#‘your cheeks are red’ you think I can’t feel it

[spiicii]

roman reigns / punishment

x fem!reader word count → 2.2k summary → the tribal chief rarely has to punish you. but after you decide to backtalk him, you quickly learn that he has little patience for brats.   notes → heard you freaks wanted more daddy roman reigns...don't say i never did anything for you ;) links → masterlist / taglist  tags → unprotected piv sex, dom/sub, daddy kink, degradation, begging, overstimulation, orgasm delay, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking

“Daddy, please.” Your voice was small, your words breathless as you struggled to stay balanced in Roman’s lap. You felt dizzy with arousal and exhaustion, the world around you hazy as you struggled to focus on your next words. “Please, I need…I need…” 

“Shut up.” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you knew they’d leave bruises. “You only got one job, slut. Ride.” 

He tightened his grip against you and you whimpered, struggling to obey. The muscles in your legs were burning from how long he’d kept you here, your forehead beaded with sweat. You were trying your best to keep up with the pace he wanted as you bounced on his massive length, his cock nudging against your cervix with every movement of your hips. You weren’t sure you could keep up for much longer, your body trembling as you struggled to lift yourself up and ease back down. 

“I can’t,” you whined, hating how pitiful your voice sounded, even to your own ears. “It hurts. Daddy, please.” 

“You earned this, little girl.” Roman’s dark eyes were simmering when he looked up at you. “Hopefully this will teach you not to backtalk me.” 

You whimpered at his words. “I’m sorry.” Your voice quivered, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, Daddy. Really I didn’t.” 

“Hm.” Roman didn’t seem convinced, his large hands reaching around to grab at both of your asscheeks. He squeezed them hard, causing your movements to falter as you continued to ride him. “I don’t think you’re sorry. Not really. Not yet.” 

He smacked your ass so hard that you let out a cry, the skin burning from where his hand connected. “I didn’t say you could stop. Go on. You seem to know what’s best, so you do all the work. It’s what you wanted, right?” 

You shook your head at his words, though you still obeyed, forcing your shaking legs to hold your weight as you moved up and down at his cock. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t deny the feeling of pleasure pulsing from your core, his massive cock rubbing against your g-spot with every movement. You were so wet that you could feel your own juices leaking out, coating the Tribal Chief’s dick and dripping down onto his heavy balls below. He’d already denied you twice, refusing to let you come since this was meant to be a punishment, not a reward. Your whole body was trembling with need, struggling to form a coherent thought as he continued to fill you so perfectly. 

You slammed down on Roman’s cock with more force than you intended and you let out a moan at the feeling, scrabbling for purchase against Roman’s strong chest. “Daddy.” You gave him a heartbroken look, tears coating your long eyelashes. “Please. I’m sorry.” 

Roman reached up to cup your cheek, your eyes fluttering at his touch. You couldn’t help but lean into it, your heart stuttering from just an ounce of his attention. 

“I don’t know, baby.” He murmured, his other hand still gripping your hip tightly. “I thought you were my good girl. You know I don’t play with brats.” 

You let out a small whine, trying your best to continue to move despite the burn in your muscles. “I am. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Another bounce on the Tribal Chief’s cock had your eyes rolling back into your head, your entire body beginning to tense again. You let out a broken gasp, the tears beginning to spill from your eyes. 

“Please. I’m so close.” You gave your master a pleading look. “Can I come? Please?” 

“No.” Roman’s next slap against your ass was harder, your skin now red and stinging. “Only good girls who listen to their Daddy and don’t backtalk get to come. And that’s not you, is it, brat?” 

You couldn’t contain the small sob that escaped your lips, your movements stuttering. “Please. I can be good. I won’t do it again, Daddy. I promise.” 

Roman’s gaze was made of steel. “Prove it to me. Ride my dick like a good girl and prove that you’re not just some untrained whore that I should send back onto the street.” 

His words stung, but you knew you deserved them. You weren’t normally a brat. Normally you were obedient and sweet, eager to please your Tribal Chief and obey his every command. But something in Roman’s tone earlier today had caused you to snap at him. You couldn’t tell who was more surprised at your outburst, you or him, but it hadn’t mattered in the end. The Tribal Chief had no patience for brats, a point he’d made very clear when you first started your relationship. 

“Is that what you want?” Roman asked, his tone harsh. “That why you talked back to me? You don’t wanna be my good girl anymore?” 

You couldn’t hold back the tears now, sniffling pitifully as you struggled to keep your movements steady as you rode him. “Nooo, no, Daddy. I want to be good for you. I promise.” 

Roman’s grip on your jaw turned punishing and you whimpered. “That’s right. You’re gonna be good for me. You’re not gonna be a brat anymore, are you, sweetheart?” 

You were quick to nod, still trying to stifle your sobs. “I won’t, Daddy. I promise. Please, I’m so sorry.” 

Roman released your jaw, reaching up to card his fingers through your hair. “We’ll see. Keep going, baby. Show me how sorry you are.” 

You worked hard to obey him, small pants of breath falling from your lips as you struggled to ride. Your calves were burning, sweat continuing to bead on your forehead. Your skin felt hot and feverish, still thrumming with arousal as Roman’s cock continued to fill you so perfectly. You could feel the tension coiling inside you like a spring, but you worked hard to resist it. You wanted to be obedient. You wanted to be good. 

But you could only go for so long. Eventually your movements began to slow, wheezing as you struggled to catch your breath. Your legs began to shake, your grip on Roman’s shoulders tightening as you tried to stay balanced. You struggled to keep your eyes open, exhaustion forcing them closed even as that low simmer of pleasure continued to unfurl from inside you. 

“Aw, all worn out, baby?” Roman sounded amused, his hand tugging against your scalp to force you to meet his gaze. “Getting tired?” 

You let out a distressed sound, still trying to find the strength to lift up your hips one more time. “I’m sorry.” Your voice came out as barely a whisper. “I can’t…please…” 

Roman’s gaze softened. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?” 

“Please, Daddy.” You slurred, your eyelids fluttering as he kept that dominant grip on your hair. “Can’t do it. Need you so bad.” 

Roman chuckled, placing both of his hands on your hips to keep you steady as he began shallowly thrusting into your soaked hole. “So spoiled, aren’t you, baby? Always get what you want, don’t you?” 

You were too far gone to notice the unfairness of his words, a low moan tearing from your throat as he began to pick up the pace. He held you up with an easy strength, his arms wrapped around your waist to bring you up to meet him with every thrust. You could feel that familiar pleasure creep up your spine again, your exhausted muscles beginning to shake with a new desperation. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, throwing your head back as the Tribal Chief’s cock continued to assault your g-spot, his thrusts unfaltering. “Please, can I come?” 

Roman laughed again, the sound mean. “Why would I let you come, slut? Do you think you’ve earned it?” 

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything right now. All you knew was that you could barely keep your eyes open, the exhaustion and arousal turning your brain into mush as Roman kept up the pace, pounding into you with fervor. 

“I…I don’t know.” You choked on a sob, trying so hard to hold off your release and be good for him. “I just…please, Daddy, I need to come so bad. Please!” 

Roman reached around to smack your sore ass again and you groaned, your walls fluttering around his cock at the feeling. He laughed again, watching with amusement as you began to writhe in his lap, your tits bouncing with every thrust. 

“If you’re really sorry…” 

“I am!” You reached up to touch his handsome face, hoping that your teary eyes and heartbroken expression would show him just how sorry you really were. “Please, Daddy. Can I come? Please?” 

“You beg so sweet, baby.” Roman cooed, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “I just can’t say no to you. Go ahead and come for me.” 

Your orgasm hit you hard, the pleasure so good it left you breathless. You could feel your pussy spasm and convulse, milking the Tribal Chief’s cock as he continued to pound into you. You could hardly contain the sounds coming from your mouth: breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers that you would normally be embarrassed about. You were so far gone that you hardly noticed the little string of drool that had fallen from your open mouth, your vision blurry with tears as you struggled to focus on Roman. 

“Shit, baby.” Roman’s voice sounded breathless, his grip against you tightening. “You look so pretty when you come. Such a good girl for me.” 

You screwed your eyes shut as Roman continued to drill into you, his pace somehow quickening as he chased his own release. You could feel the overstimulation now, your body still trembling in the Tribal Chief’s arms. 

“Please…” Your voice was wrecked. “Daddy…”

“Almost there, pretty girl,” Roman cooed, pressing another kiss to your sternum. “You can give me another one, can’t you?” 

You shook your head, beginning to cry again. 

“Daddy, no. Please, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s tone left no room for argument and when you met his eyes again they were dark. “You can and you will. I can feel this slutty hole clenching around me. I know you want to.” 

He wasn’t lying. His incessant pounding against your g-spot had a new burn unfurling inside you, the Tribal Chief’s perfect cock somehow able to wring every ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body. You gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into him so hard that you knew it would break skin. 

Roman shifted his hips and you screamed at the feeling, his cock now aiming for your cervix with every thrust. You couldn’t remember the last time he was this deep, his pace punishing as he held you close. A new feeling was beginning to build inside you. It was unfamiliar, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm causing a new discomfort to prick at something deep inside you. You felt a small cramp, similar to a period cramp, but the new feeling didn’t stop. It didn’t feel like any orgasm. It felt like something else, something far more intense. 

You struggled in Roman’s arms, your skin suddenly feverish. You’d never felt like this before. 

“Daddy!” You gasped, trying to shift in his hold to change the angle. The feeling was too new, almost as excruciating as it was pleasurable. But Roman didn’t stop, his hands so tight against you that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. 

“Just let go, sweetheart.” Roman murmured, his hips stuttering against you - the sign that he was close. “Just let go.” 

You obeyed. 

With a loud cry, you squirted all over Roman’s dick, the spray coating his stomach and dripping down onto the floor below. Roman’s eyes widened at the sight, the vice grip your pussy had on his cock sending him spiralling towards his own release. 

You felt a new warmth between your legs when he finally finished, his strong arms keeping you still as he continued to pump his load into you. You couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling, the overstimulation causing more tears to spill from your eyes. Still, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs further, eager to take everything he had to give you. 

He finally stilled, looking up at you in wonder. “Sweetheart,” His voice was low, his hand reaching up to trace your wet lips. “How long have you been hiding that from me?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, suddenly embarrassed. 

“No, no,” Roman cooed, cradling your jaw with his large hand. “You did so good, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

You couldn’t help but lean further into his touch, allowing him to wipe some of the tears from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your body still trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry I…” 

“Shhh,” Roman was quick to shush you, pressing sweet kisses to your neck. “I forgive you, sweetheart. And you showed me you were sorry. I know you’re my good girl. Even if you keep little secrets like this from me.” 

His tone was mischievous, his other hand reached down to touch the wetness on his stomach. You shifted in Roman’s arms, letting out a small whine at the feeling of him still inside you. The overstimulation had tears in your eyes again. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged, still trying to twist out of his hold. “I need-”

“Hush, baby.” Roman interrupted, his hands suddenly tight against you again. “Your Daddy knows what you need.” 

You realized with horror that he wasn’t pulling out, his cock somehow twitching back to life inside you. Roman’s smile turned wicked and your heart dropped at the sight. 

“I think you can give me one more.” 

_____

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[wchswift]

── fangs and fury

pairing! dean winchester x vampire!reader

summary! a vampire that dean once spared, appears years later as the supposed motive for the new case the brothers are working on.

contents! enemies, complicated relationship, blood, porn with plot, hate/angry sex (kind of), smut, degrading words, Insults, teasing, riding, unprotected sex p in v and more; mdni 𖤐 18+

word count! 3.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

── english isn't my first language, so probably some mistakes.

It was a messy hunt. Simple but without patterns. Many different bodies, in distant places and with no clear clues. It was obviously a vampire, that was the only certainty Sam and Dean had. It took them a while, but once they got to the next town they thought you would be in, it wasn't long before they found you.

And that was the first time Dean Winchester saw you.

You were covered in blood.

It wasn't subtle. Your clothes were stained, your lips parted just enough to reveal a glint of fangs beneath, your breath uneven. You stood over the body of a man, lifeless, skin ashen, and eyes wide open in terror. A predator caught in the act.

Dean didn't hesitate���he raised his machete, his stance lethal. "Son of a bitch."

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp and alert, and for a second, you didn’t move. The tension between you felt electric, sizzling in the cold air of the abandoned alley. Then, just as his muscles flexed, preparing to swing, you took a step back, your voice rough but not pleading.

"I don't want to be a monster."

The words hit him like a bullet. It was the way you said it—raw, desperate, like you were fighting for something deeper than just your life. Like you were begging him to believe you.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Dean shot back, his voice like gravel, eyes narrowed.

You shook your head, frustration breaking through. “I was turned against my will. I never asked for this.”

Sam shifted slightly, lowering his weapon just a fraction. “Then why the bodies?”

Your expression twisted with something—guilt, regret. “At first, I couldn’t control it. The hunger… it was unbearable. I—I did things I can’t take back.” You swallowed hard. “But I tried to stop, I don't want to kill people! And I swear I'm better, I'm doing a good job.”

Sam hesitated beside Dean, eyes narrowing. “A good job? What the hell is this, then? Why are you covered in blood?” his voice was suspicious, hesitant.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing red across your cheek. Your gaze was a mixture of confidence and fear. “I didn't want to, okay?” you admitted, voice raw. “But he followed me here, he tried to attack me and... I didn’t have a choice!”

Dean scoffed. “Bullshit. There’s always a choice.”

Your eyes darkened, something old and weary settling into your features. “You think I wanted this?” Your voice was sharp, defensive, but beneath it was something else—something broken. “You think I woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’d love to spend eternity drinking blood, being hunted like an animal’?”

Dean’s grip on the knife tightened. He’d heard sob stories before. Monsters with excuses, justifications. But something about the way you looked at him made it hard to move, made his stomach twist.

Dean could feel the weight of your stare, heavy and unrelenting. He wanted to believe you were full of it, wanted to ignore the way his gut told him otherwise.

He lifted the blade, heart pounding. Just do it. Get it over with. But when he met your eyes again, all he could see was someone who never got a choice.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean didn’t look at him. He just stood there, caught in a storm of hesitation, of instincts warring against something deeper.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, stepping back. “You so much as breathe wrong, I’ll come for you,” he warned, voice low.

Your lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’d expect nothing less.”

They let you go that night. He didn’t look away as you turned, vanishing into the night.

And then, for years, nothing.

Years passed.

Dean had almost forgotten about you. Almost.

Then, another case—a brutal vampire kill, bodies drained dry. It brought them back to you.

Was supposed to be an easy hunt. It was clearly just a vampire, so it would be something simple and quick. Then, someone, a witness, mentioned a beautiful woman near one of the crime scenes. Security footage was grainy at best, but Dean didn’t need a clear picture. One glimpse and his stomach dropped. He recognized that face instantly.

He hadn’t hesitated this time. He and Sam had tracked you down within hours.

When they finally found you again, you were furious. The moment you saw them, you squared your shoulders, anger blazing in your eyes. Your eyes—still sharp, still burning with that same defiance—narrowed in pure fury. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to kill again? After everything?"

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. "People are dead. And your name keeps coming up. Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word."

Your lip curled. "I’ve been clean for years. Blood bags. Animals, when I have to. But never people. Never again."

“Yeah? Then why do the bodies keep showing up?” Dean’s fingers twitched around the machete.

You let out a slow, measured breath. “I don’t know. But it’s not me.”

Dean studied you—really studied you. No blood on your clothes, no scent of fresh kills. Just raw frustration written all over your face. He hated that it wasn’t an outright lie.

Sam, watching you closely, saw something genuine in the way you said it. "Dean, maybe we should hear her out."

"No. I don’t buy it." Dean stepped closer, his voice dropping. "We’re not taking any risks. You’re coming with us."

Your eyes narrowed. "For protection, or so you can put a knife in my heart when I’m not looking?"

"Take a guess."

A storm passed through your expression before you clenched your jaw. “Fine. But if you’re wrong, you owe me.”

Dean scoffed. “Not happening.”

The motel was dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the walls. You paced near the window, arms crossed, clearly seething. Dean watched you, jaw clenched, frustration mounting. He didn’t trust you. He couldn’t. So he was here, keeping an eye on you while Sam did some more research.

"You’ve been watching me like I’m gonna rip your throat out in your sleep," you said, voice low and sharp.

Dean smirked, stepping closer. "Should I be worried?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "If I wanted to kill you, Winchester, you’d already be dead."

That did something to him. The way you said it—confident, assured, dangerous. But there was more underneath it. A challenge. A dare.

"That supposed to scare me?"

You tilted your head, gaze locking onto his. "No. I think it excites you."

The tension in the room became unbearable, thick like molasses.

Dean stood there, hands curled into fists, watching you like you were something unholy. And maybe you were. Maybe that’s why he hated you so much. Hated the way you spoke like you had nothing to lose. Hated the way you didn’t flinch when he got too close. Hated that you looked at him like he wasn’t the one in control. Hated how you were so confident and so fucking hot even though you were a vampire.

"You’re staring, Winchester," you drawled, leaning back against the motel wall, arms crossed, lips curled. "Getting ideas?"

"I don’t get ideas about monsters," Dean shot back, voice razor-sharp.

You only smirked, cocking your head to the side. "Bullshit."

Dean moved before he could stop himself, closing the distance with a fury that barely felt like his own. His hand shot out, gripping your jaw with just enough force to tell you how close you were to crossing a line.

"You wanna test me?" His voice was low, seething, full of something he wasn’t ready to name. "You really wanna see how this ends?"

You grinned, teeth gleaming like a promise. "I already know how this ends, Dean. I think you do too."

That snapped something in him. He barely registered the way his body caged you against the motel’s peeling wallpaper, the way his fingers gripped your throat—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it. Enough to make you aware of the fact that he could crush you if he wanted to. That maybe he wanted to. That maybe he wanted to do something worse.

"You think you know me?" he snarled, face so close that his breath was hot against your skin, smelling like leather and gunpowder. "You don’t know a damn thing."

"I know you don’t want to stop," you murmured, lashes lowering just slightly, mouth curling at the edges. "I know you’re fighting it so hard, you’re shaking."

Dean realized then—his hands were shaking. His chest was heaving. His body was pressing against yours so tightly that he could feel every breath you took. You weren’t wrong. You weren’t fucking wrong.

And you were enjoying it.

Your hands slid up his chest, nails scraping lightly over his shirt before you grabbed his jacket, keeping him closer.

"God, I fucking hate you," he spat, but the words came out more like a confession than a threat.

You tilted your chin up, brushing your lips against his jaw just to feel him jolt. "I know. And yet, here we are."

Dean didn’t think. He couldn’t. His grip on your throat tightened for just a second, just long enough to make you gasp before his mouth crashed against yours, brutal and punishing. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a battle. A goddamn war.

You met him with equal force, biting at his lip, digging your nails into his shoulders. He slammed you harder against the wall, groaning against your mouth when your fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him deeper into something he couldn’t afford to want.

"Fucking hell—" He tore his lips away, panting, his forehead pressing against yours as he tried to collect himself. As if he could. As if you’d let him.

You laughed, breathless. "Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got, Winchester."

His fingers tightened on your waist, nails digging in. "I swear to God—"

"What?" you taunted, voice syrupy sweet. "You gonna kill me? Rip my heart out?" You dragged your lips up the side of his throat, slow, taunting. "Or are you gonna fuck me so hard you forget why you ever thought you could resist?"

Dean lost it. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly, knocking over the lamp in the process, not that either of you cared. You moaned into his mouth, raking your fingers through his hair, tugging at the short strands at the nape of his neck. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding down to your ass, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every hard inch of him through his jeans. So you could rocked your hips against him, slow and deliberate, grinding right over where he was aching for you.

He hated you.

He needed you.

His breath was hot against your neck as he ground against you, the hard press of his cock dragging exactly where you needed it, teasing, taunting. His fingers dug into your clothed thighs, the pressure deliciously bruising. "Fucking vampire," he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing over your pulse point in a way that was nothing short of ironic. "You always this desperate, or is it just for me?"

You huffed out a breathless laugh, letting your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him growl. "Please. You’re the one who can't keep his hands off me."

"Because you’re a fucking problem," he snarled, playing with the waistband of your jeans. Moving to unbutton your pants, "And I solve problems."

"By fucking them?" you taunted, tilting your head back when he rolled his hips, the friction making your breath stutter.

His smirk was pure arrogance, pushing your jeans down with one hand. "By breaking them."

Then he kissed you again—hard. The kind of kiss that stole your breath and any lingering sense of control. His tongue licked into your mouth, messy and possessive, as he ground against you just the right way. You whimpered against his lips, and he swallowed the sound like a man starved.

"You–" He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up, thumb smearing the lipstick smudged on your lips. His eyes were dark, hungry. "Are such a pretty mess for me, darling."

His voice was mocking, filled with that arrogant, predatory edge that only made you hotter. You bit your lip, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes, letting the weight of his body press you further against the wall.

"Shut up and fuck me," you challenged, nails raking down his back.

His low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, you want it now?" His fingers finally dipped between your legs, slipping through the wetness in your panties he'd been teasing for too long. "So fucking needy."

You gasped as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just right, stretching you open as his thumb rubbed lazy circles over your clit. Your head thudded back against the wall, pleasure blooming deep and hot in your core.

He watched you with pure amusement, his pace unhurried despite the tension crackling between you both. "I’m sorry, what was that?" He pressed another finger inside, making your hips jerk. "I couldn’t hear you over all the noise you were making."

You clenched your teeth. “Go to hell." you panted, grabbing his wrist, but he didn’t let up, his smirk only growing.

“Ladies first.”

He pulled his fingers out far too soon, bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean while keeping his eyes locked onto yours. The sight made your stomach tighten, your thighs clench.

Then, before you could retort, he was carrying you to the bed, tossing you down onto the mattress with a roughness that sent heat pooling between your legs. You barely had time to adjust before he was on you again, his body pressing yours into the mattress, mouth finding your throat.

"You're warm," he murmured against your skin, lips ghosting over your pulse, his breath hot. His teeth scraped your skin, teasing. "Too warm for a vampire."

You smirked. "Guess that makes me special."

Dean's fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, pushing it up, exposing more skin inch by inch. "Yeah, well… special's a pain in my ass."

Then he was tugging it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His hands skimmed down your sides, lingering over the soft curve of your waist before gripping your hips, pinning you beneath him.

Your breath hitched as he leaned down, lips brushing the valley between your breasts, kissing lower, lower. You arched into him instinctively, and he chuckled, mouthing at your skin, teasing but never giving you enough.

"You're real fucking needy, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes, hands sliding down his chest. "Says the guy who's already hard as a rock."

Dean scoffed, but you felt the way his cock twitched against your thigh. "Yeah, well, you are a good-looking pain in the ass."

"Dean," you warned, wanting more of him.

He smirked. "What? Thought you wanted me to fuck you like a good slut. Didn’t say how fast."

You let out a low, frustrated noise, but fuck, the teasing was getting to you. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just as slowly. You sucked in a breath as the cool air hit your exposed skin, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on you, lips brushing over your inner thigh, teeth scraping lightly.

You gasped, arching, but his hands pinned your hips down.

"Stay still," he ordered, voice rough.

You clenched your teeth, a sharp retort on your tongue, but it died when his mouth moved higher, kissing dangerously close to where you needed him most.

"De-Dean..." you breathed.

Dean chuckled darkly, pressing his lips to your stomach, teasing his way back up. "Now you're begging?"

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging, making him groan. "Take your fucking clothes off, Winchester."

His grin was all teeth, sharp and wicked. "Yes, ma'am."

You watched as he sat back, ripping his jacket off, yanking his shirt over his head. Revealing that broad, freckled chest. Your gaze flickered over his chest, down his stomach, tracing the scars, the muscle, the way his skin gleamed under the dim motel lamp. Then he leaned forward, letting you undo his belt, yanking it free, your fingers quickly working on his zipper.

When you pushed his jeans down, his cock strained against his boxers, thick and aching. You ran your hand over him, feeling the heat, the way he twitched beneath your touch.

Dean groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "Fuck."

You smirked. "Who's the needy slut now?"

His eyes snapped open, dark with heat. "You're gonna fucking regret that."

Then he shoved his boxers down, and before you could get another smartass remark out, he had you on your back again, legs spread beneath him. His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing.

"You ready, sweetheart?" His voice was low, taunting.

You swallowed hard, glaring up at him. "Quit teasing and do it."

Dean's smirk widened. "Since you asked so nicely…"

Then he slammed into you, and fuck—the stretch, the fullness, the way he filled you completely, bottoming out in one deep thrust.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a moan spilling from your lips.

"Shit, you feel so good," he groaned, voice tight.

He didn't move at first, just let you feel it, let you adjust, his cock throbbing inside you.

Then he pulled back—slow, deliberate—before slamming into you again, his hips snapping forward, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You cried out, nails digging into his back, but he just smirked, loving every second of it.

"That what you wanted?" he taunted, driving into you harder, deeper. "Wanted me to wreck you?"

Your breath hitched, pleasure building with each thrust. "Y-Yeah—Oh— Harder," you gasped, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor.

He growled, grabbing your legs and hooking them around his waist, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you needed. Your moan was nothing short of sinful.

Dean groaned, his pace turning relentless, rough, exactly how you wanted it. He pinned your wrists above your head, keeping you completely under his control.

"You love this," he rasped, lips brushing against your ear. "Love being under me, taking every inch, huh?"

You whimpered, hips meeting his thrusts, chasing that high. But before either of you could finish you reached up to shove him off you, rolling him onto his back. He had no choice, you were stronger than him, but the look in his eyes showed how much he enjoyed this, his gaze heavy with something feral as you straddled him, grinding down, teasing him with slow, torturous rolls of your hips.

His eyes darkened, lips parting in a breathless, ragged groan.

"Oh, I see... you like when someone takes control, Winchester?" You teased feeling him harden even more inside you, if that's possible.

His hands immediately gripped your hips, but you grabbed his wrists, pinning them down beside his head.

"My turn," you whispered, rolling your hips slowly, torturously, “You gonna let me have my fun, Dean?” you purred, “Or are you too scared to let me take control?”

You keep him pinned beneath you, hips rolling in slow, devastating circles, watching the way Dean’s jaw tenses, his breath coming out in ragged pants. You smirk, running your hands up his chest, dragging your nails over his skin just to watch him shudder. Then you lean down, your breath hot against his collarbone, mouth trailing lower, tongue flicking over his nipple before you suck it into your mouth. His hips jerk up involuntarily, thrusting into you so deep that a moan rips from your throat.

You laugh against his skin, tightening your grip on his wrists where you still have him pinned. "Sensitive, huh?" you murmur, dragging your teeth lightly over his flushed skin before sucking a mark into his chest.

You grin, sitting back up, letting his hands finally break free from your grip, your hands bracing against his stomach as you lift your hips, just enough to make him feel the loss—before slamming back down.

Dean groans, head pressing back against the pillow, his hands twitching like he wants to grab you, to take back control, but still not reaching you.

You roll your hips again, slow and deep, dragging out every inch, making sure he feels everything. He’s unraveling beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, his hands instantly gripping your thighs, eyes locked onto yours as you moved, rolling your hips just right, making him curse.

You smirked, leaning down, pressing your lips against his jaw. “You taste so good, Dean.”

His fingers tightened like he was resisting the urge to flip you back over. Your lips danced across his throat, teasingly grazing his pulse with your teeth, leaving him momentarily frozen in place. With a deliberate slowness, you traced your tongue over his skin, mocking, teasing, sending shivers down his spine.

“What’s wrong, Winchester?” you murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Scared I’ll bite?”

Dean’s breath caught. His hands dug into your thighs, his hips snapping up into you, deep, hard, desperate.

“Jesus,” he hissed, his voice sounding completely ruined, his control snapping. “Do it.”

You moaned, grinding down harder, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, sucking just hard enough to make him groan.

Dean’s hands shot to your waist, slamming you down, setting a pace that had you both falling apart.

It was filthy. It was raw. It was desperate.

And when you finally shattered, taking him with you, the world blurred, nothing left but heat and tangled limbs and ragged, gasping breaths.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you ruined, spent, bodies trembling.

Dean let out a breathless, breathy chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“Still wanna kill me?” you murmured, dragging your fingers over his stomach.

Dean smirked, his thumb grazing your swollen lips. “Ask me again in the morning.”

But in the morning, you were gone.

No note. No goodbye. Just the scent of you still on the sheets.

Dean woke up, groggy, running a hand down his face before turning to see the empty bed beside him. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he exhaled hard.

Of course.

The motel door creaked open, and Sam stepped in, glancing at the bed and noticing you were missing before raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Dean glared. “Don’t start.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

But something inside Dean twisted.

Because this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

𖤐 main masterlist.

lina's notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for so long that I'm happy to finally post it, I'm really nervous because I don't know if it turned out how I expected... But I hope you like it and give me feedback on what you think pls <3 I will probably write a second part soon, if you guys like it 👀 I wanted to especially thank @blossomingorchids who read the beginning and helped me, thank you sweetie 🫶

tagging some people I think would like: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @multiversefanfics @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae @fuckedupfate @bejeweledinterludes @jaredpadonlyyyy @littlesoulshine @sunsbaby @soldiersgirl @losers-clvb @deansbeer @starzify @h8aaz @vmiina @figthoughts @maddie0101 (I need to make a decent taglist lol, let me know if you want to be added or remove)

divider made by @elleisdesigning <3

[reiding-writing]

CONGRATS ON THE 3K!!!!!

For the event thing can I request boyband!spencer + "where are they? where are they?!" + forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over their face, promises that are kept, hands held with a gentle love and hugs that engulf the heart too.

Thank you and take care!

THE REUNION. /spencer reid/

“Where are they? Where are they?!”

forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over their face, promises that are kept, hands held with a gentle love and hugs that engulf the heart too.

s6! spencer x gn!reader 0.9k h/c event page. event masterlist. main masterlist.

You hear the sirens first. They wail down the street, slicing through the heavy quiet of the late evening. You’re still in the parking lot, phone in hand, eyes locked on the barricades and the blur of flashing lights.

Red and blue flood your vision, painting streaks over the scene that’s already branded into your mind—the reports of gunfire, the chaos over the comms, and then Spencer’s voice cutting out.

You had to stop listening after that. It was either that or let yourself fall apart completely.

Your feet are moving before you realise it, carrying you toward the edge of the yellow tape, toward the wall of uniformed officers ushering people away. You barely hear them telling you to step back. Your voice is shaking when you ask.

“Where is he?”

No one answers fast enough. Your eyes are already darting from face to face, searching for lanky limbs and soft eyes, for messy brown hair that still carries traces of boyishness despite the years and the darkness he’s seen.

“Where is he?!”

You scan the crowd frantically, searching. Your chest tightens with each passing second. You think about the last thing you said to him before he left—the half-smile, the promise of dinner, the way he squeezed your hand as he left.

And then you see him.

At first, it’s just his silhouette—a little hunched, moving slowly. But then he turns, and his eyes meet yours. Wide and tired, but alive. Alive. You stumble forward before you can stop yourself, shoving past someone who mutters an annoyed hey, but you don’t care. You’re already running.

And then Spencer’s arms are around you, and you’re clinging to him so tightly you can feel the tremor in his hands as they clutch the back of your jacket.

His breathing stutters against your neck, and your fingers tangle in his hair��soft, long enough now that it brushes his collar and curls slightly at the ends. You fist your hands into it, trying to memorise the texture, trying to reassure yourself that it’s real, that he’s real.

He says your name like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world. His voice is raw, trembling slightly. “I’m here. I’m okay,”

You pull back just enough to see his face, but you can’t stop touching him. You trace your fingers over his jaw, his cheekbones, the cut on his temple—dried blood staining the edge of his hairline. Your hands are shaking as you cup his face. Your breath catches on a sob you hadn’t realised was coming.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, barely a breath. Your thumbs sweep over his cheekbones, brushing away the dirt smudged there. “You’re okay,”

And then you’re kissing him. Everywhere. His forehead first, a desperate press of your lips to his skin, then his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. You scatter frantic kisses over every inch of him, trying to imprint yourself onto him, to chase away the violence that clings to him.

Spencer’s hands find your waist, trembling slightly as he holds on, grounding himself in your touch. His eyes fall shut, and his lips part with a shaky breath when you kiss the spot just below his ear. His fingers tighten on your jacket, and you feel the weight of everything he isn’t saying in the way he buries his face against your shoulder.

“I was so scared,” you whisper, your voice cracking. Your hand cradles the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, holding him close.

He leans into your touch like he might fall apart if you let go. And then he’s kissing you back—slow and unsteady, his lips brushing over yours in a broken rhythm. It’s not rushed, not frantic, but tender. Reverent. Like he’s making a promise with every press of his mouth.

“I’m here,” he breathes against your lips. His hands slide down to cradle your face. He kisses you softly—once, twice, and again—like he’s afraid to stop. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise,”

Your hands find his again, and you lace your fingers together, squeezing tightly. His knuckles are still scraped and raw, but you hold him like he’s something fragile, something worth protecting. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and you both just breathe.

And then he smiles—barely there, but real—and brings your joined hands to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, then each of your fingers, slow and soft, like he’s memorising every detail. His lips linger there, whispering promises into your skin. Promises that will be kept.

And when he pulls you back into his arms, you let him. Because the weight of him—the warmth, the steadiness of his heartbeat against yours—fills the hollow space in your chest.

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 my beautiful wife 𖦹

pair: Jason Todd x f!reader

wc: 560

authors note: so the soulmate au with Jason is taking much longer to write than originally expected....so have this somewhat sad blurb while you wait!! (did I have anakin and padmes hill scene in my head while writing this? maybe.)

Exhausted and bleeding out from multiple wounds, the Red Hood collapses onto a rooftop somewhere in Crime Alley. Faintly, he hears Nightwing frantically calling for Batman and the Batmobile over comms. He blinks—but maybe he didn’t, maybe he dozed off for a few seconds—and Nightwing is hovering over him. He knows he should be scared, that he should be fighting tooth and nail to keep his eyes open like the hero–no, Dick is telling him to, but his eyelids are so heavy.

 Slowly, with the dull thrums of pain ebbing away to darkness, he closes his eyes. 

He’s in a field. The sky is the richest blue he’s ever seen, the sun beaming down on him. He feels the long grass grazing against his legs. It’s green, so green, and there's yellow and purple wildflowers sprouting through the forage everywhere. In the distance, he sees hills and trees. 

“Jason!”

He turns, and there you are. You’re wearing a dress, its fabric ruffling in the wind. He doesn’t know who you are or why you say his name with such affection, but he goes to you. The closer he gets, the more your smile widens. He finds himself smiling back, and he realizes something—he feels at peace. 

When he’s close enough, you launch yourself into his arms, which open by themselves to catch you (they always will). You laugh into his neck, holding onto him tight. He can’t help but spin around, briefly joining you in your laughter. The confusion he felt before fades away until he forgets why he felt it in the first place; why would he question anything when you were here, in his arms? Pulling back slightly, you look at him face to face. It’s only now he realizes what a beautiful hue your eyes are, how your eyelashes rise like a curtain revealing the most interesting show. He wants nothing more than to sit in the audience and immerse himself in it for the rest of his life.

“My beautiful wife.” he whispers involuntarily, his eyes darting across your face, examining every feature as you react to him. Rationally, he didn’t know what he was saying or why he said it—all he knew was in the moment, in his heart, it felt right.

“My wonderful husband.” your response is whispered too, lips forming a smile. Jason commits the image of your crinkled eyes and raised cheeks to memory. 

A laugh erupts from him then, louder and more real than any he’s let out since coming back to life. You lay your forehead against his and he keeps his eyes open a moment longer to observe you closer, tracing every small hair and freckle. He closes his eyes, simply being with you. Faintly, in the back of his head, he thinks this is the happiest he’s ever been in life. 

He feels the pain before he even fully wakes. 

Dull, sharp, and drumming continuously against his bones. His body jerks, eyes flying open. Above him is Dick—no, Nightwing, the mask is on. He’s saying something, something he can’t understand. There's a dark roof above him. Turning his head, he sees Batman driving. 

The car takes a sharp turn, jolting Jason's body once more. He groans loudly, consciousness fading once more. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to give into the darkness or fight; Jasons tired. 

The only thing he wants…

“My beautiful wife.”

[itsraceweekbitches]

BRAT TAMING

summary: Charles has a bad day, but you know how to handle it. ✤ pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader ✤ wc: 0.8k ✤ tags: fem!reader, race engineer!reader

It’s easy to see that something is different today. Charles arrives wearing a hoodie, hiding from the outside world and staying in his comfortable little bubble for most of the day. When he has to change into his Ferrari shirt, he suddenly looks almost fragile, uncertain, yet he does his best to act like everything is fine. 

It’s a little concerning, but you decide not to press him to open up about whatever is going on with him. He knows that if he wants to talk, you’re always there to listen. You like to believe that you’re not only his race engineer, but also a good friend, at least the fact he often invites you to parties or to visit him in Monaco tells you exactly that. 

But when he gets in the car during FP1, you realize that he’s annoyed, snappy even, so you just keep taking deep breaths and flashing everything’s fine smiles at Fred when he looks at you with raised eyebrows. It’s only during sprint qualifying that you realize just how bad the situation is.

Charles is complaining. A lot. The car, the other drivers, the track’s condition–really, everything seems to be a problem. At one point, you snap at him, telling him to suck it up and focus on driving, which works like charm, because the Monegasque falls silent for a minute or so before speaking up again. What he was probably saying under the helmet without pushing the radio button is a mystery, though. 

“What’s your problem? Why are you so mean?” he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t been acting like an annoying idiot all day. 

Rolling your eyes, you glance over at the others before saying, “Maybe I’m taking GP’s Handling brats 101 class.” There’s silence on the radio, and you can feel your colleagues’ eyes on you, which makes you turn to them. “What?”

They shake their heads, deciding not to comment on this sentence, although you all know this will be shown to the fans and viewers. Well, at least they’ll have a laugh. Hopefully. Damn it, maybe that was a mistake, you think as you bury your face into your palm. 

And then, out of nowhere, Charles speaks up. “How bad am I today?” he wonders, and you know exactly what he wants to know. 

“Max in Hungary last year,” you reply.

“Fuck.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laugh that wants to erupt, and you eventually manage to talk without your voice giving away what you wish to do right now. “Language,” you warn him kindly.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

Not long after this conversation, the sprint qualifying ends with Charles in P4, which isn’t as bad as it looks. If anyone, he can move forward, although you all know there are a lot more factors that need to be considered. Factors like strategy and the car itself.

You wait for him in the garage, smiling to yourself as you listen to a piece of Red Bull radio conversation, and you honestly can’t wait to tell your favorite driver about it. Social media is of course full of memes already, but you truly hope he hasn’t heard about it yet, because you want to see his face when you tell him.

But you have no luck, he returns from his media duties looking exhausted, but otherwise surprisingly giddy. When he stops in front of you, biting his lower lip so he wouldn’t burst out laughing, you already know it’s a lost battle. You’re in this mess together, and he’s right, laughing is the only thing you can do at this point.

“Max came over in the media pen and said, ‘Welcome to the dark side.’ I’ll never hear the end of it,” he tells you through a giggle. “And my chronically online little brother took the time to bombard me with memes about this whole conversation, including even the one between Max and GP later on.”

You watch him for a while in silence, but then you signal him to follow you, and as you walk to the back of the garage, you begin to talk. “GP messaged me, he’s willing to give me lessons,” you tell him with a laugh. 

Suddenly, Charles grabs your wrist and pushes you against the wall, leaning close enough so his lips can brush yours. “By the way,” he begins with a playful smile, “calling me a brat is a… unique way to tell me you love me.”

You flash a wicked smile at him. “Who said that’s what I meant?” 

He lets out a laugh. “I know you,” he informs you before kissing you softly, taking his time with you despite the risk of the possibility of someone walking in on you. 

[paucubarsisimp]

reader taking really good care of Pedri while he has a flu, but then him feeling really guilty and taking even better care of her when she catches it from him?

flu

pairing: pedri x reader

summary: in which you and pedri get the flu

warnings: none, the flu?

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist

you sat on the couch, a bowl of warm soup in your hands, glancing at pedri who was curled up under a blanket, looking less like the fit footballer you knew and more like a sick little puppy. his cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, and he sniffled as he reached for the tissues on the table.

“come on, baby, you need to eat,” you said softly, nudging him gently with the spoon, trying to coax him into taking a bite.

he scrunched his nose, clearly not in the mood for soup. “but i just… i don’t want soup… i want cuddles,” he whined, his voice raspy, his bottom lip poking out like a child.

you raised an eyebrow, looking down at him with a slight smile despite his pout. “you need to get better first, pedri. a little soup, and then i promise i’ll cuddle you. okay?”

his eyes fluttered as he shifted, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders and giving you that look—the one that melted your heart every time. “but i don’t feel good… i just want you,” he mumbled, reaching a hand out, weakly grasping for yours.

sighing, you put the spoon down and moved closer, your heart softening. “you’re lucky i love you,” you teased, as you sat beside him, adjusting the blanket around both of you.

pedri immediately snuggled into your side, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “i know… but… will you hold me, please?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, so vulnerable.

you chuckled softly, rubbing his back gently. “always, pedri. but you still need to eat something,” you replied, lifting the bowl of soup in your hands.

he groaned, shifting slightly. “can’t you just feed me later? i really… i just want to be close to you.”

the way he said it made you smile, even though you knew you should probably make him eat. but how could you resist? you leaned down to kiss his forehead, smiling as you breathed in the scent of his shampoo mixed with the faint trace of sickness.

“okay, okay,” you whispered, carefully pulling the blanket tighter around him as he sighed in contentment. “you win this time, but only because you’re adorable when you whine like that.”

pedri’s eyes closed in bliss, a little grin forming on his face. “i’m glad you think so,” he mumbled, his voice growing quieter. “just… don’t go anywhere, okay?”

you chuckled, leaning your head against his. “i’m right here, always.”

and for the next few hours, you simply held him, the world outside fading away as you focused on taking care of him, one cuddle at a time.

pedri had fully recovered from the flu, and he was back to his usual energetic self—smiling, teasing, and doing what he did best. you, on the other hand, were now the one suffering.

it started off small: a scratchy throat, the slight twinge of a headache. but before long, you could feel the fever creeping up, your body aching in all the wrong places. and sure enough, a few hours later, you were tucked under a pile of blankets, curled up on the couch, feeling miserable.

pedri, who had been tidying up the apartment, walked into the living room and immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw you. your cheeks were flushed with fever, your nose red, and you looked as if you were barely holding on. his heart dropped.

“hey, hey, how are you feeling?” he asked gently, sitting down next to you. his eyes softened as he took in the sight of you, looking so fragile.

you sniffled, your voice raspy. “not great… definitely paying for all those cuddles,” you joked weakly, trying to lift his spirits.

pedri frowned, his expression immediately filled with guilt. “no… no, it’s not your fault,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to touch your forehead. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t want you to catch this… i should’ve stayed away from you.”

you smiled faintly, your heart warming at how concerned he was. “pedri, it was bound to happen. it’s fine, really.”

but he didn’t look convinced. “no, it’s not fine. i feel so bad. i just wanted to be close to you when i was sick, and now you’re sick because of me.”

you reached out to gently pull him closer, resting your head on his chest. “you were just being sweet. i wanted to take care of you, remember?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

pedri’s heart ached as he wrapped his arms around you, cradling you carefully. “still… i should’ve kept my distance. i should’ve been more careful.” he kissed your forehead softly, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he could somehow transfer his warmth to you.

“you’ve been taking care of me, though,” you mumbled, your eyelids fluttering shut. “you’re doing it now, too.”

pedri smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “well, that’s because you deserve all the love in the world,” he said, his voice full of adoration. “now, let me take care of you.”

he jumped up, his energy still a little too much for your sick state, and soon returned with a tray in hand—soup, tea, and a few tissues. “i know you’re probably not hungry, but you need to eat something,” he said, his eyes full of concern as he set everything down next to you.

you looked up at him, too tired to argue, and smiled. “you really don’t have to do all this, pedri.”

he sat beside you, taking a spoonful of soup and offering it to you. “i want to. just let me take care of you the way you took care of me.”

you reluctantly accepted the soup, savoring the warmth as it soothed your throat. pedri watched you with the softest gaze, clearly content just by being there. his hand rested on your back as you ate slowly, his fingers tracing small circles to calm your shivers.

“i love you,” he whispered softly, his voice full of affection. “just… just let me know if you need anything. i’ll be here, always.”

you smiled weakly, your eyes fluttering closed again as you leaned into his chest. “i’m already getting everything i need,” you murmured, your breath evening out. “just… stay with me?”

pedri kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms around you tighter, pulling you closer into his embrace. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “i’ll be here until you feel better. always.”

and for the next few hours, as you drifted in and out of sleep, pedri stayed by your side—holding you, taking care of you, and showering you with all the love you needed. the world outside faded, and all that mattered was that he was there, making everything feel a little bit warmer, even on your sickest day.

[milla-frenchy]

ughhhh ok Kat at this point I think you're trying to kill us? I won't even fight back 😌

This is seriously one of the hottest Javi fics I've read like????

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

And I knew I was fucked the second I started to read. The description? This is our man. Our "ridiculously attractive" man, yep

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

This. Manspreading irl? Fuck off. Javi manspreading?

“How’s the book?” You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.” “I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Giggling, cackling, crying. Lmaoooooo

“Do I have something on my face?” Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. “Sorry, what?” His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

jfc. That man, I swear... 🫠🫠🫠

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back.

NOT THE HAND ON THE LOWER BACK hfskjdfhlkhkh

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer. You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod. “Mhm.” He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.” Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?” “I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.” Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—” “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.” Oh, you’re so fucked.

OMG the mouth of this man!! 🥵🥵🥵

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

The degradation yes please

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

Excuse me???? (of course not, I'm not JUST gonna look)

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.” You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs. “How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

These two are killing me damn

“You’d let me come inside you?”

Annnnnd I think that's when I died

Hands To Myself | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

Tags: smut, reader is ovulating, hand job, fingering, dirty talk, lust at first sight again, sexual acts in public (on a plane), let's just pretend this is realistic okay, pwp, blowjob to completion, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is all @probablyreadinsmut's fault tbh. coming into my inbox with horny thoughts, knowing i have to do something about it 😩 hehe i hope you guys like this, it's nothing special... i just need this man in any way i can get him! let me know what you thinkkkkkk🖤

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

To make matters worse, your hormones are out of control. Peak ovulation. Just being around a man has your skin buzzing, like your body is betraying you on a biological level.

So yeah, you looked. How could you not? He’s tall, has broad shoulders, leaner than what you usually go for but still built in a way that makes your brain short-circuit.

Then the universe really had to mess with you—you are assigned the seat right next to him for the overnight flight.

Your stomach drops. Suddenly, your go-to comfy travel outfit, leggings and a cardigan, feels way too basic.

“I’m at the window seat,” you say, trying to sound normal.

He looks up, meeting your gaze, and smiles—actually smiles. His brown eyes are warm and a little intrigued as he gives you a once over.

“Okay.”

Just that one word and you are already overthinking. How good his voice would sound in your ear as he’s—

No, you won’t make things harder on yourself by having intrusive sexual thoughts about some stranger. No matter how good looking he is.

You shove your carry-on into the overhead bin and awkwardly step aside so he can stand and let you in. His body brushes against yours, and you get a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, mixed with the unmistakable scent of whiskey from the airport bar.

Okay… so maybe you’d been watching him for longer than just at the gate. But who could blame you? The man is truly a sight to behold. It’s not like you were being a creep about it.

You mutter a soft “thanks” and sink into your seat, trying very hard to act normal while the flight attendants go through their safety spiel, though it’s hard to focus when you can feel his presence right next to you.

You need a distraction—fast. So, in a last-ditch effort to stop acting like a feral idiot, you pluck your book from your backpack and try to read.

It works, kind of. Not really.

“So, what’s waiting for you in Playa del Carmen?”

His voice, low and raspy, cuts through your attempt at reading—not that you’d absorbed a single word, still stuck on the same page since you opened it.

You glance over, and of course, he’s already looking at you. His leather jacket is gone, leaving him in a short sleeved button-down, a few undone buttons teasing the tanned skin of his neck, his thick biceps straining against the fabric.

You take too long to answer because he tilts his head slightly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Sorry—abrupt fuckin’ question.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You stumble over your words, mentally cringing at yourself. His brows raise slightly, amused, and you don’t miss the way his mustache tics when he presses his lips together. 

“A friend’s birthday trip. I got caught up at work, so I had to take a later flight at the last minute. What about you?”

He hums, the sound deep and thoughtful. “Work.” That’s all he offers. “Not as fun as what you’ll be getting up to, I’m sure.”

You bite your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. “I’ve heard the beaches are beautiful. I’m excited to just lounge and take in the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.”

Your tongue is loose despite the way you’re vibrating under the weight of his attention.

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

“How’s the book?”

You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.”

“I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and if it were anybody else, you’d be weirded out by their observation. Being hot does have its privileges. “Maybe I just like rereading. Really taking in the point the author is trying to make.”

“Uh-huh, right…” He chuckles softly and that sound triggers the desire that seeps into every pore of your skin.

The conversation continues flowing thereafter, which you definitely did not expect. His name is Javier, and he’s constantly traveling for work—though he’s vague on the details, and you’re not about to grill a stranger for his life story.

Instead, the topics meander, easy and flirtatious, both of you toeing the line between casual and something else.

You swear he’s flirting. He leans in slightly when you speak, holds your eyes captive just a beat too long, like he’s in no rush to look away.

You’re noticing everything the deeper you get into this… thing. The way lips form around each word, full and obnoxiously kissable. The way his brown eyes glint when he talks about things that should be trivial but feel interesting because he’s the one saying them. How the tendons in his forearms flex whenever he gestures, his fingers long and strong, the kind of hands that could make a woman very happy.

Your horny brain is spiraling.

“A mango marg is my go to. Preferably one of those ridiculously oversized ones with sugar on the rim.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You arch a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking his tongue over his teeth. You admire how chiseled his jaw is. “Means you like to have fun. You probably get away with a lot.”

“And you think I get away with things?”

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second. “I think you could, if you wanted to.”

You cross your legs, shifting in your seat like that’s going to help anything. It just makes it worse. Focus. He’s just a hot stranger. A hot stranger that smells like whiskey and cedarwood and keeps throwing you these amused little glances like he knows what the fuck he’s doing to you.

You should probably end this before you embarrass yourself. But instead, you just keep talking, keep flirting, and keep waiting to see just how far this can go.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Sorry, what?”

His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, and suddenly, the cabin feels way too small, the air too thick. “No, uh—there’s nothing there. I just… I zone out sometimes.” You clear your throat, fingers fumbling with your seatbelt. “Would you mind letting me get to the restroom?”

You sound as pathetic as you feel, but Javier doesn’t let up. His smirk stays put, eyes flicking over your face like he’s contemplating something.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back. Light enough to be innocent, intentional enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, pretending not to notice—pretending not to feel the slick heat between your legs pulse at the contact—and walk as casually as possible down the aisle.

The moment you lock the restroom door behind you, you press your palms against the tiny counter, breathing hard.

Your reflection stares back at you, pupils blown, lips parted like you just stumbled out of a damn makeout session. 

You’re hot. Turned on from nothing but a little eye contact and some shameless flirting. And the worst part? It’s not going away anytime soon. Especially since you’re sitting so fucking close to him. Your body is wound tight, aching at the worst possible time.

Your panties are soaked, borderline ruined, pussy crying to get some relief, and you actually consider slipping a hand down there and rubbing one out. But you know yourself. Getting off with your fingers is a slow, frustrating process, and the last thing you need is to be locked in an airplane restroom, chasing an orgasm while Javier is sitting just outside, existing like that.

So you suck it up. Splash some cool water on your face. Take a deep breath. Get it together.

When you step back into the aisle, he’s already standing, leaning casually against the row of seats as if his demeanor and charm aren’t totally putting you under his spell. He looks even better now than he did before you left.

You give him a tight-lipped, awkward smile as you slide back into your seat. He follows, sinking into his own with a quiet grunt, the sound low and rough enough to send another spark of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer.

You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod.

“Mhm.”

He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?”

“I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.”

Oh, you’re so fucked.

Your breath stutters, fingers gripping the armrest as if that’ll do anything to ground you. Maybe this is a dream, it has to be. No way he’s reciprocating the horny vibes you’ve been exuding because of your damn ovulation cycle. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips, shaky, uncertain.

His expression doesn’t change—still cool, still lazy, but there’s a darkness to it now. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…” His knuckles graze your thigh, featherlight, making you shiver before he pulls away. “But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not attracted to you.”

You lick your lips, watching the way he follows the movement, how his hand balls into a fist against his leg. The cabin is dim now, most passengers lost in their own worlds or asleep, and the seats around you are conveniently unoccupied. The flight attendants have finished their last walkthrough, leaving you tucked away in a private little pocket of space.

Your pulse thrums, a decision forming in the haze of arousal clouding your mind. “What if…” You hesitate, but then let the thought take control, logic be damned. “What if I wanted to do something?”

Javier’s brows lift slightly, intrigue flashing across his face. The shift is instant—his relaxed posture stiffens, his jaw ticks, and his eyes dip just slightly as if assessing exactly how far you’re willing to go.

You’re barely breathing as he lifts the armrest between you, his body pressing in tight, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You almost pass out.

“Yeah?” His voice is nothing but a whisper, matching the lust that’s thrumming in your veins. “Like what?”

The warmth of his breath has you letting out a soft, involuntary whimper.

“Anything,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, the need unbearable. “I just need you to touch me.”

Javi exhales a low, quiet laugh through his nose, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. His lips ghost along the side of your jaw, teasing, taunting.

“I can do that.” His fingers then trail up your thigh agonizingly slow, stopping just at the hem of your leggings. “Just need you to keep quiet.”

You nod weakly, head tipping back against the seat as his mouth finds your neck. He starts slow, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, dragging his teeth over your pulse. You resist the urge to squirm as his large palm moves up your body, fingertips teasing along the curve of your breast over your top.

Your nipples tighten instantly, and when he pinches one between his fingers, both of you let out a quiet groan.

“So sensitive. You need more?”

You bite your lip, nodding desperately again. “Yes.”

His hand slips beneath your shirt and finally—rough fingertips meet your bare skin. He palms your breast, kneading, tugging at your nipple, sending sharp little sparks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You shift, desperately trying to find any friction. Your horniness is maddening and he knows it.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you whimper, hips rolling ever so slightly.

Javier groans at the movement, shifting even closer, his thigh pressing against yours as he works your tits over with a practiced hand.

His lips move up to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, eyes locking with his for a brief moment before you both give in—lips crashing together, mouths desperate and hungry.

He can kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting and exploring. The fingers at your breast keep working, rolling your nipple between his fingers, twisting just enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“Javi…” His name is exhaled breathlessly. “More. Please.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?” Leaving your tits, he moves down between your legs and you spread your thighs, giving him enough room to begin rubbing you over your leggings.

You let out a sharp gasp, back arching slightly. The pressure has you melting, chasing the touch you so desperately need.

Javier watches you, drinking in the slight furrow of your brow, how your lips purse. “Goddamn.” He can’t help but nip at your lower lip, gripping your thigh with his other hand as he grinds a little harder against your pussy. “You soaked right through these.”

Your fingers dig into his forearm, the teasing unbearable.

“You’re so—” You shudder, exhaling shakily and he’s living for it. “You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help it.”

“I could probably make you come just like this, huh? Needy little thing needs her pussy played with so bad, she’s whoring herself out on a fuckin’ plane just to get an orgasm.”

Your jaw hangs open at his filthy words.

Javier is clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. His fingers keep moving, slow and firm, while your hand drifts down, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. Even through the thick denim, he’s big, and when you squeeze just slightly, his hips jerk into your palm.

He groans into the kiss you’re sharing, enjoying your touch. “This is risky, you sure?”

You nod, struggling to think through the fog of lust clouding your mind. “I don’t care.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls back, just enough for both of you to move quickly. You shrug off your cardigan, tucking it beneath you before slipping your leggings and panties down to your mid thigh. You’re not about to put your bare ass on this plane seat.

He unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his jeans, and holy shit.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s thick, a swollen, flushed cock with a prominent vein running down the side, curving just enough to make your walls flutter at the thought of him fucking your cunt.

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

You drag your tongue across your palm before wrapping it around his leaking cock, your touch making him shudder. Slowly, you stroke him, spreading the precum with your thumb, gliding it over the sensitive head before giving a firm squeeze, earning a growl from deep in his chest.

His fingers slip between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open, and he wastes no time in teasing your sensitive labia, dragging his touch up and down attentively.

You moan quietly as to not get yourself caught. He groans at the feeling of you, slick and hot, his digits smearing your arousal all over your pretty pussy before pressing against your swollen clit.

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.”

You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs.

“How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

He buries his head into your neck, licking, biting, sucking at your skin, his thick fingers now breaching the mouth of your cunt.

It’s pure bliss—the stretch so much deeper, fuller than your own fingers ever manage. His thick digits work you open, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you. The way he drags against your inner walls has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but it’s the relentless pressure on your fleshy pearl that wrecks you, erasing every thought but him.

“I’d have you spread out, my head buried between your legs, fucking you with my tongue until you’re wet enough to take this big cock.” His hips grind into your jerking palm to emphasize his point.

You can only imagine how his wet tongue would feel up against your flesh, tasting every crevice, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Probably start over you, wanna see that pretty face while I slide inside this tight pussy baby, fuck,” he groans, fingers now knuckles deep inside your cunt and you moan, slipping into this fantasy with him, imagining how good it’d feel to have his dick stretching you out.

“Not really a missionary girl but I know you’d make me feel good, Javi.”

His thumb is slick with your sticky wetness, allowing him to swirl your clit around, massaging it and making your pussy drool even more. Your nipples are hardened and oversensitive, adding to the bliss when they brush against the fabric of your shirt with every deep inhale and exhale you take. 

Javi’s fingers begin to thrust into you more earnestly, the soft squelch of your pussy getting finger fucked thankfully drowned out by the hum of the plane. “How would you want it then? Tell me how you’d take it.”

Another bead of precum dollops from his slit and your mouth waters, picking up the pace to match the stroking of his fingers inside you.

“On top. I’d bounce on your cock until you’re filling me up. Put my tits in your face, make you suck on them.”

A thin sheen of sweat clings to your temples, the heat of his kisses still lingering on your neck making your temperature spike like a fever you don’t want to break.

Javier gets desperate, leaning in to put his lips on yours, imagining the way your pussy would feel while you rode him. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm on the brink of making a mess all over his hand.

“You’d let me come inside you?” His voice is a husky murmur, almost taunting, laden with lust as he cups your jaw with his other hand before sliding lower, wrapping firmly around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, keeping you in place as he curls his fingers, brazen eyes boring into yours.

Your breath stutters as ecstacy coils impossibly tight. “Mhm,” you nod weakly, tears welling in your eyes from how good it all feels.

A wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his grip keeping you steady as he drags you closer. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ love that.”

His lips crash against yours again, swallowing your cries as his fingers work you harder, scissoring inside you, his fat thumb flicking your clit rapidly. 

It sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body clenches, muscles locking as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your release coating his fingers while you moan into his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to let the whole damn plane know what he’s doing to you.

Your grip on his cock tightens but you lose your rhythm as he lets you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises against your lips, not seeming bothered by the lack of attention at his shaft.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, blinking away the stars clouding your vision while he pulls his fingers out, a sticky web following.

Javier lifts his fingers between you, still slick with your release, dark eyes flicking to yours as he takes in the scent of your pussy before he’s licking at them, using the hold he still has on your neck to bring you in so you’re both making out with his wet fingers between the two of you, your tongue moving sinfully, getting lost in the act.

You break away when his fingers are licked clean, attempting to catch your breath. After regaining some control, you continue to work his cock, urging him to slide into the unoccupied third seat by the aisle so you have room to take him in your mouth.

Javi blinks, caught off guard, dick twitching in your grasp as he registers what you’re suggesting.

“You sure?” His hands flex like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Yes. Don’t want to make a mess, right? Just make sure no one’s looking.” You purr, pulling your legging and underwear back up before shifting your body and bending over to lick at his tip, circling around his head before you’re taking as much as you can into your mouth.

The positioning is a little cramped and awkward, but you don’t care. He tastes so good, feels even better on your tongue. The blood is roaring in your ears, you can’t even hear any of the quieted noises you’re pulling from him but you do feel his hand landing on the back of your neck and he pushes you further down, forcing you to take almost the entirety of his cock down your throat.

You fondle his balls, sucking in your cheeks and bobbing up and down quickly. His stomach tightens and before you know it, ropes of warm and salty cum are filling your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. You moan around him, slurping him up before pulling away with a soft pop, wiping at the corners of your mouth where the fluids had smeared.

He looks just as wrecked as you had when you came, his cheeks a little pink, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before tucking himself back into his pants, watching you with something dangerously close to admiration.

You lean in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, returning the favor and letting him taste the last traces of himself.

“Where are you staying? This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You tell him the name of the resort, watching as that familiar cocky smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, mind already made up. “Can’t let you walk away after that. Pussy’s too good. Hope your friends don’t mind me stealing you for a night or two.”

He caresses your cheek and you melt into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, staring up at him with starry eyes. You already know you’re going to get the lecturing of your life once you disclose what just transpired to your homegirls.

“They will. Maybe I should extend my stay just a little longer…” Your fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll pay for it. Anything to see you again.”

Oh god, is this irresponsible of you? Probably. But you’re not thinking with your brain right now, no, you’re straight up thinking with your pussy.

“Deal.”

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7. @mandaloriankait . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @clubsoft . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @biapascal . @angiewatson .

[spicycinnabun]

🤖 I've loved all the snippets of this au so much!

glad you're enjoying it!! 🤖💙

EB was sidewinding, bumping into Tommy on almost every step. The shots were finally hitting his processors.

Tommy steadied him with an arm around his waist.

“I may have m-m-miscalculated my tolerance,” EB admitted. His cheeks were deeply Thirium flushed. He giggled, then burped up a bunch of metallic blue bubbles. One popped in front of Tommy’s nose, making it wrinkle. “O-oops!”

EB reached up, clumsily attempting to wipe Tommy's face. Tommy caught his wrist and lowered it gently. He patted EB’s hip, smiling. “Okay, we need to cut you off. I think it's time to go home.”

“Already?” EB turned towards Tommy. “Can I go h-home with you instead?” he asked, eyes glimmering.

Tommy’s chest clenched immediately.

Technically, if Tommy took EB to his house without authorization, he would be stealing LAFD property.

“You want me to botnap you?” Tommy asked. 

He wasn’t against the idea. Fuck Gerrard.

EB was still giving him the robopuppy eyes. They were getting even wetter. “I know it’s wrong. I don’t want you to get in trouble, Tommy. It just… gets l-l-lonely at the station when you’re not there.”

Tommy had no idea EB was capable of loneliness. He wondered what it was like to exist at the station. How long had EB been feeling this way? Just for a little while, or since his assembly day?

“I'll be on my best b-behavior. I’ll be so good you might even want to k-keep me.”

The ache in Tommy’s chest grew tenfold. That really twisted the knife. “EB…”

“I’ve had dreams about it before.” EB smiled. It was sweet. Confessional. His lips looked especially full and pink. His LED pulsed blue. “If you were my owner instead of Captain, and I was your botfriend.”

Tommy's brain broke. He wasn’t going to survive hearing more of this. “...You can dream?”

And not only that, but EB dreamt of him? Of them? Together?

“I can construct visual scenarios with various o-o-outcomes,” EB answered, blinking slowly and swaying on the spot. Tommy tightened his grip on him. “Like dreams, they're not real.”

“I didn’t know,” Tommy said. Choked, really.

“If it was possible, would you want that? Would you want me?” EB asked. His tone glitched on the question, going tinny. The hope in it was painful.

Tommy’s throat clicked as he swallowed. Of course I’d want you, EB.

How could he not?

Someone bumped into him from behind, jostling them and reminding Tommy of exactly where they were and who he was. In a crowded bar with his very masculine, red-blooded coworkers just a few feet away. 

EB's big, mechanical Thirium pump was going to get damaged. Just like Tommy’s heart had years ago.

Self-loathing more than usual, Tommy let go of EB and dodged the question. “I can’t talk about this here. How long will it take for you to regulate your Thirium?”

EB’s expression fell.

So did Tommy’s stomach, straight to his fucking feet.

“Approximately three hours and forty-two minutes,” EB answered quietly.

“We probably shouldn’t take you straight back to the station. Not until you’ve sobered up. C’mon.”

Tommy wanted to take EB’s hand and squeeze it.

He didn’t.

⚙︎

tag list: @brassm-tagged @leashybebes @thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish @setmeatopthepyre @bibuckeroo @station18908 @hmg621 @buffaluff @disastardly @figuringitoutaloud @bbbuckalou @ambernotember @theredrenard @hyperfocusthusly @tedious-waffle @screamlet @xmidhel @nochance-noway

@rcmclachlan @popfly @powersuitup @nonotyourspumoni @espressopatronum454 @loulou-land @all-the-feelss @comeon-intothemadhouse @jake-is-screaming-in-tune @therealstacyfakename @whizzzerbrown @the-omniscient-narrator @5ammi90 @crazypenguin88 @thuperrah @just-barrow @exhaustedpirate

[baocean]

piss off your parents

chapter seven - two best friends and the boy they yell at

her phone

jj shook his head along to what janey was saying, something about college, completely entranced.

you were sitting next to him, trying to fight the smile on your face from how red jj’s cheeks are.

sarah, who was sitting next to janey, was silently listening to her story, her eyes glancing over to you every few minutes as if you were having a silent conversation.

“so, what are you majoring in?” he asks her, setting his beer can down and leaning towards her.

“oh, communications. nothing important, i want to marry rich and never have to work.” janey replied, laughing.

jj’s smile faltered for only a second, he recovered so quickly you weren’t sure if you were making it up.

“i think communications is kind of important. right?” jj turns to you in support, you nodded your head.

“are you in college, jj?” janey tips her head to the side, almost sadistically. it makes your eyebrows furrow.

jj shifts in his seat next to you, “you know i’m not.”

your eyes travel between him and janey, watching this interaction go down. you can’t quite tell what’s going on, if they’re flirting or if they’re about to fight.

janey’s mouth opens to say something, but she’s cut off by her name being called.

kelce is standing by a fire pit in the middle of the cul-de-sac, waving her over.

she pops up, smiling at him, “it was good to see you guys. yn, i’ll text you,” and then she was gone.

jj turns to sarah, almost immediately. “is she a bitch or am i crazy?”

“you’re crazy.” sarah rolls her eyes, tucking her leg under the other.

“no, seriously. i think she might be a bitch. did you not hear that tone? are you in college, jj? do i fucking look like-” jj’s voice raised several octaves as he imitated janey, standing up, turning around to watch her, then coming back.

“i’m having real conflicting feelings right now, ladies.”

“you’re fine, stop.” sarah groaned, taking a sip of her drink.

“yn, is she always like that?” he finally turns to you, hands on his lips with his head tilted.

“no?” it comes out more of a question than an answer. when janey spoke badly about someone, it was pretty bad. but you’d never seen her speak like that to people in front of them… just behind their backs.

“wonderful. so she’s a bitch.” jj sighs, then sits back down in his chair.

“and you’re not? you’re a fucking asshole, jj. stop calling her that.” sarah looks up from her phone only to shoot a glare at jj as she speaks.

“yea, janey is my best friend. i don’t like it when people talk about her like that.” you speak, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“i thought you liked her?” sarah tilts her head, eyebrows shooting up in accusation.

“i do, i just-okay, whatever. just stop yelling at me.” jj’s hands fall against his forehead, then up by his sides in defense.

“stop calling innocent girls bitches and we will.” sarah smiles sickly at him, then goes right back to taking selfies on her phone.

jj looks at you again for support, but this time you just shrug your shoulders.

masterlist link | next chapter

note from the author - sorry this is so short! love yall lol

taglist - @dr3amgrlll / @murdockcastleslut / @jjmaybankmylovee / @smokahontas-113 / @abslvrs13 / @enchantedstarfish / @reeseswirl / @lmaowhatt / @moonywhisp3rs / @dylsdaily / @idli-dosa / @bloodofadoll / @cokewithcameron / @mariamadison6-blog / @rrosiitas / @always-reading / @sunflouer04 / @bambigirl10 / @mirellef2001

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

random thought i had- so chan's like the biggest ler ever right?? i was just thinking he never teases by saying "is it ticklish~?" like the others do and in that one meme interview the members were talking abt how they treat innie as the maknae. i noticed he said "we hug him, we kiss him, we..." then he trailed off. what if he can't say the t word in english or korean?? that would be so cute!!

say it~

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.5k

𝙖/𝙣: BAHAHHA SURPRISE BITCHES <3 fic for youuuuu!!~ happy 7th debut anniversary, skz :D, sorry if this is crap bc i still do have a fever URGHHG

𝙩/𝙬: rough tickles, use of camera, channie is just so cute

𝒍𝒆𝒆: chan

𝙡𝙚𝙧: skz

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr @reginald-stay09 @lunalattae @just-hyunlix-things

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

"Wait, no, no—WAIT! GUYS!" Chan's voice cracked as he struggled against the hands pinning him down. He had no idea how he had gotten into this position, but based on the grins that faced him, it had been set up for some time.

“You all suck so bad,” Chan gritted out, tugging at his arms. They weren’t budging.

“No, hyung,” Jeongin sing-songed, cracking his knuckles dramatically. “We love you. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Chan was about to retort when Jisung wiggled his fingers threateningly over his ribs. The reaction was instant—his stomach clenched, breath hitched, and his entire body tensed.

“Oho, he’s already reacting,” Jisung cackled, nudging Changbin. “We haven’t even touched him yet!”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, praying for a miracle. He could handle this. He was a grown man. He could—

“Aw, he’s all scrunched up! Like a little worm!” Felix cooed. “Are you ticklish, Channie?”

“Guys—wait, we can talk about this,” Chan tried, already feeling the panic set in as he tugged uselessly at his arms. He could feel his cheeks burning at Felix's comment.

“Nope, no talking,” Minho smirked, settling comfortably beside him. “We all agreed. You work too hard, you stress too much, and we need to remind you how to relax.”

“This is not how relaxation works—!” Chan yelped mid-sentence as a single finger trailed down his exposed side, his whole body jolting.

The chorus of evil little giggles around him made his stomach drop.

“Hyung, you know you can’t fight all of us,” Seungmin said from above, his grip on Chan’s wrists tightening. “So just be good and take your punishment. You know you deserve it.”

“I—I haven’t done anything wrong!” Chan whined, already laughing from nerves alone.

“Oh, you have,” Jisung grinned from beside Minho, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You never take a break, you refuse to let us help you, and—” he leaned in, his lips curving into a slow smirk, “—you get super flustered when we make you say that word.”

Chan’s heart skipped. “W-What word?”

They were evil. Absolute menaces. Because Chan did know what to say. But they also knew that saying it made him want to curl into a ball and disappear.

“Come on, Channie, you know what we’re talking about,” Felix grinned, fingers flexing in the air threateningly. “Your word...you know, the one you hate saying so much but love at the same time?”

Chan's face turned bright red.

Hyunjin gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “Hyung, are you...embarrassed?”

“I—” Chan struggled, eyes darting from one member to the next, only to realize every single one of them had the same evil look in their eyes.

They knew. They all knew. Of course they knew.

"Why are you doing this to meee—" Chan whined, trying to block out their teasing grins.

“Oh, we’re just doing a little experiment,” Hyunjin drawled, stretching dramatically before wiggling his fingers ominously above Chan’s torso. “You see, our dear leader is always working so hard, always so serious. We think it’s time he lets loose.”

Felix leaned down, voice soft and teasing. “You know what it is, right?~”

Chan clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head violently.

“Nope, not falling for that,” Changbin chuckled, ruffling his hair. “We’re gonna make you say it.”

“A lot,” Jeongin added. "And we all know you love it~"

Chan opened his mouth to deny it, but before he could, ten fingers dug into his ribs at once.

"N-NO!!" Chan screeched. Because of course he wasn't ticklish...

"NAHAHAAHHAA!! THIS IS SO UNFAHAAHAHAHAIR—FUHUHUCK MIHIHIHINHO STOHOHOHOP!!" Channie howled, his arms puling uselessly, his whole body writhing in ticklish agony.

"Ohhh, so cute~" Minho teased, his hands darting down to Channie's hips, while Seungmin moved to his ribs. "Let's tickle him more."

The attack doubled in intensity. Seungmin had found a viciously effective spot just beneath his ribs, while Jisung, ever the little menace, was kneading at his stomach with the practiced skill of someone who knew exactly where to aim. Minho stayed perched on his legs, his fingers lazily kneading into Chan’s hips in slow, agonizing little circles just to make him jump.

"I CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T!! I CAHAHAHAHANT SAY IT!! OHOMYGOD STAHAHAHAHHAHAAPPP!!!"

“Maybe we should help him out,” Minho hummed, smirking as he leaned in closer. “We’ll say it for you—”

“Tickle, tickle, tickle~” Jisung sang, wiggling his fingers tauntingly over Chan’s stomach.

Chan let out the most humiliated squeak, shoving his head into his bicep as he squirmed away from the many hands tickling every sensitive spot on him.

"IHIHIT'S SO BAHAHAHAHHAHHAD!!" wailed Channie, wiggling, his wide grin stretched across his face as he cackled, his face burning red at the simple thought of that one safeword.

Minho’s fingers latched onto the soft, kneadable skin of Chan's sides, pressing in with devastating precision. At the same time, Jisung and Hyunjin launched a seriously mean, synchronized assault on his underarms, while Seungmin focused solely on his ribs, scribbling his fingers in the absolute worst way. The sensation was overwhelming, setting every nerve in his body alight.

"I CAHAHANT TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT!!" Chan was dying. He could barely breathe, his stomach ached from laughing so hard, and he was sure his face was as red as a tomato. But he refused—

“Not gonna say it, huh?” Minho mused. “Alright. Boys, finish him.”

It was chaos. Changbin latched onto his hip bones, massaging the sensitive spots with cruel precision. Felix squeezed at his knees, making Chan howl. Jisung wiggled his fingers under his ribs, and Jeongin skittered all ten fingers down his neck.

"I FUHUHUHUCKING HATE YOU AHAHAHAHAHAHALLLL!!!"

Chan twisted desperately, but the laughter was relentless. His body was burning, the sensations unbearable. He tried to resist, tried to endure—

"IHIHIT—IT—"

But then Minho leaned down, lips right next to his ear. “Just say it, Channie.”

That was the final straw. Between the teasing words and the unrelenting tickles, Chan couldn’t take it anymore.

"IHIHIT TICKLES SO BAHAHAHAHHAHAD!!" He squeaked, his face burning red as he finally got a break, still giggling as his arms were finally free, shoving away the other hands still poking at the soft spots on his belly.

“Oh,” Minho smirked. “That was adorable.”

Chan was a wrecked mess, sprawled out on the floor, his chest rising and falling with every breathless giggle that still fell from his lips. His cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet, and his entire body felt like jelly after the relentless attack. His hands shot up to cover his face as he whined, muffled between his hands.

“I hate you all,” He repeated in a wheeze, but the giggles that still bubbled out of him completely ruined the threat.

The members only laughed at his misery, crowding around him with smug grins.

“Awwhh, Channie hyung, you’re so cute when you’re wrecked~” Seungmin cooed, poking at his ribs just to make him jolt.

“Say it one more time for us, hyung,” Jisung teased. “Come on, just one more tim—”

“NO!” Chan shot up, his hands still firmly pressed over his face as he curled in on himself. “Absolutely not!”

That was when he noticed the devious look on Felix’s face—the way his phone was held up, still aimed directly at him.

Something inside him froze in fear.

“Lixie...” he said slowly, his voice suddenly quiet in a way that made the others snicker. “What…what are you doing?”

Felix beamed, tilting his head innocently. “I just made sure STAYs got to see their precious leader’s adorable cackle fits in real-time.” He said sweetly.

“What?...” Chan’s stomach dropped.

“I posted it to your Bubble~” Felix announced, and Chan’s entire soul left his body.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

The dorm exploded with laughter as Chan let out a screech of pure horror, scrambling for his phone as his notifications exploded with STAY's reactions. His face was burning as he stared at the comments, every single one of them gushing over how cute he was and, worse—how they would never let him live this down.

He groaned and flopped back against the couch, burying his burning face in his hands again as his members poked and prodded at him, still teasing him mercilessly.

Seungmin continued playing the clips at top volume in Chan's ear just to embarrass him, and it worked. Just listening to his cackles rewind again and again made Chan feel like burying himself in a hole and dying.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jeongin grinned. “STAYs love you.”

Chan let out another muffled, utterly humiliated whine, and the members only laughed harder.

[s1ut-4-rafe]

CHASING THE FIRE | Rafe Cameron | 03

MASTERLIST (Series - In Progress)

Pairing 1 - JJ x Female Pogue! Reader

Pairing 2 - Rafe x Female Pogue! Reader

Summary - Two weeks after a tense encounter with Rafe, life feels off-balance. Your dad’s anger is growing, and his outbursts are becoming harder to ignore. After one of his rants, he throws you out, leaving you with nowhere to turn. You reach out to your friends, but only Sarah answers. She takes you in without hesitation, offering a safe space. With JJ absent and things feeling off between you lately, you can’t help but feel lost.

Word Count - 3015

Content - Angst, love triangle, tension, conflict.

TW's - Alcohol abuse, emotional/physical abuse, toxic family dynamics

Two weeks had passed since that run-in with Rafe at the surf shop, and life had mostly settled back into its usual rhythm, at least on the surface. You kept busy with shifts at the shop, long nights at the Chateau with JJ and the others, and stolen moments of quiet to catch your breath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your mind off the ache that seemed to follow you everywhere.

Your dad’s temper hadn’t eased up, it only seemed to get worse. Walking on eggshells was second nature by now, but lately, even breathing wrong seemed to set him off. He would find reasons to snap, like something as small as you coming home later than he expected or a misplaced tool in the shed. You’d learned to let his words roll off your back, but some nights, it still stung like an open wound.

Last week, he grabbed your arm during one of his rants about things not being done around the house, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises. You didn’t cry. You never cried in front of him. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and waited for him to stagger off to the couch, pretending you didn’t notice the pain radiating up your shoulder. That night, you’d crashed at the Chateau, sharing a hammock with JJ and laughing at his dumb jokes until you almost forgot about the bruises.

JJ never pushed you to talk about it. He’d just throw an arm around you, the warmth of his presence enough to dull the sting of reality. Sometimes he’d joke about running away, leaving the island behind, just the two of you. It never felt real, but it was nice to imagine—a life where chaos didn’t follow you everywhere. 

Tonight, the house was too quiet, the kind that made your skin crawl. You’d spent hours tucked away in your room, music turned up loud to drown out the uncertainty lingering in the air. It wasn’t until the front door slammed that your pulse quickened, your stomach knotting itself tight.

“Goddamn it!” your dad bellowed from the hallway, his voice thick and unsteady. You knew that tone—booze-fueled rage, looking for a target. You barely had time to brace yourself before he stormed upstairs, shoving your door open without warning, his face flushed with anger and a crumpled piece of paper clenched in his fist.

"You want to explain this shit to me?" he growls, tossing the paper onto your bed. You glance down and see the bold red lettering stamped across the top: PAST DUE. Your stomach sinks.

"I thought I gave you enough for rent last month," you say cautiously, trying to remember how much cash you managed to scrape together from working at the surf shop and tips from The Wreck.

"You did," he snaps. "But obviously, it wasn’t enough. And while I'm busting my ass every day, you're out there running around with that Maybank kid and his little group of losers!"

Your jaw tightens at the accusation, and you force yourself to stay calm. "JJ’s not a loser, and neither are they. They’re my friends."

He scoffs, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "Friends? The same friends everyone’s been talking about all over town? You think I don’t hear what people say? About how my daughter’s been wasting her time with the Pogues, getting herself mixed up in god knows what? You think that makes me look good?"

You flinch at his words but refuse to back down. "They’re not like that. You don’t even know them."

"I know enough!" he barks. "And I know you’re turning out just like your mother—useless, a slut, dragging me down. She didn’t care about this family, and neither do you. You’d rather run around the island with that delinquent rather than help out around here or get a real job."

His words hit you like a slap to the face, and for a moment, your vision blurs with hot, angry tears. You swallow them down and square your shoulders. Something in you snapped. "I’m doing my best," you shot back, voice trembling with both anger and fear. "I’m trying—"

Before you could finish, he was on you, gripping you by your arm roughly and yanking you to your feet. Panic flashed through you as he dragged you down the stairs and toward the front door, practically shoving you outside.

"Your best? It’s not enough!" he shouted. "I’m done with you living under my roof, wasting space. Go shack up with your little friends or that worthless boyfriend of yours. I don’t care. Just stay out of my sight!"

You stumbled on the steps, catching yourself before hitting the ground. Heart pounding, you barely registered the door slamming behind you. 

You stand in the front yard, trembling as you fumble for your phone. Your fingers shake as you dial JJ’s number first, desperate to hear his voice. It rings and rings, but he doesn’t pick up. You keep trying, but to no avail. 

“Come on, JJ,” you whispered, wiping away a stray tear. You tried calling John B next, hoping that maybe he’s with JJ or knows where he is. Same result, straight to voicemail.

You hesitate before scrolling to Sarah’s number. If JJ and John B weren’t answering, you knew Kie wouldn’t either. Sarah was the only other person who might be able to help without asking too many questions. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear.

After a few rings, Sarah’s voice comes through. “Hey girl! What’s up?”

She tries to hold back the sob threatening to escape her throat. “Sarah... I—can you pick me up? Please?”

Instantly, Sarah’s tone shifts to concern. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“No. I just... I just need to get out of my house.”

Immediately, Sarah’s tone shifts, concerned and protective. “Okay, okay. Where are you?”

You don’t even remember when you started walking, but you looked at the nearest street sign and rattled off an address. Sarah assured you she’d be there soon, so you sink down to sit on the curb, hugging your knees to your chest, trying not to break down.

Headlights wash over the street, and you lift your head as Sarah’s car pulls up to the curb. She barely shifts into park before she’s out of the driver’s seat, hurrying over to you. Without a word, she crouches beside you, pulling you into a tight hug. The warmth of her arms, the steady rise and fall of her breath, it’s enough to crack the last bit of restraint holding you together. You don’t cry, not really, but your fingers clutch onto her hoodie like an anchor.

“Hey,” she murmurs, pulling back to search your face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “No, not right now. But thank you.”

Sarah nods, like she understands, and she helps you to your feet before guiding you to the car. The drive back to her house is quiet, filled only with the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle you pretend not to hear. She doesn’t push for details, doesn’t fill the silence with empty words. It’s enough that she’s here.

By the time you pull up to Tannyhill, your body feels like lead. You’re exhausted, drained in a way that goes deeper than just lack of sleep. Sarah kills the engine and glances over at you. “You can stay as long as you need,” she says softly.

You nod, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks,” before stepping out of the car.

Inside, the house is quiet, dimly lit by the glow of a few lamps. The Cameron estate has always felt too big, too pristine, but tonight, it feels safe. Sarah locks the door behind you, and as you step into the living room, movement from the couch catches your attention.

Rafe.

He’s lounging there, one arm draped over the back of the couch, beer bottle in hand. He glances up as you walk in, his brows furrowing slightly at your disheveled appearance. You must look a mess—puffy eyes, tense shoulders, the faint outline of bruises peeking from under your sleeve.

His gaze flickers to Sarah, silently asking a question she doesn’t answer. Instead, she just sighs. “I’m gonna grab some blankets and stuff. You’re good to crash in my room, okay?”

You nod, and she disappears down the hallway, leaving you standing in the living room with Rafe.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, unreadable, before he shifts to sit up straighter. “You okay?”

It’s such a simple question, but it knocks the air from your lungs. You hesitate, then shake your head. “Not really.”

Rafe exhales, setting his beer down on the coffee table. “Didn’t think so.” His voice is softer than usual, none of the usual cocky bravado he carries around like armor. “You, uh… You need anything?”

You don’t know why, but the way he asks, like he actually means it, makes something in your chest tighten. You’ve spent so long trying to handle things on your own, brushing off concern, laughing through the pain. But right now, standing here in a stranger’s house with nowhere else to go, the weight of it all is suffocating.

You swallow hard. “Just… just don’t be an asshole, okay?”

Rafe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not in the mood to be one, anyway.”

Maybe it should worry you, this moment—this unspoken understanding forming between you and Rafe Cameron. But right now, with everything else crumbling around you, you’re too tired to care.

Sarah led you upstairs, pushing open the door to her bedroom and flicking on the light. The soft glow of fairy lights wrapped around the room, casting everything in warm golds and oranges. It smelled like vanilla perfume, and the familiar comfort of it all made your throat tighten.

You sat down on the edge of her bed, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. Sarah closed the door behind her, hesitating for a moment before sitting beside you.

She didn’t rush you, didn’t press for details—just gave you space. And maybe that was what made it worse. Because now that you weren’t running, now that you weren’t standing in your front yard with your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest, everything hit you at once.

Your dad’s voice still echoed in your head. The look in his eyes when he threw you out. The bruises that were already forming along your arm.

A shudder ran through you, and before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out.

“It got bad tonight,” you admitted, voice hoarse. “Worse than usual.”

Sarah’s brows knit together in concern, but she didn’t interrupt.

You took a shaky breath, staring at your hands. “My dad was already pissed when he got home. I knew it the second I heard the door slam. Then he saw this past-due notice for rent, and that just set him off. He started yelling about how I don’t help enough, how I’m turning out just like my mom…” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to keep going. “I tried to defend myself, but that just made it worse. He—” You swallowed hard. “He grabbed me. Dragged me out of the house. Told me to stay out of his sight...”

Sarah’s breath hitched. “What?”

You nodded, barely able to look at her. “I don’t even know if he means it this time, but I just… I can’t go back tonight. I can’t.”

“You’re not going back,” she said firmly, grabbing your hand. “You’ll stay here. My parents won’t even notice.”

The warmth of her touch sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. You sucked in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before whispering, “I called JJ.”

Sarah stiffened beside you. “And?”

“He didn’t pick up,” you said, voice hollow. “Not even on the second or third call.” You gave a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “He always answers. Or calls back. But nothing.”

Sarah hesitated. “Maybe he was asleep.”

You let out a tired sigh. “Maybe.” But the words felt flat.

There was a time when JJ would’ve been the first one to show up, when he would’ve come flying down the road on his dirt bike, cursing your dad’s name before pulling you into the kind of hug that made everything feel less heavy.

But that hadn’t happened. And you couldn’t ignore how much that stung.

You ran a hand through your hair, your voice quieter now. “Lately, it just feels… different with him. Like I’m stuck.”

Sarah tilted her head, watching you carefully. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Sarah. I love him. I do. But I feel like I’m going through the motions, like nothing excites me anymore. We do the same thing every day—surf, drink, smoke, hang out at the Chateau. And I know that should be enough. It used to be enough.” You hesitated, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “But lately, it just feels like I’m suffocating.”

Sarah stayed quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “This is all because of Rafe, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twisted.

Your head snapped up, heat creeping up your neck. “What?”

Sarah just gave you a knowing look.

You opened your mouth to deny it, to tell her she was insane, but the words wouldn’t come.

Because deep down, you knew she was right.

Rafe was a problem. He shouldn’t be a problem, but he was. He was everything you weren’t supposed to want—dangerous, reckless, the kind of guy who could ruin you without even trying.

But the worst part?

He already had.

And no matter how much you told yourself you didn’t want him, no matter how much you tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped every time he looked at you, you weren’t so sure you wanted to stop.

Sarah sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she studied you. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

“I’m not,” you shot back, too quickly.

Sarah arched a brow, giving you that look, the one that always made you feel like she could see right through you. The one that made it impossible to bullshit her.

You let out a sharp exhale, fingers gripping the fabric of your jeans. “It’s not like that, Sarah.”

Sarah scoffed. “Oh, please.” She shifted so she was facing you fully. “I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and I see the way he looks at you.”

Your stomach clenched. “Sarah—”

“I’m serious,” she interrupted. “You think JJ doesn’t notice? That’s why things feel different with him, isn’t it? Because no matter how much you tell yourself you still love him, you don’t feel alive with him anymore.”

Her words hit too hard, slicing through your defenses like a blade.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look at her. “It’s not that simple.”

Sarah gave you a sad, knowing smile. “It never is.”

You pressed your lips together, heart pounding. “Rafe and I… we’re nothing.”

Sarah let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “You really believe that?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out because you didn’t believe it. Not really.

Sarah exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face before giving you a look, this one filled with something between sympathy and exasperation. “It’s not like you guys weren’t into one another before JJ became your boyfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Sarah.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled.

Sarah arched a brow. “Don’t I?” She tilted her head, watching your reaction. “I remember how you two used to be. Before JJ. Before everything. It was never just casual, was it?”

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Maybe not to you,” she said. “But to Rafe?” She let the question hang between you, letting it sink in.

Your stomach twisted because, no matter how badly you wanted to deny it, Sarah wasn’t wrong. There had always been something with Rafe, something untamed, something electric, something that felt like standing too close to the edge just to see what would happen.

Growing up, the two of you were inseparable, always finding trouble, always pushing the line between thrill and disaster. He made you feel alive in an intoxicating way—until it wasn’t. Until you realized that maybe you were playing with fire, and one day, it would burn you.

Then there was JJ.

JJ was wild too, but his chaos felt different—like the rush of a dirt bike flying down the beach, like laughing through a high until your stomach hurt. It wasn’t about destruction, it was about freedom. And for a long time, that was what you thought you wanted. Needed.

But now? Now, you weren’t sure. Rafe had always been a storm, and somehow, you still felt yourself drawn to the lightning.

Your head was spinning, your emotions tangled in a way you couldn’t quite unravel.

Sarah sighed, softer this time. “Look, I’m not trying to make this harder on you. I just… I think you need to be honest with yourself.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “And what if I don’t like the answer?”

She gave you a sad smile. “Then you’ve got a bigger problem than JJ not picking up the phone.”

After a long, quiet moment, Sarah squeezed your hand again. 'We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. 

You nodded, but you weren’t sure what to do with the mess of feelings Rafe stirred up, or the growing gap you felt with JJ. But there was something else gnawing at you. The Pogues. Why hadn't they been answering? You glanced at Sarah, shaking off the thoughts swirling in your mind. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'd get answers.

[karespocketboyfriends]

kareee! your event is exciting, I luv your events 💕💕

I was thinking maybe for the drabble: zayne + reader seeing/holding each other after a bit of time apart?

Cammie, my dear, my adorable little cupcake, happy birthday ❤️

——————

For the fifth morning in a row, you woke up alone. This isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, given your handsome, sweet-toothed boyfriend has dedicated his life to the medical field, but there’s something different about waking up alone knowing he’s at work, and waking up alone knowing he’s out of town.

Warmed by the sun peeking in through a gap in the curtains, you stretch your body out like a cat before rolling out of and making the bed. Zayne’s bed, really, though the doctor wouldn’t deny that it’s also now yours.

Still dressed in your cozy nightwear, hair still messy from sleep, you make your way to the kitchen. You were expecting to find the space the way you left it last night: freshly clean and organized. And, for the most part, it is still clean and organized.

But the table was very much different than how you left it. The wooden surface is now covered in a white table cloth, a crystal vase with fully bloomed red and pink roses sitting as the centrepiece, accompanied by small, pink candles that infused the air with a strawberry scent. It isn’t just the candles - every dish that lay waiting on the table features strawberries, too. Strawberry and cream pancakes, strawberry sandwiches, strawberry banana bread, the cups were even filled with that looked like strawberry smoothies.

But the grandest, most precious feature of all, was the man who was setting a bowl of freshly washed strawberries with the rest of the assortment.

“Zayne!” You exclaim, rushing around the table to get to him.

Zayne chuckles and opens his arms just in time to catch your figure hurling towards him. “You’re right on time. It looks like I won’t have to worry about the food getting cold.”

You bury your face in the side of his neck and breathe him in. His shoulders feel strong beneath your arms that rest across them in your embrace, his heart beats against his chest so heavily you can feel it.

“When did you get back?” You ask, easing back just enough to look at him. Your arms relax from where they fell across his shoulders, one hand sliding up his neck to run through his dark hair.

“Early this morning. I got lucky that you were actually asleep, otherwise my plans wouldn’t have ended up being a surprise for you.” Placing a hand on the small of your back, Zayne brings you as close as you can possibly be. The early morning rays of sun make the golden frames of his glasses shine. “Happy birthday, my dear.”

Heat attacks your cheeks, heart growing so bashful you have to avert your gaze, lest you explode. Zayne’s gentle chuckle fills your ears as his lips brush over your temple. Then, they dip down and press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Zayne!” You squeak jumping at the display of affection. “I-! You can’t-! It’s too early!”

“Too early?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing subtly in a gentle way that’s just so ‘Zayne.’ “I see, there’s a time limit on when one can indulge in their partner after some time apart. Shall I request my welcome home greeting later?”

Your arms slip around his waist and squeeze, cheek falling to rest on his chest as you stubbornly mumble. “Now you’re being dramatic…”

Zayne hums and wraps his arms around you once more, chin dropping to the top of your head. “I’m home, now. For the rest of the day, I am yours to cuddle as you please.”

[thethingsidolmao]

How SEVENTEEN Would React to You Falling Asleep on Their Shoulder 💤💘

S.COUPS

Immediately freezes, scared to move a muscle in case he wakes you up. His protective instincts kick in, and he adjusts his posture so you're as comfortable as possible. He might even pull you closer, resting his cheek on your head. "This is nice… I could get used to this."

JEONGHAN

Smirks to himself, completely enjoying the moment. He might tease you later ("Wow, you make cute noises in your sleep, or were you dreaming of me?"), but for now, he just lets you rest, occasionally brushing your hair away from your face. Lowkey wants to take a picture but decides to just savor the moment instead.

JOSHUA

Immediately melts. His heart is so full, and he subtly adjusts so you’re more comfortable. He might even start humming softly without realizing it, just to make sure you sleep peacefully. "This is the cutest thing ever."

JUN

Tries so hard not to freak out. He’s grinning like an idiot, but on the outside, he’s acting super casual. He keeps completely still, worried that even the slightest movement will wake you up. If you snuggle in closer, he might quietly chuckle to himself, thinking it’s the sweetest thing ever.

HOSHI

Internally screaming. He wants to take a million pictures but also doesn’t want to wake you. He sits there, grinning like a fool, feeling like the luckiest person alive. The second you wake up, he’s like, "AWWW YOU LOOKED SO CUTE SLEEPING ON ME!!!" and refuses to let you live it down.

WONWOO

Doesn’t move at all. He just sits there, calmly enjoying the moment, his heart secretly racing. He might rest his head lightly against yours, closing his eyes too. He’ll probably hold your hand under the table or on his lap, just to make the moment even softer.

WOOZI

He pretends it doesn’t affect him, but his ears are completely red. He’s trying so hard to act chill, but on the inside, he’s panicking. Eventually, he relaxes and just lets you stay there, but if the other members see, he’s never hearing the end of it.

DK

So soft about it. He’s smiling non-stop, watching you with the most adoring gaze. He might even lightly brush his fingers against your arm just because he can’t help himself. If you stir in your sleep, he whispers sweetly, "Shhh, it’s okay, just rest." 🥺

MINGYU

At first, he’s too scared to move, but then he just leans into it. His heart is beating SO fast, but he’s loving every second of it. He might even wrap an arm around you, holding you close like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "They’re so cute… how am I supposed to survive this?!"

THE8

Completely chill on the outside, but internally, he’s like "Oh. Oh. OH." He lets you stay there, occasionally glancing at you with a soft smile. If anyone teases him about it later, he just shrugs, "They were tired. I’m comfortable. It made sense." But secretly? He’s so flustered.

SEUNGKWAN

At first, he’s panicking like crazy ("What do I do?! What if they wake up and get embarrassed?!"), but then he calms down and just lets you rest. He even adjusts his jacket to make sure you're warm. If anyone tries to wake you up, he defends your sleep with his life. "Shhh! Let them rest!"

VERNON

Completely still. Just staring straight ahead, processing what’s happening. He doesn’t want to wake you, so he just lets it happen, but his cheeks are burning. If you wake up and apologize, he just shrugs, "Nah, it was nice." But inside? Butterflies. Everywhere.

DINO

His soul leaves his body. He’s so flustered, trying to act cool but failing miserably. He might adjust his posture slightly to make sure you're comfy, but he’s freaking out the entire time. The next day, he’s grinning ear to ear, still thinking about it.

[itsraceweekbitches]

JUST HOW FAKE ARE WE?

summary: Your so-far-successful fake relationship with Max takes a different turn in Monaco. But how far will things go eventually? ✤ pairing: Max Verstappen x reader ✤ wc: 3.2k ✤ tags: fem!reader, marriage talks, fake relationship, teenage crush, excited-puppy-in-love!Max ✤ note I'm a goddamn idiot who deleted it, so here's the repost.

[march 2025 – australian grand prix]

The media is having a field day with your suddenly revealed relationship with Max, who seems to enjoy this show a little too much. I’m bored, it’s fun, and it’s absolutely no big deal, he said.

And he clearly means it, because he doesn’t let go of your hand when you’re walking down the paddock together for the first time on Saturday, and he always makes sure he has a hand on your body, or places a kiss on your cheek whenever there are cameras around.

The inevitable happens shortly before qualifying, when the first article about the two of you is published on a well-known gossip site. And then comes another. And another. Followed by social media posts and video edits by fans. The fans are obsessed with this turn of events.

Some immediately catch on, stating that there is no way this relationship is real, that it’s nothing more but a decoy. They’re right, of course, but lucky for you, there are many more fans who believe the lie. Some even uncovered a few photos from the boys’ karting days, ones where you and Max can be seen together talking, laughing, and even hugging.

Charles has been apologizing non-stop, telling you he feels guilty since the press got the conversation from his account, and he even believes he shouldn’t have joked about it at all.

Now Max is attending an emergency meeting to discuss how to handle the situation, while you’re hiding in his driver room, talking to Charles who has already returned from his own emergency meeting.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Charles tells you during your video call, although you can see the doubt in his green eyes.

With a groan, you lean back on the bed, but you can’t calm down, you can’t think clearly, not when your brain is in overdrive by the fact the whole room—and especially the pillow—smells like Max. You’re not used to being surrounded by this scent, and it feels like you’re invading his personal space.

And the decorations keep reminding you that you’re not at Ferrari anymore, that this is uncharted territory, something you know nothing about yet. Sure, you will have to get familiar with things here, but you are still feeling out of place.

“I know it’s not the end of the world,” you finally speak up, “but now we dragged Max into this, and—”

“Hey, no, no, no, he volunteered. We didn’t hold him at gunpoint.”

You roll your eyes, then give him a look that immediately silences him, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he forces himself not to go on. You’ve known Charles literally your whole life, you know each other like you weren’t just best friends, but siblings who are stuck together.

“I’m just worried he’ll get into trouble because of me. You should have seen the faces when I showed up in Red Bull territory this morning,” you note with a grimace.

The most shocking moment was running into Christian, who watched you with narrowed eyes, as if he was thinking about what ulterior motive you had. If he only knew the truth…

On the other side of the line, Charles lets out a heartfelt laugh. “You as a corporate spy… Nah, you would suck at that,” he points out, then takes a deep breath. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Here you go again, he’s apologizing once more, and probably not for the last time. You wish you could go over to him and give him a big hug, then play video games until you both fall asleep. Like in the good old days.

After shaking your head, you sit up and lean your back against the wall behind you. “Charles, it’s not your fault. And I could never be mad at you, you know that.”

You want to go on, just to make sure he understands that there’s no reason to blame himself, but you’re interrupted all of a sudden.

“Honey, I’m home,” you hear Max’s familiar, cheerful voice from the door when he enters the room. “Oh, I didn’t know you were talking to someone,” he says when he comes to a halt in the middle of the room.

You flash a smile at him and shake your head. “It’s just Charles.”

“Just Charles?” the Monegasque asks with a roll of his eyes.

Before you know it, Max kneels on the edge of the bed, and leans down to press kisses all over your face, a move that brings a stupid giggle out of you. “She’ll call you back, now she’s all mine,” Max announces when he looks at the camera for a second.

It’s hard to miss the expression on your best friend’s face, the way his nose scrunches and he acts like he was about to throw up. “Disgusting,” he notes.

Next to you, Max doesn’t seem bothered by that, if anything, it just makes him more smug than he usually is in your company. “Screw you. I can shower my girlfriend with kisses anytime I want.”

“Since when?”

You let out a tired sigh as you push the man on your side away before he can give you another kiss on the cheek. “He’s been like that all day, he thinks he’s funny,” you tell Charles with a shake of your head.

“I’m hilarious,” Max corrects you as he lies down on the small space on your side. “And since we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s only natural to act like this, no?”

“Only in public.”

“If you touch her in an inappropriate way, I’ll push you off the track tomorrow,” Charles warns him.

Instead of being scared, Max only lets out a carefree laugh. “You’ll have to get close to me first.”

When you turn back to the phone, you can see that little shit kind of grin on your friend’s face. “Your car sucks this year,” he notes happily. “Anyway, I have to go. Talk to you later.”

You wave him goodbye, then end the call with a sigh.

“So does yours,” Max mutters under his breath, even though Charles isn’t there anymore.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, then blow it out slowly to calm yourself. Soon this will pass, soon you’ll be free again. Until then, you’re stuck here with the Dutchman, who happens to act like the perfect boyfriend.

When you look over at Max, you notice that he’s staring right back, as if he’s been watching you all this time. But what if he has truly been watching you? There’s something in those blue eyes you can’t quite place yet. It’s something you’ve never seen before, an emotion that’s completely unfamiliar, and maybe even a little unsettling.

Before you could say anything, though, he grins at you then rolls off the bed, heading to the mini fridge in the corner to get a Red Bull out for himself. He asks you if you'd like one, but your heart is already racing, an energy drink is the last thing you need.

Just two or three more races. The storm will end, and you can all go back to your everyday lives.

[may 2025 – monaco grand prix]

Over two months later you’re still pretending.

And now it’s time for the most important race of the season: the Monaco Grand Prix. Charles’s home race. The one you want to watch from the Ferrari garage along with his family you’re so close to.

But first, it’s time for dinner with Charles, his mom, and Alex, to which Pascale invited Max too. If Charles brings his girlfriend, you should bring your boyfriend too, she said. And who are you to say no to your second mother?

Later in the afternoon you’re trying on dresses in your family’s penthouse, happy that they are away with their friends until Saturday since Max decided to jump in and pick you up. He arrived early–like, two hours early—so now he’s the one rating your outfits.

“The color is nice, it suits you, but the shape is terrible,” he comments as he holds up the makeshift rating card, a smaller whiteboard he writes his points on.

Six points. Okay, this goes back to the walk-in closet, but you only leave after sticking out your tongue at him, because you love this dress so much that hearing it doesn’t look good on you physically hurts.

Three more outfits later he lets out a groan and jumps up after tossing the whiteboard to the other end of the couch. “I have an idea,” he begins as he follows you to the bedroom for whatever reason.

“I’m not gonna wear jeans with a Red Bull Racing shirt, forget it,” you point out without looking back at him.

“What? No, I’d rather you wear that when you’re with Ferrari this weekend.”

You spin on your heels to look at him, and sure enough, there’s that cheeky, boyish grin you were expecting. But how does he know about your plan to spend the weekend on Charles’s side of the paddock? You never mentioned that.

To your surprise, he knows perfectly well what’s going on inside your head. “What? You thought I wouldn’t know that this weekend is special? I discussed this with Charles a while ago, everything’s ready for you,” he tells you casually.

“Thank you. So, what do you have in mind, then?” you wonder as you walk closer to him.

Max lets out a thoughtful hum as his eyes sweep over your body, as if he was making this up on the spot. “Well, I would suggest jeans and a Simply lovely shirt, but no, I have a better idea. I have a surprise for you in my backpack, give me a sec.”

You watch him rush out of the room with a frown on your face, wondering what the hell is happening here. Max being nice and thoughtful is nothing new, but today it just feels different, like something has shifted in your fake relationship.

To be honest, you may have been thinking about him more than you probably should, even when he’s not around. You find yourself opening the messaging app you usually use, typing some words before changing your mind and deleting them. Or other times your finger hovers over the screen as you wonder if you should call him or not.

You’re kind of afraid of whatever that means. Is this more than just pretending?

At this point, you can’t help but wonder if it’s time to put an end to this. By now the press moved on, focusing on other drivers’ relationships instead of yours. It’s yesterday’s news, and everybody knows Charles and Alex are back together, and that they’re happier than ever. So what’s the point of this? Nothing.

Yet…

“Before you ask, I cheated and asked Charles to somehow get me what size you wear. Apparently Alex straight-up asked you, so,” he begins with a sheepish smile as he holds up a dress.

It’s a beautiful dark blue cocktail dress, which somehow didn’t have any wrinkles on it despite spending God knows how much time in that backpack. You don’t even know what to say, mostly because this gesture only proves what you’ve been suspecting about this certain shift you’ve noticed.

“You don’t like it.”

Your eyes move from the dress to your fake boyfriend, and you don’t hesitate to shake your head. “No, it’s beautiful. I just… Never mind. Thank you.”

Max lets out a sigh as he places the dress on the back of a chair. “Listen, I can see something’s bothering you. What is it?”

What are you supposed to say to this? That your brain is wandering to places you don’t want to explore?

“I’ll try on the dress, so could you wait outside?”

Nodding, Max gives you one last look, then leaves the room without a word. That’s the last time you speak until you meet the others, and even then, you keep an unusual distance. For him, it’s about being cautious. For you, it’s about making sure you make a fool out of yourself.

Charles, of course, notices the change in the atmosphere right away, and he even pulls you aside to start questioning you. But, even though he has known you since you were born, meaning he could probably give you some advice, you decide to lie and act like it’s nothing. 

But it’s not nothing. 

Your eyes keep finding Max throughout the evening, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head. Does he have the same thoughts? Or is he desperately waiting to be free of you? It’s hard to tell. 

Just as you planned, you spend the weekend with Charles, arriving at the paddock with his family, staying in Ferrari territory just to be safe. Safe from Max. Safe from your thoughts. Safe from the media. 

But there’s an itch in the back of your brain, one you can’t scratch. And the itch even has a voice, repeating his name over, and over, and over again. It’s getting louder with each passing second, with each moment you see him on the screens on the wall, when your phone buzzes to notify you of a new message from him. 

Alex gives you worried looks every now and then, but it takes her a while to open up and tell you what it’s about. And when she finally tells you what’s going on, you feel like the whole world has turned against you. First, everyone was freaking out because they thought you and Charles were getting married. Then it was you and Max. Now? Now the fans are mad because you chose your best friend over your boyfriend. 

You close your eyes for a moment, but then you take a deep breath and leave the garage, trying to move in a way that doesn’t scream how terrible and pathetic you feel right now. Some fans are screaming bloody murder because Max is starting the race from P10 after a mechanical issue in Q3, which only happened because his lucky charm–you–wasn’t there with him on Saturday. 

To be honest, you haven’t talked since the dinner. You’ve been avoiding him, ignoring him, and you hate yourself for not answering him. 

“Wait,” you hear a familiar voice calling after you. 

Fuck. 

Max ran all the way here, ready to jump into the car based on the suit he already wears, but despite this, here he is, looking for you. There are people already turning in your direction, you can’t just leave him there, so you come to a halt and force a smile on your face. 

“Hey, I–”

Before you could say anything, he gently but firmly puts a hand around your neck to pull you into a kiss. It’s rushed, passionate, and messy, yet it feels perfect. This is the first time the two of you kissed, until now you carefully avoided that situation, but God, what did you miss?

It’s only when he lets go for a moment that you notice the cameras around you, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, in fact, it just draws a smug smirk on his face. “Well, if you want to jump ship, Red Bull’s always waiting for you. I love you,” he adds quietly. 

This short-circuits your brain. This didn’t sound fake, you have a feeling he meant it. But if he meant it, then… Okay, you need to stop, you can’t overthink, you can’t let him put ideas in your head. 

You want to say something, anything, really, but nothing comes to your mind. 

He flashes a big smile at you before pressing a rushed kiss on your cheek. “Come over tonight. The cats miss you.” And with that, he waves goodbye and leaves. 

What the hell just happened?

Luckily, you have enough brain capacity left to send him a quick good luck message.

“I was hoping you would jump in, but don’t worry, I’m glad you’re here now” Max says when he opens the door of his apartment. 

Yeah, right. The invitation. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go there, not now. Not when you had these confusing feelings and thoughts. Did he mean it when he said those words? Did he catch feelings just like you did?

Because you did. You caught feelings in the past two months, and it wouldn’t be fair to deny. Just how long can you play pretend knowing damn well you want more from him? 

Letting out a sigh, you go straight to his living room without saying a word–something that confuses him based on the questioning hum he lets out as you walk past him. Once he catches up, you gulp and prepare to speak up, breaking the awkward silence. This has never been the problem, not once. You could always chat and laugh, but now it feels different. 

“Maybe it’s time to end this fake relationship,” you announce, even though the thought breaks your heart. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats stubbornly as he sits on the couch and picks up his youngest furry kid. “Aren’t we having fun? Why can’t this become something real? Come on, you enjoyed that kiss this afternoon, didn’t you?” 

Oh, that confident smile of his is driving you crazy. You just want to slap him. 

You want to slap that handsome face. 

DAMN IT! FOCUS!

“Max, people have moved on, there’s no reason to keep going,” you try, although your voice lacks conviction. 

And he knows. He always knows if there’s something you’re not telling him. This time he starts with a doubtful look, which is followed by a wide, Cheshire Cat grin. The thing is, Max always gets what he wants, and this time you have a feeling you’re what he wants.

Before you know it, he puts the cat to the side–who gives him a mean look in return–and reaches out to take your hands to pull you into his lap. Your brain melts when you feel his hands on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. Why does it feel so good? You don’t want to like it as much as you do. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to pry his hands off yourself to break the spell, but his grip only tightens as he launches himself forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Another mind blowing kiss that knocks every coherent thought out of your brain. 

The fact you like it is pathetic.

But still oh so good.

Maybe giving him a chance is what you should do now. Maybe he’s right, maybe you would be good together. So, without thinking more, you let yourself get lost in the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck. But he suddenly leans back to build a little distance.

“I have an idea,” he begins with a smile, his lips red and swollen. “I have napkins in the kitchen, let’s write a contract. Seems to work for you.”

“God, you’re so silly,” you tell him with a grin, then kiss him again.

[krombopulos-mercenary]

Micheal's attempt at imploring for Rick to work with him hadn't been meant to come out as passionate as it ended up being, 'baby' popping out of his mouth flaps was a surprise even to himself. So the open affection that lit up Rick's face took the gromflomite off balance a bit.

When was the last time Rick had looked at him like that?

When had anyone else really looked at Micheal like that?

The moment is short lived; Rick changing gears as his expression turns into a frown and he starts telling the killer off. His grip on Mike's hand turning vice like, though the bug man barely reacts to the pressure on his strong claw.

Mike lets the human go off, feeling as if he were seeing Rick in a new light. And not just because of the fact that the terrible hallway lighting just seemed to highlight every wrinkle and worry line on the drug dealer's pallid face. That scar across Rick's lips was still new but had healed over nicely, it's presence making the older man's mouth do interesting things as he spoke. As he panted from exertion after expressing so much built up fear and self doubt in the form of anger.

"I—! I-I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have."

Once more, off balance.

The gromflomite is silent for a moment. And then his other hand came up to cup the human's cheek. His thumb moving to swipe up one of those bigger tears that were threatening to fall.

"......I'm sorry, Rick. I'm sorry I'm still such a brainwashed tin soldier that I don't.....I don't think about my own safety enough.....I'm sorry you're actually worried that I'd even consider taking Ken up on his offer. I'm sorry our plan to get into the prison went so tits up. I genuinely thought it'd be a matter of just taking my knife off of Flannax' ooze covered corpse, and when that wasn't the case...we should've just ran for it..."

But the knife thing went beyond just Flannax now. Or the walking corpse of the former commander Flannax had apparently become, better said. Mike was beyond thinking of stupid military rituals. Oh, to actually be able to sit down and try to make the human understand everything-!

"And I'm sorry for.....what happened afterward. I don't know how to express how everything I did and said wasn't some unfiltered truth or fuck, I don't know what you think it was Rick. But I wish you'd listen more to me when I'm in my right mind, and not when my brain is showing just how fucking broken it is...how much of a broken puppet I am."

Micheal shook his head a little, he was losing focus and needed to get back on track.

"Look. I know you're scared shitless. So am I. The last thing I want is you and Amy in anymore danger. You are all that I have left. But you have more of your brain than you think you do! Rick, when we were put through the mind meld your brain nearly melted mine into fucking goo! It wasn't the machines that would've rendered me catatonic, it was the sheer weight of your mind against my own. It was all my brain could do to copy some of yours onto it."

He squeezes Rick's cheek lightly, red faceted eyes staring into human blue ones.

" I've been working on the black hole calculations! Do you remember that corner of my room, back at my apartment?!"

Well, "old" apartment now. For sure if it wasn't destroyed by lizardperson now, they'd never be allowed back -

"The one with all the notes and equations! I-I-I can't work on the knowledge alone for too long before it becomes to much for me, b-but in little bits I'd been able to work on what was missing last time. A-and on the details for a better mechanism! The biggest mistake was trying to do a portal gun instead of a stationary gateway!"

His grasper moves from cheek to shoulder, Micheal's face just a few inches from Rick's own now.

"Rick. They will find us. You and I both know we don't have a choice in that. What we can choose, is whether they find us with their ticket to Hell or not. We don't have to stay here, but we need to make the black hole."

Continued from (X)

[valewritessss]

Does anyone have any tips for rosacea? I’m actually so done looking like I have some sort of allergy every second