's nerves to go haywire.

Deciding to see how far she could push Momo before they got home, Sana leaned over the center console, her dress revealing enough that Sana's lacy bra was peeking out from underneath. She put on her pout that she knew had Momo wrapped around her finger and brought their hands up to her lips.

"I tried to tell everyone on the set what he was doing," a small kiss to the tips of Momo's fingers, "but they didn't seem to care. They were too busy telling me to pose better," the flat of her tongue pressing against Momo's index finger, "and they wouldn't do anything about him, so I just let him keep going."

Sana's words dug their way into Momo's brain. Her wife knew what she was doing and even if nothing she said was true, it still made her grip the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. She glanced at Sana, that oh so fake innocence written across her face making her fold fast.

Momo pulled her hand out of Sana's grasp and grabbed her face, fingers digging into her cheeks. "If I knew you wanted to be such a slut then maybe I should have just left you to deal with him alone."

Sana gulped. She knew that it was only an empty threat, but it was enough to make her desperate for more. It wasn't often that Momo would get rough with her, but when she did, it made her see stars every single time.

They barely made it through the doors of the penthouse before Momo picked Sana up in her arms, slamming her against the wall in the entryway. Momo's hands on Sana's hips were almost bruising, her grip was so tight. She leaned up to Sana's ear, breath hot and low as she muttered, "You're not going to be thinking of anything but me and my name once I'm done with you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Just with one simple name, Sana was putty in Momo's hands. Momo's to play with and fuck until she could barely walk in the morning. But that wasn't Momo's problem. Especially not when her wife decided to tease her like that in the car.

"Momo please..." Sana gasped out as Momo's hand bunched her wife's dress up, hand dipping into her panties. Momo didn't care that it was a $5,000 dress. She could just get Sana a brand new one with the wave of her hand.

Sana's breath hitched as the heel of Momo's hand pressed against her clit. It was providing her with just enough pressure to have her squirming in her wife's arms.

Not wanting to drop her to the ground, Momo set Sana down and immediately dragged her to their large bedroom. She aggressively picked her wife up, throwing her in the middle of their king-sized bed. Momo almost lost her composure seeing Sana's dress ride up, revealing the large wet spot on her wife's panties.

The lust in her eyes and the need to prove she was better than that bastard could ever be, Momo wasted no time in taking her clothes off. She threw her suit jacket, shirt, and tie behind her, leaving her in just her pants.

Sana's mouth watered at the sight as Momo stalked over to the edge of the bed and crawled up to where she was. Sana tried to reach her hand out to touch any part of Momo's bare skin she could. Her hands only had the chance to ghost over Momo's toned abs though as her wife grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

"You really want me that bad, sweetheart? You sure you don't want that bastard touching you earlier to keep going?" Momo's voice was thick with desire. She wanted Sana as much as her wife wanted her, but she couldn't let her movements falter.

Sana vigorously shook her head, doe eyes staring up into Momo's dark ones. "No, Momo. Only you. Need you inside of me!"

"What's the magic word, sweet girl?" Momo's fingers brushed over her panties, applying the lightest amount of pressure to her swollen clit.

"P-please! Please Momo!"

"Was that so bad, sweetheart?" Momo asked, not giving Sana even a second to answer before she plunged two fingers deep into her wife's tight, wet heat.

Sana's body jerked as her hips thrusted into Momo's hand. The slight sting of being stretched so suddenly was just what she needed. "Oh, fuck!"

The smirk on Momo's face barely hid the amount of pleasure she was getting just from having her fingers inside of Sana. The way her fingers were being squeezed and sucked in, Sana's body was desperate for more.

"Barely even touched you yet and you're already so loud, baby." Momo let Sana's hands go, but Sana knew better than to move them from the headboard. She bucked her hips up into Momo's hand, the sheer force of Momo's fingers plunging in and out of her enough to make her dizzy already.

Momo pulled the top of Sana's dress down further, the fabric ripping more and more with each harsh tug until Sana's breasts spilled out. "What a slut. Barely even wearing a bra." Momo shook her head and leaned down, gently biting and sucking the stiff nipples through the thin lace.

Sana's body was on fire, her moaning only growing louder as Momo pushed a third finger into her. It was taking everything in her to not reach down and claw at Momo's back to release some pressure, but she knew that if she did, Momo would never let her cum.

Momo's fingers were thrusting in and out at a furious pace, her thumb pressing against Sana's clit. "Whose pussy is this, baby? Is it that dumb motherfucker's?"

Momo and Sana both knew the answer to such an oh-so-obvious question, but Momo needed to hear Sana. Needed to hear the whines and moans she let out as she fucked into her sweet girl.

"Only yours, Momo! Your pussy!" Sana's face was a shade brighter as she barely got her words out in between Momo's thrusts. That little coil in the pit of her stomach was getting tighter and tighter and she knew she wasn't going to last much longer.

"That's right, sweetheart. My pussy. Mine to fuck and fill up." The lewd, wet noises of her fingers pumping in and out of Sana combined with Sana's ear-piercing moans were almost enough for Momo to go over the edge herself. But this wasn't about her. It was about making Sana cum over and over again until she learned her lesson.

"Momo! Gonna- so close!" Sana could barely keep her eyes open as the coil in her stomach got tighter and tighter.

"That's it, sweet girl. Cum for me." Momo's voice was much softer as pulled Sana’s excuse for a bra off to lick and suck on her breasts.

The combined sensations were too much and quickly, Momo's fingers were being squeezed to death, Sana's cum flooding out of her and covering her wife's fingers as she screamed her wife's name over and over again. "Momo! Momo! Momo!"

Sana's breathing was labored as she closed her eyes, her body shaking as Momo's fingers gently pumped in and out of her. She felt like she'd just been shot out of a cannon and when she felt Momo's fingers leave her, she thought that was it.

When Sana felt the flat of Momo's tongue against her sensitive clit, her breath caught in her throat, hands flying to tangle into Momo's hair. "F-fuck. Can't. No more."

Momo just shook her head, replacing her mouth with her thumb as she looked up to Sana, her eyes dark with greed and a sweet smile plastered to her face. "This is what you wanted so bad, baby. You're gonna cum for me as many times as I want like the little slut you are."

#twice smut #twice #twice imagines #sana #momo #kpop smut #girl group smut #sana x momo #minatozaki sana #hirai momo #gg smut

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luvyblossom · 7 months

Text

Love me (not) Pt. 4

Hello Lovelies,

Here is the long awaited part 4. I've been swamped with me thesis :( (I'm still not done.) I tried to proofread it but my eyes are tired so excuse any typos. This is a spicy chapter so MDNI. As always, my requests are open and let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

W/c: 6.7k

Pairing: reader x Hyunjin, reader x Felix

Warnings: this fic contains sexual content. MDNI

Series Masterlist

content tags: smut, fluff, college!au, nonidol!au, jealousy, use of red light system, rough sex, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), alcohol,

I think that's it. let me know if I missed anything

______________

"See you tonight," Felix gave you a quick peck on the cheek before leaving you at your usual study spot.

You smiled at him and waved bye as you sat down across from Hyunjin. He rolled his eyes at you and mock-threw up. "Stop that," you playfully hit his arm.

“You’re busy tonight?” Hyunjin tried to sound casual about it. This was the fourth night in a row where you had plans with Felix. He barely has time with you nowadays except for your study sessions that Felix could no longer attend because of his taekwondo practice. It took everything within him to tolerate Felix but he didn’t want to lose what little time he did get with you.

“Yeah we’re going out for dinner,” you answered, taking out your books. Exams were coming up so you had been trying to keep up with all your work.

"What time do you think you'll get home tonight?" Hyunjin asked for purely selfish reasons. He felt reassured that you had not spent a night with Felix, always coming home alone after your dates. Not that he really cared about your sex life- he assured himself. No, he didn’t care but he didn’t like Felix and he didn’t want him touching you.

"You can't stay over," you hastily said. After every one of your dates, you had come home to Hyunjin waiting for you, ready to take his spot next to you in bed. You were grateful that Felix was not the jealous type because you often had guys who had wanted to choose between Hyunjin and them. Hyunjin always won.

“Why not?”

“Cause I may not be coming home alone tonight,” you giggled. You appreciated how sweet Felix was but you had been dating for long enough and you were starting to get impatient. Your makeout sessions were getting more and more handsy and always left you wanting more. You had the cutest lingerie picked out for tonight and you hoped that you wouldn't be left wanting more once again.

Hyunjin glared at you, his jaw tensing at your words. "Why exactly won't you be coming home alone tonight?"

"Um cause Felix might stay over," you gave a questioning look to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin willed himself to see past his rage. If he said anything it would just cause another argument between the two of you. He started packing up his stuff and got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked.

"I have to meet up with someone." He said coldly and started walking away before you could say anything.

——————

You opened your door to let Felix in. He handed you a bouquet of flowers. He’d been getting you some every week so you never had a day your vase went empty. “I’m almost ready,” you smiled at him as you picked a pair of heels to slip on.

“You look beautiful as always, Love,” he kissed you on the cheek as he held out his hand so you could walk out together. You took his hand, blushing at the nickname he had taken to calling you. Since you and Felix had officially started seeing each other, your moments with him left you nervous, heart beating fast, and trying to overcome the butterflies that erupted whenever he touched you.

Felix wore a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up perfectly displaying his forearms. You admired the veins popping from his arm as he gripped the steering wheel, following one vein down to his hands. You began to imagine how those hands would look wrapped around your neck. You shook your head to get rid of the thought. Being with Felix recently had been mostly frustrating. Here was a gorgeous man and after spending time with him and with your make-out sessions getting more and more intense, all you wanted was for him to pin you down and fuck you.

Tonight you dressed as sexy as possible. Everything was shaved and you had on the cutest black lacy lingerie under your skimpy dress. You sat across the table from Felix, once again lost in the thought of his toned arms and his fingers, the ways he could use them. You managed to get through most of your dinner joking around with Felix, allowing you some reprieve from your earlier thoughts but you hadn't forgotten about your plan.

“What’s on your mind?” Felix asked pulling you out of your daze.

You looked at him, summoning all of your confidence you said, “Nothing, just thinking about all the things you could do to me for dessert.” You gulped, trying to battle the nerves that arose from your statement as you waited for his reaction.

Felix coughed, choking on the sip he had just taken of his drink. He looked at you in awe, not used to you being so blatant. You had been very shy since the night you both watched the sunset. Felix had only been encouraged to take things even slower with you. He adored how shy you would get, only making him want you more, but he hadn't wanted to push you. This was a new side to you that he was seeing, "What's gotten into you, love?"

Instead of replying you kicked your heel off, his reaction fuelling your confidence. You traced your foot up his calf under the table, earning a surprised look from him. His look quickly turned to a smirk as he leaned across the table to whisper, "You’re being really naughty today baby. Are you sure you can take the punishment?”

You weren’t sure if it was his deep voice or his words, probably a bit of both, but it sent a chill up your spine. You could feel the heat from your core rising to your cheeks to cover them with a blush. You were grateful when Felix waved over the waiter and asked for the cheque so you could finally leave the restaurant. Your panties were already wet as you climbed into his car. Your heart was beating in anticipation as Felix drove.

The hand that he had placed on your exposed thigh was beginning to inch upwards. You were craving his touch as his fingers pressed up your thigh, giving your flesh a little squeeze. Finally, his hand reached your panties but instead of touching you where you needed him, he fluttered his fingers on the edge of your underwear. You let out an embarrassing whine asking for more.

“What is it, baby? Can’t be patient?” Felix teased. You squirmed in your seat as you continued to soak through your panties. Felix chuckled as he kept teasing, slipping one finger under your panties. “Fuck.” Felix groaned, “You’re already so wet for me.”

“Please,” you were shamelessly begging him now for some stimulation. Felix continued to trace the outside of your labia while you bucked up, trying to get more stimulation than he was willing to give.

Felix clicked his tongue when he felt your hips jerk, moving his hand away from your pussy to trace up to your chest. Your dress had been far too revealing to wear a bra so Felix was easily able to trace over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric. He pulled more moans from you when he pinched the sensitive buds. You tried to snake your hand down to provide yourself some relief but you were too slow. Felix quickly grabbed your hand, "You've already been so naughty, Love. Are you sure you want to add to your punishment?"

You gave him a pleading look to no avail. Any ounce of dignity you had disappeared as you begged the gorgeous man sitting next to you for just a single touch. Felix was kind enough to bring his fingers back to your core, letting his fingers lightly trace over your clit. He began to tease one finger at your entrance. "Felix, please."

He smirked at you, "What is it, baby?"

"I want you to fuck me." If words could make a man cum, those words would be enough for Felix to bust. He tried to keep his composure as he searched for a place he could pull over. He had wanted to wait until you both were home, but at this rate with the way your words dripped with lust, he didn't think he could last for the entire drive.

Felix located an empty parking lot and pulled the car in. You climbed onto his lap as soon as he shifts into park. Felix giggles, "You're so impatient"

Before he can let another word out, you crash your lips onto his pulling him into a deep and messy kiss. His tongue traces your lips and you give him entrance letting him deepen the kiss further. You both swallow each other's moans and you begin to grind down on his hardened length over his pants. You both gasped in harmony, finally feeling the friction you needed.

Felix's hands were all over you, feeling every curve of your body as you continued to grind down on him. He squeezed your ass before tracing over your back to resume playing with your nipples. He pushed the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, allowing the flimsy material to fall and reveal your bare breasts to him. He just stared.

"What is it?" you started to feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

He managed to peel his eyes away from your chest, looking up at you with lustful eyes, "You're so fucking hot."

You blushed at the comment. A moan left your lips as you felt Felix latch his puffy lips onto your nipple while pinching the other one between his fingers. You couldn't get enough of him. You started to clumsily unbutton his shirt until you reached the waistband of his pants. You took your time unbuttoning his pants and lowering the zipper. You pulled out his painfully hard cock, admiring how much precum was dripping out of him. You wrapped your fingers around him and rubbed his precum over his tip using your thumb.

'He's so tall and handsome as hell.He's so bad, but he does it so well,'

Felix groaned as he felt your fingers wrap around him. He brought his lips to your neck, nipping and kissing all the sensitive spots he's mapped on you, and brought his finger back down to your sopping pussy.

'I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is,'

You slowly began to stroke his length as you felt his finger push into you. He fucked his finger in and out of you before adding a second finger in.

'Say you'll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe.'

The car was filled with moans as you ground down on his hand, riding his fingers and feeling his palm brush against your clit. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck your hand. Between moans, you whispered in his ear, "I want to feel you inside me."

'Red lips and rosy cheeks.Say you'll see me again,'

Felix quickly pulled his fingers out of you and lined up his throbbing cock with your entrance. He slid his length along your wet folds, making you jolt as he rubbed his tip over your clit. He began to tease your entrance with his tip

'Even if it's just in your wildest dreams.'

You froze, finally taking notice of the music. You almost ignored it, but you knew your mind would wander if you didn't acknowledge it. You looked apologetically at your boyfriend, "I'm sorry baby. I just need a second."

You reached over to the passenger seat, grabbed your phone, and answered the call, knowing who it would be before you picked on account of the special ringtone you'd assigned to him. "This better be important." The words came out in a whimper as you felt Felix's tip enter you.

"Y/n?" his words slurred, giving away how drunk he was. "I was scared you wouldn't pick up," you heard his voice break as he said these words.

Worry clouded your eyes as you placed a hand on Felix's chest to signal him to stop his movement. "Hyune, what's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me, tell me what I can do," the questions frantically spilled from your mouth. Hyunjin barely cried, there was something wrong.

"I miss you-" his sentence was cut off as you heard him gagging.

Another voice was on the line now, "It's Chris. Are you able to make it over? He's a mess, almost and he won't listen to us, he's been begging to talk to you."

"Yes. I'll be there soon." You hung up the call. Your heart which was racing because of Felix just a minute ago was now pounding in your chest as you worried about your best friend.

Felix looked at you with a fallen expression that he was trying to conceal, "where do you need to be?"

"Can you take me to Hyunjin's?" You moved back to the passenger seat when Felix nodded yes. Both of you tried to look decent and then were back on the road. You looked straight out of the windshield, nervously chewing on your fingernails. Your attention was distracted for a second as you felt Felix's hand wrap around yours and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"What's going on baby?" He asked between clenched teeth, knowing that whatever was going on was because of Hyunjin. He tried to keep his cool, always reminding himself that you were dating him and not Hyunjin. You had chosen him. But damn Hyunjin was starting to really get on his nerves. This better have been important because if his date had been ruined over a tantrum, Felix would have some choice words for him. The only thing that had held him back until now had been his respect for you and not wanting to appear too possessive and controlling.

You were too lost in your thoughts to recognize Felix's rage. "I'm not quite sure, Hyunjin is a drunk mess and he sounded so upset. Apparently, he's not listening to anyone and was asking for me. I should've noticed that something was wrong. He's been a bit distant lately and he left so abruptly. I should've asked him what was bothering him." You felt so guilty for not being there for him. He knew how to party but Hyunjin rarely let himself get wasted. And allowing himself to cry in front of others, there had to be something really wrong.

You almost shot out of your seat as you neared the familiar house. Whatever event had been going on had started to die down by the time you reached. You smiled over at Felix giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'm so lucky to have you. Thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Felix's heart softened with your gaze, allowing him to momentarily calm down his anger, "Of course Love. No matter how late it is, please call me for a ride home. You can also stay over at mine if it's too late."

You gave him another smile before saying your goodbyes and rushing into the house and up the stairs. You turned the corner into the bathroom and found Han, Changbin, and Jeongin crowding at the entrance. You pushed past the familiar faces of Hyunjin's frat brothers to find him with half-closed eyes sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him and leaning against the toilet. A very concerned-looking Chris sat next to him, trying to get him to drink some water.

You squatted down in front of Hyunjin, taking one of his hands into yours, "Hyune, I'm here."

Hyunjin gazed at you through his lashes, giving you a sleepy smile. You could see where the tears had stained his face, eliciting a pang of pain deep in your stomach. You never liked to see Hyunjin upset.

He turned his hand so that he could intertwine his fingers between yours. He pulled you towards him, causing you to lose your balance and land awkwardly on his lap with your face in his chest. He held you tight against him in a big bear hug, making it difficult to move.

“Fuck.” You heard Chris curse. This was followed by 'ooohhhs' and 'you're in trouble now' by the rest of the boys who were still in the bathroom. You tried to pry your head out and see what the commotion was about. You looked up to see Chris, dripping from the water that he had been trying to coax Hyunjin to drink, likely as a result of Hyunjin pulling you. Somehow the water had avoided the both of you, landing only on Chris. You let out a giggle, enticing the rest of the room to burst into laughter as well, including Hyunjin. Chris gave him a small punch in the arm, it seemed innocent but considering his physique, you were sure it must have hurt a little.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic cry, "Owwwwww, Y/n he's hurting me."

You were relieved, happy to hear Hyunjin return to himself after the sad state you had heard him in earlier. "I think you deserved it. Now let me go."

"Never." Hyunjin let out a contented sigh, holding you even tighter as you struggled.

"You boys could help me," your voice came out muffled as your face pressed into his chest. Changbin and Jeongin fought with Hyunjin managing to help you escape from his grasp. You looked down at Hyunjin, still slumped over on the floor. “Do you feel better? Are you done throwing up?”

He nodded yes, briefly lifting his head, his face covered in a pout after your great escape.

You turned to the boys, “Changbin help me get him up, Han and Jeongin grab him some food and water. ” You didn’t do much to help Changbin drag Hyunjin to his room. Hyunjin groaned when Changbin tossed him onto the bed, rolling over onto his side. The boys had already put a couple of slices of pizza on his side table.

You sat down next to Hyunjin, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Hyune, get up. You should eat something and then you can get some rest.”

“I don’t wanna,” he was still pouting.

“Okay, then I’m gonna go since you don’t need my help,” you teased.

He reluctantly sat up, facing you and opening his mouth, expecting you to feed him.

“You’re such a baby,” you teased him while you fed him. You handed him a water bottle after he was done. “Drink, I’m gonna get something to clean you up a bit.” Hyunjin complied and you returned with his toothbrush and a warm washcloth to wipe his face. You went into his closet, picking out some sleep clothes for him. “You need to change into PJs.”

Hyunjin just lifted his arms, “I’m too tired, I need help.” His words were still slurred.

“You’re wearing a button down you idiot,” you said as you pushed his arms back down. You began to unbutton the black shirt he wore, giggling when Hyunjin squirmed when your light touches tickled him. Your breath hitched when you had finished unbuttoning the shirt. It had been a while since you had seen him like this. Had he been working out? He had a perfectly toned torso with washboard abs. You helped him slip off the shirt, not failing to notice his muscular arms.

“Stop staring,” Hyunjin’s words brought you back from your daze. “Pervert!!” Hyunjin covered his chest with his arms.

You just rolled your eyes, slipping the t-shirt over his head. “I am not changing your pants for you.” You turned around to give him some sort of privacy. You could hear the struggle as he tried to change his clothes while drunk. “Are you done? Are you okay?”

“I did it,” you turned to see Hyunjin on the floor again, now wearing his pajama bottoms and grinning proudly. You helped him back into bed, settling him under his blanket before picking up his clothes and tossing them into the hamper. You moved the garbage bin next to his bed, just in case he did feel sick.

“Are you comfy?” Hyunjins hummed contently. “Okay. Goodnight, I’ll check in on you tomorrow okay?”

Hyunjin slightly got up from his comfy position, “can’t you stay? Please stay.”

It was pretty late, and you were tired after helping him into bed. “Okay, I’ll stay, lie down I’m just gonna take a shower.” You went and grabbed yourself one of his t-shirts to change into, and a towel before going in to take a hot shower. The shirt covered more on you than your dress had so you didn’t feel the need to wear sweats. With how much heat radiated off of Hyunjin you would be sweating anyway. You climbed into bed next to Hyunjin expecting him to be asleep already. You sat up and opened up the book you’d been working your way through on your phone, not quite ready to fall asleep yet. Hyunjin felt you getting settled, he moved towards you, placing his head in your lap, and wrapping an arm around you.

“I thought you were asleep,”

“I am,” Hyunjin said with his eyes closed. You laughed, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. You felt Hyunjin’s hand on your exposed thigh, rubbing small circles along your leg. You could feel that familiar tingly sensation beginning to form. You grabbed his hand, hoping to stop whatever was going through your mind. You chalked it up to you being a little extra sensitive because of your unfinished business with Felix earlier in the night, choosing to move on from how Hyunjin’s hands had just sent sparks through your body.

Hyunjin wrapped your fingers in his hand, “your hands are always so cold.” Both of you sat happily in silence as you kept reading through your book.

“I love you,” Hyunjin interrupted the silence with his slurred words. You looked towards him, finding him looking back at you.

You gave him a warm smile that truly came from within, his words warming you up. “I love you too Hyune.”

“You do?” He looked at you with wide eyes, looking like a kid at that moment.

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend,”

Hyunjin settled his head back down in your lap, closing his eyes with his lips forming a small smile. “You shouldn’t love too many people, it’ll get diluted.”

“Hyune, that's not how it works. You can love lots of people, there’s not a limit.”

“It’s less special then.”

You giggled, hearing his childish tone as he tried to argue with you, “You’re very special to me. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” He seemed happy with your answer.

----

You woke up well before Hyunjin. Still tired from the late night, you decided to enjoy the warmth of bed a little longer, scrolling through insta on your phone. Hyunjin clung to you as usual so it wasn’t like you could move anyway and you didn’t want to wake him. You were momentarily released as Hyunjin turned, allowing you to get up and grab a glass of water and painkiller for Hyunjin before settling back into the warm covers.

Hyunjin peaked at you through squinted eyes and groaned, “Why do I feel like shit?”

You handed Hyunjin water and the painkiller. He sat up a bit, gladly accepting it. “You were so needy last night,” you teased him.

Hyunjin’s head snapped to look at you, “what?” He said nervously, still blurry on the details of the night before. He wasn’t sure if he had said something stupid in front of you.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “I forgive you for taking me away from my date night.” You had mistaken his nervousness for guilt over his actions. You turned to look at him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was a mess and his face was scrunched up.

“Why are you staring at me?” Hyunjin said.

“You are just so cute,” you pinched his cheek as he gave you a death glare.

“I’m not cute, I’m sexy.” You just giggled at his response, reaching to pinch his cheek once again. This time he grabbed your hand before you could get to him. His other hand began to tickle you.

“Hyunjin noooo!” you screamed between your tortured giggles.

“I’ll stop if you say Hyunjin you’re so sexy” You shook your head in refusal, unable to get words out at this point. You tried to use your free hand to tickle him back but soon lost that too. Hyunjin easily pinned both of your hands above you as he continued to tickle mercilessly. “All you have to do is say it.”

You kicked your legs, still trying to win. Finally succeeding, you knocked Hyunjin’s knee. He lost balance and his tickling hand landed beside your head as he stopped himself from falling onto you, his face just inches away from yours. You should have moved but you were frozen in place, the only thought in your mind was the way you could feel his breath fan against you. Hyunjin loosened his grasp on your hands, allowing you to free your hands but you didn’t move. You were drowning in his dark eyes as your heart thumped, loud enough that it drowned out any sound around you.

Hyunjin was the first to move, clearing his throat and sitting up, letting go of your hands completely. You were still frozen in place, trying to get your brain to become functional again. You managed to croak out, “Breakfast?”

Hyunjin, already red-faced after getting a look at you, turned his head to look away from you, “Um-uh do you want pants?”

It was your turn to blush. The little tickle fight had left you disheveled with the t-shirt you wore riding up your stomach, exposing your very skimpy underwear. You scrambled to cover yourself, wanting to die from shame and cursing yourself for not wearing pants. “Yes please,” you squeaked out. Hyunjin quickly climbed off the bed, quickly tossing a pair of sweatpants your way before walking out of the room and closing the door to give you some privacy. You whisper-screamed into a pillow trying to figure out how you could be around Hyunjin after exposing yourself like that. After taking a couple more minutes to wallow, you slipped on the sweats and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. You were a bit relieved to not see Hyunjin there. Instead, you saw Chris working away to cook breakfast and the boys fooling around at the table.

“Good morning,” you said as you took a seat next to Seungmin.

“How do you want your eggs?” Chris asked from the kitchen.

“Scrambled please.”

“How was your date?” Seungmin teased you.

“So did you two finally make it official?” Han piped up before you could say anything.

You nodded your head, a bit surprised that Han knew about you and Felix.

“Really? We thought so because Hyunjin hasn’t had anyone around in a while but we haven’t seen you either so we weren’t sure,” Jeongin added.

“I don’t know why he’s been such an ass recently then. You gotta make him more cheerful Y/n,” Changbin added.

The boys spoke so fast that it took you a second to process the conversation. “No, I’m dating-” you were interrupted as Hyunjin entered the room and loudly pulled out the chair at the edge of the table closest to you. “Felix” you finished after he sat down. “The date was good but cut short,” you answered Seungmin, glancing over at Hyunjin.

Chris came in, balancing plates with food for everyone. Everyone said their thank yous and began to dig in. “We need to figure out where we’re staying this spring,” Chris said as he took a seat as well. He was referring to a spring break trip they had been planning and you’d been invited to as well.

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend?” Han looked at you. The rest of the boys followed with ‘oohhs’ making you blush.

“I think I will. If he’s not busy we can add him to the list.” Hyunjin choked on his food while you were talking. You patted his back hoping to ease his coughing. “How are you feeling?”

“Gross,” Hyunjin managed to croak out between coughs.

The rest of breakfast was spent planning out more trip specifics. You headed back to your place after, needing a shower and to prepare a sorry for Felix after last night.

----

You were greeted by Minho when you got to Felix’s. Instead of a greeting he let you in and pointed to Felix’s room. You walked in and saw Felix sitting in front of his computer with his headphones on and entranced with whatever game he was playing. Not wanting to bother him, you took a seat on his bed, putting your sorry gift on his side table.

You were startled as you heard Felix scream. He took off his headphones and said, “When did you get here?”

“A bit ago. I brought sorry lemon squares,” you pointed to this dish on his table.

Felix came to sit next to you in his bed, pulling you close to him, “You didn’t have to do that baby. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“You’re sweet but I am sorry for ditching our date. Thank you for being so understanding,” you rested your head on his chest.

“There is one thing bothering me,” Felix said hesitantly.

Concern clouded your eyes as you looked at him, “what is it?”

“Did you go home all alone? Did you get a ride from someone else? You didn’t ask me for a ride and I was worried. It’s not safe for you to be walking so late at night.”

“I’m sorry. I should have texted you, I thought you were asleep already. I didn’t go home alone. It was late so I just ended up staying there. I really am sorry, I’m not that used to having people worry about me.”

Felix didn’t feel all that great about you staying the night in a frat house but he decided to hold his tongue, not wanting to sound jealous. “It’s okay baby,” Felix gave you his warm smile letting you know he meant it. “How was Hyunjin?” He asked, knowing he didn’t care about that but wanted to know what exactly had happened that would justify cutting your night short.

“He was just drunk and upset. I think he just wanted a friend nearby. But there is something wrong. He just isn’t telling me what it is yet. Even the rest of the guys said he’s been off recently but I guess he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“Do you know all of those guys well?” Felix pried.

“I’m not super close with them all. Seungmin and I are pretty good friends but I know the rest of them,” you answered. “Oh, that reminds me. Do you have any plans for spring break?”

“Nothing solid, what were you thinking of?”

“The guys have been planning a trip for ages, will you come with me?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to spend the time with anyone other than my girl.” His words made you blush. Felix had taken to calling you sweet nicknames pretty early on but this was the first time he had called you ‘his girl.’

“Stop it. You’re making me shy,” you hid your face in his chest.

Felix reached for your chin, pointing your face up so you would look at him. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before peppering your face with kisses, “You’re so cute.”

Felix and you settled in his bed, deciding to watch a movie. Just as you had picked one you heard a familiar song playing.

“Hey, did you get some rest?” You answered the call.

“Yeah, what are you doing?” Hyunjin said, still sounding a bit groggy like he had just woken up.

“I’m over at Felix’s.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, “will you ever have time for me again?”

You tsked at him, giggling at his antics, “You get most of my time. Let’s plan something though, if you feel neglected.”

“Do I need to call your secretary to schedule Ms. L/n?” Hyunjin replied sarcastically.

“Okay grumpy, I left a treat for you in the fridge so hopefully that’ll put you in a good mood.” You had stopped by Hyunjin's on your way over, hoping that your lemon squares would help brighten his mood.

Hyunjin sounded a bit perked up, “Did you make my favorite?”

“Yes, I did. I made extra for the boys so share!” You heard Hyunjin grumble a bit about sharing but he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, bye-bye.” He hung up before you could confirm if you were free.

“He really likes interrupting us,” Felix huffed out when you hung up the call.

“I think he’s not used to having to share my time,” you gave Felix a peck on the cheek. “You’re sounding a bit jealous,” you teased.

Felix looked at you with darkened eyes, causing the grin to fall from your face. “You have no idea. He gets most of your time?” Felix asked deeply.

Your mouth was dry, unable to answer the question as you took in his new demeanor.

Felix gripped your chin once again, this time much more roughly than before. Bringing his face close to yours he said, “I don’t want to share you, baby.” His voice was so low, every word sending shivers down your spine. His face was so close to yours that his lips ghosted over yours with every word. You tried to reach up to close the very small distance between the two of you but Felix roughly held you in place. “Are you impatient now princess? What about last night? You didn’t have an issue then.” Felix drew a bit away from your face to lock his eyes with yours. “Do you want to make it up to me, love?” You gulped and gave him a steady nod, studying his dark eyes that were flooded with lust. Felix placed a chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before whispering in your ear, “Green for keep going, yellow means this is good but no more, and red for stop,” the tickle of his breath stimulated you more, a wet spot forming in your panties. “Is it okay if we keep going?” Felix pulled away to look at you and you nodded. “I need your words, baby.”

“Green.” That was all it took. Felix crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you into a messy kiss. His hands were quick to explore your body, slipping under your shirt and tracing over your lace-covered breasts.

He pulled away from you, “off.” He helped you tug your shirt and pants off leaving you in the pretty lace lingerie you had selected. Felix looked you up and down hungrily before positioning himself on top of you and kissing your neck. You moaned as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, definitely leaving a mark behind. You tugged at his t-shirt, feeling like it was a bit unfair that he was still fully clothed. Felix ripped off his shirt and pants, returning between your spread legs and continuing his kisses along your collarbone. He kissed down to your clothed breasts, sucking on your nipple over the lace. You let out whimpers at the sensation, moving your hips up to grind against the bulge visible in his boxers.

Felix groaned at the friction but quickly moved his hands to pin your hips down, “you just keep being such a bad girl. Don’t you realize you’re in trouble?”

You screamed as he delivered a firm slap to your clothed pussy before resting his hand on the lace, running his index finger gently over the wet fabric of your panties. You shuddered at the light touches, “Please Felix? Let me make it up to you. Stop teasing me.”

“Yeah?” he groaned out in that low voice. He stood up, getting off the bed and motioning you over him. You scrambled up and stood in front of him. He let a chuckle out at your eagerness. “Kneel.”

You dropped to your knees, now eye level with his bulge. He pulled his boxers down and his dick sprung out, hitting his stomach. His tip was leaking and behind the facade Felix felt like he could cum just from the way you sat with your mouth hanging open, waiting for him to fuck your face. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling it so your hungry gaze was drawn away from his cock and you had to look at his face. His dark eyes softened for a second, “tap on my thigh if it's too much.”

Felix pushed his tip into your mouth, slowly sinking deeper until you felt him at the back of your throat. You wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue on his length. Felix moaned lowly, pulling out of you. When he didn’t immediately thrust back into your mouth, you leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” Felix’s moans continued as you bobbed your head on his cock, taking him deep into your throat. You gagged around him as he started thrusting harder, fucking your face. Your eyes teared and you drooled around his dick. Felix took in the sight of you, roughly yanking your mouth off his dick by pulling your hair.

You stared up at him, pupils wide and consumed with lust. Your panties stuck to your core, you were practically dripping on the floor now. “I want you to cum in my mouth baby.”

Felix pulled you up, bringing his lips close to your ear he whispered, “I don’t think you’ve been nearly good enough to be making requests. On the bed, now.”

You quickly followed his command, eagerly waiting for him to touch you. You needed to be touched so badly. Felix pulled you to the edge of the bed so that your legs hung down. He knelt before you, face so close to where you wanted him most. “You want me to touch you, baby?”

“Yes, please. I need it,” you begged him. You gasped as you felt him lick a stripe along your clothed pussy, bucking your hips trying to prolong the contact.

“You’re such a slut. So wet just from sucking dick.” Felix licked you once again, treacherously slow. You were writhing, begging him continuously to give you more. Finally, he ripped off your panties, tossing them across the room. He ran a finger through your wet folds, flicking your clit in the process. This was enough to cause you to jolt. Felix continued the motion with his finger, slowly flicking your clit and watching you jolt each time. You could feel the heat pooling but his slow motions weren't enough to make you cum.

“Please, I’m good, I’ll be good just fuck me, please,” you begged shamelessly.

Felix finally relented, grabbing a condom from the drawer of his side table and rolling it on. He lined himself up with your entrance. He wanted to tease you further but he needed to feel you around him. He thrust into you, filling you up and stretching your walls. Your walls spasmed around him and he stilled for a moment, letting you get used to him but also warding off his orgasm which he knew would come embarrassingly fast if he didn’t pace himself.

He began fucking into you, moving slowly at first as you still adjusted to the way he stretched your walls. You were a mess of moans, not letting out anything coherent. He quickened his pace, bringing his hand down to rub circles around your clit, pushing you closer to your orgasm.

“Are you gonna be good? Are you gonna cum on my cock?”

You moaned out a string of ‘yes’ as you felt your orgasm approach. Your body spasmed as he fucked you through your high, coming shortly after with his hips stuttered. Both of you panted, recovering from your orgasms.

Felix joined you on the bed, pulling your tired body into his arms and gently kissing you. He pulled away and looked at you. He really looked at you, eyes locked with yours as if he was trying to peer into your soul.

“What is it?” You asked under his intense gaze.

“I love you.”

_____________

End of Part 4

This is an original work. Do not republish or repost this work in any form, including translations.

©LuvyBlossom

taglist: @mimihwang248 @meeeds @lixiespick @fangirlnation @chartrucewhore @karmakalesposts

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illylli · 2 years

Text

Good Times for a Change (Pt. 1) | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

→ All it takes is a twenty-minute car ride for Eddie to start crushing on you.

→ 2.5k words: eddie’s POV, the overachiever x metalhead dynamic i always tend to write, eddie basically being max’s new (much healthier) older brother, reader being a sweetheart and eddie is just instantly awooga heart-eyes

→ a/n: sorry i’ve been away so long! work has been crazy and i haven’t had a spare moment to write :’( i will get back onto finishing up ‘bite my tongue’ and some other fics i have planned as soon as i can x

♫ mood: ‘please, please, please, let me get what i want’ by the smiths

part two

“Shit, shit! Piece of shit.”

Eddie’s knuckles were taut white as he shoved the key further than it would go, receiving nothing but a sputtering engine in response. He burst with a shout, slapping his hands down on the weathered steering wheel, his hair jerking as he raged in the driver’s seat.

This had to be a sign. An ill-omen that he was destined to be stuck in this hellish loop, repeating senior year for eternity. The first day back to good ole Hawkins High, and he was going to be late because his trusty gal decided to go frigid on him.

Despite being at it for a solid ten minutes, enough that he was panicking now, Eddie refused to give up, shoving the creaky door open and rounding on the hood. Did he have any idea what he was doing as he hoisted it up? Nope. But he was damn sure going to fiddle with everything at least once to see if it made any difference.

His eyes flitted between the front door of the trailer and the over-complicated metal innards of the van. He could wake Wayne up; he’d know for sure what to do. But as quickly as the thought entered his head, he shook it out. He wasn’t going to interrupt his uncle’s well-deserved rest for something he could figure out himself.

He always figured things out, in the end.

This time, though, it seemed he wouldn’t need to.

A cream Porsche 911 rolled forward, windows down, allowing a Smiths song to swirl in the air. Eddie scrunched his nose at the sound, turning around to bear witness to the way you, bright-eyed behind your round sunglasses, popped out and half-jogged up to the Mayfield family’s home, knocking thrice and bouncing on the heels of your shiny black boots as you waited.

Eddie only realised he had gone slack-jawed when the emerging Max gave him an annoyed glare as she exited. Her arm was immediately linked in yours as you turned back to your car, a flurry of words bubbling from your perfectly-poised lips. You couldn’t be more opposite to the redhead, who sulked all the way to the passenger side, waiting with crossed arms as you opened the door for her.

It was then, as you were shutting the door gently, that your eyes peered up over the lenses of your glasses and caught Eddie Munson leaning over his van engine, staring at you.

He felt his cheeks flush stupidly as he quickly brought his eyes back down, hoping you wouldn’t say anything, but knowing you would.

The preppy now-senior who was always voted ‘most likely to exceed’ in every yearbook didn’t belong in a dump like this. Though Eddie’s curiosity wouldn’t take him as far to ask you why.

“Gimme a sec,” You told Max with a tap to the roof of your car, before Eddie heard the gravel beneath your boots crunching as you made your way over to him.

Eddie got to looking busy, fidgeting with the cap on one of the compartments, his fingers staining with grease as he twirled it off.

“Need a hand?” You asked sweetly, and though Eddie didn’t mean to let it slip, he huffed in amusement at the thought of little miss perfect getting her hands dirty.

“No I’ve uh,” he gave a tight grin, pulling at another mystery part of the engine, “I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You bristled at the term, unsure if it was used genuinely or with condescending intent. “Right,” you nodded, glancing down at his hands, “I’ve just never seen someone use a dipstick to measure engine coolant.” You bent over, tapping on the side of the semi-transparent container. “You can see the levels marked right here; in case you didn’t know.”

Eddie heard snickering, his gaze darting over to your car where Max was hanging out of the window, laughing at him. He hadn’t seen his neighbour smile, let alone hear her laugh before. He wasn’t sure if being the cause of her amusement should make his embarrassment grow or lessen.

“Leave the dipstick alone,” Max called, “He’s going to make us late.”

You rolled your eyes with your back turned to her, though you wore an endeared smile, and it eased Eddie. Your first shared joke, and he wasn’t even sure you knew his name.

You brought your manicured hands to your hips. “Edward Munson, right?” You asked, as if reading his thoughts.

He winced slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Eddie’s fine. Or dipstick, as lovingly dubbed by my nefarious neighbour.” He said that last part over your shoulder, and Max threw up a middle finger.

“Well, Eddie,” you tested his name, “Are you going to play mechanic all day, or do you want a lift to school?”

Eddie sighed, closing the van’s hood. That meant you remembered the fact that his name hadn’t been amongst those called out on graduation day last year. Shame crawled up his throat and he swallowed it down as usual.

He lingered for a second, letting The Smiths serenade his decision as he retrieved his backpack from the van before locking it up.

“I’m all yours.”

With a content nod you lead him to your car, and only then did he realise it only had 2 doors. Max eyed Eddie as you bent over, pulling the driver’s seat forward. He widened his eyes at her, a response to her silent dare, but also a tactic to stop his gaze from slipping to the bare back of your thighs and up higher, where your skirt hem danced just below your-

“Eddie!”

His eyes snapped back to Max’s bright blue then away to the treeline, coughing awkwardly as you straightened, motioning for him to climb into the backseat. When he didn’t immediately go for it, you frowned up at him, then back to Max.

“Everything okay?”

Max narrowed her eyes at the young man. “I’m fine.”

“Peachy,” Eddie muttered, smiling to himself as Max scoffed. He clambered, with effort, into the backseat, his knees almost coming up to his chest in the tiny car. Max made a point to push her seat back all the way, cramping him further as she gave herself a lot more leg room than she needed.

“Comfortable, Mayfield?” Eddie grumbled.

“Yup,” She bit back, putting her feet up on the dash, which you quickly swatted down.

“Seatbelt,” You instructed, pushing your seat back into position, mercifully giving Eddie extra room to stretch out behind you. He had to hunch over, otherwise his head would be against the low roof.

Morrissey was pleading, “Let me, let me, let me” as you put the car into drive, circling around, driving past Eddie’s van and along the dirt road to exit the trailer park.

You drove with the windows down, and as you picked up speed, turning onto the paved road, Max opened the glove compartment, riffling through your collection of cassettes.

Eddie wasn’t hopeful, but he popped his head between the front seats, scrutinising if you had anything good. The Cure, Bowie, Cocteau Twins; not exactly his taste, but at least you weren’t totally hopeless.

“Check my bag,” you told Max, pointing to the back. She rounded on Eddie, frowning at him with her hand outstretched. He looked left then right, muttering a curse as he realised the sage green bag had been squashed under his reeboks.

Max waited impatiently as he pulled it up, unzipping it before handing it to the girl. He’d gotten a glimpse into your life in that split second: lipstick, a couple dollars, and a whiff of maddening perfume surrounding a small package wrapped in butcher’s paper.

As soon as Max laid eyes on the contents her annoyance faded to curiosity. You nodded, encouraging her as she picked up the small box.

She tore into it, unwrapping a tape with a purple cover.

“Kate Bush?”

You smiled, eyes still on the road. Eddie watched the exchange through the rear-view mirror as he relaxed into the soft leather seat.

“She got me through my freshman year. She’ll get you through yours.” You reached over and tugged on her braid, and she shoved your hand away, but a small smile stayed on her lips.

Max switched out The Smiths for her gift, and though it definitely was not something he’d be caught dead listening to, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his soul warm every time he got to witness someone fall in love for the first time. Max sat back, her glassy eyes wide and reminiscing as she turned her head and watched the trees fly by, the music sinking into her.

Eddie wanted to ask how the hell a senior with an express ticket to an Ivy League college had come to befriend his sulky young neighbour, but he knew better than to interrupt the listening session, a comfortable silence falling as you appreciated the record.

He took the time to admire the way your delicate pearl bracelet swayed each time you shifted gears, your handling of the car so smooth he could barely feel it each time. The realisation finally struck him that he, Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, was getting chauffeured by the most well-liked person of the school.

And no, popularity had nothing to do with it. You were far from ‘popular’; those who were envied and unapproachable. You were the people person: a rare mix of agreeable and adaptable that made absolutely everyone at the very least neutral to your presence. You could pick any table to sit at during lunch, strike up a conversation with anyone, be it teacher or student, and have them smiling the whole way through.

Hell, you’d managed to squeeze a few out of Mayfield, despite her usual stormy disposition.

As the previous song ended, Eddie spoke into the silence before the next began, his hands wrapping around the seat on either side of your head.

“You make this a habit?” He asked, “A shuttle for the wicked?”

You peered at him through the rear view, humour sparkling in your eyes. “This is a one-off for you, Munson. I only promised Max my wheels for the school year.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” He mused mischievously, turning his attention to the younger girl, “You got some juicy dirt on the future valedictorian?”

“Oh, of course,” Max turned in her seat, facing Eddie through the gap in the headrest, over-enthusiastic, “She sells drugs to kids and failed senior year twice.”

“Har har,” Eddie fell back into the leather, wearing a tight-lipped smile, “Great joke.”

“The greatest joke of all is in the backseat wearing his shirt inside out,” She muttered, turning back to the front.

“Hey,” you warned, but your tone was gentle. Max faced out the window again, and your eyes caught Eddie’s in the mirror. “She’s right, though.”

His heart sunk.

“Your shirt’s inside out.”

He looked down, uttered an “Oh,” just as you pulled into the car park.

“Wait,” you told Max, her hand on the door handle. “Did your mom pack you lunch?”

“No,” She replied, as if it were a fact of life.

You pulled your bag onto your lap, retrieving a lunchbox with a faded wonder woman adorning the front. “I didn’t know what you like, so I made one ham and one turkey. There’s also a fudge brownie in there. Just bring back whatever you don’t eat.”

Max frowned as you passed the box to her, caught off guard.

“Thanks,” she murmured before leaving without so much as a goodbye to Eddie.

“Have a good day!” You yelled out the window, “I’ll meet you back here at three.”

She nodded before sliding her headphones onto her ears.

“Is the big juicy secret that you’re actually her mom?”

Eddie’s voice made you jump, and you remembered he was still in the back.

He reached forward, leaving a teasing pinch to your arm. “Are you secretly like, forty-five, but super good at doing your makeup, or something?”

“Or something,” You retorted, pulling the passenger seat all the way forward to give him a way out.

Instead of leaving, he pulled his shirt over his head, flipping it the right way out. He glanced up, catching you looking at his chest, then looking away when you noticed.

Eddie chuckled as he shrugged the shirt back on. “Wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression, right?”

“More like third impression.”

“Hey, third time’s the charm, don’t they say?” He leaned forward to go, but paused, his guitar-pick necklace dangling in your face. “Mommy dearest didn’t pack my lunch, either, y’know.”

You laughed, shoving him. “I’m not a charity worker. You can eat from the cafeteria like all the other neglected kids.”

He felt it then. What everyone else must have, when in your presence. The distinct magnetism that came with this easy flow, like you’d been friends for years, when in reality you’d only officially become acquainted twenty minutes ago. He didn’t want to leave.

“I’m guessing I won’t see you there?”

You looked up at him, and he wondered if everyone felt their heart stop when you looked at them like that.

“You might.”

He chuckled, “How does this work? Do I chant your name three times into the boy’s bathroom mirror and you show up at my lunch table?”

“Or you could just save me a seat and I’ll come find you.”

He wasn’t sure what was happening in his chest, but the ricochet of his heart’s pounding made his breath quiver.

“Alright.”

You weren’t flirting with him. You were not flirting. You were just being nice. You were like this to everyone.

Eddie was trying to get it through his thick skull, but no matter how many times he told himself, he couldn’t believe it. Especially not when you hurried out to meet him at the passenger side to offer him your hand as he climbed out, your free one landing gently on his head to make sure he didn’t bump it on the way out.

“Your hair’s really soft,” you complimented.

“You too,” he stammered, “Uh, I mean, it looks-“ He reached out, pushing a stray lock behind your ear, then immediately regretting doing it without asking. “Mhmm. Yes. Confirmed.”

What was happening to him? His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. A betrayal of his own body that worsened when he realised he hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Shit. Sorry.”

As he let go, a group of jocks passed by, subtlety lost on them as they glared at him.

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “Anyway. See you at lunch. Maybe.” He backed up, feeling the tension in his chest lighten slightly the further he got away, “If you’re not there by second bell I’ll start chanting.”

You tittered. “You’re really not doing anything to quell the satanist rumours, are you?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for, angel,” he winked.

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tags: @andperset @1a-ma1a-su3rt3

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary: The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

#phillip graves #phillip graves x you #philip graves x reader #cod #codmwii #call of duty modern warfare #phillip graves x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod mw22 #codmw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #moni writes #phillip graves x y/n #philip graves x you #philip graves #philip graves x y/n

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backtothefanfiction · 22 days

Text

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU~ Part ONE

Summary: When Phoenix comes home to find her fiancé banging some other girl, her whole life changes seemingly overnight. Forced to go back and live with her Dad, she's about to be dragged into a life with the men her Dad is indebted to.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, setting things on fire, swearing, dead parent, debt, mental health issues, brain tumour, broken family, anger issues (female rage), AFAB OFC, objectification of the female body, pyromania, little bit of theft (smut to come)

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I didn't need to have yet another idea for a story. I also didn't need to write it straight away, but I recently read Den of Vipers and figured I could do something better featuring the Triple Frontier boys. I don't know how many parts of this there will be, or how regularly this will ultimately be updated, but I thought I'd share anyway. Smut will come, featuring all four guys this time. This will use an ofc but apart from the hair, there aren't too many descriptors. This will also be written from multiple characters points of view throughout to keep things interesting. Enjoy!

ONE

PHEONIX

My fingers itch as I grip the steering wheel tighter. I should have worn gloves, I say to myself as I drop one hand from the wheel and rub it vigorously against my torn jeans, hoping the friction from the denim will- at the very least- satiate the itch left behind from the lighter fluid long enough for me to get to the next gas station, so I can stop in and wash my hands properly.

It was reckless of me really- the whole damn thing. My brothers taught me better than this, but then again, everyone said I had a temper that was only second to Archie’s in my family- so I’m really not that surprised. People say my Dad used to be equally hot headed before he got remarried to Marina and took over the club, but I’ve still yet to see it- even after all the shit me and my brothers have pulled over the years. It’s like after our Mother died he just gave up. But I don’t blame him. I would too if I lost the love of my life to a fucking disease like that. I had barely known her anyway, so I didn’t really notice all that much when the brain tumor turned her into a “literal monster”, as my older brothers used to so fondly call her when she was on one of her rampages.

I’d always said that my only real memory of her was when she tried to burn down the house by settling alight to the curtains in their bedroom. I remember we all stood out on the front grass as the smoke billowed out of the windows and mixed with the night air. Archie stood on my right holding one of my hands, E.Z stood on my left holding the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had a thing for fire myself. Messing about with lighters, setting things on fire- all so I can try and understand that night… At least, that’s what a therapist would probably say.

My Dad tried to make me go to one once, after I ended up burning down the whole science block at my school at 16, but alas, that never happened. Which is why I’m probably still using fire as a coping method after all these years.

My phone is blowing up by the time I reach the nearest gas station. I scan the messages from my brothers over quickly as I pull into the lot.

Deano: Heard what you did, I’d say he fucking deserved it.

Archie: Dad is pissed. Gonna try to calm him down before he does something stupid.

E.Z: Seriously, Phe, again! Dad is gonna be so pissed.

Leo: Just heard about your latest work, props little sis, I think your balls might be even bigger than Dean’s.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone in the glove box as it begins to buzz again. Uhh, I really don’t want or need a lecture right now about how I should or should not have acted upon finding my fiance in bed with another woman. Did I over react… by some people’s standards- maybe. But did I also live out every woman’s fantasy of dousing the bed in lighter fluid and striking a match whilst they were still in the bed… yes- yes I did- and do I give two fucks about any repercussions? Absolutely- fucking- not. Because there won’t be. Never have been. My Dad works for some of the most powerful men in the city- and I’m not talking about the Governor or the Mayor. No- someone will send some money over to keep them sweet and in a couple days time, everything will go back to normal.

I scrub at my hands with the shitty cheap soap in the tiny cubicle inside the gas station to the point the giant rock, still on my finger, almost slips off and down the drain. It’s the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s just an extension of my hand at this point. What am I gonna do with it? I mean- it’s worth a fucking fortune. Freddie was fucking loaded after all. None of it fucking his mind you. His Dad was a close business partner for the same guys my Dad worked for. Let’s just say, crime pays and his Dad has made so much money over the years working for Santiago Garcia and his crew, Freddie has never had to lift a single finger, let alone do a days work, to get what he wants.

I grab a handful of shitty paper towels, drying off my hands and the ring, holding it up to the fluorescent bathroom light. Uhhh it wasn’t even my style. I hate diamonds, they’re so basic and boring. Give me a massive fuck off ruby or saphire anyday.

Still unsure what to do with it, I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before assessing how I look in the mirror. It’s like waking up from the weirdest dream and not recognising yourself. I look at my blonde hair in the mirror, the plain white t-shirt covering my breasts. I look like one of those young Barbie, trophy wife wannabe types. Where did the color and fun go? He drained it all out of me.

In college, when I met Freddie, I had pink in my hair and always had on something bright. At least my ripped jeans still have some character.

Exiting out back onto the shop floor, I grab myself a large bag of cheetos and a cherry icee- that's as big as my head- from the machine in the back. As I place the large bag of cheesy puffs on the counter, I take a large sip of my drink, before placing that too on the counter, reaching for a pair of bright yellow heart sunglasses on a display next to the cashier.

“What d’ya think?” I ask the portly man behind the counter, who’s polo shirt doesn’t look or smell like it’s been washed for at least two weeks with its armpit stains and ranch dressing smear on the front.

It’s obvious he’s trying to come across as if he’s not checking out my whole body as he looks at me, but his eyes scan lower than my face, falling on the V neck of my t-shirt and my breasts for a hint too long. I flash him a sickly sweet smile as I take the sunglasses off my face and hook them into my shirt where his eyes seem to linger instead. “How about now?” I ask.

He quickly clears his throat as he looks back to the register. “Uhhh, yes- Yes- I think they suit you, yes.” he rambles and I can’t help but laugh. Men like that were always so predictable.

I reach for the icee taking another sip and try to school my features when I get brain freeze. “With the sunglasses,” he says, “16 bucks.” I sigh, but fish a couple notes out my back pocket and hand them over, just as my eyes land on a lighter covered in black and white harlequin print. My fingers instantly reach for it.

I turn the lighter over and over again in my fingers before flipping the top of it open and striking up a flame, my eyes getting lost in its amber glow as it sways hypnotically back and forth. It instantly takes me back to not 20 minutes ago and Fred and the girl’s screams, as the bed covers went up in flames and they both shot out from underneath them as he screamed about how much of a psycho I was.

The ding of the till draw brings me back to the present and I flick the lighter closed. “Oh, and I’m taking this as payment for you oggling me.” I smile at the balding cashier, as I pocket the lighter and grab my bits off the counter.

I can hear him calling after me, “HEY, COME BACK HERE! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!” but I just laugh and take another sip of the slush and place the sunglasses back on my head.

As I walk back to my car, I notice a bum, sitting in the shade of the wall at the back corner of the station. As I look at him, I can feel the weight of the ring in my back pocket, dragging me towards him. Hey, the ring might not have changed my life, but it doesn’t mean it can’t change someone else’s life.

“Hey.” I say, lifting the yellow sunglasses on top of my head so I can meet his eyes. “Catch.” I toss him the ring. It sparkles as it hits the afternoon sun and I know from the look on his eyes as it makes contact with his fingers, he feels like he just won the lottery. “Pawn it. Get whatever you want with it, I don’t care.” I say as I begin to turn away from him and back to my car.

“Uh-thank you.” he says at first in shock, “Thank you.” he says again, a little more confidently now.

“Don’t mention it.” I shout back to him as I unlock my car with a chirp and climb back inside.

I open the bag of cheetos, taking one and popping it in my mouth, before dumping them on the passenger seat and reaching to open the glove box, taking my phone back out.

7 more texts from my brothers and 5 missed calls from my Dad; with a final text saying:

DAD: Get your ass home. NOW!

Well, that does it then. I guess I’m going back to the old family home.

I start the engine, shuffling through the radio stations until I find something I like. When I hear the opening riff for Britney Spears’ Toxic, I stop and whack the volume all the way up. My tires screech as I speed out of the forecourt. I sing at the top of my lungs all the way home.

☆

I’m not through the door five seconds when E.Z is trying to usher me back out again. He’s always been the softer one. Third born. The middle child. Always overlooked, but still always trying to appease everyone.

“Dad is pissed.” He says, when he meets me in the foyer. After Mom tried to burn the house down, the place got remodeled. My Dad had to sell his soul to the devil to do it, but it meant we got to stay in our family home. Well, sort of.

The whole left side of the house needed rebuilding, which meant they got to extend it out a bit more. We lost the basketball court the boys liked to play on, but it meant they finally got their own rooms so they didn’t mind.

“I know.” I say to E.Z, waving my phone in his face with one hand, while I take a sip of my icee with the other.

“Give me that.” He says, snatching the drink from my hand, the contents within the straw almost going everywhere as he rips it straight from my mouth. “This is serious Phe, Andy,” Freddie’s dad, “has already been on the phone making threats. You know how important he is for the business. He’s threatening to cut off the club’s supplies.”

“And….” I shrug, before reaching to take back the large cup in his hands. He merely moves it further out of my reach. “Look, I’m sure the guys who own the place have other connections he can use.”

“You sure about that?” My brother presses, raising his eyebrows and looming over me.

“Oh come on, you telling me those four wannabe goodfellas bozos, haven’t got some other dipshit on their payroll to import and export shit for them off record to help keep club costs down.”

E.Z’s face is a picture. Eyes wide, face serious. It’s clear from his expression and his mouth that keeps gaping like a fish as he tries to get a word in, that he thinks I should shut up. “What!?” I hiss at him, but as I’ve been ranting and raving, I haven’t heard the second set of feet that have made their way through the front door into the foyer. E.Z’s face turns pale as he looks behind me to the figure and back.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” A forced casual voice comes from behind me.

I turn my head and follow the voice to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on. All tanned skin and dark curly hair, a smattering of grays mixed in- the only hint to his age. I frown as a familiarity falls over me, but I can’t quite place from where. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

He slides his fingers into his trouser pockets, his foot tapping slightly as he looks me up and down. “Oh you know, I’m just one of those bozos who’s now having to help clear up your mess.”

Before I have a chance to respond, my Dad and Archie step out of his office at the end of the hall. “PHEONIX!” My Dad’s voice bellows and I blanche, maybe that anger isn’t as far away as I thought.

I turn away from the stranger in his Armani suit by the front door, to my Dad, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Hi, Dadd-”

“Uh- No!” He says, holding up a hand to stop me, “Don’t you dare-” He stops as he spots the other gentleman in the foyer. “Pope.” He says, his demeanor growing lighter as he greets the man who actually owns his ass.

“What kind of name is Pope?” I hiss to E.Z under my breathe, but he just nudges me to shut up.

“David… Archie…” Pope nods his head to the two men. “Shall we talk in your office.” He says, nodding back down the hall behind him.

“Uh- yes. Yes.” My Dad says nervously, turning his body to indicate for him to follow him back, before shooting me a stern look, telling me to behave and that this was far from over.

“Pheonix.” Pope nods to me as he passes, a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth and a look in his eye that I could only describe as fascination. But it quickly disappears again as he turns back to my Dad.

As the door to my Father’s office closes, my brother begins to ferry me towards the stairs. “I’d get up there and stay out of trouble if I were you.” He warns.

I roll my eyes at him before I slip the yellow, heart shaped sunglasses, down over them with annoyance, snatching back my icee, before I stomp upstairs- as usual, out of sight, out of mind.

POPE

“Mr Garcia, I am so sorry for my daughters behavior. I really had thought she’d grown out of this,” David Leacher says, as I sit myself down in one of the leather armchairs in his office. “And I never thought she would do something like this that would put your well balanced business in jeopardy.”

I fain disinterest about the subject, because really, it doesn’t actually bother me all that much at all. Sure Andy is a bit pissed now on behalf of his son, but from what I hear, if you’re gonna go sneaking around behind your soon to be Mrs' back and she finds out, you kinda get what your asking for. To be fair, I gotta give the little lady props; it takes real guts to dump lighter fluid on a guy and strike the match, regardless of the consequences.

“… I just don’t know what to do with her.” David says, slumping back in his chair behind his desk with a large glass of bourbon in his hand.

“And this is why I never got married and had kids.” I say, giving him a tight lipped smirk. There’s an awkward pause between us, the only sound in the room, the ice clinking in David’s glass as he takes another nervous sip, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation, waiting for the slap on the wrist he thinks is about to come. “Look David, I’ll get to the point, Andy wants compensation for the money he’s already forked out for the wedding.” David puts his drink down and begins rubbing his temples as if this whole ordeal is giving him a headache.

He sighs, turning to me, an earnest look in his eye, “Pope,” he says softly- imploringly- “you know I don’t have the money for that-“

“I know.” I say, cutting him off. “That’s why, we’ve decided to franchise Medusa’s. We are going to acquire two more clubs, you’ll get a pay rise and oversee all three venues, to help cover the costs. We get more money coming in through the clubs, you get more money to pay off Andy- everyone’s a winner.”

The look of relief on David’s face is a picture. “Oh thank you, Pope- uh Mr Garcia.” He says, as his whole body seems to let out a very long breath that he had been keeping tight in his body, probably since the first call he got this afternoon about his daughter’s antics. “Thank you, thank you.” He seemingly pants.

“Look Dave, you’re a good guy- a loyal guy-“ I say honestly, “you work hard, you run Medusa’s well. Profits have been up 30% since you took over. I’m not gonna jeopardize that over some silly tiff between a couple kids.”

“No, no… thank you.” He says quietly, acknowledging my words as I continue to speak.

“Whether this had happened or not, we were going to come to you with this proposal this week anyway. Help you pay off your debt to us quicker too- you know.”

“Yes… thank you, Pope. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” I nod to him. “I’ll call Andy, let him know everything is settled.”

“Thank you, Pope, thank you.” He says again.

David is a good man- a loyal man. He runs our most popular club well, but it was a real shame how soft he had gone in his old age. Ever since he lost his wife, he’s never been the same. Then he married that wannabe wag Marina- who does nothing but spend the rest of what little money he has coming in after he repays some of his debt to us- and walks all over him. Back in the day he had really made a name for himself bare knuckle boxing. They used to call him The Reaper because he could knock a man out with a single blow that brought a man close to death; but nowadays he’d barely hit a fly. This was yet another reason I never settled down and did the whole wife and kids thing- it made you soft.

Still didn’t stop his little girl from being as tough as nails and crazy to boot- but when the only female role models you had growing up were a Mother with a brain tumor that made her- to be polite- unhinged; and then Marina, it's no wonder she’s ended up as she has. She bounced around three different boarding schools in her teens. By the third school- after she had burnt down the science block at the second school- we had to write a fairly hefty donation cheque, in order to get her in. Just another number added to David’s bill to be repaid.

Although he had initially approached us looking for work in order to pay off his wife’s medical bills and then to redo the house after she had burnt half of it down, most of the money he’s borrowed from us over the years has been for Phoenix. Frankie, Will and myself have spent many a night around the table with a drink in our hands speculating on why he continues to bail her out and put himself in more debt to protect her. We’ve long come to assume it’s probably because of guilt. That she was robbed of a proper Mother. Cursed to have a weak Father. If she had been my kid, I would have tossed her ass out on the curb a long time ago and told her to deal with her own shit if she wanted to keep behaving the way she has over the years.

To be fair though, after she met Freddie, we thought she’d finally straightened out- or at least she had become Fred’s problem and he was dealing with it. She stopped going to the clubs. Started wearing more grown up clothing that matched her age. Began running with Freddie and his older friends. But I guess it was only a matter of time and you know what they say- a leopard never changes their spots.

I’m halfway to the door, ready to leave, when David stops me. “Umm, Pope.” He says tentatively. I slowly turn myself back to him, ready to hear his request, even though he’s in no place to be making requests right now after I’ve just bailed his ass out for the fifteenth time. “I was just wondering…” he continues hesitantly, “seeing as Phoenix and Freddie are no longer together, she’ll probably need an actual job of her own now…” I can almost feel myself rubbing at my temples, knowing the question that was about to come out of his mouth. It’s the same question that had come when all of his son’s came of age and needed a job… but this time is different- and we both know it.

Phoenix isn’t like her brothers. Where they are able to be mature and step up and follow orders, she most definitely can not. I’ve seen enough of her school reports over the years to know what kind of employee she’d be. When David had asked about getting the boys jobs, it had been a no brainer. Each one of them had a build similar to their father in his hay day, perfect for a bit of muscle and extra protection in the club. But a job in Medusa’s for Phoenix would be behind the bar- and I know for a fact she’d sooner pour herself shots of liquor and dance on that bar than stand back and serve everyone else whilst they had a good time.

I already know I’m going to regret this when I finally climb into my bed at the end of the night, “She gets one chance.” I say. “One chance.” I hold up my index finger to him for emphasis.

“Thank you, Pope. I promise she won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter to myself, my thumb and forefinger rubbing at my eyes in both irritation and exhaustion, as I finally leave the room. I give Archie a brief nod of acknowledgement as he sees me back out to my car.

I'm about to climb back in when he says, "I know you didn't have to do that, but he needed that, you know. He needs that hope that she'll be okay."

I only give him a nod as I look up to the row of upstairs windows and back to him, "We'll see." I say. "We'll see."

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

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#triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #ben miller #ben miller x reader #will ironhead miller #will miller x reader #tf!boys x reader #mafia au #ofc #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales

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i-cant-sing · 2 years

Note

What would Dabi think about his beloved daughter going on practice rounds with Bakugou 😭 I honestly think his fantasy with running Bakugou over would increase

Omgggg that brat would do it to spite them 😭😭😭 but imagine this:

"Hey, Dad?" Dabi hummed as he ate his dinner. "I wanted to ask if I can take your McLaren out today?"

Dabi raised a brow. "Alright. Where'd you wanna go? I was gonna go to the tracks today, but we can stop by Target-"

"No. I meant, if I could drive your car." At that, Dabi's eyes widened.

"You... want to drive?"

Keigo smiled as he put more food on your and Dabi's plate. He knew Dabi had been waiting since forever to teach you how to drive. Dabi had tried to get you to at least get a learner's permit, but you'd turned him down because you said it was scary. Keigo had convinced him to let you come around in your own when you're ready, and there's no rush since you were still underage then.

Now that he looks at the excitement in Dabi's eyes, Keigo knows that his patience has finally paid off.

"Yeah." You nodded, eating up the last bit of dinner Keigo had made. "I was gonna go meet some friends and then go to the tracks."

You wanna learn to drive and go to the tracks? God, do you even know how happy you're making your dads?

Dabi hurriedly wiped his mouth clean. "Alright. I'm finished, why don't you go get ready and I'll be waiting for you in the car."

"What? No, I'm gonna go alone."

Keigo chuckled. "Well you can't drive without a licence, honey! Silly you, have you forgotten that you need to first learn how to hold a steering wheel?"

"Huh? But I already have my license. Katsuki taught me how to drive earlier this month and then convinced me to take the test! Here!" You pulled out your driver's license, bragging how you aced the test on first attempt and all the amazing tips gave you. But Keigo and Dabi had stopped listening.

You have a licence? Katsuki taught you how to drive? KATSUKI TAUGHT YOU HOW TO DRIVE-

Dabi's face began reddening from rage and Keigo could see the fury in his eyes. Dabi was already fucking pissed because of you spending time with that new racer that thinks he's the fucking champion of the world. When Keigo brought you to tracks, instead of cheering Davi from the stands, youd sneak off to see Katsuki, and Dabi even caught you sitting on the back of his car, where the blonde was putting his sweaty helmet on you and then attacked you (gently) on the lips with his disgusting lips. Clearly, Dabi had to save you (he actually carried you back). Katsuki was dangerous for you, and youd been soending way too much time with him- off tracks even. Just last week, you'd begged them to let you go out with friends and later found out that Katsuki had taken you to some underground, totally illegal, street races.

And now that brat had the fucking nerve to teach you how to drive. He took that moment of bonding, something that Dabi had been looking forward to ever since you were a baby, and Katsuki took that from him.

Dabi's gonna kill him.

"So... can I go?"You asked.

"No."

"No? But why not?" Your voice got quite as you saw the angry look in Dabi's eyes. Your eyes trailed down to his clenched fists that were now beginning to shake.

"Because-!"

"Because that's an expensive car, darling! And its got a powerful engine that you're not quite familiar with."Keigo smiled, cutting Dabi off on purpose. "Why don't I get you car that's more suited to you? A Volvo? Mustang? BMW? Why don't you come to the dealership with me tomorrow and we can choose something for you. And if you're as good as you say, then may Dabi can see if you're ready to take one of his cars for a spin?"

You squealed and hugged them both. You weren't expecting them to get you a car! You went to your room to talk to you friends about what car should you get (and Keigo had no doubt you were gonna talk to Katsuki too).

"We shouldn't be gifting her a car-"

"Dabi."

"Dont. We shouldn't be rewarding her- it'll only encourage her to spend more time with that bleached brat!" Dabi yelled.

"No, Dabi. You getting angry at her is gonna drive her away and send her right into his arms!" Keigo argued. He sighed as he watched Dabi's rage further increase. "Dabi~ I know you anger is justified, it is. I hate that boy as much as you do, but it won't do us any good if you lose your shit and get mad at Y/n."

Dabi finally deflated when Keigo wrapped his arms around him. "Then what do we do? We can't just sit around now, Kei. At this rate, he'll take Y/n away."

Keigo's arms tightened at that. "Dont worry. I'll figure something out. You just focus on winning your races and being the best dad to Y/n."

God knows you'll need their shoulders to cry on when Katsuki's brakes fail.

#yandere dad dabi #yandere dad hawks #yandere dabi x reader #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi

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lovebillyhargrove · 1 year

Text

Billy's camaro Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

***

Steve is fucked.

That's it, this is the end. He's going to die now.

The smell of gasoline is getting stronger, and the heat is beyond unbearable. Steve understands what's going to happen next, how he will die.

Because the car is fire. Just like Billy Hargrove was.

And Steve .. stops fighting it. Stops tugging at the seatbelt, stops trying to unbuckle it. Stops squirming in the seat and trying to open the door.

Remembers how it went at the Byers'. When Billy was mounting him and beating him unconscious. Hit after hit after hit. When Steve gave up fighting because he could not possibly fight that all-consuming wave of rage.

He knows now that if maybe he had said "sorry" at that time, it's possible things would've gone differently. "Sorry I lied about your sister." That's all Steve had to say that night.

And then maybe Billy would've stopped.

Steve puts his hands on the steering wheel again, and although it burns like a motherfucker, he doesn't take them away.

He knows what he has to say. It comes out as a sob.

"I'M SORRY! .. I fucked up!! Listen, I was on drugs. Not that I took them voluntarily, I'd been injected with them against my will. I didn't know what I was doing. I would never. It was a mistake. It was all just a huge fucking mistake. And I'm sorry I did this to you! .. And .. I'm sorry about your owner .. he didn't deserve any of that."

He blurts it all out in one breath and feels tears coming to his eyes. He remembers the moment he had crashed into the camaro so vividly. The bang, the metallic, scraping sound, the triumph - he's played this scene in his mind over and over again. Steve thought he was doing something heroic then.

What a fucking joke.

The true hero? .. There's a tombstone on the real hero's grave. No-one, except their little team, knows what this boy had done, what he had been through.

But Steve knows. He knows now, after months of thinking, and reminiscing, and replaying everything in his mind again and again, months of sleepless nights, of could've should've would've..

They say you can't see big things when you're close to them. You see big things from a distance. From afar.

Steve has had enough distance to see everything.

He's had enough time to think.

It was all wrong.

It was all wrong, he was fucking wrong, and, honestly, all of them were horribly unforgivably wrong.

Even if they had killed Billy, how would it have helped them to fight the mindflayer? Hargrove was just a pawn.

Steve remembers how Billy got out of the burning car, how he didn't even look at Steve, who had just rammed his precious camaro, he didn't look at anyone. He just continued on his death march, through pain, through torture, through loss.

Steve's probably crying now, he can't really tell anymore. His head is floating.

"I'm so sorry.. I know I was so wrong. Let me make up for it, please. Let me make at least something right."

Steve is almost fainting from all the heat and the suffocating gasoline smell.

"I am a friend. I know I wasn't, but now I am. Let me make up for my mistake."

The car is fire.

"I'm not saying that just to save my ass right now. Why would I come here if I didn't want to find you? I'm so fucking sorry.."

Steve can't think straight any more. His mouth is dry, and he's losing his trail of thought. He's slipping, for real, he's falling, he is so full of regret, he's going to burn, he is ...

***

When Steve opens his eyes, he's still sitting on the driver's seat of the camaro. The sun is shining above them, and it's not .. it isn't hot anymore. The petrol smell is gone too. Steve checks the seatbelt, it's unbuckled and hanging on the side. He touches the wheel, it isn't hot. Steve opens the door, and it does open.

He's free to go.

The first urge is to get out of the car as soon as possible, right this second, and run. It had almost killed him. It had almost fucking burnt him alive.

Steve hurriedly puts one leg out but stops mid-movement. There's no need to be afraid. It's letting him go. He is free to go because it lets him.

So fuck it.

Instead, Steve opens the glove compartment one more time and takes out the Marlboro Reds. Fishes out a cigarette, looks for a lighter. Yeah, it's there, under the map of Hawkins.

Lights up. Inhales. Exhales.

"Listen. I meant every word I said. Let me take you away from here. I can't fix you myself, but I'll find a good place where it can be done."

His mouth is still dry, and the cigarette is awfully bitter, burning his tongue.

He'd kill for a drink of water. Gets out of the car, goes to the beamer, finds a bottle of "Aqua fresh." Drinks half of it and returns back to the camaro, still holding the cigarette.

"I'm gonna go now, but I'll come back tomorrow with a tow truck. We'll take you to a repair shop. I promise everything will turn out fine. Okay?"

Steve's completely nuts, he's talking to the wreck of a car. Still, he feels as if he's saying the sanest shit ever.

He takes out another Marlboro, lights it and fucking misses Billy. The guy he'd never had a decent conversation with.

"Just .. don't go anywhere, please. Wait for me."

***

Steve does some research. Calls his dad in his office and asks what repair shop is the best one.

"Steven, did you crash the beamer?"

"No, dad. No, I swear, it's for a friend."

Turns out, there is a place here. Old Joe's garage. If it doesn't work out here, dad gives him a couple of addresses in Indianapolis.

Next, Steve calls Family Video.

"Keith, I'm sick. Like, really sick. Passed out in the bathroom in the morning, that's why I didn't come in today. .. Yeah, I need tomorrow off too. .. Yeah, I know. .. I know I'm on thin ice. I'll work double shifts as soon as I'm feeling better. Thanks. .. Okay."

Next is the tow service.

Steve's got a plan.

Next day the camaro is waiting for him right where he left it, at the old junkyard.

***

"Sweet mother of Jesus! You want us to work with this??" Old Joe is not impressed.

"Look, I understand. But this car is very important to me, so I'm willing to pay .. a lot. Just name the price."

The old man is looking very doubtful.

"If you are really, absolutely sure there's nothing that can be done, I'll just find another place. I need this car up and running."

The mechanic is still looking at the camaro.

"Let me talk to my son.. The kid is better than me. Maybe we can figure something out. The spare parts though.. We'll have to order them from Indianapolis, so it'll definitely take a lot of time. And like you said, money."

"There's no rush. And money is not a problem. Just uh.. be gentle with her."

"Don't need to tell me that. She's a beauty. You know a good car when you see it, son."

***

It takes three months.

When Steve gets the call that he can finally come pick up the camaro, he's delirious with excitement. He's visited the garage often, wanted to see how certain things were done.

That day he might be imagining stuff, but he gets a feeling that the car is glad to see him too. All fixed and shiny with new paint, it's dazzling.

Steve thanks Old Joe and his son, pays the rest of the money and gets behind the wheel.

The car is .. really something. Sensitive to the touch, wild and very, very fast.

Steve needs to get used to it. Needs to learn all its nuances, its moods.

He does though. Leaves his beamer in the garage at home and starts driving the camaro instead. Has to explain to Max why he is suddenly the new owner of her dead brother's car. She calls him practically every day to take her places. Steve tries to always say yes, he knows that Max loves being in that car. She misses Billy too.

Steve drives it, parks it in his driveway. Takes good care of it. Listens to the engine's rumble as if it's talking to him.

He even kinda ..

Loves it.

Probably, not like Billy did. But Steve can't know. He can't know how Billy loved.

He fucking wishes he did. Did know that.

***

One November evening Steve's in the kitchen downstairs. He hears some sounds outside. Grabs the bat and carefully opens the door. Takes a peek. No-one. The camaro is standing in the driveway, covered in dew.

He comes out of the house and looks around. Everything is quiet.

Steve has an eerie feeling someone's been here. Or still is here, lurking in the shadows.

He comes closer to the camaro.

Steve's breath catches in his throat.

Is written on the dewy windshield.

Holy fuck.

Holy fucking hell.

Billy Hargrove is alive.

"Billy ..?"

***

To be continued

#billy's camaro #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fic #billy's camaro fic

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ray4hotchner · 9 months

Text

Fate's Gentle Nudge

Chapter 4: Tangled Hearts

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❀ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: aaron hotchner x reader

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❀ 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: Hey my loves enjoy this new chapter. This one is not edited yet so if you find any mistakes let me know! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part🤍

❀ 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕔: @iyv-ray24

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On Ao3

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With big steps, Aaron left the school building, his heart pounding in his chest. He was almost running to his car, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Forcefully, he closed the car door and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm the storm of desire and frustration that raged within him.

His mind replayed the moment in her classroom, their faces mere millimeters apart, their lips nearly brushing. The intensity of their connection was undeniable, a magnetic pull he couldn't ignore. But he was angry with himself, furious that he had let it go so far. He knew he desperately wanted to kiss her, to feel the softness of her lips against his, to give in to the attraction that had been building between them. What was he thinking, allowing himself to get so close? They had almost crossed a line that could change everything. He needed to be better than this, stronger than his desires. He had Jack to think about, his responsibilities as a father taking precedence over anything else. With a frustrated exhale, he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, determined to put distance between himself and the temptation that Y/N represented.

He took the long road home, the minutes ticking away as he drove, the rhythm of the road helping to soothe his racing thoughts. He needed this time to clear his mind, to distance himself from the near-miss with Y/N that had shaken him to his core. He replayed their close encounter over and over, each time feeling a mixture of longing and frustration.

As he pulled into the driveway, Jess's message about dinner being almost ready pulled him back to reality. Taking a deep breath, he turned off the engine and sat in the car for a moment, collecting himself. He was a father, a role model, and he couldn't let his personal turmoil affect his interactions with Jack or Jess.

With newfound determination, he stepped out of the car and walked into the house. The smell of dinner cooking in the air was comforting, a reminder of the stability he needed to provide for his family. Jack was in the living room, looking much better than the day before but still showing signs of fatigue.

"Hey, buddy," Aaron greeted him, crouching down to his level. "How are you feeling?"

Jack gave a small smile. "Better, Dad. My tummy doesn't hurt as much today."

"That's good to hear," Aaron replied, ruffling his son's hair gently. "You rest up, okay? Dinner will be ready soon.

Aaron stepped into the kitchen, where Jess was setting the table. He quickly washed his hands and went to fetch Jack so they could all sit down to dinner. The weight of the day's events still hung heavily on his mind.

While they were eating, Aaron found it hard to fully focus on the meal. His mind kept drifting back to the close encounter with Y/N, the nearness of her lips to his. He tried to shake off the distracting thoughts, but it wasn't easy.

"Hey, are you listening?" Jessica's voice broke through his reverie.

He blinked, looking up to meet her gaze. "Hmm, sorry, what is it?" he asked, trying to push aside his distraction.

Jessica raised an eyebrow, her concern evident. "You seem distracted. Is everything okay?"

"Just work," he replied with a halfhearted smile, hoping she would buy his explanation.

She nodded understandingly. "I was just asking about the meeting with Jack's teacher. How did it go?"

Aaron took a sip of his water, buying himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "It went well," he answered, his voice a little strained.

Jessica smiled, seemingly satisfied with his response. "That's good to hear. She's a very caring teacher. I met her a couple of times and she seems wonderful. It's important to have teachers who genuinely care about their students."

"Yeah, it is," Aaron agreed, though his gaze momentarily drifted away as he battled the inner turmoil of his conflicting emotions. He then looked back at Jessica. "How was your day?"

She launched into a detailed account of her day, and he listened attentively, grateful for the distraction. As they continued their conversation, Aaron made an effort to engage more fully, pushing aside the thoughts that had been preoccupying him. After all, he was at the dinner table with his family, and that was what truly mattered at that moment.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After Aaron left Y/N's classroom, she was left in a state of emotional disarray. She sat back at her table, arms crossed, and her face buried in the back of her hands. Her feelings were a tumultuous mix of desire, confusion, and a hint of regret. She was dangerously close to tears, her heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

Her mind raced with thoughts that they had crossed a line they shouldn't have, that things had become infinitely more complicated. But as much as she scolded herself for letting it happen, that wasn't the real reason she was on the verge of tears. What she wanted to cry about was the rush of emotions she had experienced when Aaron held her in his arms. The tenderness of his touch on her cheek, the nearness of his body—it had felt like a fleeting taste of something she craved, something she might never have again. She couldn't deny that being that close to him, feeling his warmth, had felt incredible. But the knowledge that it might have been a one-time occurrence weighed heavily on her heart, tearing at her from the inside. Her thoughts and emotions were a jumbled mess, her heart torn between longing and a growing sense of self-disappointment.

And so, as the minutes ticked by, Y/N sat alone in her classroom, wrestling with her emotions and the realization that she had let herself cross a boundary that she might never be able to come back from.

Feeling lost in her thoughts, Y/N hadn't noticed her phone vibrating in her bag, and therefore the calls from Lizzie trying to reach her. Lost in her internal turmoil, she was completely unaware of the world outside her classroom.

Just as Y/N's emotions threatened to overwhelm her, the door to her classroom creaked open. Lizzie's concerned voice filled the air, "Y/N? I've been looking everywhere for you. You promised me a ride did you forget?"

Y/N's head snapped up, her tear-stained face revealing the raw vulnerability she had been trying to hide. She blinked at Lizzie, her vision blurred, but the concern and kindness in her friend's eyes were unmistakable. Before Y/N could respond, Lizzie's eyes fell upon Y/N's tear-streaked face, and without a second thought, Lizzie rushed over to her side. She immediately wrapped her arms around Y/N in a tight and comforting hug, her heart full of concern and care.

"Honey, what happened?" Lizzie's voice was gentle, her words a soothing balm for Y/N's distressed heart.

Y/N sniffled, as she spoke, "I... I don't even know where to begin."

Lizzie's grip on Y/N's shoulder tightened gently. "It's ok, I'm here for you. Whatever it is, you don't have to face it alone." Without a word, Lizzie wrapped her arms around Y/N, offering a comforting embrace. Y/N's shoulders shook as she allowed herself to finally release the emotions she had been holding back. The tears fell freely as she clung to her friend, grateful for the solace and understanding that Lizzie provided.

Lizzie's embrace tightened even more as Y/N opened up about what had been tormenting her. "Hey, hey, it's okay," Lizzie soothed, her voice a gentle reassurance. "Take a deep breath. It's going to be alright."

"We almost kissed, Liz," Y/N said, her voice quivering with a mix of sadness and frustration. "I almost kissed Aaron." Her tears flowed freely, each drop a testament to the weight of her feelings.

Lizzie's hand moved to Y/N's back, rubbing soothing circles as she listened attentively. "Okay, it sounds like there's a lot more to the story. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Taking a shaky breath, Y/N began recounting the events of that afternoon. The closeness, the shared moment, the overwhelming emotions that had gripped them both. She wiped away the tears that had fallen, her voice trembling as she continued to confide in Liz. "I feel so unprofessional, Liz. I mean, what kind of teacher nearly kisses a student's father? And in school, no less. It's ridiculous, and I should have had more control over myself."

Liz's comforting hand remained on Y/N's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Hey, it's okay. These things happen, and feelings can be unpredictable."

"It's not just about the situation. It's about the pull I feel towards him. I've been trying so hard to focus on my job, to build a future for myself, and now all of that is at risk. If I lose this job, it would be devastating. I love my students, I love what I do."

Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her emotions. "And that's not all. I'm scared, Liz. Scared of how he sees me now, scared that he thinks less of me. I'm scared of losing this job, but I'm also scared of how I'm... how I'm falling for him."

"O sweetie...", Liz gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"He couldn't even face me Liz, he hates me" Y/N's voice wavered, her heartache evident. "I don't blame him. I just... I don't know what I was thinking."

Lizzie's voice was gentle but firm, "Y/N, listen to me. I've known you for a long time, and I know that you're kind, caring, and thoughtful. Whatever happened, I'm sure Aaron doesn't hate you." Y/N let out a sigh, her fingers wiping away another stray tear. "It's just... I've had my share of bad experiences in the past, Liz. You know that. I've been hurt before, and sometimes I feel like those insecurities still hang over me." Liz nodded in understanding, her voice gentle. "I know you've been through a lot, Y/N. But remember, not everyone is the same. Aaron is not your past, and you're not the same person you were back then." Y/N looked down, her hands twisting in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I just wish I could have controlled my feelings, kept things professional. This job means so much to me, Liz. It's not just about my students, but it's also about proving to myself that I can succeed." Liz's expression softened even more. "Y/N, you are succeeding. You're a wonderful teacher, and one moment doesn't define your entire career. And as for Aaron, I can't predict how he'll react, but I do know that you're a caring and genuine person. Emotions can get complicated, especially when there's a connection. But it doesn't mean you've messed up beyond repair. Maybe he left because he was overwhelmed too, not because he hates you."

Y/N wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her emotions still raw but Lizzie's words offered a glimmer of hope. "I love you, Lizzie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Lizzie gave her a small smile. "You'd do just fine, but remember that I'm here to support you no matter what. And if Aaron is half as good as you think he is, he'll understand that emotions can be complicated."

With Lizzie's understanding presence, Y/N felt a bit lighter, a bit less burdened by her own thoughts. The tears were a release, and now she knew that she had a friend who would stand by her, even when emotions were tangled and complex.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wrapped in an intimate embrace, her laughter filled the air, a sweet melody that warmed his heart. "You're holding me too tight," she playfully chided, her voice a gentle caress against his naked chest.

Drawing her even nearer, he shifted to face her, their noses touching as he peppered her cheeks, forehead, and lips with tender kisses. "I can't get enough of you," he murmured between each kiss, his words infused with affection.

They were tangled in the sheets, her soft skin pressed against his, sending waves of electricity through his veins. The scent of her hair surrounded him, intoxicating and familiar. Their laughter intertwined, a symphony of shared joy that echoed in his ears.

But then, from somewhere far away, a ringing began. At first distant, it grew progressively louder, a discordant intrusion into their private world. The sound pierced through the dream, shattering the illusion of their intimate cocoon.

Jolted awake, he blinked against the darkness, disoriented by the abrupt transition from the dream's warmth to the chill of reality. His heart raced, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his senses. Yet, the dream's allure slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him alone in the chilly early morning air. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and saw JJ's name flash on the screen. The dream and its warmth dissolved as the cold realization of work settled in.

It was close to 5am when the team gathered in the office, their faces reflecting the seriousness of their profession. Papers scattered across the tables, photos of crime scenes pinned up on the board, and a palpable sense of focus hung in the air. JJ, Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia were all present, ready to dive into the details of the new case.

As Aaron walked in, his usually stern expression was even more severe, and his steps were heavy with an unspoken weight. No one commented on his mood; they knew better than to pry into his personal matters. They all had their moments of emotional turmoil, and the unwavering support they showed each other was a testament to their bond.

"Alright, everyone," JJ began, her tone authoritative yet tinged with empathy. "We've got a new case, and it's a serious one. There have been a series of kidnappings in a small town in Albuquerque. The victims are all children around the same age. The parents have reported strange symbols left at the abduction sites."

Reid chimed in, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as he displayed images of the symbols on the screen. "The symbols are a combination of archaic symbols and more recent graffiti. They don't seem to have any direct religious or cult-related significance. It could be the unsub's attempt to confuse us."

Morgan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the images. "Any witnesses? Any commonalities between the victims?"

Garcia, fingers flying over her keyboard, answered, "Most of the abductions occurred in the evening when the kids were playing outside or walking home from school. No witnesses so far. The kids don't seem to know each other, and they come from different backgrounds. There's no apparent connection."

Rossi crossed his arms, a contemplative expression on his face. "We need to find out more about the symbols. Are they a message, a signature, or something else entirely?"

Prentiss added, "And let's not forget that the longer these kids are missing, the higher the risk of harm."

Aaron listened to the team as they discussed possible profiles, strategies, and leads. "Alright, everyone. We don't have a lot of time. Wheels up in thirty minutes. Let's get ready to head to Albuquerque."

As the team dispersed to prepare for the flight, Aaron stayed back for a moment, his gaze lingering on the board with the photos of the victims and symbols. He took a deep breath, his internal struggle evident in the way he clenched his jaw. He knew that his focus needed to be on the case, on the children who were in danger, but the complexity of his own emotions threatened to consume him.

With a determined shake of his head, Aaron forced his personal feelings to the background. He couldn't let his team down. He had a job to do, and the lives of innocent children were at stake. As he joined his team to get ready for the flight, his thoughts shifted entirely to the task ahead, leaving his own turmoil momentarily behind.

The jet's interior was dimly lit as the team settled into their seats. The low hum of the engines provided a soothing background noise, and the gentle vibrations of the aircraft were enough to lull some of the agents into sleep. The fatigue was palpable, etched into their expressions after being abruptly woken in the early hours of the morning. It was a routine they were all familiar with, yet it never became any easier. Yet, among them, Aaron seemed to embody a deeper sense of turmoil. His usually stoic demeanor was marked with a heaviness that went beyond the lack of sleep. The feeling of his dream still lingered beneath his skin, a phantom touch that tugged at his thoughts.

Upon their arrival, the team wasted no time diving into the case at hand. The briefing room buzzed with the hum of conversation as they went over the details, photographs, and evidence collected so far. However, the initial optimism of solving the case quickly began to wane as they encountered unexpected challenges.

The evidence was scattered and disjointed, seemingly leading them in conflicting directions. Clues that should have provided clear paths toward the unsub only seemed to complicate the investigation further. Frustration crept in as profiles were analyzed and discarded, theories formed and debunked. The team's collective expertise seemed to hit a roadblock as the case defied their attempts to decipher it.

Aaron Hotchner's usually sharp mind was also feeling the strain. His lack of sleep from the previous night combined with the emotional turmoil of the dream left him mentally fatigued. Despite his efforts to focus, his thoughts occasionally drifted, and he found himself grappling with inner conflicts that further hindered his concentration.

As the hours passed, the team's exhaustion became palpable. Dark circles formed under their eyes, and the atmosphere in the room grew heavy with the weight of their frustration. The realization that this case was far more complex than they had anticipated began to set in, and their initial optimism gave way to a sobering sense of determination.

With the clock ticking and the case slipping through their fingers, the team would need to rally their resources, harness their expertise, and uncover every possible lead to make sense of the puzzle before them. As the day turned into night, they worked tirelessly, pushing their limits to crack the intricate code that held the key to solving the case.

Friday marked the third day since their arrival in Albuquerque, and the mounting stress was taking its toll on Aaron. The emotional turmoil he had experienced earlier in the week seemed to have intensified his usual work-related stress. He found himself on edge, his patience thinning, and his temper fraying at the edges.

During a tense discussion with the team about their latest lead, Derek's suggestion inadvertently triggered Aaron's short fuse. "I don't think that's the right approach, Hotch," Derek said, his tone firm but well-intentioned.

Aaron's response was sharper than he had intended, particularly screaming "Morgan, we're running out of time. We need to think critically, not waste it on wild goose chases."

The room fell momentarily silent, the tension palpable. The team exchanged glances, taken aback by Aaron's uncharacteristic outburst. Even he realized he had crossed a line. He could feel their eyes on him, a mix of surprise and concern. Without a word, Aaron stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving behind a sense of unease. Derek, always attuned to the dynamics of the team, knew something else was at play here. He excused himself from the meeting and followed Aaron down the corridor.

As he caught up with Aaron, Derek placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Hotch, you mind telling me what's eating at you? I've never seen you snap like that before."

Aaron's shoulders tensed, but he knew he couldn't hide his emotions from someone as perceptive as Derek. He let out a sigh, his frustration mixing with a tinge of vulnerability. "It's... personal stuff, Morgan. Nothing that should affect the case."

Derek raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You and I both know that's not true. We're a team, Hotch. We've got each other's backs. If something's bothering you, it's better to talk it out."

Aaron hesitated, his gaze distant as he wrestled with his inner turmoil. "It's just been a rough week, Derek. Some personal issues got under my skin, and I let it affect my focus."

Derek leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "And keeping it bottled up isn't going to make it any better, my friend. We're here for you, whether it's about the case or something else. We're a family, man. So, what's eating at you?"

Aaron's voice was steady as he began to explain, his words carrying a mix of frustration and something deeper. "A couple of months ago, I met Y/N at a parent-teacher conference. She's Jack's teacher."

Derek nodded understandingly, showing Aaron he was listening.

"The night we met we talked and talked and I ran into her a couple of times while picking up Jack. All of these were brief interactions but last weekend, we ran into her again at the park. We spent the afternoon together and had lunch" Aaron's gaze turned distant, his thoughts fixated on the memory.

Derek's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "And?"

Aaron let out a breath, his voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "And I felt a pull towards her, Derek. A magnetic pull I couldn't ignore." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I haven't felt that way for someone since...", he didn't have to finish his sentence, Derek knew what he was about to say.

Derek's eyes widened slightly, and his surprise was evident. "Hotch, are you saying..."

Aaron continued, his voice lowering. "I spent more time with her, talked to her about Jack. And then, on Monday, she brought Jack to the office because he was sick. She took care of him and drove him personally to Penelope. I was grateful, more than I can express."

Derek nodded, encouraging Aaron to keep going.

"But then something happened," Aaron admitted, his tone heavy. "I met up with her at school to thank her personally but as I was leaving, there was a moment. A moment when it felt like... like we were both on the edge of something. Like we were about to cross a line."

Derek's gaze was steady on Aaron, his expression thoughtful. "And did you?"

"No," Aaron said firmly. "I stopped it. But it's been eating at me, Derek. I just... I can't stay away from her," Aaron admitted, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "But I know I need to. We can't be together, it's wrong. I'm a mess, and I let it affect the way I talked to you earlier."

Derek studied his friend for a moment before speaking, his tone gentle. "Aaron, I get it. But you can't control your feelings. And maybe there's a reason why you're drawn to her."

Derek's presence was a reassuring anchor for Aaron as they stood in the hallway, but his worries were far from over. "I just... I fear that I messed things up completely," Aaron admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "My actions created an awkward atmosphere and even though I know she would never do anything to upset Jack intentionally, I still worry that he might sense something is off."

Derek pushed off the wall, his voice firm. "Look, you can't control what you feel, but you can control how you act on it. Just be honest with yourself and her. And remember, sometimes taking a chance is worth it."

"I hope you're right," Aaron said, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his voice.

Derek patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I've seen you handle tougher situations, Hotch. This might feel overwhelming now, but it's not the end of the world. Just remember, you're a good father, a good agent, and a good person. Just don't shut yourself off completely. Life's too short for that."

Aaron managed a faint smile, appreciating Derek's encouragement. "Thanks, Derek. I needed that."

"Just looking out for you," Derek said with a grin. "Now, let's get back to work."

He couldn't shake off the realization that these feelings for Y/N were the first he had experienced since his divorce. It was unexpected, a mix of vulnerability and longing that he thought he would never feel again after losing Hailey. The thought of opening his heart again had felt like an unconquerable challenge, yet here he was, facing it head-on. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, a testament to Y/N's impact on his life and he was willing to confront these emotions, even though they seemed to complicate his already complex life.

As they headed back to the rest of the team, Aaron felt a renewed determination. Talking things through with Derek had given him a sense of clarity and a reminder that he wasn't alone in his struggles. The case still demanded their attention, but Aaron knew that he could face it with the support of his team by his side.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As the team delved deeper into the case, their collective determination and skill began to pay off. Clues led them to a remote location where the unsub was hiding with the abducted children. The tension was palpable as they approached the abandoned warehouse.

With a plan in place, the team moved swiftly, positioning themselves strategically around the area. Aaron, despite the weight of his struggles, was fully focused on the task at hand. As they breached the warehouse, chaos erupted. The unsub, desperate and cornered, held a knife to one of the children's throats, using her as a shield.

The room was filled with shouts and tension as the team tried to negotiate with the unsub and secure the children's safety. Aaron's heart pounded in his chest as he calculated his moves. He could see the fear in the children's eyes, and his determination to protect them surged.

In a split second, Aaron lunged forward, deflecting the knife away from the child with precision. A brief struggle ensued as he wrestled with the unsub, determined to subdue him. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he fought to overpower the desperate man.

During the struggle, a powerful blow landed on Aaron's eyebrow, and a searing pain radiated through his head. The world spun for a moment, but he shook off the dizziness and focused on restraining the unsub. With a final burst of strength, Aaron managed to pin the man down, disarming him.

Breathing heavily, Aaron looked around the room. The team had managed to neutralize the threat, and the children were safe. The relief that washed over him was immeasurable, knowing that their efforts had paid off and that they had successfully rescued the abducted kids.

As the authorities arrived to take the unsub into custody and tend to the rescued children, Aaron leaned against a wall, catching his breath. His eyebrow throbbed but it was a small price to pay for the successful operation and nothing a couple of stitches couldn’t fix. Despite his struggles, he had remained steadfast in his duty to protect the innocent.

In the aftermath of the mission, the team shared a moment of relief. Their collective effort had brought about a positive outcome, and Aaron felt a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that he was part of something bigger than himself.

As the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over the scene, he couldn't help but reflect on the events of the past days. While his emotions remained complex and tangled, the knowledge that he had made a difference, both as an agent and as a father, provided a sense of solace.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot echoed through the quiet park as Aaron walked alongside Jack. The weekend was a rare oasis of calm in the whirlwind of their lives, and he intended to make the most of it. And after a week of back-to-back cases, he and the team deserved a quiet and peaceful weekend.

The vibrant hues of red and orange leaves created a picturesque backdrop, enveloping the surroundings in a warm autumn embrace. Despite the tranquility, Aaron couldn't help but find his gaze repeatedly drifting to the running trail. Each time someone passed by, his heart skipped a beat, a silent hope that perhaps Y/N would appear among them. He knew it was unlikely, a product of his own yearning more than anything else.

Jack's laughter brought his attention back to the present. His son was chasing after a fluttering leaf, his infectious joy filling the air. Aaron smiled, grateful for these simple moments of connection, moments where he could just be a father, shielding Jack from the darkness he faced in his job.

As they continued their walk, the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow that painted everything in hues of gold. The park was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where they could escape the demands of their responsibilities, even if only for a little while.

Aaron's thoughts drifted back to Y/N, like an unbidden refrain. He wondered what she was doing, whether she was also enjoying her weekend, and if the thought of him ever crossed her mind. The memories of their encounters replayed in his mind, each one sparking a mixture of emotions that he was still grappling to understand.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across the landscape, Aaron found himself looking towards the running trail once more. Jack tugged at his hand, a question in his eyes. "Dad, can we go play on the swings?" Aaron nodded, his fingers brushing against his son's hair affectionately. They made their way towards the playground, laughter and the sound of children's voices filling the air.

The weekend was a brief respite, a chance for Aaron to find solace in the simplicity of fatherhood and the natural beauty around him.

After a quiet weekend spent together, Aaron helped Jack take a bath, pack his schoolbag for the next day, and get ready for his bedtime story. That's when he turned to his dad and asked, "Dad, are you sad?" Children are often more perceptive of their surroundings than most people realize. Aaron, however, didn't expect Jack to pose such a question while he was helping him get ready for bed on Sunday.

He paused, his fingers stilling as he helped Jack fasten the buttons of his pajama shirt. He looked down at his son, caught off guard by the question. Jack's eyes, so innocent and perceptive, gazed up at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Sad?" Aaron repeated, his voice soft as he knelt to meet Jack's eye level. "Why would you think that, buddy?"

Jack furrowed his eyebrows dramatically, imitating what he had seen on his father's face. "You have this face," he explained with a serious expression, making Aaron chuckle.

"Well, I'm not sad," Aaron began, his voice calm and reassuring. "But sometimes, people can get a little stressed and overwhelmed. And you know, feeling sad is not a bad thing, right? We need all kinds of emotions. But it’s important to talk about them"

Jack considered this for a moment, his young mind processing the information. "So, you're not sad?"

A soft warmth spread through Aaron's chest at the question. "After such an amazing weekend, how could I be sad?" He ruffled Jack's hair playfully. "But you know, if I ever do feel sad, I promise I'll tell you. And you promise to tell me too if you ever feel that way." Jack's eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he eagerly extended his little finger. "Deal! Pinky promise!" Aaron chuckled, linking his pinky with Jack's. "Pinky promise." It was moments like these that reminded him of the simple beauty of his relationship with his son – an unbreakable bond built on trust, understanding, and the willingness to share both the joys and challenges of life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Throughout the rest of the week, Y/N did her best to put the events with Aaron behind her. She channeled her energy into her work, finding solace in the routine and challenges of teaching. Every time she caught sight of Jack at school, a mixture of emotions washed over her. It pained her slightly to know that her actions might have created some tension, yet she couldn't help but feel a deep affection for the young boy. To keep her mind occupied, she filled her weekend with various activities. She explored new hiking trails, lost herself in the pages of a good book, and even indulged in baking some of her favorite treats. Amidst the distraction, though, her thoughts would occasionally drift back to Aaron. As she tried to put the pieces together, she realized that her heart was caught in a complicated dance between logic and emotion.

The next school week unfolded in a relatively ordinary manner, devoid of any special events or unexpected encounters. Y/N found herself navigating her routines with a sense of quiet determination. While a part of her missed Aaron's presence, she also felt a twinge of relief knowing that she wouldn't run into him on the schoolyard. Days passed, and the routine of classes, lesson planning, and interacting with her students continued as usual. There were moments when sadness washed over her and a of her wanted to believe that Aaron's silence wasn't a definitive rejection, that perhaps he would reach out and they could have an honest conversation about what had transpired. Days turned into a week, and the silence from Aaron remained unbroken. With each passing day, her hope began to waver, and a sinking feeling settled in her chest. The absence of any communication felt like a confirmation of her fears – that he wanted to distance himself, that he regretted whatever moment they had shared.

As Y/N walked towards the school entrance that Thursday morning. It was a routine she had followed countless times before, picking the kids up in the morning and wishing them goodbye in the afternoon.

What she hadn't anticipated was the sight of Aaron standing by the school gates, engaged in a seemingly serious conversation with Lizzie. Her steps faltered as her eyes fell on him, her breath catching in her throat. His presence sent a jolt of emotions coursing through her – surprise, and a trace of anxiety. She watched as he listened intently to Lizzie, his expression somber, and a lump formed in her throat.

Then, unexpectedly, his gaze lifted and met hers from across the schoolyard. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as their eyes locked, emotions unspoken but deeply felt passing between them. The distance felt both unbearable and sacred, the weight of their unspoken history heavy in the air. And then, with a barely perceptible nod towards Lizzie, Aaron turned and walked away, disappearing from her view.

As the schoolyard buzzed with activity around her, Y/N realized that she had been standing still, lost in her thoughts. Her attention shifted to her side, where Jack and his classmates were waiting patiently. She mustered a small smile for them, her heart still racing from the unexpected encounter.

Liz turned around, her expression mirroring the seriousness that had marked Aaron's face earlier, but as she approached the group of kids, her countenance transformed into a warm and welcoming smile. Y/N watched as Liz walked over to her, her heart pounding in her chest with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"What did you tell him?" Y/N whispered to Liz

Liz simply shook her head, her lips pursed in a tight line as she held Y/N's gaze. She didn't utter a word, but her eyes communicated volumes – the unspoken promise to keep whatever conversation she had with Aaron confidential.

"Liz," Y/N's voice carried a hint of urgency, a plea for honesty.

Liz's response was a simple locking of her lips with an invisible key, followed by a reassuring smile. With a quick glance at the children, she turned and began leading them into the school building, leaving Y/N standing there with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Later in the day, the kids were working on a writing assignment as Jack approached Y/N "Hey, Jack," Y/N smiled warmly as he approached her. "What can I help you with?"

He held up his worksheet, his brows furrowing in concentration. "I don't know what to write for this part."

Y/N leaned down slightly to look at the assignment. "It looks like you're supposed to write about your favorite place. Do you have a favorite place?"

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, the park with my dad."

"That is a great favorite place," Y/N replied, encouraging him to continue.

Jack hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can you help me write it? I want it to be really good."

Y/N's heart swelled at his request. "Of course, Jack. I'd be happy to help." She pulled out a chair for him and motioned for him to sit down. "Tell me all about the park with your dad."

As Jack began to share his thoughts, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The way he described their outings, the laughter, and the games they played, painted a vivid picture of their special moments together. She helped him put his thoughts into words, guiding him gently through the writing process.

Once they finished, Y/N read over the assignment with him, her heart warming at his words. "You did a fantastic job, Jack. Your dad is going to love reading this."

Jack beamed with pride, his eyes shining. "Thanks, Miss Y/L/N. I'm really glad you're my teacher."

Jack watched Y/N's face for a couple of seconds, his young eyes taking in her expression with keen curiosity. Finally, he spoke up in his small, earnest voice, "You have the same face today."

Y/N's eyebrows lifted in surprise, her lips curling into a gentle smile. "Same face as who, Jack?"

"Same face like dad," Jack replied matter-of-factly, his little finger pointing towards his own forehead as if mimicking the frown he had seen on Aaron's face before. "He was making the same yesterday. I thought he looked sad, but he said he wasn't sad. He said people get stressed and being sad is okay."

Y/N's heart swelled at Jack's innocence and his attempt to make sense of the world around him. "You're absolutely right, Jack. Your dad is a wise man. Sometimes people do get stressed or overwhelmed, and feeling sad is a normal emotion."

Jack nodded, taking in her words with the earnestness of a child who was eager to learn. "Yeah, and he said we should talk about our feelings if we're sad."

"That's very true," Y/N agreed, her smile softening. "It's important to talk to someone we trust when we're feeling sad or overwhelmed. Sharing our feelings can make us feel better."

Jack's face lit up as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. "So, are you sad, Ms Y/L/N?"

Y/N chuckled lightly, touched by his concern. "A little, Jack. But just like your dad said, sometimes grown-ups feel sad too. It's all part of life."

He regarded her with wide eyes, absorbing her words. "But you'll be okay, right?"

Her heart warmed at his care for her well-being. She reached out to gently ruffle his hair. "Yes, honey. I'll be okay. Thank you for asking."

Jack beamed, his worries seemingly eased by her assurance, and returned to his seat, leaving Y/N to her thoughts. She watched him with a fond smile, grateful for the innocence he brought into her life. As the day went on, she found herself reflecting on the past week, particularly on how she had managed to control her emotions, especially in front of her young students. However, the encounter with Aaron and the conversation he had with Liz had thrown her off balance. She couldn't help but wonder if her emotions had been visible on her face and if her worries and curiosity were transparent to those around her.

As she organized some papers on her desk, her thoughts inevitably wandered to Aaron once again. She wondered if he was feeling the same way she did if he was affected by their last interaction. But her inner voice quickly intervened, scolding her for indulging in such thoughts. "Get over yourself," she chided herself silently, "he is a hardworking FBI agent with more important matters to worry about than you."

Y/N decided to redirect her thoughts and focus on her students. In an effort to create an engaging classroom environment, she initiated a spelling game that had the entire class cheering excitedly.

As the day progressed and the time for dismissal approached, Y/N noticed Jack approaching her again. She offered him a warm smile as he handed her a folded piece of paper. "What is this, Jack?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued. Unfolding the paper, her heart warmed as she saw a series of stick-figure drawings depicting kids playing soccer. The drawings were accompanied by bold blue letters spelling out "Soccer Game on Saturday."

Her heart swelled with affection for Jack and his thoughtfulness. "Did you draw these, Jack?" she asked, a smile gracing her lips.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! My team's having a soccer game on Saturday," he exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm. "And soccer always makes me happy. So if you ever feel sad, Ms. Y/L/N, you should come and watch us play."

Y/N's heart swelled at his innocent offer. She was touched by his kindness and the genuine concern he showed for her well-being. It was moments like these that reminded her why she loved her job as a teacher so much. The connections she formed with her students were truly special.

However, a small pang of uncertainty tugged at her. She hesitated, wondering if accepting Jack's invitation was the right thing to do. She glanced toward the school building, her mind wandering to thoughts of Aaron. Would he be uncomfortable if she attended the soccer game? As she gazed into Jack's big, sparkling eyes, a warmth spread through her chest. His unwavering trust and earnest invitation were impossible to resist. At that moment, she realized that she couldn't deny him anything, especially when his genuine desire to share his happiness with her was so evident.

A soft smile formed on her lips as she replied, "Thank you, Jack. You're so thoughtful. It sounds like a lot of fun and I'll be sure to keep your invitation in mind, okay?", she said not denying but also not confirming right away that she would attend to his soccer game.

Jack's eyes lit up with excitement, and he beamed at her. Jack beamed at her response, his excitement undiminished. "Yay! That would be awesome, Ms. Y/L/N. I can't wait for you to see us play!"

Later that day, Y/N found herself at home, her mind still preoccupied with the invitation Jack had extended to her earlier. Picking up her phone, she hesitated for a moment before setting it down again. It was the fifth time she had contemplated reaching out to Aaron, torn between the desire to attend the soccer game and her uncertainty about how he might feel with her there. She paced her living room, a nervous energy settling within her. Maybe it was the comfort of her own space that was enabling her to muster the courage she needed or perhaps it was the glass of wine she had indulged in that gave her that extra push. Either way, she finally decided to take action.

Sitting down on the couch, she composed an email to Aaron. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she began to type, explaining that Jack had invited her to his soccer game on Saturday. She kept it simple and straightforward, not wanting to overthink her words. Once the email was written, she hit send and then promptly threw her phone on the other end of the couch.

For the rest of the evening, Y/N deliberately avoided her phone, like it was the plaque, casting occasional glances toward it as if it was a ticking time bomb. The fear of his response weighed on her mind, and she second-guessed her decision to reach out. As the hours passed, her phone remained silent, and the lack of a response gnawed at her. It was a strange mixture of relief and disappointment—relief that she didn't have to confront his answer just yet, and disappointment that his silence left her in a state of limbo.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting in a sheriff's station in North Carolina, Aaron's mind was preoccupied with the details of the new case they had just taken on. He had barely had a moment to catch his breath after dropping Jack off at school before the team was called in for another assignment. As he focused on the case at hand, his phone suddenly rang, and he recognized the familiar ringtone. Assuming it was Penelope sending over new leads or information, he reached for his phone with a sense of urgency. To his surprise, it wasn't a message from Penelope but an email from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her name in his inbox, his curiosity piqued. He opened the email and read the simple yet heartfelt message. “Hi. Jack invited me to his soccer game on Saturday. I didn't accept as of now and wanted to ask beforehand if it would be okay for me to attend?” Aaron's brow furrowed as he read the words, his mind racing to process the meaning behind them. It was unexpected, to say the least. He hadn't anticipated her reaching out to him about something like this. His thoughts momentarily drifted from the case at hand to the decision he now had to make.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the email for a moment before opening his voicemails, a habit he had formed over the past week. His finger hovered over the saved voicemails, and he clicked on one with a sense of anticipation. As Y/N's voice filled the room through the speakers, his heart skipped a beat. It was the voicemail she had left when Jack got sick at school and she couldn't reach him. He listened to her concerned yet caring words, a mixture of yearning and nostalgia washing over him. It had become somewhat of a ritual for him, replaying that voicemail each day. Hearing her voice brought a bittersweet comfort, reminding him of her presence even when she was physically distant. He missed her more than he had expected, her absence leaving an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake off. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in the sound of her voice. The warmth of it wrapped around him like a soft embrace, and he found himself yearning for the connection they had shared. It was both a soothing balm and a torturous reminder of what he couldn't have. He knew he needed to navigate these feelings carefully, for both their sakes and for Jacks.

He didn't want to forbid her from going, even though the conversation he had with her friend Elizabeth was still prominently etched in his mind. But he also didn't want to disappoint Jack, who clearly had a special place in his heart for Y/N

After a moment of contemplation, he decided to respond. He kept his message short and to the point, typing out that it would be fine if she wanted to come. He included the address and the time, ensuring that she had all the necessary details. As he hit send, he felt a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. The decision had been made, and now he could only wait to see how things would unfold.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N took more time to get ready than she cared to admit. She stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her outfit and nervously fixing her hair. As she finally left her place and walked to the location of the soccer game, her heart started to race. The field wasn't too far away, and the brisk walk helped calm her nerves. But as she got closer, she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.

From a distance, she spotted a group of little kids in red uniforms running around, their laughter echoing in the air. Among them, she saw parents gathered, cheering on their children. But what she hadn't anticipated was seeing Aaron there, a clipboard and whistle in hand, seemingly in charge of the young soccer players.

Her heart did a little flip as she watched him interact with the kids."God, why?" Y/N mumbled to herself, her thoughts becoming a quiet, introspective conversation. "Why is this man getting more perfect every time I find out something new about him? How does he manage to be a good dad, good at his job, and coach little kids in his free time?" She let out a soft sigh. She couldn't deny that seeing him in this setting only made him more endearing, and she found herself wondering how he managed to juggle so many responsibilities. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tried to shake off the nerves that were threatening to take over. After all, she was here for Jack and the soccer game. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and joined the gathering, ready to enjoy the afternoon and support the little soccer players.

She positioned herself beside a group of parents, her uncertainty evident in her body language. Unsure whether to approach Aaron or not, Y/N quietly observed as the kids began to warm up for the game. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the energy of excited children ready to play. Suddenly, her attention was captured by Jack's exuberant voice as he spotted her. He darted toward her with an infectious smile that tugged at her heart. Seeing him in his soccer uniform, all she wanted to do was pinch his adorable cheeks.

"Ms. Y/L/N! You came!" Jack's enthusiasm was genuine, and Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"Of course, buddy! Wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied, her voice carrying warmth and affection.

As her eyes met Jack's, she noticed Aaron walking over. It was the first time they had spoken in over a week, and the air seemed charged with unspoken emotions. She noticed the now fading scar over his eyebrow, and the sight of it made her heart ache slightly. She wondered what had happened, but she pushed aside her curiosity.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice soft and sincere, his eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something else that Y/N couldn't quite decipher.

"Hi," she responded, her own voice a blend of warmth and a hint of hesitation.

Behind Aaron, another man emerged. His presence exuded a sense of wisdom and experience, with salt-and-pepper hair and a welcoming smile. As he approached her, he extended his hand in a friendly gesture.

"Hi, I'm David Rossi," he introduced himself with a light-hearted tone and a chuckle. "Assistant coach."

Y/N shook his hand with a genuine smile. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

The name seemed to register with Rossi, his eyes narrowing slightly as if connecting the dots. "Y/N? As in Y/N, Jack's teacher?" His gaze shifted between her and Aaron as if considering something intriguing.

Aaron's expression remained composed, as he answered, a slight warning in his tone Rossi immediately understood, "Yeah, Y/N's one of Jack's teachers."

Rossi's playful grin widened. "Well, Jack has been talking about you non-stop. Seems like you've made quite an impression on him."

Aaron cleared his throat, breaking the brief moment of interaction, and nodded toward the field. "Alright, it's time to start the game," he announced before walking away to fulfill his coaching responsibilities.

"Good luck, Jack!" Y/N called out with a supportive smile as Jack dashed off to join his team. She playfully made a crossing-fingers sign, her heart warming at the sight of the excited children.

As the game kicked off, a sweet and almost comical scene unfolded on the field. Aaron and Rossi, both fully immersed in their roles as coaches, seemed to be a picture of dedication. Their shared enthusiasm and camaraderie made them a dynamic duo. Y/N couldn't help but watch, admiring how their interactions reflected their genuine passion for the kids and the game.

With each cheer from Aaron and Rossi, Y/N found herself joining in, her voice blending with the chorus of encouraging words from the parents and spectators. As the game progressed, she became more and more invested, her heart swelling with pride for Jack and his team.

As the kids took a break and gathered around for snack time, Jack and Rossi made their way over to Y/N. She smiled at Jack, trying to push aside the uneasy feeling that had begun to gnaw at her when she noticed the woman by Aaron's side. Her laughter rang out, and the sight of her hand on his arm felt like a small sting in Y/N's gut.

She forced herself to focus on the conversation with Jack and Rossi but the woman's confidence and stunning appearance only seemed to amplify Y/N's own insecurities. She had never considered herself the jealous type, but seeing Aaron with someone else, even in an innocent scenario, stirred up emotions she hadn't expected. Y/N felt a pang of pettiness as she watched the woman continue to touch Aaron's arm and flirt with him. She knew it was irrational to feel this way, but she couldn't help the surge of jealousy that prickled at the back of her mind. The woman's boldness and the way she seemed to have Aaron's attention only added to Y/N's unease. Rossi, with his years of profiling experience, was perceptive enough to catch the shift in Y/N's demeanor. His knowing glance met hers, and for a brief moment, Y/N felt a sense of embarrassment wash over her. She cleared her throat, attempting to shake off the irrational feelings that had taken hold of her. As Jack continued to chatter away, unaware of the undercurrents swirling around them, Y/N forced herself to smile and engage in the conversation She stole a quick glance in Aaron's direction, feeling an unfamiliar sense of competition for his attention.

As Aaron approached with the woman trailing behind him, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way the woman seemed to cling to him, almost like a lost puppy seeking attention. Y/N's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight, but she refused to let her unease show. She was determined to maintain her composure.

Aaron turned to Rossi and asked if he could assist with carrying the snacks and drinks from the car. The woman beside him seemed poised to jump in and offer her help, but before she could utter a word, Y/N spoke up, her voice calm and composed.

"I'll help you," Y/N addressed Aaron directly, her eyes fixed on him as if daring him to object. The words were directed at him, but her gaze seemed to cut through to the woman beside him, a subtle challenge in her expression. Y/N's stance was one of quiet assertion, a declaration that she wasn't going to back down or let anyone else stake a claim. Aaron seemed momentarily surprised by Y/N's offer, and a hint of appreciation flickered in his eyes. With a nod, he accepted her help, and the woman's expression shifted from eagerness to something resembling disappointment.

As Aaron and Y/N walked away to gather the snacks, Rossi watched them with an amused smirk playing on his lips. His gaze shifted down to Jack, who was watching the scene unfold with a knowing glint in his eyes. A small smile curved on Rossi's lips as he leaned down and spoke to the young boy.

"You noticed too, huh?" Rossi chuckled, his amusement evident in his tone.

Jack's face lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "I invited her," he admitted, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

At that confession, Rossi couldn't contain his laughter. It bubbled up from deep within him, a hearty and genuine sound that filled the air. He ruffled Jack's hair affectionately.

"Well, it seems like your plan is working, buddy," Rossi said, his laughter still lingering in his voice. "And you know what they say about meddling in matters of the heart, right?"

Jack nodded, his smile widening. "That you need to be careful because it's tricky business?"

Rossi chuckled again. "Exactly. But hey, sometimes a little nudge in the right direction can't hurt."

Walking up to the car, a comfortable silence settled between Y/N and Aaron. He opened the trunk and efficiently retrieved a bag filled with fruits, sandwiches, and granola bars, passing it to Y/N before gathering juice boxes and water bottles for himself.

"I didn't know you coached his team," Y/N ventured, her voice breaking the silence.

Aaron glanced at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm really new to it. I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest," he admitted with a chuckle.

Y/N's lips quirked up in a smile of her own. "You seemed really professional to me," she replied, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. "Well, I'm glad I managed to fool you then," he said, his voice light and warm.

As they continued their conversation, Aaron found himself realizing even more how much he had missed her presence. Her laughter, their easy banter, and her smile

"You have a good assistant," Y/N chuckled, referring to Rossi.

Aaron nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "He is. He's not just a colleague, but a good friend as well."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Another FBI agent? The third one I met so far" she said, recalling her interaction with Penelope.

Aaron chuckled softly. "Yes, another one. We seem to be everywhere." Their conversation flowed easily, and Aaron found himself talking to her about his experiences coaching the soccer team, Y/N shared some anecdotes from her time in the classroom. It was a comfortable exchange, one that felt so easy and right. As the game continued, Y/N couldn't help but notice that Aaron seemed more relaxed. The weight that had seemed to hang on his shoulders was less prominent, and his smile reached his eyes more readily. It was a sight that made her heart skip a beat, and she silently reminded herself not to read too much into it. Y/N joined the parents in clapping and cheering, her eyes alternating between Jack and the other kids on the field. Even amidst the excitement, she couldn't shake off the niggling feeling that Rossi had sensed her jealousy earlier. As the game reached its conclusion and the kids gathered for high-fives and pats on the back, Y/N found herself standing beside Aaron again. She stole a quick glance at him and couldn't help but notice that he was looking at her too, a warmth in his eyes that sent a flutter through her chest. With a final cheer from the parents, the soccer game came to an end, leaving the kids with smiles of victory and accomplishment. Y/N's heart felt a little lighter, and she found herself genuinely grateful that she had decided to attend the game.

As the soccer game came to an end and parents began packing up, Y/N felt a mixture of relief and contentment. She was relieved that the woman who had been flirting with Aaron earlier was nowhere in sight. Her attention shifted when she noticed Aaron putting a large training bag over his shoulder, a clear sign that he was ready to leave. Seeing Aaron getting ready to go, Y/N takes it as her cue to say her goodbyes. She walks over to Jack, giving him a warm smile. "I had a great time today, Jack. Thanks for inviting me," she said genuinely, her eyes meeting his. Then she turns her attention to David Rossi, offering a friendly smile. "It was really nice to meet you, David," she says politely.

Rossi's grin was infectious. "Oh no, you're not leaving just yet, my dear," he said with a chuckle, his tone warm and inviting. "Soccer games always end with pasta and wine at my place."

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly, and she shook her head. "Oh, no, really, I don't want to impose," she replied, feeling a bit uncertain about intruding on their plans.

Rossi waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! It's not an imposition at all. We'd be delighted to have you."

Before Y/N could protest further, Jack spoke up, his voice excited. "Yes please Uncle Dave makes the best pasta!"

Caught between the warm invitation and the genuine smiles of both Rossi and Jack, Y/N found herself unable to resist. She let out a soft laugh. "All right, then. I'd be happy to join you."

Rossi's grin widened. "Excellent! You won't regret it, I promise."

As they walked toward Aaron's car, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The day had taken an unexpected turn, and while she still had some reservations, there was a glimmer of excitement in her heart about the evening ahead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The four of them piled into the car and drove over to Rossi's house. Upon arrival, they found themselves in the kitchen, where Rossi immediately started cooking, chopping ingredients and humming a tune.

"Alright, my friends, now it’s time to witness the magic happen," Rossi declared with a grin, his chef's apron adding a touch of theatricality.

"Magic, huh?" Aaron quirked an eyebrow, exchanging amused glances with Y/N.

"Magic in the form of a delicious meal, my dear friend," Rossi replied dramatically, waving his knife with flair.

As Rossi continued to cook, Y/N, Aaron, and Jack took seats at the kitchen counter, their anticipation evident. Rossi was in his element, regaling them with stories of his adventures, embellishing each tale for comedic effect.

"Back in the day, when I was just a little Rossi, growing up in the heart of Italy, my nonna was the queen of the kitchen," Rossi began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

Y/N and Jack leaned in with interest, captivated by Rossi's storytelling.

"Nonna had this way of making every dish feel like a warm embrace," Rossi continued, his voice tinged with fondness. "I remember one summer afternoon when she decided to teach me how to make her famous lasagna. Now, let me tell you, Nonna's lasagna was a work of art."

Jack's eyes widened with excitement. "Did it taste better than regular lasagna?"

"Oh, it was a league of its own, my boy," Rossi chuckled. Y/N couldn't help but smile, enchanted by Rossi's vivid description.

"And as we worked, Nonna shared stories from her own childhood, her voice filled with the wisdom of generations," Rossi continued. "She told me how cooking was more than just a skill; it was a way of passing down love, tradition, and a piece of ourselves to those we care about."

Rossi's gaze seemed to drift into the past, lost in his memories. "Nonna's lasagna was a labor of love, taking hours to prepare and cook. But when it finally emerged from the oven, bubbling and fragrant, it was like a taste of home."

"That sounds amazing," Y/N said softly, touched by the sentiment.

"It was, my dear," Rossi agreed, his eyes shining. "And to this day, whenever I cook, I can feel Nonna's presence in the kitchen. Her love and passion for food were passed down to me, just like her cherished lasagna recipe."

Jack looked at Rossi with wide eyes. "Do you still make her lasagna?"

"Every now and then, I do," Rossi replied with a smile. "And every time I take a bite, it's like sharing a meal with Nonna once more. And voila!" Rossi exclaimed, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of each of them. "A taste of my culinary wizardry."

Aaron, Y/N, and Jack exchanged impressed glances as they took in the beautifully presented dishes. Rossi's cooking was as delicious as it was visually appealing.

"Alright, my friends, let's not forget the most important ingredient of any good meal," Rossi announced with a flourish, producing a bottle of wine.

He poured the wine with a charming smile. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the conversations flowed effortlessly. Aaron and Y/N found themselves engaging in light banter, teasing each other in the process.

As the evening progressed, the camaraderie between the four of them grew stronger. They shared stories, traded jokes, and reveled in the simple joy of being in each other's company.

Eventually, the plates were cleared, the glasses refilled, and they settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation. The night was a testament to the power of good food, great company, and a lighthearted atmosphere.

"Ah, my friends, it's nights like these that remind me why good food is meant to be shared," Rossi mused, raising his glass in a toast.

"To shared laughter, great company, and the magic of a well-cooked meal," Aaron added, his gaze locking with Y/N's for a moment. As their glasses clinked and laughter filled the air, the worries of the outside world seemed to fade away, even if it was just for that moment.

Jack's yawns became more frequent, and he began to rub his eyes. "I think someone's getting a bit sleepy," Rossi noted with a grin.

"Yeah, he had quite the active day," Aaron replied, ruffling Jack's hair affectionately.

Rossi turned to Aaron. "You know, you're welcome to let him crash in one of the guest rooms. We've got plenty."

Aaron considered the offer. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Rossi confirmed with a wink. "It's not like I haven't had a house full of guests before."

Aaron looked down at Jack. "Hey, buddy, do you want to sleep here tonight?"

Jack's eyes blinked sleepily. "Can I, Dad?"

"Of course," Aaron said gently, sharing a soft smile with his son.

"But!" Jack's sudden energy surprised everyone. "Uncle Rossi has to read me my bedtime story."

Rossi chuckled. "Well, I'm honored, young man. I'll make sure you have the best bedtime story."

As Rossi and Jack made their way toward the guest room, they exchanged a sly fist bump and a wink. It was as if they had a silent agreement, a plan to set the stage for Aaron and Y/N to be alone and have a chance to talk, without realizing they were being nudged together.

As the sound of Rossi's voice reading Jack's bedtime story floated from the hallway, Aaron turned to Y/N, his expression a mixture of emotions. Y/N stood up and started carrying the empty plates and glasses over to the sink and Aaron immediately did the same.

"So... thanks for coming today. Jack was really happy to see you," he said cleaning off the plates.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of comfort in the relaxed atmosphere. "I'm glad I could make it. He's such a sweet kid."

"Yeah, he is," Aaron agreed, his gaze softening.

As the laughter from the other room continued, Aaron and Y/N started washing the dishes. The dim lighting and the comfortable ambiance of the kitchen seemed to encourage their conversation.

"I hope you know that I never meant to make things awkward," Aaron began, his eyes searching hers.

Y/N gave a small nod. "I know, Aaron. It's just... well, it's a complicated situation."

"Yeah," he agreed with a sigh. "And I want you to know that I value you as Jack's teacher, and I don't want anything to affect that."

Y/N appreciated his honesty. "I feel the same way. Jack is a wonderful kid, and I wouldn’t let anything jeopardize my relationship with him."

After a moment of silence, while his hands were still buried in the bubbles of the dishes, he said, "I just wished I could rewind and undo what happened." He seemed lost in his own thoughts, not noticing the impact his words had on Y/N.

As Aaron's words hung in the air, Y/N's heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces. The plate she was drying nearly slipped from her grasp as the weight of his statement hit her with full force. She set the plate down and wiped her hands hastily, fighting to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Not daring to meet Aaron's eyes, she managed to say, without her voice trembling, "I should leave now, it’s getting really late." She felt an overwhelming urge to escape, to distance herself from the pain she felt welling up inside her. She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing the hurt in her eyes.

As she moved to grab her coat, her hands were shaking. "Thank Rossi for the great meal, everything was perfect." She needed to get out of there, to find a moment of solace where she could let her emotions out without anyone seeing.

Aaron was caught off guard by her sudden change in demeanor. "Wait, why the hurry?" he questioned, a mixture of confusion and concern in his voice. "Wait I’ll drive you home." He moved to follow her, not understanding what had shifted so abruptly.

"I’ll get a taxi," she replied, her voice distant as she left through the door. Without looking back, she left him standing in the entryway, a swirl of emotions racing through his mind. He watched the door for a moment, his heart heavy with a sense of longing and uncertainty, unaware of the depth of pain his unintended words had caused.

Jack was already sound asleep, but Rossi remained in the background, giving Aaron and Y/N some space to talk. When he heard the front door close, he quietly left the room and found Aaron standing in the entryway, a kitchen towel in his hands. "What happened?" Rossi asked with a concerned expression. "Did Y/N leave?" Aaron looked up, his face a mix of confusion and frustration. "I don't know. We were cleaning up, and we talked about what happened last week." Rossi's brows furrowed. "What did happen last week? Was that the reason you were so out of it the whole time?"

Aaron let out a sigh, briefly closing his eyes as he recounted the events. "We almost kissed," he admitted, the weight of the words heavy in the air. "And we’ve been avoiding each other ever since, and it has been awkward. And I told her that it wasn’t my intention.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. "And what did she say?"

"Nothing," Aaron replied, his confusion evident. "She agreed. I just wanted her to know that I didn’t want things to go like this."

Rossi's expression turned incredulous. "Wait, Aaron, how did you phrase it?"

"I just told her I wished things went differently."

Rossi's frustration was palpable. "No, tell me word for word."

Aaron frowned, trying to recall the exact words. "I said, 'I just wished I could rewind and undo what happened.' "

Rossi practically facepalmed, his patience running thin. "Aaron, you are a complete idiot," he said, his frustration seeping into his words. "How did you become a unit chief for god's sake? Do you realize how bad that sounded?"

Aaron blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. Rossi shook his head in disbelief. "You just made it sound like you regret what happened like you wish you could erase it. No wonder she left upset."

Realization dawned on Aaron's face, and his shoulders slumped. "God, I didn't even realize. That's not what I meant at all."

Rossi sighed, his exasperation softening into understanding. "Aaron, you need to have a serious conversation with her, and this time, make sure you're clear about your feelings. She's not a mind reader."

Aaron nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret. "You're right. I need to fix this right now," he grabs his keys and asks Rossi, "Can I leave Jack with you?"

“Go loverboy!”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N felt so stupid, so dumb. The tears welled up in her eyes almost immediately as she sat in the back of the taxi, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. How could she have believed that he felt the same way? The weight of disappointment and embarrassment was suffocating, and she didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the dampness on her cheeks.

Inside the safe walls of her apartment, she stumbled her way to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow. The fabric absorbed her muffled sobs, providing a brief respite for the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. How could she have let herself get carried away with the idea that he might have had the same feelings? The pain of rejection felt like a physical ache in her chest, and she couldn't stop the tears from flowing freely.

Lost in the sea of her own despair, she didn't know how long she had been lying there, letting her tears soak the fabric of her pillow. But suddenly, the ringing of her doorbell and the persistent knocking on her door shattered her isolation, jolting her back to reality. When she opened the door, her heart clenched painfully at the sight of Aaron standing on the other side.

His normally composed expression was full of concern and worry as his eyes landed on her tear-streaked face and puffy red eyes. Without hesitation, he took a big step toward her, his instinct to comfort her overriding any sense of restraint. Embracing her in a tight hug, he held her as if trying to shield her from all the pain that seemed to surround her.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with genuine concern.

She felt a mix of emotions surging through her - the surprise of seeing him at her door, the lingering hurt from their earlier conversation, and the warmth of his embrace all colliding within her.

"Aaron, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice quivering as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Part of her wanted to push him away, but another part wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace.

He held her even tighter, his voice gentle as he spoke into her hair. "I'm so sorry. Please don't cry anymore, please."

His touch, his soothing words, and the overwhelming sincerity in his voice melted away the walls she had built around herself. She couldn't hold back her tears, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably. He continued to hold her, one hand caressing her hair while the other arm was slung around her body, providing a sense of security she desperately needed.

"I'm such an idiot, please," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. "I didn't mean it like that, okay? I don't regret what happened between us."

Her fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, her tears dampening the fabric. Her breath hitched, and she pulled back slightly to look up at him, her tear-filled eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. The sincerity she saw in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"Then why did you say… why did you say you wished you could rewind and undo it?" she asked, her voice trembling as she fought to make sense of it all.

He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. His touch was so tender, a mixture of comfort and apology in the gesture.

“I meant that I wished I could change how I handled things," he said, his voice earnest and regretful. "I avoided you, didn’t apologize for what I did, and let things become awkward between us. I wished that I would’ve had more courage to stay that day, to kiss you, and to tell you how crazy I am about you. I let my own fears and concerns affect the way I handled things between us."

As his fingers lingered on her cheek, his touch seemed to caress her heart, and her eyes met his. There was so much unspoken between them, so many feelings that had been left unsaid. His hand moved from her cheek to cup her face tenderly, his touch gentle yet filled with a longing that she could sense. It was a touch that mirrored the night they had shared that almost kiss at the school.

"You don’t know how much I've wanted to kiss you since the first night we talked," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his words sent shivers down her spine, and she felt drawn closer to him.

Every word he spoke hung in the air like a promise, a confession of the emotions they had both been grappling with. She found herself inching closer to him, her heart pounding in rhythm with the raw honesty that he was offering. Her breath caught as her gaze flickered to his lips, the memory of that almost kiss flooding back.

"Then why didn't you?" she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and yearning.

He hesitated, his gaze locked with hers, his thumb tracing circles on her cheek. "I didn't want to rush into things, especially with Jack involved. And I let my own past experiences cloud my judgment. I'm sorry for how my words came across. I don't regret what almost happened between us. And I don't want to let my fears hold me back anymore."

As his gaze bore into hers, it was as if time stood still, and all that mattered were the emotions that hung between them. She reached up, her hand covering his on her cheek, and their fingers intertwined.

"Then show me," she whispered her voice a plea, her eyes searching his.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a delicate, tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a promise of things to come, and a reassurance of the feelings they shared.

Their kiss ignited with a fervent intensity that took them both by surprise, fueled by the desperation, longing, and desire that had been building between them. It was as if their pent-up emotions had found an outlet, and they surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing them together.

His fingers, once gentle against her cheek, now tightened with a mixture of urgency and possessiveness. The hand that had caressed her face found its way to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. His touch was both a declaration and a plea, a silent admission of his longing and a desperate desire to bridge the distance that had kept them apart.

Their lips melded together, the initial softness giving way to a hunger that spoke of unspoken yearning. His lips moved against hers with a demanding fervor, a silent affirmation of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. Their tongues danced in a dance of discovery, a symphony of passion and curiosity that left them both breathless.

Desperation lingered in the way they moved as if each touch was a lifeline they couldn't bear to let go of. Her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as though afraid he might slip away. Their bodies pressed closer, almost instinctively, their breaths mingling in the space between their lips.

His grip on her neck, while firm, was not forceful; it was a connection that radiated a sense of protectiveness, a silent vow to keep her close. As their kisses deepened, his hand slipped down to the curve of her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Her hands explored the contours of his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as if memorizing his form. With each touch, their need grew, the intensity of their kiss mirroring the emotions that had been swirling within them for so long.

The air was charged with electricity, their connection intensifying with every stolen breath and every brush of skin against skin. It was as if they were in their world, a realm where the past held no sway, and the future was an open canvas waiting to be painted. And as they finally pulled away, their lips swollen and their breaths heavy, it was with a newfound clarity and an unspoken promise that their journey was just beginning.

As they looked at each other, their eyes held an unspoken promise of the affection and connection that had finally been acknowledged. Their laughter bubbled up from deep within, a release of the tension that had built up between them. It was the kind of laughter that resonated with the sheer happiness of the moment, the weight of their emotions suddenly feeling lighter.

His laughter turned into a chuckle as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. She could feel the vibrations of his laughter against her skin, the sensation sending a rush of affection coursing through her veins. Her fingers gently brushed through his hair, a gesture of comfort and tenderness that mirrored the affection in their laughter.

He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. It was as if he couldn't believe that he was finally holding her, that the distance and hesitations had evaporated into thin air.

As she gestured toward the couch, he followed her lead, his heart racing with a mixture of exhilaration and contentment. The soft cushions embraced them as they sat down, their bodies settling into a comfortable rhythm as if they had always been meant to fit together this way.

She positioned herself sideways, snuggling under his arm, her warmth seeping into his side. Her knees found a spot on his thigh, her head resting on his shoulder. The closeness felt natural, a seamless connection that they had both yearned for.

His arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her in even closer. His other hand on her arm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns. With every touch, every gentle caress, the barriers they had constructed around their emotions seemed to crumble further. The contentment that radiated from their beings seemed to fill the room, an atmosphere of ease and serenity.

Her scent, a subtle blend of warmth and comfort, surrounded him, wrapping him in a cocoon of familiarity and solace. He couldn't help but press a soft kiss to her hair, a gesture that held a promise of protection and affection.

At that moment, as they sat entwined on the couch, laughter still echoing in the air, they both felt like they were floating on a cloud of happiness. The weight of the past, and the uncertainties of the future, all seemed to fade into insignificance as they basked in the simple joy of being together. And as they remained wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that this was where they truly belonged.

With their bodies nestled together on the couch, and the gentle atmosphere surrounding them, it felt like the perfect moment for them to open up about their feelings. The sense of vulnerability was there, but it was coupled with an understanding that this was a safe space for their emotions.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Y/N softly spoke, her voice carrying a mixture of honesty and tenderness. "I missed you, Aaron. The past week... it felt like a void without your presence."

He tightened his hold on her just a bit, his fingers instinctively tracing patterns on her arm as he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I missed you too, more than I imagined I could."

Aaron gave her a gentle squeeze, relishing the warmth of her presence beside him, and continued, "I was a mess last week. I snapped at Derek, my colleague at work, without any reason," he chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Basically, I was not fun to be around."

She giggled, pulling away slightly to look up at him. "Oh, I can relate. I annoyed the hell out of Liz the whole week with my bad mood. She's a saint for putting up with me."

Aaron smirked with a playful gleam in his eyes. "She is definitely something," he replied with a slight undertone, and at that moment, Y/N recalled Aaron and Liz talking at the school gate. Curiosity piqued, she asked, "What did you and Liz talk about at school the other day? She wouldn't tell me."

A hint of a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Aaron's lips. "Well, your friend Liz told me not to play with your feelings. And she promised me that if I ever made you cry again, she would find me and make me regret ever even looking in your direction."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock for a moment, then she burst into laughter. "Oh my God, she threatened you!" She couldn't contain her amusement, and her laughter filled the air. Aaron joined in, his laughter a harmonious accompaniment to hers.

Once their laughter subsided, Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and playfully nudged Aaron's arm. "Well, I have to admit, I'm glad she's got my back." Aaron grinned, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and fondness. "Oh, you have no idea. I felt like I was facing off against a seasoned profiler during our conversation."

Y/N's laughter bubbled up again, and she shook her head. "Honestly, I never knew Liz had such a protective streak in her."

He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "I think it's safe to say she cares about you a lot. You know I was gonna come talk to you eventually. Explain how I feel but I guess Jack’s invitation beat me to it”, he chuckles.

She leaned into his touch, her heart warming at his words. "And what were you going to tell me?"

He sighed softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I was going to tell you that I realized that I couldn't keep away from you any longer. The emptiness I felt when you weren't around was too much to bear. And when I thought about the possibility of losing you, of not having you in my life... I couldn't let that happen."

Her fingers intertwined with his, their connection grounding them in the moment. "I'm glad you didn't let it happen," she said softly, her eyes reflecting the sincerity of her words.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her forehead in a gentle, affectionate kiss. "Me too," he whispered, his voice a soothing melody that resonated deep within her.

Amid the echoes of their laughter, Y/N's gaze softened as she turned to Aaron, a question forming in her mind. "Aaron," she began hesitantly, "what do you think we should do now? I mean, how do we navigate this? There are things like my job, and our situations, that might hold us back."

He met her gaze, his expression earnest. "I know we have a lot to talk about, and we will, but please, just for tonight, let's pretend that there are no obstacles in our way. Let's not think about the complications or challenges. I just want to hold you, kiss you, without constantly considering all of that… just for tonight."

His words held a mix of vulnerability and longing, a desire to capture the present moment without the weight of the future. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, his sincerity resonating with her own desires. For a moment, she allowed herself to let go of her worries and fears, focusing solely on the connection between them.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Just for tonight," she whispered softly, her voice carrying an unspoken promise. And as they sat there, holding each other, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving behind only the warmth of their connection and the hope that maybe, just maybe, the obstacles ahead could be overcome.

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kaihuntrr · 1 month

Text

part fifteen: entertainment.

Martyn realizes some things about himself.

Clear skies, not a speck of clouds in sight. The winds blew strong overhead, Martyn could hear the soft rustling of the sails as the force propelled him and the Canaries onward. It was another slow day, so there was no point in using the engine if there were no beasts to hunt.

Martyn stood on the front of the ship, leaning against the wooden frame as the sounds of distant conversations filled his ears. Strangely, he couldn’t seem to tune in to them like he usually would. Maybe he was just tired. What was he even doing for the past few days? Martyn couldn’t recall a thing.

Martyn looked behind him to see the Canaries laughing and smiling amongst themselves. Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs were the closest, while he spotted Lizzie and Joel talking by the steering wheel, leaving Grian and Mumbo likely in the cabins downstairs. He tried to look beyond the crew only for a distant mist to obscure whatever they sailed away from. He hummed, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head.

It didn’t matter.

He was here with his friends, his crew, and it was the same routine as always, idly searching for a new monster to hunt, the adrenaline rush of striking it down, then tending to any injuries sustained from the fight.

Martyn walked up to Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs. Bdubs sat on one of the wooden crates while Cleo leaned against the railing and Scar stood in front of the two. They seemed to be engaged in some light conversation, so why not join? Martyn put on a small smile. “Hey guys!” he tilted his head, lifting his hand in a wave. “What are we all talking about?”

Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs didn’t seem to respond.

Martyn narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Guys?” he glanced at all three of them. They were talking, but Martyn couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. It was odd. He was right in front of them, but none of them gave him a glance. “Can you even hear me?”

“Can you hear me?”

An unknown voice spoke, shaking Martyn to his core. It was a raspy, bone-chilling call, yet it sounded impossibly loud and piercing. Martyn whipped his head around, looking for the speaker. No one was there. He looked back and the trio were… gone. Martyn looked at the steering wheel to find Joel and Lizzie gone, too.

What was happening?

“Wh-Who’s there?” Martyn looked around the ship rapidly, pulling out a gun from its holster and cocked it should the speaker try to hurt him. He had heard the voice, but the speaker was still not in sight. Martyn raised his voice, “I’m not afraid of a fight! Come out!”

“Oh but you are,” the voice chuckled in reply. The hairs on Martyn’s neck rose as the voice grew louder somehow. “You are afraid of me.” The ship suddenly started rocking as the water grew violent. Martyn had to plant his feet to stand his ground. He swayed along with the ship, but he stayed perfectly balanced as he took in deep breaths.

Martyn raised his gun and pointed it around. “I’m not afraid of you, whatever you are,” he growled. He narrowed his eyes and chuckled. “You can’t even face me.” Martyn shouldn’t be afraid of anything he couldn’t see– anything too scared to look him in the eye. The voice was weird, but it was nothing compared to all the beasts he’s taken on. What’s the worst it could possibly be? Martyn was safe on the ship, even if his friends weren’t there.

A chill ran up his spine. Where did the others go?

Martyn’s attention quickly snapped to the rumbling waters below as waves slapped the side of the ship, rattling the deck underneath his feet. Martyn ran to the side of the ship to see what the sound was as something huge bursted out of the dark seas below. The beast’s massive form loomed over the ship, casting a shadow across it that covered Martyn in complete darkness.

The first thing that stood out to Martyn were the monster’s eyes.

Abyssal black sclera. Raging blue and fiery orange irises. Ice-white pupils.

Martyn stumbled back and fell to the deck, cowering at the sight before him. It was the sea prince he met. It was staring down at him, grinning with its large, imposing teeth.

The sea prince’s teal hair glistened in the sunlight, the corals that grew out of its head shimmered. The glowing marks on its skin pulsed a faint light as its mighty heart pumped out its golden blood. By all means, the creature was… no, Martyn couldn’t think about it. It was wrong to think of a monster as anything akin to beautiful.

The monster leaned against the ship, one of its hands laid on top of the deck. Martyn winced at the sound of wood and metal cracking. It tilted its head and smiled. “Is this better?” Martyn couldn’t respond. He could only stare up at the sea prince’s face as it looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t give it an answer, it rolled its eyes and chuckled, its mouth curling into a smirk as it leaned over him, the smallest movements of its body rattling the vessel. “Pathetic. Where is your confidence?”

Martyn couldn’t move. He couldn’t open his mouth. The only thing he could do was stare at it in fear and awe. It was massive. It was beautiful! The sea prince’s gaze was intense and fiery and on him, and Martyn could see the hunger in its eyes. He could hear the sea grow restless as the winds howled for a storm, yet the mythical creature kept the ship still by simply resting one of its hands on top.

The sea prince kept staring at Martyn, its sharp teeth shining despite the storm clouds rolling past. “I thought you wanted a fight,” its large fingers drummed against the wooden floors, or what remained of them. Each tap caused the boat to rumble, bit by bit. “It seems my mere presence is enough to scare you to stillness, little hunter.”

Martyn couldn’t be scared. He shouldn’t be scared.

This is what he wanted.

Taking a sea prince down would be legendary.

“I- I’m not afraid of you!” Martyn’s words fell out of his mouth before he could make sense of it, finding himself already halfway to standing. The sea prince’s eyes widened, but its smile only grew more sinister. It didn’t answer, as if prompting Martyn to continue now that he’s finally found his voice. Still, Martyn trembled as its mighty gaze was too focused on him, even as he pushed himself to his feet. “With- with you dead, the sea would finally be free from one of its biggest threats. Give up your life now, and we can start living in the new world!”

Silence.

The monstrous creature stared at Martyn, raising an eyebrow. It stared and stared before it threw its head back and erupted into a laugh, shaking the entire ship as waves thrashed around them. Martyn was knocked back to the deck, looking up as the laughter began to fade.

The prince shook its head, a grin on its face. “Oh, and you’re sure you can kill me, the most powerful ruler of the ocean? I could crush you here and now,” its grip on the ship tightened as more sounds of wood cracking and breaking -coming from all around Martyn- resounded in his ears. “Or I could eat you. You’d be like sweet candy to me, dear hunter.” It licked its lips, leaning closer to the ship. Martyn could feel its breath wash over him. The sensation brought chills down Martyn’s spine as he swallowed. Something about those words got him on edge.

The sea prince sighed. “I’ve been entertained enough,” it shrugged, a seemingly nonchalant look on its face as it glanced outward and back to Martyn. “Your friends were a good snack. That sweet little tavernkeep of yours was the most delicious, though.” It grinned, blood beginning to pour out of the monster’s jaws and pooled around Martyn. Martyn could hear the distant screams of his crew, his friends, and Scott.

Oh gods, Scott.

Martyn’s eyes widened as he tried to move away from the glistening red blood as the sea prince’s smile widened in manic joy.

No, no no no– this can’t be happening. This isn’t– this can’t be real.

“I think our time here is over, little hunter.”

The monstrous, beautiful creature moved its large face directly in front of Martyn. He could see his reflection in its eyes; covered in blood, weary, and panicked. The sea prince’s eyes flashed with lightning as thunder roared above. Its sickening grin came back.

“Thank you for the entertainment.”

The sea prince’s jaws opened. Martyn could see the strings of saliva and the abyssal darkness that laid in the back of its throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even scream.

All he could do was watch as darkness snapped shut around him in an instant.

—————

Martyn bolted upright immediately after his eyes opened. His heartbeat was pounding in his chest, his breaths were quick and ragged. He blinked several times, shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. One of Martyn’s hands gripped his hair as he leaned back against the bed and sighed.

Bed?

Martyn looked around the room. He was on a simple white bed with a wooden frame, a bedside table was set right next to it with a dimly lit lantern and a notebook on top. A chest lay on the foot of the bed and a green carpet was spread out in front. A wooden door with metal decal was on the left side of the room, while the right had a window, glittering in the blue moonlight. There was a cabinet along with a small table and two chairs near the end of the room. All the lanterns that hung from the ceiling were off.

Right, this was his room in the tavern. He remembered now.

Some of the Canaries were here in the tavern with Martyn, sleeping away in their own rooms, while others stayed on the ship. They would meet up in the morning and hopefully prepare to leave this accursed island. Martyn rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, unable to sleep. Luckily he hadn’t screamed, he didn’t want to wake the others.

That dream felt… real and unreal at the same time. Martyn could still hear the sea prince’s taunts in his ears while every time his eyes closed, he could see those inhuman eyes staring right back at him. He couldn’t escape those eyes; they were hauntingly beautiful. He’d never seen anything like them before.

Martyn twisted the small knob on the lantern on the bedside table to adjust its brightness. The flame grew and it illuminated the room a little more. Martyn opened his sketchbook and took a pencil from the desk. He spent some time drawing out those eyes on a clean page. If he drew it, would that get his mind to stop thinking about how pretty it was?

Maybe it wasn’t right to use ‘it’ for such a creature. Wait-, why was Martyn even thinking that way? The sea prince was a monster; no matter how much Martyn thought about its beauty, it was still a horrible monster. He should be locked up for feeling the way he did!

“Those eyes…,” Martyn looked at the sketch, talking to himself. “Why do I remember those eyes so well?”

The moonlight in the room disappeared for a brief moment before it filtered inside again. There must be clouds passing by. Martyn hummed. If he couldn’t sleep, a walk outside could do him good. Maybe it was a good sign that the skies were relatively clear compared to the gloomy afternoon. A walk wouldn’t hurt.

Martyn got out of bed, immediately regretting his decision with how comfortable the bed had been, and slipped on his usual attire. He was going to be back, so he left his satchel inside. He had his gun and brought the lantern with him, but the rest stayed in the room. He made his way out of the room and locked the door behind him, taking careful steps down the wooden stairs so he wouldn’t accidentally creak a floorboard and wake the others. He slipped out of the tavern relatively quickly.

The town looked a lot better at night. At least, it didn’t look as strange as it was before. The moonlight lit the town a lot more than the torches and lanterns dotted around had managed to. Buildings glimmered in its pale light as stars twinkled above. It was a welcome sight, and something Martyn didn’t expect to miss as much as he did.

Martyn walked through the town, hearing the wind rustle through the buildings and flora, the soft crackles of torchlight, and the animals that chirped about. It felt more alive. No one was outside though, not a single soul. It must be extremely late.

A thought came to mind as Martyn looked around the empty streets; what if Pearl was asleep, too? She wouldn’t expect a surprise visit, would she? Martyn’s hand unconsciously brushed over his scarred cheek as he thought about it. Maybe a little payback won’t hurt.

Martyn could hear the river ahead, cutting through the town. If he followed it upstream, it would surely bring him to the forest. He raised his lantern and walked close to the river, looking around the town for any clear buildings he could reference when he eventually returned to the tavern.

It was a quiet walk, and Martyn appreciated the silence after everything that has happened. It felt nice. It felt good.

The forest entrance was unguarded and open, a small wooden archway with a lantern hung with loose and broken fences to its sides. It didn’t stop Martyn from entering.

Trees towered over him, leafy canopies covered the moonlight above in thick foliage. Martyn could see a few spots of moonlight hitting the ground, but the rest was shadowy and dark. It would have been hard to navigate if it weren’t for the lantern Martyn had on him. Thank goodness. How was the witch able to see through all this darkness? As far as Martyn remembered, she had walked into the forest with no light whatsoever and the forest was covered in thick fog. There was no point in thinking about it though, if Pearl got lost, it was her problem.

“Aw, come on! Loosen up a bit, will you?”

Speak of the devil. Martyn quickly dashed behind one of the large trees and bushes as he shut the lantern off and quickly held his breath. Would she notice the smell of smoke? Martyn pressed himself against the tree, crouching down so as to not be noticed. Why was she out in the forest so late?

Martyn heard footsteps approaching, one set of steps felt heavier than the other. Two people.

An unknown voice spoke up, their voice monotonous and cold. “You know I like my sleep, Pearl,” they groaned. “It feels wrong to sleep through the night, though. No matter how long it’s been, I just can’t get used to it.”

Everyone sleeps through the night. What was the problem there?

“We’re not supposed to sleep at this time, so I get that,” Pearl chuckled. Martyn took a small glance at the two and saw nothing. No light source, no lanterns or torches. Pearl and the stranger were walking in total darkness. “Still. You’re the one who wanted a better look at the island, so it's not my fault.”

It sounded like the stranger and Pearl knew each other, judging by Pearl’s uncharacteristically friendly tone. Her words stuck out in Martyn’s head. She wasn’t supposed to sleep at night? What, so she slept during the day? That was ridiculous.

“I didn’t expect the isle to be so gloomy. Plus,” the stranger had a bit more emotion in their voice. They held in a chuckle, the slight sound of cloth moving had Martyn think the stranger was nudging Pearl’s shoulder. “You’re not even trying to blend in.”

Pearl sighed. “Unlike you and the others, I like being a threat. Why play these games for humans when we’re so much better than them?”

Why was Pearl talking like–

“It’s better to stalk your prey before taking it down, like–,” the stranger stopped in their tracks. Their voice raised, “Do you smell that?”

A sudden silence washed over as Martyn shut his eyes. This wasn’t good. Pearl spoke up, causing Martyn to raise his shoulders. “Smoke. Who’s there?” Martyn could hear Pearl pull out her sickles.

Smoke. Martyn looked at the lantern. Smoke. It was out; the smell of smoke was so faint. How was Pearl and the stranger able to notice that? Martyn hurriedly put the lantern away as he crouched and moved to another tree. He couldn’t see properly anymore, and neither the stranger nor Pearl had any light source on them. He wouldn’t know where they were.

A rustle of bushes indicated someone was close.

Martyn moved to another tree, far from the rustling but still within earshot of the two.

The stranger sighed. “It’s a lantern,” they twisted the knob, Martyn could hear the squeaking sounds of metal as they turned it rapidly. “Recently put out, too. I believe our little tour is going to have to wait a while.” Martyn heard the lantern's glass shatter to pieces and metal snap, but it didn’t sound like it broke in an instant. It sounded like something was crushing it.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m the one who asked for it,” Pearl raised her voice, feigning a dramatic tone. She sighed, “I’m just glad it isn’t Chromia. As much as I hate those pesky birds, I don’t want him to show himself here. He shouldn’t know that they’re here, either.”

A new name. Chromia. That’s a peculiar name, wasn't it? Judging by Pearl’s soft tone, Martyn assumed there was some kind of close bond there. But this was the same witch who threatened his life, Martyn shouldn’t try to feel sympathy for her now. She knew things he wanted to learn about. He needed those answers.

“Don’t get me started on him, he needs some rest,” the stranger’s voice was soft and quiet. They sighed, and that sense of softness disappeared as they raised their voice. “Let’s just focus on this straggler for now, hm? Let’s see who gets them first. Better hunter versus the home turf advantage.”

“Sounds like fun, but don’t complain when I’m the one who catches them.”

With that, Martyn could hear the two dash away in opposing directions, one set of footsteps heavier than the other. What now? Martyn could turn back, but they could notice him walking away, but the risk of heading deeper into the woods…

Martyn had a gun. He should be fine.

Martyn wasn’t sure where he was going. If Pearl lingered in this area all day, then she must have some place where she stayed. Besides, weren’t witches commonly shown to have their creepy little cabins in the woods somewhere? It should be somewhere in these shadowy woods. He constantly looked for the little hints of moonlight as he moved through the forest, keeping crouched and taking slow steps to hopefully not attract either of the two people.

If he strained his ears enough, he could hear the softer footsteps better. The heavier ones were farther away. It was odd that the only thing Martyn could hear were the footsteps and breeze, like something was–

Martyn heard a distant growl. The ground shook slightly.

Something powerful was here.

Martyn’s eyes widened as a thought hit him. Could the sea prince be here? That had to be it. If all hunting ships got destroyed the moment they left the island, of course the monster would be close.

Was the sea prince in the distance the same one Martyn met? Would he be ready to see those eyes again? That face? That really pretty, really terrifying face?

Martyn pushed ahead. May the gods bless him. If he lived to survive the encounter, there must be something grand in store for him. He had to see the sea prince again. It was as if it was calling to him.

It felt like a long, agonizing crawl, but Martyn finally found himself at the entrance of a cave. Small flickers of moonlight illuminated the mossy rock, vines and flowers hanging over its mouth, blending the cave entrance in with the environment around it. If it weren’t for the moonlight, Martyn would’ve just assumed it was a solid wall of rock. He turned to look behind him. Nothing.

The ground rumbled again, only fueling Martyn’s heart with fear and excitement as he entered the cave. He placed his feet very carefully, following the descending slope as it sank far below ground level.

The cave was... surprisingly lit up. Martyn couldn’t see any lanterns or torches, but he noticed that the cave was lit with an odd golden light. He followed the tunnel as it curved, seeing the cave open up to a much larger space. The path he was following spiraled deeper and deeper, the path curving along the walls of the larger cavern.

Martyn crept up to the edge of the path, where it linked to the larger open space and a sheer drop. He peered over the edge to see a large pool of golden water below him. It shimmered unnaturally, its glow filling the entire bottom of the cave. It was enchanting. Martyn wanted to dive into it. He held back the urge to curse himself for not bringing a waterskin to hold the strange water in. If he could just–

“What do we have here?”

Martyn whirled around and was swiftly hit on the chin, the blow knocking him out as he collapsed against the cold cave floor.

It didn’t matter.

Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs didn’t seem to respond.

“Can you hear me?”

What was happening?

A chill ran up his spine. Where did the others go?

The first thing that stood out to Martyn were the monster’s eyes.

Abyssal black sclera. Raging blue and fiery orange irises. Ice-white pupils.

Martyn stumbled back and fell to the deck, cowering at the sight before him. It was the sea prince he met. It was staring down at him, grinning with its large, imposing teeth.

Martyn couldn’t be scared. He shouldn’t be scared.

This is what he wanted.

Taking a sea prince down would be legendary.

Silence.

Oh gods, Scott.

Martyn’s eyes widened as he tried to move away from the glistening red blood as the sea prince’s smile widened in manic joy.

No, no no no– this can’t be happening. This isn’t– this can’t be real.

“I think our time here is over, little hunter.”

“Thank you for the entertainment.”

The sea prince’s jaws opened. Martyn could see the strings of saliva and the abyssal darkness that laid in the back of its throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even scream.

All he could do was watch as darkness snapped shut around him in an instant.

—————

Bed?

Right, this was his room in the tavern. He remembered now.

“Those eyes…,” Martyn looked at the sketch, talking to himself. “Why do I remember those eyes so well?”

It was a quiet walk, and Martyn appreciated the silence after everything that has happened. It felt nice. It felt good.

The forest entrance was unguarded and open, a small wooden archway with a lantern hung with loose and broken fences to its sides. It didn’t stop Martyn from entering.

“Aw, come on! Loosen up a bit, will you?”

Martyn heard footsteps approaching, one set of steps felt heavier than the other. Two people.

Everyone sleeps through the night. What was the problem there?

Pearl sighed. “Unlike you and the others, I like being a threat. Why play these games for humans when we’re so much better than them?”

Why was Pearl talking like–

“It’s better to stalk your prey before taking it down, like–,” the stranger stopped in their tracks. Their voice raised, “Do you smell that?”

A rustle of bushes indicated someone was close.

Martyn moved to another tree, far from the rustling but still within earshot of the two.

“Sounds like fun, but don’t complain when I’m the one who catches them.”

Martyn had a gun. He should be fine.

Martyn heard a distant growl. The ground shook slightly.

Something powerful was here.

Was the sea prince in the distance the same one Martyn met? Would he be ready to see those eyes again? That face? That really pretty, really terrifying face?

“What do we have here?”

Martyn whirled around and was swiftly hit on the chin, the blow knocking him out as he collapsed against the cold cave floor.

#the sea prince au #sea prince chapters #limited life smp #limited life #life series #life smp #trafficblr #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #scottyn #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon

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az-cain · 1 year

Text

Bruised Thighs/Flowery Sheets

rhett abbott x reader ≈ 3300 words

TUMBLR ATE THE ASK DAMMIT, i am so so sorry anon, but it said:

If you're taking requests...sub!Rhett needing help to clear out his mind after having a rough ride and he can't stop the self-doubt. Poor boy just needs to be fucked so good his brain stops functioning 😈

this is pure filth! i love it. so fun to write. thank you to @girl-in-the-chairs-void for encouraging me and my terrible thoughts lmao, i wouldn’t have picked it back up today were it not for you.

TW FOR: description of bruises and hard landings, mild angst, brief mention of shitty fathers and poor body image, food and a poor relationship with it (ice cream), mild dacryphilia (crying kink), spanking, oral sex m&f!receiving, anal fingering m!receiving, pegging, dumbification, pet names (honey, baby, good boy, sweetie, darlin’)

Rhett’s thighs always hurt after a ride. The bull’s bucking consistently left his legs black and blue, so he’d grown accustomed to the pain. What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, however, was the sting of his forearms smacking the dirt on a bad dismount. The gravel dug in even through the thick shirt he wore, and the disappointment pierced through his skin beside it. As he scrambled away from the raging bull and into the pen, he sighed heavily, wearily, looking at the time. Five seconds. He hadn’t even made it ¾ of where he needed to be.

As he passed by his father, who clapped him on the back with a lightly-disguised look of displeasure and murmured common words of reassurance, he struggled to smile gratefully. He’d had an off day, he knew that was all. It was only a qualifier, so he wasn’t out of the game. Still, the stinging anger that rested behind his eyes refused to subside until he saw you.

You had his red flannel unbuttoned across your chest and your sports bra exposed to the wind, the summer night heat beating down on the whole stadium. Your jean shorts were just long enough to be decent, and the smile you gave him was anything but. His worries melted away, now just residing in his mind as a quiet nagging voice.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him eagerly and letting him bury his sweaty forehead in your equally sweaty neck. “How are you feeling after that dismount?”

He pulled back and tried to smile, lips quivering slightly, but ultimately shook his head in resignation. “Not great.”

You rubbed up and down his upper arms, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. “I know. You want to go get ice cream?”

He nodded with a sniffle, feeling like a child. He knew, though, that you only wanted to cheer him up. So, as you led him to his truck and pulled his keys out of your pocket to unlock it, he straightened his back and tried to push his bad thoughts from his mind.

Did it work? Not entirely.

As you shifted into drive, he clicked his seatbelt into place and felt you set your hand on his knee. You rubbed comforting circles on the soft skin and hummed along to the pop song filtering through the stifling summer air, made more tolerable by the blasting A/C and the open windows. He was struck, silently, by how much he loved you, and it gave him pause. Your hand on his knee calmed him significantly, almost enough to make him stop thinking about his off day.

As you pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru, you moved your hand back to the steering wheel. “Same as always?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled gently, so entirely enamored with you.

He listened to you order for the two of you, the crackling response that was nearly inaudible, and your loud “thank you.” As you waited in the drive-thru line, you cranked up the radio and plugged in the classic rock cassette he’d recorded for you, much to your amusement.

A number of sleazy songs played loudly across his cheap, 20-year-old speakers, and as you sang— or belted, rather— the lyrics, he couldn’t find it in him to care that the two of you were being the annoying drive-thru patrons everyone despised. The pencil you’d found to use as a microphone was dropped into the cupholder as you lowered the volume and met the teenager’s extended hand with a thank you, collecting the two cups of ice cream that you handed to him. He took small spoonfuls of the stuff as you drove home, the negative thoughts seeping back in in the form of body image. He wondered if he’d have gotten a better time today if he didn’t eat so much ice cream.

Of course, he knew that these thoughts were silly, so he did his best to put them out of his mind as you pulled into the driveway of your home and helped him out of the car, offering yourself as a brace for his bruised thighs and stinging forearms.

You entered the house together, settled on the dark couch and ate silently with one another, content to simply be in each others’ presence. When you’d both finished, you took his cup and ventured into the kitchen to throw both away before returning to your seat. At your gesture, he laid his head upon your thigh and let your hands come to rest in his hair. You sat there, running your fingers through his long hair for minutes, until you began to want more.

You tugged lightly on it, just testing the waters, and Rhett keened, whimpering through the muffling of his palm. “Please,” he whined quietly. A faint smile split your cheeks and you hummed, continuing to scratch his scalp like you’d never pulled on it. “Want you,” he continued, turning to meet your eyes and lifting his hips off of the soft couch to try and find friction against his jeans.

Chuckling softly at his neediness, you nodded. “Okay, honey. Let’s go to the bedroom.” With that, you patted his shoulder to make him move, and stood up behind him. When he moved slowly because of his sore thighs, you smacked his ass. A loud groan ripped through him— and through you— as you said “C’mon, baby.”

He started walking faster, your legs keeping easy pace, and made it into the bedroom quickly. He turned around and grabbed for you, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“Need you, please,” he whined again, to which you pressed your lips against his harder, biting at his bottom lip and swiping your tongue against his. His desperation only served to turn you on, lightning ripping through your lower abdomen.

You pressed one more harsh kiss against his lips before you squeezed his ass and commanded, “Strip.”

Ever obedient, he reached to tug off his tight t-shirt as you took a step backwards. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, his boots slipping off of his feet with ease, jeans and boxers falling to the carpet with the quiet whoosh of denim against skin. You watched eagerly as his cock, red and swollen, smacked against his milky-white thigh; you listened as he whimpered from the small amount of contact. You felt yourself clench with excitement as his hand twitched towards it, but you met his eyes and shook your head solemnly. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily, and nodded quickly in return.

“Good boy,” you crooned, approaching him again. One of your fingers traced along the ridge of his cock, a hum breaking from your chest as he bucked against you with a cry. “Stay still for me, sweetie. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words were quiet, but the obedience warranted some kind of reward; noting this, you kissed down his neck, to his torso, to his Adonis belt, to the base of his cock, all the while slipping to your knees before him.

His breathing sped up, bruised thighs clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you said, kissing along the tops of his thighs gently, working ever closer with each kiss.

Finally, reaching the wiry hair at the top of his cock, you looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were foggy, lust-addled and exhausted, but when he met yours, you saw them warm up slightly with adoration.

You held that eye contact as you kissed down his length, gently taking the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly. A wail broke from his lips as he doubled over, hands balling up into fists with concentration. “Please, please, oh god—” Rhett breathed the words quietly, just loud enough to be heard over your own breaths.

The resolve to be good for you made you moan around him, your thighs pressing together to find some sort of friction. Your mouth popped off of his tip with a pleased hum. “Use your words, baby.”

He struggled to meet your eyes, his pretty blues looking straight through you for a moment before you snapped your fingers to catch his attention. He focused in on you, just barely, and you raised your brows. “Words, darlin’.”

He nodded absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Please, oh— please suck me off— or— or fuck me, please,” he stuttered out, breaths coming quickly as he tried to process what he was asking for.

You closed your hand around one of his ass cheeks, avoiding the tender bruises. In response, you got a broken moan and a few senseless words of thanks. “Good boy, thank you for telling me what you need. Let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

Finally, you opened your mouth and let his dick fall onto your tongue, drool sliding down the length of it. You used your spare hand to collect the moisture, stroking it from where it fell from your mouth to the base of his cock. He sobbed above you quietly, eyes still fogged when you look up. The wiry hair scratched at your hand as you held his base tightly, allowing yourself to take him into your throat carefully, but not wanting him to let go just yet. It was a struggle not to gag, as it always was, because his cock filled your throat with so pleasant an ache. Still pushing your thighs together, you shifted your weight slowly to try and find some relief against your clit, moaning harshly around him when you succeeded, punching a groan out of him at the vibrations.

The hand that remained on his ass started to squeeze again, working its way between his cheeks. You sunk your middle finger in, searching for his rim. Finding it rather quickly, you reveled in the loud, strangled noises he made as you circled it with some pressure. He begged and pleaded for more nearly incoherently. “Oh god, please, oh my god,” was most of what you pieced together. Not deigning to pull off of him to respond, tongue and mouth still working around him, you pushed those two fingers in gently, more harsh crows tearing from his chest.

Distantly, you mourned the fact that you wouldn’t get to take him down your throat entirely, needing to keep that hand there for his sake. But still, you were having your fun and getting off on just this, your spit dripping down his cock and onto your wrist, and the middle finger from your other hand teasing lightly around his most sensitive spot. He was sobbing above you, hands balled into fists as he approached the edge but couldn’t quite reach it.

Quiet whines, praises, and pleas left his throat, high-pitched and needy; putty in your hands. Your jaw had begun to ache rather quickly, the sheer girth of him making the fun short-lived. So, pulling back and standing up, you told him to get on the bed. You tore your own shirt and pants off of your body, needing your overheated skin exposed to the air.

Rhett had laid down face-up, just how you’d wanted. Walking up to him, you slipped a finger between your thighs to show him just how slick you were. You were positively aching: throbs of pleasure were radiating through your hips with every step you took, the sight of his cock twitching against him and the sound of his whimpers only exacerbating the issue.

When you reached the bed, you climbed up onto him to straddle his face, his eyes following your pussy eagerly. “Oh fuck,” he whined, hips canting off the bed with desire, before you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock again, He panted below you, breaths completely erratic as you settled down onto him. Your hand tangled in his hair, balancing you directly over his open mouth as you kept a tight clutch on his dick. Licking eagerly into you, Rhett pushed his hips down to try and keep from thrusting into your fist. As a reward and in order to satisfy that ache, you ground down against him. His nose caught your clit, and you groaned a guttural sound that sounded like you were being torn in two. Again, and again, his nose caught your clit, and you felt that tightness ratchet higher and higher within you. After one more good grind down against his open mouth, his tongue trying to work its way inside of you, you let go, collapsing forward as you let his cock go, one hand clutching tightly into his hair and the other against the headboard. Shocks wracked your body, moans leaving your mouth entangled with expletives in a stream. You sat atop him for a few more moments, still clenching lightly as you tried to gather yourself.

When you finally felt that you’d recovered, you dismounted his face with one more grind and strutted to the bathroom to get the strap-on, sure to sway your hips for the boy watching. You pulled it and the lube from the cabinet you kept it in and rinsed it thoroughly, removing any dust that may have settled since you last used it— purely a precaution, but you were nothing if not thorough. Having shook most of the water off and slid the harness and vibrating dildo on, you shut the bathroom light off and emerged to find Rhett face-down on the bed, knees spread below him and hands clutching the sheets beside his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’re so smart. Just what I wanted to see,” you crooned, one hand coming up to smack the unbruised part of his ass as you approached the bed. He rocked forward with the impact, arching his back towards you as he cried out.

You popped the cap of your water-based lube and slicked your fingers, warming them up for a moment before tracing circles around his asshole and slipping two fingers into him. With a loud moan, he pressed back against you, ignoring your command to stay still for the first time that night.

Smacking him lightly again, you scoffed lightheartedly. “Already fucked stupid? Stay still, baby.”

He nodded, sobbing muffled apologies into his pillowcase as you worked another finger in. Taking his sobs as a good enough apology, you grabbed for the base of him again and pressed gently at his prostate. He wailed into the pillowcase, his head flying back and forth as he struggled to keep still for you.

When you pulled your fingers back, he settled down a little, just enough to catch his breath. Moving up enough to level your hips with his, you smiled down at the sight of his farmer’s tan-striped back arched against your flowery sheets, the perfect composition of beauty, before you pressed the head of the silicone cock into his ass.

Slipping past his rim, you continued to slide in slowly, letting him adjust to the width of the toy splitting him. You didn’t use this one often, usually opting for the thinner pink one, but you really wanted to fuck the brains out of him tonight. It seemed that this toy was the right choice for that objective, because he was babbling mindlessly into the pillow, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, you pulled your hips back, then slammed into him with all of your might, sure to angle your hips down. He screamed into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he let go, streaks of come spurting onto the bed as he shook like a leaf. “Fuck!” You heard, the first intelligible word you’d gotten in minutes. He rocked back against you and continued his babbling, still recovering from his last orgasm but wanting more.

With a smile, you continued to rock into him slowly, stroking up and down his back with a nail for a few minutes to allow him to recover. When his breathing seemed to return to a steady pace and his hands had returned to an open position, you reached down to flip on the vibrator, the harness resting against your clit perfectly.

He jumped at the sudden change, but quickly melted again with a moan when he realized what happened. “Oh my god…” he sighed, hands balling into fists once more. You rocked into him slowly, testing the waters, before slamming your hips against his ass and setting a grueling pace.

The vibrator allowed you to find pleasure, steadily building both of you up as you whispered praises to the cowboy underneath your hands. You ran your palms along his ass, squeezing occasionally to get a garbled moan out of him.

Angling your hips down, you set yourself to getting him off at the same time as you, because you felt yourself rapidly approaching that peak. “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it,” you murmured half to yourself and half to him as you nailed his prostate. He rubbed his face into the pillow at the thrusts, trying desperately to muffle his desperate sounds.

You leaned back and wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, throbs resonating through your hips as you tried to hold on. Just as you were about to give up and let go, he wailed into the pillow and thrust his hips into your palm, hot, sticky ropes of come falling onto the bed. Content, you thrust into him one more time to rub your clit harshly along that bump in your harness, letting go with a cry of your own and grinding your hips against his as you rode it out. The waves died down, your walls still clenching lightly as you pulled off of him and discarded your harness in the bathroom sink. You grabbed a towel and ran warm water over it and wiped yourself down before repeating the process and bringing the cloth to the bedroom.

He murmured your name, reaching back to stroke your hair when you bent over his back to kiss his neck. “Roll over, baby,” you murmured against his skin. With a groan, he obeyed you, his eyes cracking open to meet your own.

You tenderly wiped his thighs and ass, wary of his hiss of discomfort, meeting his eyes again and only continuing at his nod. You folded the cloth to swipe quickly at his sweaty armpits and chest before you tugged him out of the bed, throwing the blankets (that had luckily been at the foot of the bed) to the floor, stripping the sheets, and removing the bed cover. You turned to tread to the linen closet to grab the extra sheets, turning over your shoulder to see him behind you, butt-naked and tired, coming to help you.

You waited for him to catch up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, continuing to walk to the closet and collecting the sheets. After you’d returned to the bedroom, you struggled to put the fitted sheet on together, threw the flat sheet on top, and reassembled your bed set.

Utterly tired, you collapsed into bed together, your head lying on his chest and feet curled behind you. You turned to press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes closed, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, Rhett.”

He pressed a big, scar-mottled, and calloused hand to your hair and bent to kiss your head: you felt the rumble in his own chest and the swell in your own when he opened his mouth and got nothing coherent out, his “I love you too” sounding more like an “Aluh’y’t…”

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