#I got this idea and I had to do SOMETHING with it

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[fireinmoonshot]

touchy | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin has a thing where he always likes to have a hand on you whenever you're together – holding your waist, holding your hand, a hand resting on your thigh. You finally decide to confront him about why. Warnings: Mentions of food, a kind of spicy make-out scene. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I had this idea and I just had to write it. It's shorter than my other Joaquin fics but I had so much fun writing it and I really just wanted to get something else for Joaquin out for you guys! Please send in requests for him if you have any! 💗

One thing you never expected when you started dating Joaquin Torres was how touchy the man was – there was barely any time when the two of you were together when he wasn’t touching you in some way. 

It surprised you at first. He never came across as that kind of person. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever boyfriend. But then you’d be standing with him at a party and you’d feel his hand wrap around your waist, or whenever you had to cross the road, he’d hold your hand (not unlike your parents used to do when you were a child), or when you were at home watching a movie on the couch, his hand would rest on your thigh.

After several months of this, you finally decided to ask him why.

“Joaquin, can I ask you something?” You call from where you’re sitting in the living room, your eyes flickering up from the book that was on your lap – the one you’ve been trying to read and failing, owing to the fact that your boyfriend has been strutting around your apartment shirtless ever since he got out of the shower.

“Course you can, angel,” he calls back from the kitchen.

Out of the two of you, Joaquin is the cook of the family. You hadn’t trusted him in the kitchen at first – he had always seemed the type of person to accidentally chop off a finger because he was too distracted. But so far, no such accidents had occured and he was much better at making a delicious meal than you were.

You were quick to close your book and get up from the couch, padding through the hallway into the kitchen to see him standing at the bench, chopping something up on a cutting board in front of him – still irritatingly shirtless.

“Cooking shirtless is dangerous, you know,” you say, announcing your presence. 

His eyes flicker up towards you. “For you or for me?”

You give him a look. “For you, pretty boy. I’m not the one holding the knife.” 

Joaquin grins at you before putting the knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth on the bench beside him and grabbing the apron hanging over the back of one of your bar stools. “Should I put this on then? Someone clearly isn’t enjoying the show.” 

“Baby,” you roll your eyes at him jokingly, crossing the room and snatching the apron out of his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. I meant you could get burned by oil or slip and cut yourself or… well… there are plenty of dangers to cooking shirtless.” 

Joaquin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest so you’re pressed together. “Angel, all those things you just listed are also things that could happen to me if I were wearing a shirt. You know that, right?”

You can’t help the way you pout at him. “Not my point, Joaquin.”

He grins and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Was that what you were coming in here to talk about?” He asks, his thumb swiping gently back and forth over your waist. 

“No, actually,” you hum. “I was coming here to talk about this.” You motion in-between the two of you, at the contact between your bodies. You’re not not a fan of it – of course you love it – but it does amuse you, the fact that your boyfriend always wants to have a hand on you at all times. 

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “We playin’ charades? Am I meant to guess?”

You laugh a little. “No, silly. This. The way I walked into the kitchen and you swept me up into your arms immediately. The way you always have a hand on my back when we walk somewhere. The way you put your hand on my thigh when we’re on the couch. The way you’re touching me all the time.” 

Irritatingly, your words have the opposite effect than intended and Joaquin steps away from you, removing his hand from your waist. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and almost reach back out for him. 

“You don’t like it?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You hate the look on his face – the way he looks like a wounded puppy. His usually playful eyes look sad, full of fear and you can read his expression immediately. He thinks that by doing these things, he’s made you uncomfortable.

“Baby, no – I love it!” You attempt to rectify the situation. “I just was curious about why.”

Unable to keep looking at his sad puppy dog eyes anymore, you step forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands gently. His hands tentatively rest on your waist, as if he’s afraid you’re going to move away at any second but he simply can’t help but to touch you, just a little.

“You’re so touchy and I love it, Joaquin. I love having your hands on me all the time, I swear. Just now when you took your hands off my waist it was like… like it was suddenly winter and I was freezing cold without them. I just wanna know why you do it,” you explain further, making sure you keep eye contact with him.

Joaquin frowns a little. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he replies. “I think I kinda just do it without meaning to. I just love the feeling of having my hands on you, feeling your warmth, reminding myself that you’re beside me. And I mean…” He clears his throat. “Have you seen yourself, angel? Why would I not wanna touch you at any given opportunity?”

It’s like his confidence makes a return to his body, then. His grip on your waist gets tighter and he pulls you closer, forcing you to drop your hands from his face. They rest on his shoulders instead as he backs you up a little so you’re leaning against the counter. His body is pressed against yours again, like it was only minutes ago. The warmth you’d missed before falls over you like a sheet of pure comfort.

You can’t keep the smile off your face at his words and actions. “That’s kinda cute, Joaquin,” you admit. “That you do it without thinking about it. Like I said, I love the feeling of you having your hands on me too.”

“Cute?” Joaquin looks at you with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m cute?”

It’s hard not to smile at his tone. “Yeah, adorable. You’re like a little puppy. You were looking at me before with the most puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. You looked so sad, I just wanted to pick you up and–”

Before you can finish speaking, Joaquin cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. You moan at the sudden feeling of his lips, the feeling of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The way that his hands grip your waist tighter, one of them roaming up your back to grasp at the back of your neck so he can kiss you deeper.

The edge of the counter digs into your back but you barely even notice the feeling. One of your hands moves to run through Joaquin’s hair – it’s short, but long enough for you to grip, the other on his back. The feeling of his muscles against your palm only makes you want to kiss him more. The last thing you want to do is break apart for air.

Your breath hitches as he squeezes your waist again, forcing your lips apart. Both of you are breathing heavily, though the break doesn’t last long. Joaquin wastes no time in kissing you again, but this time his lips move from yours to your jaw. He presses soft, gentle kisses along the side of your jaw and down your neck. You tilt your head backwards, giving him better access. When your hand grasps onto his hip, he gasps a little and you can’t help but smile at the sound. 

“See?” You mutter breathlessly, tilting your head forward again to meet his eyes. “I told you that cooking while shirtless was dangerous.”

Joaquin laughs at that, a gorgeous smile finding its way onto his face. You look at him, at the sweat on his forehead, the look of lust and love in his eyes, the way his chest moves up and down quickly, his breath still heavy from your small make out session. He’s easily the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on… and he’s all yours.

He moves his hands down to your waist again and before you can do anything about it, he’s lifting you up so you’re sitting on the counter and pushing your legs apart so he can stand in-between them. At this angle, you’re basically the same height.

“I see no problems here, angel,” he flashes that gorgeous grin again before messily pressing his lips to yours again. He pulls away quickly though, much to your disappointment. “Now that we’ve established that I’m not cute, I am going to continue cooking you dinner. I’ll let you go back to your book.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, turning to watch him as he returns to the cutting board. “I have a much better view right here than I do in the living room, baby. Besides, someone has to supervise you to make sure you stay safe while cooking like that… it’s bound to be a hard job but I’m pretty certain I’m up to the challenge...”

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[ds-angel1]

dealer!rafe x brainwashed!reader

cw: mention of SMUT(18+), drugs and pills, rafe lowkey runs her life (and i need that(so so bad))

a/n: drabble that i literally got from a dream (if anyone has done something like this before and i´ve just forgotten, credits to them(can never trust my dreams))

Dealer!Rafe didn’t meant to keep you. Not at first at least.

The first time he saw you, it was supposed to be nothing. Another night, another party, another girl too pretty for her good. Your denim shorts rode too high on your thighs, a spaghetti strap slipping from your shoulder like an invitation, and you looked at him like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you had the slightest clue.

You didn’t.

He figured you’d be an easy score, a quick sell, a quicker fuck, someone to forget by morning. But then you pushed through the crowd, all honeyed laughter and half-lidded eyes, and asked him what he had. Not shy, not hesitant, but like you belonged in this world like you’d done this before.

Like you already belonged to him.

He should’ve known then. Should’ve clocked the way his pulse jumped when your fingers brushed his palm, the way his breath caught when you bit your lip, pupils already blown wide. But it wasn’t until you tossed back the pills without a second thought, no caution, no questions, that he realized what you were. Perfect.

It was a game. A pretty girl with a reckless streak, someone eager and pliant beneath him, high off whatever he fed you. But then he started learning things. About the mess you called home, the way you barely scraped by. How you were always searching, always aching for something just out of reach.

That’s when the idea took root.

Rafe could take care of you. Fix you. Own you.

So he reeled you in, slow and deliberate. He made sure you only bought from him, made sure the come-downs hit just hard enough that you came back, eyes wide and desperate. And when you started spending more time in his bed than your own, when your things started showing up at his place, one shirt, then a toothbrush, then a drawer full of clothes, you never even realized it was happening.

Until it was too late.

Until you needed him.

The day you moved in, there was no discussion, no formal agreement. Just a slow suffocation disguised as safety. He watched as you set your bags down, as your fate sealed itself with the quiet click of the door shutting behind you.

That’s when the rules became clear.

"Act up, and you get nothing," he told you, voice smooth, patient. Like he was doing you a favor. "No, ‘m serious, baby. You wanna misbehave? Then no blow. No pills. Nothin’."

And it worked.

Because when you were good, when you melted for him, hazy and pliant, when your lips parted on soft, gasping pleas when you stared up at him so far gone you barely remembered your name. Letting him do whatever his sick mind desired.

He controlled everything about you. Well he called it “takin’ care of my sweet girl.” He chose what you ate, what you wore, where you went. His own little doll.

He’d won. You were his and followed his every order, and he fucking loved it. He could turn you into a pliant free use puddle with only a few pills and puffs of whatever shit he was smoking, letting him fuck you so hard you were either almost sober or almost seizing.

Sure, your quality of life had declined rapidly since you’d met your so called “savour”, but you had structure and you had “love”. A sick, twisted, manipulative version of it, but when you were high off your mind and half naked in his bed you were able to convince yourself it was love.

[rafes-slut]

Self control

Summary: rafe is bored and he wants to test eachoters self control by cockwarming you to see who can go longest without moving

Warnings: NSFW, cockwarming, sexual tension, teasing, dominance/submission themes, power play, heavy temptation, loss of control, season two Rafe energy, mutual torment.

----

The weekend had started off exciting, but by the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, boredom settled in like an unwanted guest. You and Rafe had spent the past few days holed up in his house, doing a whole lot of nothing—lounging, eating, watching random TV shows that neither of you really cared about. The rain outside made sure you were stuck inside with no distractions, no plans.

You were sprawled across the couch, scrolling through your phone, while Rafe lay beside you, lazily running a hand up and down your thigh. His touch was absentminded at first, but then it turned deliberate. Slow, teasing strokes that made you glance at him, catching the way his blue eyes darkened with something dangerous.

"Got an idea," he murmured, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts.

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He smirked. "Mhm. Something to make things… interesting."

You could already tell by the way he was looking at you that whatever he was thinking had nothing to do with movies or playing cards. Rafe never handled boredom well. When he wanted something, he went after it with a single-minded determination, and right now, you had a feeling that you were his next source of entertainment.

When he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropped to a low rasp. "How much self-control do you think you have?"

You frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

His hand on your thigh tightened. "I mean…" He kissed just below your ear, dragging his lips along your jaw before pulling back to look you in the eye. "Think you can handle sitting on my cock without moving?"

The bluntness of it sent a jolt of heat straight through you, making you tense.

"Rafe," you muttered, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to say anything else.

He grinned, knowing damn well he already had you. "What? Scared you'll lose?"

That did it. You never liked backing down from a challenge, and Rafe knew it. Which was exactly why he said it.

"Fine," you said before you could second-guess yourself.

And that was how you ended up here—straddling him on the bed, completely bare, his cock buried deep inside you. The stretch was almost too much, your body clenched tight around him, but neither of you had moved.

You were supposed to be winning this, supposed to be showing him that you had all the restraint in the world. But the way he was looking at you—eyes dark, jaw clenched, his hands gripping your hips just to keep himself from fucking up into you—made it so hard to focus on anything but how badly you wanted to move.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

You swallowed, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your spine.

Rafe smirked. "Starting to squirm, baby."

You narrowed your eyes, forcing yourself still. "Not even close."

"Liar." His hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, making goosebumps rise on your skin. He traced your waist, up to your ribs, his thumbs brushing just under your breasts. "I can feel how bad you want it."

You sucked in a breath, digging your nails into his shoulders.

His voice dropped lower. "Be honest. How bad do you wanna move right now?"

"Not at all," you lied, even though your body was screaming otherwise.

Rafe chuckled darkly. His grip on your hips tightened before he shifted the slightest bit underneath you, just enough for you to feel it.

Your breath hitched.

"Oops," he said, all fake innocence.

You clenched around him instinctively, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, his fingers twitching against your skin.

The tension between you crackled like fire.

It was only a matter of time before one of you gave in.

Every passing second made it harder to breathe. Harder to think.

The ache between your legs was unbearable. Rafe filled you up completely, stretching you in a way that left you dizzy, and the worst part was that you couldn't do anything about it.

Your thighs burned from holding still. Your hands clenched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin just to ground yourself. But the worst part? You could feel him. Every twitch, every subtle pulse of his cock inside you, making the heat between you even more unbearable.

Rafe wasn’t doing much better. His jaw was locked, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was moments away from snapping.

Still, you refused to give in first.

But God, it was so hard.

Your body was betraying you, your hips twitching the slightest bit no matter how hard you tried to stay still. The more you resisted, the more desperate you became. You could feel yourself soaking him, your arousal pooling between you, making it impossible to ignore just how much you needed him to move.

A whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Rafe let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your waist. "Fuck," he muttered, head falling back against the pillows.

You clenched around him at the sound, another soft, helpless noise escaping your throat.

His grip on you turned bruising. "You're making this real fuckin’ hard, baby," he rasped. His voice was deeper now, rough with restraint. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath you. "You're so wet—fuck."

You could barely form a sentence. "Rafe—"

Another needy sound tore from you as he twitched inside you again.

His hands flexed, and then his control snapped.

With a growl, he grabbed your hips and thrust up into you.

The sudden movement made you gasp, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine as your hands flew to his chest.

"Fuck, baby—"

He didn’t stop. His fingers dug into your skin as he fucked up into you, the slow, torturous game you’d been playing thrown out the window. He was done holding back.

"You wanted to play, huh?" His voice was breathless, low, dangerous. "Now you wanna get all fuckin’ whiny, like you're not the one who started this?"

Your head was spinning. All you could do was feel—feel the way he filled you, the way he hit deep, every movement sending sparks through your body.

He grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze down to meet his. His eyes were dark, wild, hungry. "Look at me when you come," he ordered, thrusting up into you harder. "I want you to watch who won this fuckin’ game."

And just like that, you shattered.

[goatgoesmbe]

tw : sexual theme, stalking, 141 being a creep

A series : part 2 of Discord shenanigans

AO3

Word count: 2031

rated: E

Poly!141 x f!reader

The New Member

The server wasn’t meant for public in the first place.

It was just something quick Johnny made just to have a little corner to hang out when they were on leave.

They rarely used it at first, finding no reason to communicate outside of work, they were busy with their own life anyway.

That was, until Johnny started sending pictures of literally anything in his daily life. It started with scenery, dogs he saw during walks, and selfies. Soon enough, Simon joined in with his own blurry pictures, then Kyle’s award-worthy photography, and John who sent the most normal pictures of some nice views worth sharing.

Eventually, interacting through the server became so regular that they started using it when they got back on base too– They never talk about something confidential in it of course, they were still professionals after all.

The gaming session was Kyle’s idea (Well, actually it was Johnny but he couldn’t convince them to play among us), they started playing various FPS games before settling for the popular one.

Kyle played casually, Johnny played competitively (and sucked at it compared to the others), John played it rarely but was pretty decent at it, while Simon was effortlessly good at it (Which he was so smug about).

The members consisted of people they knew from their jobs, so imagine their surprise when there was a notification about a new member.

You.

They welcomed you in a friendly manner, showing no suspicion despite John telling Kyle to do a background check immediately. And oh do they like what they see.

Pretty thing that you are, messy hair, pouty lips, dark bags under your eyes that only made you look more adorable rather than off-putting, like a sleepy panda. You always wore comfortable clothes oversized shirts or hoodies on colder days while your legs were bare, sitting crosslegged in your gaming chair with a big plushie in your lap. Johnny wondered if you wore anything underneath which made them go silent. made them think.

Fuck.

It was illegal and immoral, but really– everything they had ever done was all of those things and more, so what’s a bit of hacking into the webcam of a bonnie thing like you? It was done for their own safety after all, keeping their secrets as members of a highly classified military task force. It was only normal for them to check for any individuals that got into their space. Just in case.

Sure, they could just drop it when they found out that you were just a harmless civilian, but they also learned that you were just a sweet thing.. they immediately took a liking to you, adored you, so of course they had to keep an eye on you because they wanted to make sure you were alright. Keeping a civilians safe was part of their job, right?

You live alone, which made sense as to why you have CCTVs around your place. Smart girl, looking after your security seriously. Adorable.

Was it creepy for them to have access to those CCTVs? They just cared about your safety is all, was it wrong?

Well, they didn’t really care if it was, they were in too deep already, addicted to watching you in your own world, from your pretty face looking adorable as you focused on the game you were playing, the chime of your giggle when Johnny sent something stupid, to the way those innocent eyes showed no suspicion when one of them slipped up.

“Not as bonnie as you ;)” Johnny sent one time.

“You don’t even know what i look like XD”

Fortunately, you were oblivious. But still, they need to be more careful in the future. Johnny had a limp the next day and his body was covered in marks that peeked from the t-shirt he wore. But from how he barely covered them and how he still had that smirk on his face, it looked like he would definitely do it again if it would have John sending Simon to punish him.

Watching you had become a group routine. When they weren’t in the same room, they just hopped on the hidden channel Johnny made just to ping each other whenever you were doing something that would pique their interest.

Kyle enjoyed watching you go about with your routine, waking up at noon, cooking up something simple for yourself before you lock into your PC to do your freelance job then hopped into video games. His favorite was when you did your skincare, hand went down to cup the bulge in his pants as he watched you putting on lotion all over your body. His eyes darkened at the thought of him doing it instead, sliding his hand up your legs, lathering them nicely, and perhaps sneaking an opportunity for a feel of your clothed pussy when he reached your inner thighs.

Johnny likes to watch your reaction whenever you two interact, relishing your flustered expression from his relentless flirting. He wondered if you would also be shy under him, squirming as you tried to hide your face while he took off your clothes. He would click his tongue as he pried your hands off your face and gripped both of your wrists in one hand before pinning them above your head, one knee lodged between your legs to prevent you from closing them.

John’s favorite part of your day was when you were working. Tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, your doe eyes shifted and looked sharper when you were focused. He was there when you were in an online meeting with your employer, even though noone noticed. As he watched you talk, he liked to imagine that you were working for him instead. Talking formally unlike how you usually were when you were talking to them, he imagined you calling him sir like how you called your current boss. The bastard that made you uncomfortable with the way he leered at you, making innuendos while you tried your best to keep the conversation professional. You poor thing, don’t worry, John will teach him a lesson or two about respecting you. And yes, he was a hypocrite since he was lazily pumping his shaft under the desk as he watched you doing your job.

Simon rarely said anything about it, but out of everyone in the server, he was a constant presence with how the view count never went below one. He wasn’t picky, he liked watching you doing anything, even when you were just sleeping, he’d fuck his fist messily at the view of you being so vulnerable and oblivious before shooting his cum all over the screen with your face displayed on it. He was the one who would ping the others to notify them when you were doing something he knew they would be interested in.

Like right now.

It had been a long week, you barely had time to do your hobby. Projects after project that got you awake until two am before a quick wink of rest until you had to wake up again at five. When you were looking forward to doing something fun but then finding yourself too tired to even play your favorite game. And then you’d feel bad for neglecting your hobby as you continued to be enslaved under capitalism.

You were tired, sleep-deprived, stressed, and pent-up. At times like this, you were glad that you worked from home. You couldn’t imagine yourself not snapping at people if you work in an office with coworkers. Couldn’t even find the energy to open the server these past few days since you didn’t want to interact with anyone.

So naturally, they would miss you. Naturally, they were very excited when Simon pinged all of them in the hidden channel.

The light in your room was dimmed, but they could see your figure just fine. Panting on the bed on your back, legs spread wide with your hand between them while your other hand was clutching a pillow which you use to hide your face. 

John growled, fingers twitching as he thought of taking it off you so he could see what kind of expression you were making. Instead, he gripped Kyle’s dick as the younger man rolled his hips with the Captain bottoming out in his ass as they were both settled on the couch.

Johnny pulled away from Simon’s cock with a lewd pop. “She could fit mair than that..” he panted before Simon shoved his dick back in the scot’s mouth, gloved hand gripping at his mohawk.

His words got them zeroed in on your cunt which was stuffed with your fingers deep to your knuckles. Wet squelching noises combined with your needy whines echoed around the rec room from the cheap speakers as the stream was displayed on the wall from the projector. Johnny was right, you could take more than that. And from the way you desperately bucked your hips as you moved your fingers that fast, they could tell that you wanted to take more either.

“Does she not have a fucking toy?” Kyle groaned as he jacked off with the same tempo as your fingers as he continued to move in John’s lap.

“No” Simon responded curtly. He would know, he was the one who always kept an eye on you more than anyone else after all.

He knew you didn’t have a partner and never brought anyone home. You rarely go out and when you do, you’ll be back soon enough. A quick trip to the grocery stores or some shops, as shown by the trackers he put in your phone. Low possibility of you seeking out to anyone. Perhaps it was odd for some people but he wasn’t complaining, because he was only willing to share you with the men he trusted his life with.

You rarely pleasure yourself either, which made a moment like this more special. At first, he expected you to whimper out someone’s name, a crush they didn’t know about perhaps. Fortunately, that never happened. You seem content with yourself like this, eyes closed as you focus on the way you curl your fingers and grind your palm against your clit.

But they could tell you wanted more. They agreed that you deserved more. They could give you more.

Your whole body tensed, a shudder rippled through your body as heat built in waves. Breath hitching as you gasped, soft at first before breaking into a moan, raw and unrestrained. Fingers clutching at your pillow, muscles tightening as pleasure peaked, your back arching instinctively.

A flush spread across your skin, a sheen of sweat caught the light. Eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted, as a final tremor coursed through your body before you melted into the afterglow, breathless and trembling.

Yet, your cunt still clenched around your fingers as you pulled them out, like it didn’t want to let them go, because you still wanted more. You whined, and they groaned at the expression on your face. Unsatisfied, but too tired to do anything about it.

After a moment of gathering your jumbled mind, you got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. And while they knew it was impossible, they wished you had a camera there too.

As the men chased their own pleasures, they thought to themselves about how they could help. You were physically nowhere near them at the moment, and they didn’t want to scare you by being too upfront in the server. Didn’t want you to know what they had been doing behind your back.

The next day, an onslaught of sex toy ads kept popping up when you turned on your PC. It obviously pissed you off at first (especially with how one appeared when you share your screen during a work meeting), but eventually it made you consider getting one. And if you got a transfer to your bank account in the same amount you spent on it right after, if you received four dildos instead of one, they totally had nothing to do with it. Nope, they totally didn’t send you the exact copies of their cocks.

Next (soon)

A/N: I remember someone saying 'How are you gonna get a guy if you never leave your house' and this is my answer to that also, this series was supposed to be fun silly online friends story, so idk what happened here, I swear the story wrote itself I had nothing to do with it

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @lady-red-night-1234, @theycallmevalen, @z-wantstowrite, @c-moon20-12, @glitteryarcadefart, @purple-snowfox, @shylahstarzz

[steddiehyperfixation]

@steddiebingo prompts: lecture + skull rock | 1.2k words | G/T |

Eddie closes his locker to find Nancy suddenly standing right beside him. “Jesus!” he startles, hand pressed to his chest. He hadn't even heard her approach.

“Sorry.” She has the decency to look apologetic. “I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I just wanted to talk to you for a sec. I hear you and Steve are...together?” She says it carefully, with the inflection of a question, and Eddie has a vague feeling like she's testing him but he has no idea what for.

“Um.” He doesn't know what the right answer is. “Well, I don't know exactly- I mean, kind of? It's not really anything, we've just...made out a couple times.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows. “You just...made out a couple times,” she repeats.

Eddie shrugs, getting a little nervous that he's failing her test. He really cannot get a read on her right now. “Yeah, um, I mean, it was probably just like a one time, two time thing…”

A tiny scrunch flickers across her face and she mutters to herself, “God, is that what I sounded like?”

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry, I just got major deja vu.” She shakes her head and then looks back up at him with those big, serious eyes. “Anyways. Look, you might not think it's anything, but I know Steve and I guarantee you he already thinks you guys are something. So if you only wanted it to be just a one time, two time thing, then you better tell him quick before he gets too deeply attached. He falls fast and he falls hard, don't let him get too serious if you're not.”

She reminds him vaguely of a teacher lecturing some clueless kid, but Eddie feels less chastised and more like he's just been punched in the chest. “Wait, you really think-?”

“He wants something real, he always has,” Nancy continues, “and if you guys haven't talked about it, he's just going to assume that's what you are. He's a hopelessly hopeful romantic, Eddie, he can't help it. He's all in already, I'm sure, so if that's not what you wanted out of whatever you two have got going on, then don't waste his time - don't waste your time. Don't play along and break his heart if you already know you don't feel the same.”

“No, I wouldn't-” Eddie finds himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words, can't do much more than give her a sort of deer-in-headlights stare.

“I'm not judging you,” she reassures him in a slightly softer tone now, clearly misinterpreting something in his expression. “I'm not upset with you. I'm just trying to give a little advice, from my own experience. Just make sure you two are on the same page, alright? That's all I'm saying. For both of your sakes.”

“Right- yeah, thanks,” he stammers. He points his thumb awkwardly over his shoulder. “I, uh, I gotta go…”

He doesn't wait for a response before he turns and hurries down the hall to get outside. A deep breath of fresh air to shake off the weird suffocating feeling Nancy's lecture had given him, and then Eddie's heading straight for the nearest phone. He has to talk to Steve, has to see him.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says the second the other line picks up. “I'm ditching class right now, wanna hang out?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve agrees immediately, a smile in his voice. “I can meet you at our usual spot in, like, 20 minutes?”

'Our usual spot', aka Skull Rock, the make-out spot--their spot now apparently since that's where it started, since that's where they've met the last three times they've hung out alone, the last three times they've kissed and kissed and not talked. But Eddie can't think of anywhere else to suggest, so he says, “Yeah, sounds good. See you soon.”

He hangs up the phone and heads for Skull Rock.

A short drive and a longer hike and he's leaning against the side of that infamous skull-shaped boulder, watching the surrounding foliage for signs of Steve. He doesn't have to wait long before Steve steps out from the brush in all his gorgeous glory, face lit up in a beautiful smile just at the sight of Eddie.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Steve walks up to him and draws him straight into a kiss, because that's what they do here, at Skull Rock, the make-out spot, their spot. His lips are soft and warm and Eddie melts right into it, draping his arms over Steve's shoulders and kissing back before he remembers that he'd meant to use his mouth for talking instead.

“Wait, Steve.” It takes all Eddie’s willpower to break the kiss and pull back enough to speak. “Is this real to you?”

“Hmm, feels pretty real, but I don’t know, I could be dreaming. I never can tell around you,” Steve flirts easily, voice a smooth murmur as he brushes some of Eddie’s hair out of his face, caressing his cheek. “Might need to pinch me just to be sure.”

“No, I mean-” Eddie ducks out from between Steve and the rock, putting a little more space between them before he can give in to the ever-growing urge to give up on talking and go back to kissing. “Um, Nancy kind of ambushed me in the hall earlier, gave me this whole lecture about how you get attached really quick and how if I only wanted this to be something casual I should tell you fast before you get too serious, because she thinks you're probably already serious and that you want something real,” he provides context in an awkward, nervous rush, not even pausing for a breath, “and I just- I need to know, is that true?”

“Oh.” The previous playful flirtatiousness drains from Steve’s expression and his face falls. “Um.” He shakes his head, more like he's trying to clear his thoughts than anything. “Shit- I’m sorry if she freaked you out. She had absolutely no right to try to speak for me like that. I mean, I really am fine if you just want this to be casual...”

“I don't, I just thought that's what you wanted,” Eddie says. He hasn't been explaining this right. “Because that's all we've been doing - we come here and we make out and that’s it, casual, so this whole time I just assumed that's all it was to you. But then Nancy said all that stuff about you and it gave me this hope I hadn't let myself have before, so can you please just tell me if she was right?” He looks at Steve, eyes big and earnest. “Because I really, really want her to be right.”

Steve just stares at him for a moment, then softens with a sigh. “Yeah,” he admits, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “she was right. I definitely don't just feel casual about you - it's real; I want real.”

Eddie’s face bursts into a grin. He throws his arms around Steve and pulls him into another kiss. “Then let’s get out of this casual fucking place.” He takes Steve by the hand and starts dragging him away from Skull Rock. “Come on, let me buy you some lunch.”

[gf2bellamy]

surprise — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: garcia and derek go into spencer's apartment, while you're sleeping in his bed. the problem? no one knows you and spencer are dating content warnings: secret relationship , reader also works in the bau a/n: hiii !!! i'm back to my secret relationship roots and i hope you like this <3 bc i had so much fun writing this ( i've been writing it for ages and i'm finally happy with it)

"No, no," Spencer shook his head frantically, his voice almost pleading as Derek expertly maneuvered the car into the parking spot at his apartment complex.

"Why not?" Garcia's voice was full of curiosity as she looked back at Spencer from the passenger seat.

The trio had spent the whole afternoon shopping for your birthday, which was just around the corner. Garcia, as usual, had already gotten everything ready—gifts, decorations, the whole nine yards. She even had a closet near her office packed with presents for you, waiting for the big reveal at the surprise party she was planning to throw at the BAU.

The whole mission was meant to be a fun, collaborative effort, the three of them picking out something special for you to celebrate.

But now, as Derek parked the car and they were all about to get out, Garcia’s sudden idea was making Spencer break into a cold sweat.

"I mean, we can just hang out at your place for a bit, right?" Garcia asked, her tone more like a suggestion than a question. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt, clearly excited about the idea.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the seatbelt.

"I don’t know if that’s such a good idea," he said quickly, trying to sound casual, though the nerves were practically radiating off of him.

"I have… stuff to do." His words stumbled, but Derek caught on immediately.

"You've got a date or something?" Derek teased, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Reid, live a little."

Spencer’s face turned a light shade of pink, but he quickly deflected with a nervous laugh. "No, no date," he replied, but the nervous energy in his tone was giving him away. "I just—uh—need to get inside."

Garcia didn't miss a beat. "Come on, Spencer," she insisted with that gleam of excitement in her eyes. "It’s been forever since we just hung out at your place. You know, a little downtime."

But Spencer’s mind was racing, heart pounding.

The last thing he needed was for Derek and Garcia to come upstairs and see you there.

He knew you were in his apartment right now, sound asleep in his bed, curled up in one of his sweaters. This morning, you had practically melted into him that morning, clinging to him as he reluctantly told you he had to go.

You had been so warm, your face tucked into the side of his neck, holding him like you didn’t want him to leave. He’d rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering that he’d be back soon, but you hadn't been ready to let go. Eventually, he had managed to peel himself away, promising to return as quickly as possible.

Now, his heart pounded as he watched Derek and Garcia hop out of the car without hesitation.

"No, no, no—" Spencer muttered under his breath, scrambling to open his own door. He practically stumbled out, rushing after them, but they were already making their way toward his apartment building.

They didn’t even wait for him.

"Of course," he thought bitterly as he hurried behind them. He knew he was too late. There was no way he could stop them now. His only hope was that you were still asleep.

And there was a high chance that you were.

Spencer knew your sleep schedule well—knew exactly how you curled up beneath his sheets, how deep you slept when wrapped in one of his sweaters. If he could just get inside before them and shut his bedroom door, everything would be fine.

As they reached the top floor, Spencer’s fingers fumbled in his pocket for his keys. His hands were practically shaking as he yanked them out, quickly jamming the correct one into the lock.

Slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack, peeking inside, praying you weren’t—

"Dr. Reid. What are you doing?" Garcia’s voice was laced with amusement as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a smirk.

Before Spencer could stop her, she pushed the door open wider, stepping inside.

Panic surged through him. His breath caught in his throat.

But—

You were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes darted toward the bedroom door. It was closed.

No sign of you.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to compose himself as Garcia and Derek strolled inside, completely oblivious to the absolute terror he had just experienced.

Spencer quickly shut the door behind them, tossing his jacket over the nearest chair—something he never did. Normally, he was meticulous about hanging it up properly, but right now, his priority was making sure nothing seemed off.

Slipping off his shoes, he warily watched as Garcia and Derek made a beeline for his kitchen.

As they rummaged through his cabinets, Spencer seized the opportunity.

He darted down the hallway toward the bedroom, his socked feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there you were, still fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with his sweater draped loosely over your shoulders.

The sight made his chest tighten with affection, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

He closed the door gently, careful not to make a sound, and hurried back to the kitchen before they could notice his absence.

Crisis averted.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw the disaster unfolding before him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, exasperated, watching as Derek and Garcia rummaged through his cabinets like raccoons.

Garcia, mid-bite into a granola bar, waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, genius, we’re just looking for snacks. By the way—” she held up the granola bar with a raised brow, “—I thought you hated these?”

Spencer froze.

He did. He never ate those granola bars.

But you did.

You loved them, so he always kept some stocked just for you.

He scrambled for an excuse, clearing his throat. “Uh—I just wanted to give them another try,” he mumbled, avoiding Garcia’s sharp, suspicious gaze.

Derek, now chewing a piece of toast, barely looked up. “Yeah, okay,” he said, mouth full.

Spencer shot him an unamused glare. “Can the two of you stop eating my food?”

“No,” Derek replied, taking another bite, completely unbothered. 

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know, most people ask before raiding someone’s kitchen,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. 

Garcia giggled, popping the last bite of granola bar into her mouth. “Oh, come on, Spence. You love us. Besides, you’re acting super weird today. What’s going on with you?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, busying himself with straightening a stack of papers on the counter.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.” 

Garcia and Derek just exchanged a look.

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to get them out of here before they found something they weren’t supposed to. 

Like, say… you.

“Do you think she’ll like my gift?” Garcia asked, peeking at the bag on the counter, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbon.

“Most definitely, babygirl,” Derek answered without hesitation, dusting the crumbs off his hands after finishing his toast. “She’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Spencer, still trying to recover from his near heart attack, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’ll love it,” he said, meeting Garcia’s eyes with a small, reassuring smile.

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, she’ll love yours, boy genius,” she added, pointing at Spencer. “You know her so well.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, her grin mischievous.

“Maybe too well,” Derek chimed in, eyebrows raised as he leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. His grin was knowing, smug.

Spencer stiffened.

“When are you finally gonna ask her out?” Derek asked, his grin widening.

Spencer felt his face heat up instantly. He blushed, but not for the reason they thought.

He blushed because he remembered the day it happened. 

The way his heart had pounded in his chest, his palms sweaty as he rehearsed the words in his head over and over. He’d been so nervous, he’d almost convinced himself to back out.

But then he’d seen you—your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you noticed him approaching—and all his doubts had melted away. 

When he finally asked, his voice trembling slightly, your reaction had been everything he’d hoped for. Your face had lit up, and you’d nodded so quickly, it was almost comical.

“Yes!” you’d said, your voice filled with so much enthusiasm that it made him laugh. In that moment, all his anxiety had washed away, replaced by a giddy, almost overwhelming sense of relief and joy. 

“Aww, how cute!” Garcia practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pointed an accusatory finger at Spencer. “He’s blushing,” she sang, her grin stretching impossibly wide. 

Spencer groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “Did you two come into my apartment just to eat my food and make fun of me?” he asked, arms crossed.

“Pretty much,” Derek said, completely unfazed as he made his way back toward the fridge.

Spencer let out a sharp breath, trying to mask his anxiety. He knew you were still asleep, but that didn’t stop the lingering fear that their loud voices might wake you up.

But then—

Derek stopped in front of the fridge.

His eyes locked onto the calendar hanging there, and a slow, amused smirk spread across his face.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” Derek said, turning toward Garcia, his voice thick with amusement.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes widening as she saw what Derek was pointing at. There, on the calendar, your birthday was circled in bold red marker, surrounded by a carefully drawn heart.

Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Oh. My. God,” she said, her voice rising with every word. “Spencer Reid, you are down bad!”

Spencer felt his face burn even hotter. He wished he could disappear into the floor—or maybe just teleport to another dimension entirely. Anything to escape this moment.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t been the one to draw that heart on the calendar. It had been you.

He remembered the moment perfectly.

The day he hung the calendar up, you had been standing right there beside him, watching with an amused little smile. Then, without hesitation, you had grabbed the nearest marker—a red one, of course—and went straight to your birthday month, drawing a huge heart around the date.

"So you don’t forget."

He had chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. Then, he had pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin—

"I don’t forget anything. Especially not something like that."

You had blushed.

And Spencer had loved making you blush.

Now, standing in his kitchen, faced with his coworkers’ relentless teasing, he was struck with the embarrassing realization that Derek and Garcia thought he was some hopelessly lovesick teenager who had scribbled hearts around his crush’s name in a notebook.

(Which—if he was being completely honest—wasn’t that far from the truth.)

But what was he supposed to say?

Tell them the truth? Admit that the woman he’d been secretly dating for months—the same woman they were here shopping for—was currently asleep in his bed down the hall?

Absolutely not.

But then—

The choice was taken away from him anyway.

Suddenly, the sound of running water echoed from down the hallway, causing both Garcia and Derek to freeze mid-sentence. Their heads snapped toward the source of the noise, their eyes widening as they stared at Spencer.

Spencer stared back, equally wide-eyed, his mind racing. You were in the bathroom, happily brushing your teeth, completely unaware that two of your—and Spencer’s—coworkers were standing in the kitchen, mere feet away.

“Spencer Walter Reid,” Garcia gasped, her voice loud enough to carry through the apartment. She clutched Derek’s arm like she was about to faint. “Is there someone here?”

“No, no,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so vigorously that his curls bounced. “It’s probably just my washing machine turning on.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door creaked open, and then closed again. Spencer’s heart sank.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath, his stomach twisting into knots.

And then, there you were.

You padded into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the chaos you were about to unleash.

You were wearing Spencer’s boxers, which hung loosely around your hips, and one of his Star Wars shirts that was far too big for you, the hem brushing against your thighs. Your hair was slightly messy, and you were still rubbing sleep from your eyes.

Then you stopped.

Blinking, you finally seemed to register the two extra people in the room.

Garcia. Derek.

Standing there.

Staring.

At you.

In Spencer’s clothes.

Two pairs of eyes stared at you. And you stared back, your own eyes wide, your brain struggling to process the scene in front of you. Spencer, meanwhile, was staring at the ground like it might suddenly open up and swallow him whole.

Garcia broke the silence, her voice low and uncharacteristically quiet—something almost more shocking than if she’d screamed.

“Am I… dreaming?” she whispered, clutching Derek’s arm like a lifeline. She looked pale, her usual vibrant energy replaced by sheer disbelief as she took in your disheveled state.

Derek, for once, seemed just as stunned. “I… no, I don’t think so,” he said hesitantly, his usual confidence replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He blinked at you, then at Spencer, then back at you, as if trying to piece together what exactly was happening.

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice low but urgent. “What the hell is happening?” You tugged self-consciously at the hem of his Star Wars shirt, trying to pull it down further.

Normally, you were the picture of professionalism at work, always impeccably dressed and composed.

But here you were, standing in Spencer’s kitchen in his boxers and an oversized shirt, your hair a mess and your face still flushed from sleep.

It was beyond awkward—it was mortifying.

Spencer finally looked up, his expression a mix of guilt and panic. “I, uh… this isn’t—” he started, but Garcia cut him off.

“Oh no, no, no,” Garcia said, her voice rising with every word, her hands flailing dramatically. “You do not get to ‘this isn’t’ us right now. This is happening. This is definitely happening.”

She pointed a finger at you, then at Spencer, her eyes wide.

“You two. Together. In his apartment. Wearing his clothes. Oh my gosh, this is the best day of my life.”

You froze, your cheeks burning as you tugged self-consciously at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. “Penelope, it’s not—” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head so vigorously that her curls bounced. “No explanations, no excuses. This is happening. I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

Spencer groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Garcia, please—”

“No,” she interrupted again, her voice rising an octave. “You don’t get to ‘Garcia, please’ me right now. This is huge. This is monumental. This is—”

“A disaster,” Spencer muttered under his breath, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Derek, who had been quietly observing the scene with an amused grin, finally chimed in. “Man, Reid, I gotta hand it to you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, though there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

Garcia, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to tell—”

“No!” Spencer and you said in unison, your voices sharp enough to make Garcia freeze mid-sentence.

“You are not telling anyone,” Spencer said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Garcia pouted, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Fine, fine. But only because I’m feeling generous. For now.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, this is going to be the best office drama ever.”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going back to bed,” you muttered, turning on your heel and heading back down the hallway.

As you disappeared into the bedroom, Garcia and Derek turned to Spencer, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his grin widening.

Spencer sighed, knowing there was no escaping this. “Yeah,” he said, his voice resigned. “I know.”

[justaghostwithbones]

This is so beautifully articulated. I alternate between sprinting forward to moonwalking back… sometimes years. Sometimes I take up residence in that bygone time, and wallow in trying to change it, while imaging I don’t know how that storyline tragically ends. Sometimes I sprint forward then; start building the blocks of the life that I want. I’ll get it partially built… and then… and then… and then… I’m back in the past again, somewhere else this time. Trying to prevent a different moral crime.

But for just about a month now, I’ve held still (with a moment or two of those springs to half-build things; though instead of running backward, I just pause). I’m learning to crawl. I’m building those skills.

(CW: death, grief, suicide, animal death)

Something I’ve learned, so painfully, through so many genuine tragedies—the death of my little family: first my husband of almost ten years… then the first dog we adopted together (and even the people who hate it when others compare human children to pets would fully vouch for the fact that I showed my guys more love and sacrificed more for them than many human parents of human kids), who died spontaneously in my arms from a condition that couldn’t be screened for. He didn’t suffer, it was fast. I wailed when I felt his last breath. I had never felt something die before and it rewrote some of my DNA. I never wanted to outlive my dogs, and I couldn’t believe I had to. I had these primal screams of rage at “God” for everything I had already lost, but my baby deserved peace from me, even if he wasn’t really “there” at the moment, so I swallowed my rage and I held him for over an hour. Talking about everything he was and everything he meant and all of the people he had inspired with his spunky personality as a rescued dog who had done some time in the streets. I pressed my forehead against the top of his head and health my breath, unable to accept he was gone. I listened to songs with his fuzzy, sweet body cradled close to me while I kissed his face.

His “big” brother, whom we adopted a year later than our first guy, but was triple his size deteriorated quickly, and after torturing myself with data and research, I looked into his eyes one day and knew that he was asking me for help. He’d been to veterinary specialists several times in the previous few months, but there was nothing any of them could do for him. It was just age. He was a large breed dog who was at least 14. They kept telling me I couldn’t have done more. I knew the only help I could give him was to let him go. So I made an appointment and planned for him to pass peacefully under a tree my late-husband planted. I took him to the place where my husband and I got married. I gave him all of the carbs he wanted (once he got into the double digits, he felt he earned the right to snag food, and he never met a piece of bread he didn’t love). I took pictures of him against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains in the summer. I slept on my husband’s side of the bed (because he slept in a raised bed my husband built for him there), so I could pet him all night, every night I still had him. That gold-hearted guy ended up passing two days before this wonderful vet service was scheduled to come to my house… he still couldn’t fully let go, so they made an emergency visit, and he ultimately died in my arms on my late-husband’s side of the bed, after a couple hours of me laying with him and telling him stories and playing him songs and mapping out his irises like they would be my compass, because I had to no idea how to navigate life without his protective instincts. Because I didn’t know if my bones had another loss in them. I silently begged for his wisdom and felt so selfish for not being able to stop time and reverse biology and get more time with him. He loved my husband much more than he loved me, in the beginning, and there was some real poetic beauty in where he chose to let go—he didn’t get up on the bed regularly at that point; he hadn’t for years. But for a couple hours, I got to thank him out loud for everything that I could remember to say out loud. He licked tears off my face. His tail wagged when my mom arrived. I whispered to him until I felt his heart stop, and continued after.

In under 2.5 years, I lost my husband, my career, my health (I still am not allowed to work due to my disabilities), and my babies I’d “raised” for 12, and 11 years, respectively. And I haven’t moved forward. The only reason I’m still alive is that… those weren’t my only two babies. Months before my husband died, he fell in love with a puppy we stumbled upon unintentionally while picking up something from a pet store. We didn’t know there was an adoption event held that day. So just over 5 years ago, now, we adopted a puppy. By now, he’s a “legitimate” service dog (cardiac training), and my best friend and confidante. There have been so many nights where I’ve wanted to unsubscribe from earth but just look at him and know he couldn’t live without me. He is my tether to now, and he is how I’ve navigated losing close family relationships (I didn’t suffer the loss of my husband, career, and babies in a way that was palatable for some people. I didn’t do anything crazy, they admit. I just… cried too much. Wasn’t fun to be around. So they didn’t come around. Or call. Or text. I don’t have any real “social media,” so I wasn’t suffering in their face or anything. I just… wasn’t supposed to suffer at all, somehow). He is the reason I’m working so hard in therapy (and have been for nearly 4 years, but REALLY doing painful work for the past 4 months) in the hopes that I will start to want to wake up. That I will look forward to living. That I am determined to find a way to live and not just exist. That I can build a sustainable way to move forward.

But right now, I’m proud of myself for holding still, even when it hurts everywhere and I know all my internal escape routes, all of the ways I can distract myself, all of my hiding spots, all of the ways I can bleed to distract my brain from its selfish existential suffering. But I’m not using them. I’m just holding still, sometimes shakily, sometimes while holding my breath, sometimes through hours of silent tears running down my face.

It’s a kind of poetic irony that I found this person’s beautiful sentiment—that made my neurons start firing in a way that I could write about things I’ve never been able to speak aloud with any level of detail—on the eve of “spring forward” (though I, along with literally everyone else, hates the fact that we can’t stick to either daylight or standard time year round. It’s literally the only thing there’s true consensus about in the U.S.; sincerely); because that’s what I want to do. Maybe in March I’ll only be crawling, but it’s still forward motion. Because I know I won’t make it through 2025 if it’s like 2024. The world is getting worse and I have every excuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I refuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I am going to get better.Not perfect. Not perfectly. Tearfully, painfully, tragically, better. I’m going to keep the coffee dates adults pretend to make. I’m going to meet the neighbors I’ve lived near for 13 years. I’m going to learn how to exist among tragedy without feeling tragic. I’m going to learn to tell the stories of what I’ve lost with the aim of learning to gain things, not as an excuse for why I don’t ever even dare to want anything because I know so deeply the pain of loss. I want to grieve, but not be the physical embodiment of grief. I want to learn how to want things. I want to learn how to say that I want things. I want to learn what I like to do. I want to learn how to find joy and not just be busy.

I want.

how do you reconnect to life after being disconnected for so long

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[hhughes]

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , in which jude notices the work you’ve been putting in at the gym.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jude bellingham x gf!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. flirty. cute. cheeky. groping. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. this is my first time writing for jude. I just got this idea with him and it would not get out of my head. I hope I did it justice and that the jude girlies like it. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

the front door opening steals jude’s attention from the match playing on TV, his gaze flicking toward the entrance just as you stumble through, arms weighed down with two brown bags filled with groceries. an automatic smile tugs at his lips.

he’d woken up to an empty bed and a note on your pillow — gone to the gym. stopping at the store after. love you, lazybones.

lazybones. he’d scoffed at that one, stretching his arm across the empty mattress where you should’ve been. but now, as he watches you huff dramatically, nudging the door shut with your hip, he thinks maybe he doesn’t mind being called that. especially if it means getting to see you walk through the door looking like that.

because, yeah — jude notices immediately.

the outfit is nothing new, just a sports bra and leggings, but something about it is different. or maybe, more accurately, you are.

he watches you set the bags down on the counter, then stretch your arms over your head, rolling your shoulders with a soft groan. his eyes drop, trailing over the curve of your body, the way your leggings cling to you just right.

fuck’s sake.

“hey you” you greet as he slides off the couch and saunters over to you.

“hey sexy” he mumbles, hands catching your hips and placing a sexy little kiss on your lips, that has your pulse stuttering and body leaning into him. he lingers, hands firm on your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your leggings in slow, deliberate strokes. his touch is casual, lazy even, but there’s something unmistakable about the way his fingers press just a little harder as they drift downward.

jude’s hands are planted firmly on your ass by the time you pull away, both of you a little breathless. he squeezes the flesh, biting his lip as he leans to the side slightly, and it takes you a minute but your cheeks heat up when you realize what he’s doing.

“jude” you scold and his eyes shoot up from your ass, catching yours as he smiles sheepishly.

“what baby?” he asks innocently, hand still roaming over your backside.

you narrow your eyes, but jude just grins, completely unashamed, still palming at your ass like it belongs to him — which, okay, it kind of does, but still.

"don’t what baby me," you huff, swatting at his arm. "were you just checking out my ass?"

jude bites his lip, as if debating whether or not to lie, before eventually shrugging. "maybe."

you groan, covering your face with your hands, but he just laughs, spinning you in his hold so your back is pressed to his chest. his hands stay exactly where they are, fingers gripping at the soft curve of your ass, thumbs rubbing in slow circles over the fabric.

"babe," he mutters, voice thick with something dangerously close to awe. "I swear, it was not like this a month ago."

your face burns hotter. "jude."

"what?" his grip tightens, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as he dips his head to press a kiss to your shoulder. "I mean, you always had a nice ass, but fuck — this? this is next level. turn around for me will ya?" he asks, and you hesitate for a second before obliging him.

he pushes on your upper back slightly, urging you to lean forward slightly and you humour him by placing your elbows on the counter, back arching perfectly as he runs his fingers down your spine.

a low whistle leaves jude’s lips as his hands trail down, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your leggings before settling firmly on your hips. his thumbs stroke at your waist, slow and teasing, before they move lower, kneading at the flesh with a kind of reverence that has your breath catching in your throat.

you let out a soft yelp when you suddenly feel a sharp sting on your left cheek, turning around just in time to see jude’s playful smirk, accompanied by that little glint in his eyes.

“sheesh baby” he says, running his hand over his face as if the sight of you alone is enough to wreck him. his palm lingers over his mouth for a moment, but you can still see his grin, all cocky and smug.

"you trying to kill me or something?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement, though there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, something heated. his hands are back on you in an instant, fingers splaying over your hips like he can’t help himself. "you’ve been keeping this from me, huh?"

you scoff, rolling your eyes even as your stomach flutters. "keeping what from you?"

jude lets out a low chuckle, his thumbs rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. "this ass, baby." his voice is borderline sinful now, thick and appreciative as his hands squeeze at the flesh, sending another spark of heat through you. "you been hiding it or what?"

your face burns, and you swat at his arm. "jude, shut up—"

"nah, nah," he interrupts, shaking his head with a smirk. "I think we need to talk about how you’ve been putting in work at the gym and didn’t warn me." his hands slide down to cup you fully again, his grip firm, his touch nothing short of worshipful. "like, you knew this was gonna do things to me, right?"

you groan, covering your face with your hands, but it does nothing to hide your flustered expression. "you’re so annoying," you mumble, and jude just grins, entirely unbothered.

"annoying, huh?" he muses, his hands never leaving you, his voice a slow, teasing drawl. "funny, ‘cause you don’t seem to be pushing me away."

you stay silent, and he chuckles again, dipping his head to press a lazy, lingering kiss to your shoulder. "you���re so cute when you’re embarrassed, y’know that?"

you groan louder. "jude—"

"alright, alright," he relents, though his hands still don’t budge. "I’ll stop teasing — for now." he pulls back slightly, only to spin you around so you’re facing him. his eyes flicker over your features before settling on your lips, and the playful glint in his gaze softens just a bit. "but seriously, baby —proud of you. you look fucking incredible. or should I say edible” he says, taking a little bite out of your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

your heart melts at the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, and you bite your lip, suddenly shy under his gaze. "yeah?"

jude smiles, all charm, before leaning in to brush his lips against yours. "yeah," he murmurs. “you’ll always be perfect to me. no matter what. but I’m definitely gonna be your number-one supporter in this fitness journey — especially if it keeps coming with benefits like this."

you smack his chest, but he only laughs, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours again, lingering this time, deepening — because, yeah, maybe you don’t mind his little appreciation session after all.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

[ahopefulbromantic]

Okay I NEED to tell you all a story.

So dressing up is awesome that's why every party done by my friends and me has a dresscode. There was one friend whose parties were famous, she would invite a hundred people to her relatively small flat, there was always a huge cuddle pile on her tiny couch (high school was awesome), a hot makeshift dancefloor, very loud drunken and sober singing, everyone was there, and it was a fairly cultured party, too, no hard drugs, no s*x, no scandalous behavior.

The dresscode for this particular legendary birthday party was "fruits and vegetables play together on the street" (genius i know). You could come dressed as a fruit, a vegetable, or a road sign. There were some great ideas (for example a friend of mine was a green stop sign and called himself a "cognitive dissonance! cause look, you see something like this on the street and what do you do??? do you stop? or do you go??"), some very politically incorrect ideas (there was a guy who dressed up as a comatose patient and told us he was a vegetable, truly outrageous but also the most creative one out there), bananas, pickles, zebras (as in what you sometimes call a pedestrian crossing but literally the animal), lots of traffic lights, another friend of mine somehow got a real life traffic cone and wore it on her head dressed in a reflective vest, it was awesome.

Now for all the reasons i've listed before our host was famous not only amongst her peers. That's why this time we got complaints not from one, not from two, but from FOUR neighboring blocks for disturbing the mandatory quiet hours. This was the first (and only as for now) party in my life that the police kicked me out from. It was so cool!

This would normally mean that the party was over, right? Hehehe wrong. Of course many people went home after that but a big enough group, me included, decided on a meeting place nearby in order to continue the fun outdoors by the river, singing "Do you hear the people sing?" as we went. Before that, though, we had to get some food.

So now, imagine being an around-60-something shop assistant. Imagine it's nearly 11pm, just before you will need to close the store for tonight. In come several young people of varying ages, all dressed up as pickles, potatoes, fruit, traffic cones, road signs, etc. They all get very excited over your fruit and vegetables section, one guy lifting a bunch of bananas and tearfully saying, "look, it's my family!!!" Some of them probably are in the middle of a philosophical discussion. Some of them are singing either musical theatre numbers or Christian choral passion hymns. All in all they look like they have just escaped a mental asylum.

Needless to say, we got kicked out of the store, too

My friends and I used to do this thing where we'd dress up on a theme and go do something totally normal.

We dressed up as pirates and went bowling.

We dressed as vikings and went to the grocery store. The security guard told us we had to move our longship because it was illegally parked.

We dressed as Romans and went to Blockbuster. The staff chanted, "toga! Toga! Toga!" at us.

We dressed up all steampunk and went to the museum. Tourists kept taking our picture.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Eldritch Ex-Husband ///////

Your now ex-husband is incredibly surprised when the authorities are dispatched to your new house when he enters. Thinking nothing of it he broke the knob of your new home, thinking after all that time talking with the judge over some foreign topic you’d both be settling into the new place. Turns out this ‘divorce’-thing and ‘restraining order’-stuff meant something after all. That he couldn’t be with you and the baby.

“Wait, the dee - force means I don’t get to come home? What–?”

“Sir, if you give me trouble it’ll only hurt your chances of seeing your kid more.”

“Wait I can’t see him? (Y/n)! (Y/n)-honey, please!”

“Sir, please put your hands behind your back.”

The only reason he doesn’t suck their brains out through their noses+ fight more is because he’s so devastated as he thinks about how in the dark about cruel-human-practices. Only now does it register that when you were oh-so cutely crying about leaving, you weren’t talking about a late night run to the store to satisfy your cravings. That the word he had dismissed as something you wanted to buy was actually an action. An action that meant he’d be deprived of the most important person in his life.

“Hello?”

“......I did not understand before….but I understand now.”

“Kilton? You know a restraining order extends to calls, right?”

“IM nOt LetTInG yOu go—”

Click.

“Creep.”

As he reluctantly uses the resources proposed to him, to argue for custody he has time to think about when you first mentioned the word. But the more he replays those heavenly moments with you he realizes how often your brow was scrunched and a vein was popping from that kissable forehead. It’s then that your ex-husband begins to realize just how little he was actually listening to you. Ashamed, he’s realized that while he finds all your actions absolutely irresistible it didn’t mean you were happy. And he really had no one to blame but himself.

“Hello this is Kilton (L/n) if you have a message leave it at the tone….beep.”

“Hey I hope I got the right number but I need your help with the baby….there’s stuff going on that I have no idea how to deal with. I won’t call the police or tell anyone..I just need….some help. And you're the only one who can give it to me.”

“OF COURSE i’LL BE RIGht oVER!”

“Wait you never set up your voicemai—”

When you left your husband, you were tired of being so confused all the time. Your husband, your best friend was keeping you in the dark for a long time now. Starting from the occasionally odd behavior you’d witness him do, that he’d brush off as if it were nothing. Like the doors in the house that have begun to open to alternate dimensions (that’s what you believe but your husband will not explain in any way) ignoring your concerns and calling you being ‘silly.’ It was annoying but you hadn’t died yet so it wasn’t that bad…until you got pregnant.

“How can this be?”

“Yippee I told you, that one took!”

“No, I literally can’t.”

“Of course, you can babe, you already are look at your little bump.”

“No like I literally can’t this is unbelievable.”

Whether you physically can and were vigilant in prevention or you physically should not be able to conceive matters not. You are pregnant. Or you were. And while dealing with the intense hormones and birthing pains and gravity-defying phenomena happening in your home, your ex-husband would explain nothing. Doing nothing but smile wistfully at you while you demanded to know why the fridge was inching closer every time you turned the corner. Any sane person could only handle so much of his pretend assurances that you were just losing your mind. 

But hindsight 20/20 you should’ve known you couldn’t get rid of your eldritch ex-husband with your eldritch baby. 

“Hey you left the door unlocked, so I let myself in. Babe, you can’t be doing that it’s really unsa–the furniture doesn’t look at all like it did before.”

“Of course it doesn’t! Because your son has decided to rearrange it with his humming!” 

“That’s not a hum, Love. He’s singing a hymn of Utter Chaos–”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS MAKE HIM STOP.”

As you suspected the root of all the inexplicable happenings in your life were because of your ex-husband and by extension the little bundle that has been doing all sorts of things a normal baby shouldn’t. Like humming the ‘utter chaos song’ or making supplies float over to you while changing him or how at the end of his bath the water turns red and evaporates in an echo of screams. It’s just a little alarming.

“Where is the baby?”

“In that other dimension.”

“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that something familiar to you? Every now and then he just goes into this other dimension that let’s his laugh morph the walls a little.”

“Oh my. That’s new for me too.”

Surprisingly despite your husband’s now-confirmed-eldritch-heritage he’s not an exact expert on everything his son does. Apparently no one from his world/dimension/atternate plane of existence does everything your son does and is blissfully writing off as something from your side of the family. He’ll shrug and use the opportunity to listen to you list the observations you’ve made about your darling offspring and maybe compliment you on your vigilance as a new unfortunately single parent. Don’t worry it won’t be that way for long!+

“So the blood water thing. It happens whenever he interacts with water.”

“Oh I know that one it’s an old habit of mine, for storing water for later!”

“What about the metal-eating?”

“Metal eating? With no teeth? Beats me must have gotten a taste from all those utensils you’re so fond of. By the way parenthood looks good on you have I told you that?”

As he becomes more of a constant presence in your home, there's a startling change in your baby boy’s behavior. It doesn’t stop but it’s a lot less destructive. Finally, you could have the delivery crew enter the yard without them being swallowed by the portal to your son’s crib. Finally, you can afford to have a couple-hour meet and greet with your family without anyone inexplicably sprouting horns. So reluctantly you let him back into your life with very specific conditions.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Aww but aren’t you worried about me going home in the dark?”

“I know you’re not just some helpless human, so no. Second rule no kissing or lovey dovey things with me.”

“Got it. So vague I can work with that.”

“And finally–”

“EEEKK! WHAT DID HE DO TO MY BABY!?”

“Oh guess someone’s up from their nap.”

“I’ll distract her with a ring to her doorbell, you change back the dog.”

“As always, please try to turn down her invites for dinner this time. I don’t think I can spare her if she upsets him again.”

“No promises!”

Kilton realizes that what he has with you doesn’t mean he’s equally let back into your life, especially since so many other couples ailed by this (dee)force co-parent more or less the same so he’s got his work cut out for him. He’ll have to finally get over his listening issue while worming his way back into your heart! And don’t worry he definitely will!

[hughesmuse86]

Okay maybe subby jack because you’re jealous? like a girl is flirting with him at the bar and he’s just a natural flirt so he’s giving the wrong impression and she goes to kiss him and that’s where you jump in as he pushes her off of him. he’s clearly confused and not interested and you’re pissed so you go home and show him that he’s yours. He so apologetic and begging for forgiveness, definitely whining and praising you.

Yeahhhhh I like this sub!jack

Hi hun! Thank you so much for your ask!! 🤭🤭🤭 ahhh I’m so glad you like him too 😋💕

+18 -> smut | Jack needs to make things better after a bar night gone wrong 🩷

𝓢𝓾𝓫!𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: sub!jack, jealous reader, ownership, swearing, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, princess, pretty <- out boy is in trouble), cum tasting, oral (female receiving, praise, begging

just a little t8 to set the mood 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

1.7 k

Jack Hughes has always been a flirt. Not in a way that means anything; he’s just too damn charming, naturally magnetic, with a smile that makes all the girls weak, including you. He doesn’t even realize half the time how easily he pulls people in. You know this. You’ve always known this. But tonight, he’s testing you.

You're sitting at a bar, celebrating a win with some of his teammates. The energy is electric, music pumping; drinks flowing. Jack has had a grin plastered on his face since you got there, enjoying the post-game buzz with his teammates, completely relaxed and carefree.

Jack walks up to the bar, ordering your drinks as you watch from across the way. And, just like clockwork, a woman walks up to him, and all smiles as well. A beautiful smile—the bleach blonde putting on a show as she arches her back and flutters her lashes.

Her fingers run through her hair, playing with it a little, her glossed lips catching the light. She laughs at something he says, leaning a little too close and touching his arm for just a little too long.

Jack, being Jack, doesn’t shut it down. He’s too nice. Too oblivious. He doesn’t realize that just because he’s not interested doesn’t mean she won’t be.

Luke catches your eye from across the bar, raising a brow in question. He knows you well enough to tell you’re seconds away from snapping if his brother doesn't pull his head out of his ass. You exhale sharply, setting what’s left of your drink down hard before stepping out of the booth and walking toward him.

Luke leans over to warn him you're coming, bringing Jack closer to her, and of course, she takes it every way but right—rising on her tippy toes, lips parting as Jack’s body retracts, dodging her advances a new clarity, blue eyes wide like a deer in the headlight.

“Woah, hey now—” He stops her, his voice laced with confusion. His eyes snap down to you, blinking like he doesn’t understand what could have possibly just happened.

And just as fast as she came, she scurried away, recognizing your face right away. You turn toward him, stepping a little closer, your features sharp as he starts to panic.

“What the fuck, Jack—”

“I'm just as confused as you, baby. I swear—”

You cut him a look, and he instantly shuts up. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m coming with you, baby. What do you mean?”

“You seem busy, Jack,” you clip, giving him a smile—the kind that's anything but nice, causing him to panic.

“She got the wrong idea. I promise—” He stammers as you turn on your heels, walking toward the exit, and before you can even take a step, his hand is on your lower back, guiding you through the thick crowd, his soul-focus on you.

The two of you step out into the street, taking the short walk back to the hotel, Jack’s feet pounding against the pavement to keep up with you.

You step into the elevator, and he quickly steps to your side. His body language’s rigid; his apology, right on the tip of his tongue. He sneaks anxious glances at you, fingers tapping against his thighs.

As soon as the hotel door locks, he's on you, his chest pressed against your back with his hand holding your hips, burying himself in your neck. “Baby, c’mon. I didn’t do anything, I promise. You know me. You know I wouldn't do that to you. It was nothing—”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, surely making him shiver. “Mhmm… That looked like a lot of nothing, Jack,” you say with a sigh, your words dripping with condescension.

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Jack,” you cut him off. “Luke saw it before you did… He was thinking. You…”

“Weren’t thinking,” he finishes your words submissively, his voice hoarse and uneasy.

“She thought she had a chance.”

“No fuckin’ way—”

“Are you serious?” You ask through a laugh as you turn around to face him, and you can see in his eyes that he clearly does not have a clue, nonetheless you couldn’t help, but be pissed.

Jack shakes his head so fast it’s almost pathetic, his hands reaching for you desperately. “No, baby, I wasn’t flirting back, I swear. She’s Trevor’s sister. She was in town for the game. We were just jokin’ around, talking shit about him. That's it.”

"That's all? You allowed her to touch you, Jack. You allowed her to think she could kiss you."

His shoulders slump in defeat as he looks down at you, biting at his lip, trying to think of what he can say to make this better. "I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't do it. I would never…"

You tilt your head slightly, angling your lips, making him chase yours. Your hands press against his broad chest, holding him back, making his breath catch.

“You didn’t even realize, did you?” You whisper as you feel his uneven breaths dust your lips. “You’re mine, Jack.”

A small, shaky whimper slips from his lips. “Yours,” he breathes instantly. “I’m yours, bunny. Only yours. Please, I swear.” Jack takes his opportunity, stripping the both of you bare.

“Are you gonna prove it?”

His hands tighten on your waist, his voice soft and needy. “Let me, baby. Please...”

You look down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his thick dick, pulling to the tip, making his abs flex tight.

His lip tucks between his teeth as he watches your finger swirl through the precum, gathered at his pulsing tip.

“You’re saying you're sorry, Jack. Does it look like you feel bad?” You ask with a slight tip of your head, your finger slipping between your lips to suck it clean, making his eyes roll back as you release it with a pop.

“I'm sorry. I—”

“Then get on your knees.”

Jack drops so fast it makes your head spin, looking up at you, eyes wide and desperate as he waits for instruction, wanting to do whatever it takes to get back in your good graces, knowing full well you could easily make him sweat it out longer and that's the last thing he wants.

“Baby, please,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper as his rough hands grip your thighs.

You scratch your nails through his hair, making his dark lashes flutter shut as he feeds off your touch.

“You embarrassed me, Jack,” you whisper. His lips part with a shaky inhale, his fingers twitching against your thighs. “You let some girl think she had a chance with you.”

He whimpers, his head jerking back and forth in a wild motion. "No, no, baby. I swear, I didn't… I didn't even know—" His voice breaks, and he buries his forehead in your hip, his grip on you tightening.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging his hair just enough to make him look up at you again; his lips are rosy and swollen, his pupils blown wide.

“Make me forget—” Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. Jack’s hands tighten on your thigh as he grips one, lifting it over his shoulder, his lips brushing soft, teasing kisses against your skin as he settles in.

He applies another kiss on your inner thigh, and another one, clutches like he's relishing the moment as though he's thanking you for letting him do it

“I love you, princess,” he mumbles, hot against your sex. “I’m gonna be so good for you, bunny. So fucking good… Gonna make you forget about everything else. Just you and me, yeah?” He whispers against your lips pressing onto your clit, inserting two thick fingers deep, curling them inwards, causing your knees to buckle.

"Fuck, Jack," you groan, your hand in his hair tightening as his fingers slide in slow, calculated motions, his lips kissing and sucking, tongue flicking and swirling.

He groans against your cunt, the sound resonating directly through you, making your toes curl. His biceps curl, pulling you closer, drowning in your wet pussy. Your head falls back in pleasure as a moan tumbles from your lips. “There we go,” he sighs as he hears your pleasure, feeling like he’s making headway. “Sound so fucking good, baby.”

He works you with a little more desperation, finger and tongue fucking you just like you love, hoping to hear it again as you hold back your pleasured sounds with intention.

You gasp out a breath, unable to stop the words from coming. “Atta, baby. Fuckk. Please—Just please let me make you cum,” he pleads.

“Just like that, Jack. Fuck, you're gonna make me cum—” Your words cut off as pleasure courses through your veins, Jack only working harder as your thighs shake with overstimulation.

He slows down, dropping his hands, using his tongue to clean up the mess he made as your body softens.

With one powerful movement, he lifts you up into his muscular arms, his grasp tight and possessive. Your thighs hug his waist, arms wrapping his shoulders as he pushes his mouth on yours in a tender kiss.

You can taste yourself on him—the sweetness of my release mixed with the heat of his mouth. His tongue sweeps against you, rolling effortlessly as he walks with you toward the bed. “Taste that, pretty?” He asks, his voice low and husky. Jack’s lips curl into a smirk as he hears your uneven breathing this time. “So damn sweet.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, with a taunting edge, like you're still expecting a little more begging even after all that.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Could stay between your legs all fuckin’ night if you’d let me… Just wanna make you feel good. I wanna be good for you, baby…”

“You're mine, Jack,” you whisper.

“I’m all yours. I’m gonna prove it to you… Whatever you want, alright?”

“Okay…”

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “My girl—”

“I love you too, baby,” you mumble between gentle kisses. “Now make me forget again.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello, Table for 2! Under the name Toto Wolff, I recently came across your "cafe" and i would love to place an order 😁

A Millionare shortcake

A Croissant

And a Fudge

with the side of Milkshake and Fishbowl cocktail

Extra request: Could the reader be daughter of Christian Horner, Team principal of Red bull?

bakery menu

i'm slowly inching my way back into doing bakery orders. i got a really high streak with writing my own ideas (without the prompts) so i got sort of lazy with the bakery prompts. but there will be more of them mixed in. i hope you enjoy this and thank you for ordering!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." + fudge: "your father is pissing me off." + milkshake: size kink + fishbowl cocktail: protected sex served by toto wolff (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, horner!reader, secret relationship, age gap (20s/50s), size difference/kink, protected sex, dirty talk

toto tried not to cut his loses too much. he felt like his greatest regret was not signing max verstappen. he often glanced at horner and felt a sense of disgust, especially when the dutch driver sailed towards another win.

and while toto would forever feel the regret of not signing verstappen, he didn't regret one thing. he watched you lounging in his living room in his expensive house in monaco, far away from your father. you looked up from your magazine and smiled at him. horner may have caught verstappen, but toto caught horner's daughter.

toto liked how you look in his arms. there was something about you that just made it feel right for him to hold you the way he did. but sometimes he held a little tighter, mostly when he was mad at your father. it wasn't your fault that chrisitan horner could be such a rat-bastard, but he couldn't help but take some of that pent up aggression out of on your poor little pussy.

horner's prize child, while not a racer yourself, you excelled in everything you did. you had your own trophies for the sports you did and the academic achievements. but no amount of your father's praise could make up how it felt when toto smothered you in his own praise. - or his degradation.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." toto asked as he held you by the hips a little tighter. you were about to pour another glass of wine and now the older, taller man had you pinned to the counter top.

you replied as you put the bottle down, "he thinks i'm visiting max this weekend. i was supposed to bring him paperwork regarding time off because of his new baby.." the paper work was in your bag, long forgotten as you got wrapped up in your secret lover.

toto leaned in to kiss the back of your neck, "look at you, doing your father's work. how sweet. little does he know that you're here with me tonight." he pressed up against you a little harder and felt you shudder. it was cute.

you were quite small compared to him, toto stood over six feet tall. he could easily encompass you in his arms and move you as he so pleased. there wasn't much you could do when he rubbed the front of himself up against your back. his hard cock pressed against your skin.

"you know, my princess. your father is pissing me off." he said lowly, "he talks and talks like a bratty little terrier." he exhaled loudly, he held on a little tighter, "i wish i could shut him up the way i shut you up."

you looked up at him with a look on concern.

toto laughed, "i meant with a gag. he'd look better with some of his words kept to himself." he then patted your behind before he led you to the bedroom. he kept close to you like a comforting shadow, his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the bed. he was a little more forceful once in the bedroom.

you felt a push and ended up face first in the pillows with your pert ass up in the air. you yelped when he groped the flesh. he didn't like to spank you, it felt juvenile. but, he did have his methods for making you squirm. his large hand gripped onto the swell of your ass and he watched you squirm. you were well versed in the sexual tactics of toto wolff.

"i'm sorry he's pissing you off, toto. i tried telling him to not be as mean." you said as you were stripped of the little shorts you wore. you could feel toto's hungry gaze on your back side. you helped him out by getting out of the tank top you wore.

"i know. he simply can't help it. always has to have the last word. but i think he knew what we were getting up to tonight, he wouldn't have another thing to say." toto smirked as he rubbed the front of his sweatpants at the sight of you. you looked beautiful however he could have you. there was a certain kind of magic to you. he licked his lips, "you look like such a slut right now, princess. did you know that? that you look so desperate on your knees with your ass in the air. ready to accept me."

you whined when you felt him press up against you. your hands found support in the soft white comforter under you. you cursed into the pillows. this was a dangerous game you were playing, even as he grabbed a condom to put on. you were sleeping with the enemy, horner's main rival both on the track and off. if your father found out that you were sleeping with toto, you'd never hear the end of it.

but that excited you, as toto pushed himself into you (with the condom on), you felt nothing but excited. the anxiety over what felt like the inevitable only turned into heated lust as toto started to fuck you.

"if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

"toto."

"shh, shh. sluts don't get to speak. they only use their pretty little mouths to suck cock." he said as he worked himself against you. his thrusts had a force to them that made you see stars. toto fucked like someone half his age, someone closer to you in age.

you tried not to think too hard about the age gap or why you were so enraptured by someone so much older. he was technically older than your father, but yet you were a panting mess on the bed as he took you like a proper lover.

none of the boys at your school could ever make you feel this good. they stumbled their way through sex and asked for a round of applause when they gave you a crumb of pleasure. not toto, never toto. he knew exactly how to make you squirm and near scream. as he pushed your head further into the soft pillows, your hips further raised as he worked himself against you. the sex between you two was magnetic.

toto was thankful that he had you all to himself, that he didn't pass up the opportunity the way he did on a professional level. horner could be smug about verstappen's winnings, but toto would only be more smug at the idea that he got to fuck the daylights out of horner's sweet princess of a daughter. that she was back in his home waiting for him to make her cum over and over again.

sometimes it wasn't about winning one battle, it was about winning the entire war. maybe one day toto will proper introduce himself to your father, not as a colleague but as your fiance. but that was for another time, for now he was content with watching your ass with the quick movements of his thrusts.

"look at you, your father would be so dissapointed. all those years in private school." he squeezed your ass and continued to thrust up into you. he watched how your body moved against him. it was the perfect sight, you look perfect under him.

"fuck, please. toto." you whined as you lifted your head from the pillows for a moment, only for him to shove them back into the covers. you whined against the soft white pillowcases and felt the pleasure wash over you. you panted heavily and let toto fuck you into sweet submission.

he groaned as he continued to fuck up into you. he loved the feeling of your cunt slick around him. your pussy was like a vice and it left hi hungry for more. he quickened his pace and you felt the electricity in your blood. he was undeniable, he was something so alluring that it made your head throb. your core was soaked and you carnally needed him, even his dirty words made you hot all over.

"you feel beautiful under me. all mine, you know that already." his hands held onto your hips tightly as he worked himself into you. he enjoyed the pleasure, the heat of it all made him only yearn for more. he let out a sharp groan and continued to work himself inside of you. his cock throbbed for you.he continued to fuck you, working his hips against your ass as his cock nudged against all the right places.

you felt divine, a heavenly intervention for him. he kept up the pace, he worked the flesh of your skin with his hands as he loomed over you with heavy movements. the two of you were warmed, flushed with sexual want for one another as the pleasure washed over both of you.

"please, toto." you gasped as you arched your back further. you felt the intensity of pleasure come over you, you climaxed as you held onto the covers tightly. your face squished against the pillows as you tensed up. the feeling left you out of breath, you panted as you relaxed a few moments after.

toto basked in the feeling of you. the warmth of you, all of your love. the hammering in his chest was intense. he thrusted against you further, letting the pleasure bloom in his chest. the felt the excitement in his core as he fucked you feverishly. you felt like a dream come true with the amount of heat in his body. his movements picked up and with a few more strong thrusts he finished inside of you. the condom protected from any mishaps, but he loved being able to finish inside of your tight pussy.

"perfect. perfect for me." he said with affection in his tone as he slowed to a stop and admired your backside for a moment then pulled out.

you laid out in bed and watched him dispose of the condom. even if this was your father's enemy, you couldn't care. you didn't want to care about it. toto was yours above all else, the rivalry will fade one day and all you'll be left with is your adoring lover.

as he got back into bed and you wrapped yourself up in him. he kissed you on the lips, he held you by your middle and pressed you up against him.

"the only good thing your father ever did was have you, my princess." he said softly.

you rolled on top of him, straddled his waist and put both hands on his chest, "enough about my old man, either you get me my wine or we can go another round." then winked at him.

toto may have a career regret with verstappen, but he'd never have the same regret when it came to his personal life. because as you straddled his waist, he always knew that he'd have you <3

[lila-lou]

✨Age gap crush - Pt. 1/2✨

Summary: Jensen froze—biggest age gap crush? Jared smirked, already knowing the answer. Because Jensen didn’t do attachments. But with you? He already had.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 6341

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 🩷

The hotel room was quiet, except for the faint hum of traffic outside and the soft rustling of sheets behind you. Stepping out of the bathroom, steam curled around you as the cooler air of the room brushed against your damp skin. The towel wrapped tightly around your body felt like the only barrier between you and the weight of his gaze.

Jensen was lying on the bed, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other resting against his bare stomach. The soft morning light cast shadows over his toned chest, highlighting the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. His green eyes, sharp and amused, traced you slowly—like he had all the time in the world.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, good morning to me”, he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You tightened your grip on the towel, swallowing the warmth creeping up your neck. “Enjoying the view?”, you muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

He chuckled, low and husky, shifting slightly but never breaking his gaze. “Oh, absolutely. Best way to wake up”.

Your stomach twisted at the way he was looking at you—like he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how flustered you were.

You cleared your throat, the towel still clutched tightly in your grasp. "I thought you'd be gone by now", you muttered, eyes flicking toward the digital clock on the nightstand—but the numbers blurred together. You had no idea what time it was.

Jensen’s smirk deepened. "Didn’t have the heart to leave you just yet", he drawled, stretching out like he had no place to be, no convention to rush off to. "Besides, you looked too damn peaceful earlier. Didn’t want to wake you".

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to mask the way your stomach flipped. Peaceful wasn’t the right word. Wrecked, maybe. Spent.

Last night had been… intense. The kind of night that left your body sore in the best possible way, your mind hazy, your legs barely functioning by the time he'd finally let you rest. And now, standing here, the memory of his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours—it all came rushing back so vividly you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

Jensen noticed. Of course, he did. His eyes darkened, amusement flickering beneath them like he was reading every damn thought in your head. "You okay there, sweetheart?". His voice was smooth, teasing.

You huffed, turning toward the dresser for something—anything—to distract yourself. "I don’t even know what time it is", you admitted, your voice quieter this time. "You really should be gone. The convention—".

"Still got time". His voice was lazy, like he didn’t have an entire schedule waiting for him. "And you really think I’d leave without a proper goodbye?".

This—whatever this was—wasn’t supposed to feel so dangerous. The two of you had set the rules from the start. No public outings. No red carpets. No standing in any kind of spotlight.

After all, he had enough attention on him—especially after the divorce. He didn’t need the world picking apart his personal life, and neither did you. It worked this way. Just the two of you, in stolen nights like this.

But mornings like this? Where he stayed longer than he should, watching you like you were the only thing worth his time?

Those were the moments that scared you.

And when Jensen sat up, his bare chest shifting with the movement, his smirk softening into something almost… fond, you knew you were in trouble.

"C´mere", he murmured, patting the space beside him.

You swallowed hard. You should tell him to get dressed, to go. To remind him of the agreement.

But your body had other plans.

And Jensen knew it, too.

You hesitated as you reminded yourself what this was supposed to be. Casual. Private. Simple.

But Jensen made it impossible to keep things simple.

The way he looked at you—like he had all the patience in the world, like he knew you’d give in before you even did—was downright dangerous. You hated that he was right.

Slowly, reluctantly, you moved toward the bed, stopping just short of where he was sitting. His gaze flickered down to your legs, still damp from the shower, before dragging back up to meet your eyes. He reached out, fingers ghosting along the edge of your towel, not tugging—just there—a silent invitation.

"You’re thinking too much", he murmured, voice low, rough from sleep.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe because I should be thinking", you shot back, but you didn’t step away.

Jensen’s smirk returned, but there was something softer beneath it. Something more dangerous than the teasing. "Tell me you don’t want me here", he challenged, his hand resting on your hip now, warm and steady. "And I’ll go".

You parted your lips, inhaling as if you were actually about to say the words. You knew he’d keep his word. He always did.

But you didn’t want him to go.

You wanted this—the way his presence wrapped around you, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine, the way his hands on your body made everything else disappear.

That’s what scared you the most.

Jensen tilted his head, waiting. Not pushing, not rushing. Just waiting for you to be honest with yourself.

And you hated that you broke so easily.

Instead of answering, you exhaled shakily and let your knee press onto the mattress beside him, crawling up just enough for him to lean back slightly, welcoming you. His hands slid up your thighs, warm and familiar, but his eyes never left yours.

"That’s what I thought", he murmured, pulling you onto his lap, your towel slipping just enough for his fingers to dip beneath it.

Your stomach clenched. "You’re an ass", you muttered, but there was no bite to it.

Jensen chuckled, his lips grazing your jaw as his grip tightened, anchoring you to him. "Yeah, but you like me anyway".

And you hated that he was right about that, too.

Your breath hitched the moment you felt it—him—hot and hard beneath you, pressed insistently against the thin barrier of your towel. A sharp contrast to the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, like he wasn’t fully acknowledging just how much you could feel him right now.

But he knew. Of course, he knew.

Your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, fingers pressing into the warm, firm muscle beneath your palms. He was still naked, still radiating heat, and the moment your hips shifted—just the slightest bit—the friction sent a sharp pulse of heat straight through you.

Jensen groaned softly, low in his throat, his hands tightening around your thighs. "Shit", he muttered, voice raspier now, thick with something that wasn’t just amusement anymore.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming against your skin. "You should be getting ready", you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction, breathless as it was.

Jensen hummed, tilting his head, his lips brushing your jaw, his stubble rough against your sensitive skin. "Mmm. Could say the same for you", he countered, his fingers toying with the edge of your towel. "But here you are. On top of me".

Your stomach flipped, your thighs squeezing instinctively around his waist. He was right there, and your body knew it, heat pooling low in your belly, thighs already aching from the way last night had left you.

His hands slid up, tracing the curves of your waist beneath the towel, moving slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. "Y’know", he murmured against your skin, voice dropping lower, rougher, "if you’re really worried about me being late, maybe you shouldn’t be sitting on my dick right now".

A sharp exhale left you, your fingers flexing against his shoulders. "Jensen—".

"What?". His lips ghosted over your neck, fingers finally gripping your hips properly now, rolling you against him just enough to make your breath catch. His cock pressed right where you needed it, even through the towel, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited.

You weren’t sure who moved first—if it was him guiding you, or your own body betraying you—but the moment your hips rocked, the friction made your nerves spark, made heat flood your core.

Jensen groaned again, this time deeper, almost gritted, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. "Yeah", he muttered, breath warm against your ear. "Exactly".

You hated how easily he ruined you. Hated how you didn’t stop, how you didn’t want to stop.

"Fuck you", you breathed, but you were already rolling your hips again, chasing that slow, delicious friction, the warmth pooling between your legs unbearable now.

Jensen laughed, the sound vibrating against your throat. "You already did, sweetheart", he teased, nipping just below your jaw. "And by the way you’re moving? You’re about to do it again".

With a sharp tug, the towel was gone, slipping from your body and pooling somewhere on the sheets beneath you. A rush of cool air ghosted over your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat burning between your thighs.

Jensen's hands were everywhere—firm, claiming—gripping your waist, sliding down the curve of your back, fingers pressing into your hips like he was anchoring himself. His green eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze flickering from your lips to the bare expanse of your chest, down to where your bodies were about to connect.

“Fuck baby”, he muttered, his voice thick with something between admiration and desperation. “You’re gonna kill me”.

One hand slid between your bodies, guiding himself to where you were already dripping, already throbbing for him. The swollen head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing, pressing, the sensation enough to steal your breath.

Jensen sucked in a sharp inhale. "Fuck—you're still so sensitiv from last night", he groaned, his voice strained now, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist.

Your stomach clenched at his words, your thighs trembling around him. "Maybe if you hadn’t—". You gasped as he pushed in just a little, stretching you open with maddening slowness. "Hadn’t wrecked me so hard, I wouldn't be".

Jensen let out a low, breathy chuckle, but his control was thinning—you could see it in the way his jaw tensed, feel it in the way his fingers flexed against your hips. "Oh, sweetheart", he murmured, his other hand sliding up your side, palming your breast before his fingers curled around the back of your neck, tugging you down. "That was barely me wrecking you".

And with that—he pulled you down onto him, fully, completely, stretching you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

A ragged gasp left your lips, your body clenching around him, adjusting to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

"Ouw—", you choked out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Jensen groaned, his head falling back against the pillows for a moment, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Fuck, baby. Look at you”. His voice was wrecked, strained with restraint, with the effort it took for him to not move just yet.

Your breath shuddered, your body trembling at the way he filled you, at how perfectly he stretched you. Every inch of him throbbed inside you, heat coiling at the base of your spine, your thighs quivering where they straddled his hips.

"Jensen", you breathed, barely able to form words, your nails dragging down his chest.

That was all it took.

His fingers flexed against your waist, and then he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips that sent blinding pleasure spiraling through your core.

You whimpered, your hands flying to his chest for support, but he didn’t stop, didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. He lifted you just enough before pulling you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him, again and again, harder, deeper, until the only thing spilling from your lips were broken, gasping moans.

"Fuck, that’s it", he gritted out, watching the way your body took him, the way your back arched, your mouth parted in pleasure. His grip on your waist tightened as his hips snapped up, meeting you with every downward roll, sending sharp jolts of electricity through your veins.

"You feel so good", he growled, his voice raw, his fingers possessive as they dug into your skin. "So fucking tight. Like you were made for me".

Your head tipped back, pleasure burning through you, your body already starting to tremble. The grinding, the pace, the deep, deep thrusts—it was too much, and not enough all at once.

"Jensen—". His name spilled from your lips like a plea.

He grinned, though it was more of a snarl, his control slipping. "That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name while I ruin you again".

And he did.

Jensen's grip tightened as he slammed up into you, pulling you down to meet each thrust, forcing you to take him deeper, harder, rougher. The stretch was overwhelming, the pleasure devastating, your body reduced to nothing but fire and sensation as he filled you over and over again.

Your fingers clawed at his chest, nails dragging against the firm ridges of muscle, desperate for something—anything—to ground you. But there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing but him.

"Jensen". His name left your lips in a gasping, broken moan, your head tipping back as your body clenched around him.

He groaned, the sound wrecked, his hands sliding from your waist to your thighs, lifting you slightly before slamming you back down onto his cock. "Fuck—just like that", he muttered, his breath coming ragged now, but his pace never slowed. If anything, he was getting rougher.

Pleasure shot up your spine, white-hot and blinding, your nerves on the edge of snapping. Every thrust hit deep, hitting that spot that had your toes curling, your stomach clenching, the coil inside you winding impossibly tight.

Jensen noticed. Of course, he did.

"Shit, you’re close already", he rasped, voice thick with pride, with something dangerously close to obsession as he watched you, completely undone on top of him.

You whimpered in response, your nails digging into his skin, your thighs starting to tremble.

He smirked—dark, satisfied, in control—as he sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other gripping your jaw. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he thrust up, sharp and precise, stealing the last bit of composure you had left.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?", he murmured against your mouth, his breath hot, teasing. His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you shattering within seconds.

The orgasm slammed into you with a force that left you breathless, your body tensing, then shaking apart, pleasure pulsing through every nerve ending. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you clenched around him, waves of heat rolling through you as he kept fucking you through it, dragging it out, making you feel every second of it.

"That’s it", Jensen groaned, voice gritted, strained, his hands bruising as he held you still, as he thrust up one last time, burying himself deep. A guttural sound tore from his throat as he spilled inside you, his whole body tensing beneath you, pleasure rolling through him in hot, shuddering waves.

For a moment, the world spun, the only thing grounding you was him, his grip on you, his breath ragged against your skin.

Silence settled between you, thick and heavy, the aftermath still buzzing in the air. Jensen didn’t move, still buried inside you, his arms still wrapped around your body like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t either.

But the moment couldn’t last.

He sighed against your neck, pressing the faintest kiss to your damp skin before finally leaning back, his hands gentler now, smoothing over your sides. "If I wasn’t late before", he muttered, voice still rough with exhaustion and satisfaction, "I definitely am now".

A weak laugh escaped you, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. "That’s your fault", you murmured, your body still tingling from the aftershocks.

Jensen chuckled, but instead of answering, he slid his hands up your back, slow, lazy, his fingers tracing soft patterns against your skin.

And that? That was what scared you the most.

Not the sex. Not the sneaking around.

But this—the way he lingered, the way he touched you even when he didn’t have to. The way he stayed.

Because deep down, you knew…

You were breaking all your own rules.

The loud pounding at the door jolted you from the haze of aftershocks and warmth, panic surging through your system.

“Ackles!”, Jared’s voice boomed through the room, followed by another aggressive set of knocks. “We’re fucking late! Get your ass out here!”.

Your entire body stiffened, still perched on top of Jensen, still connected, your thighs sticky, your skin hot from the lingering heat of what had just happened.

Jensen groaned dramatically, his head falling back against the pillow, one lazy hand brushing over his face. “Fuck, Jared”, he muttered, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion and left you a trembling mess.

Your eyes widened, panic gripping your chest. “Oh my God—”. You scrambled, instinct taking over, hands bracing against Jensen’s chest as you tried to get off him, but his grip tightened.

“Not so fast, sweetheart”. His voice was low, smug, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to make you shiver.

Your heart slammed in your chest. “Jensen—he’s right there!”, you hissed, eyes flicking frantically to the door as Jared knocked again, harder.

“Jensen! If you don’t open this damn door in ten seconds, I’m coming in! I will use my keycard, asshole!”.

Jensen just smirked, his other hand trailing down your thigh, so slow, so possessive, like he wasn’t at all worried about getting caught.

“Let him”, he muttered, his voice gravelly, his hips rolling up just a fraction, making you gasp, clench around him involuntarily.

Your stomach flipped, a sharp pulse of pleasure shooting through you even as your mind screamed in panic.

“You’re insane”, you whispered sharply, shoving at his bare chest, your pulse racing, the heat of him still inside you, still filling you so perfectly.

Jensen laughed, low and smug, but he finally released you, letting you scramble off him just as another aggressive knock rattled the door.

You stumbled, nearly falling, your legs still weak, your thighs still aching from the way he’d ruined you minutes ago. You barely managed to grab your discarded towel, wrapping it around yourself in record time as you bolted toward the bathroom doorway, trying to make yourself invisible.

Jensen, meanwhile?

Completely unbothered.

He stretched slowly, rolling out of bed with a lazy ease that made it clear he wasn’t in any kind of hurry.

Another pounding knock.

“Jensen!”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, dragging a hand down his face, clearly in no rush to deal with the six-foot-four nuisance on the other side of the door.

Little did you know, Jensen had already told Jared about you a couple of days ago. He’d expected this moment, knew it was only a matter of time before you got caught sneaking around.

But seeing you panic like this?

Adorable.

So, he let you squirm.

He smirked to himself as he tugged his shirt over his head, deliberately taking his time, knowing full well that you were still pressed against the bathroom door, heartbeat racing, eyes wide with the kind of panic he found way too entertaining.

Another pounding knock.

"Jensen! Open the damn door, or I’m—".

Finally, finally, Jensen swung it open, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the frame, giving Jared a bored look.

"Jesus, Padalecki", he muttered. "Ever heard of patience?".

Jared’s eyes narrowed, already looking pissed as hell, his gaze flicking over Jensen’s still-rumpled appearance—messy hair, swollen lips, trunks thrown on in a half-assed attempt to look presentable.

Jared’s brows lifted.

"Oh", he muttered, crossing his arms. "You definitely weren’t sleeping".

Jensen just grinned. "Didn’t say I was".

Jared squinted, eyes flicking past him into the room. Jensen angled his body slightly, blocking just enough of the view to keep you hidden, even though—let’s be real, the entire scene was screaming of exactly what had happened.

The unmade bed. The disheveled sheets. The fucking smell.

Jared let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Dude".

Jensen smirked, playing dumb. "What?".

Jared’s lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh but was too annoyed to let himself. "You serious right now?".

Jensen shrugged. "Look, man, if you’re mad I didn’t invite you, just say so".

Jared grimaced, shoving his shoulder. "Oh, fuck off".

Jensen chuckled, but before Jared could barrel past him into the room, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough.

"Don’t be a dick", he murmured. "You already know who’s in there".

Jared stilled.

His brows shot up, just slightly, before his expression shifted—less annoyed, more intrigued.

"Oh, so you finally told her I know?".

Jensen’s smirk deepened.

"…Not exactly".

Jared let out an exasperated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "You’re such an asshole".

Jensen grinned, clearly having way too much fun with this. "Yeah, but I’m your asshole".

"Unfortunately", Jared muttered, shaking his head. He peered past him again, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. "So, are you gonna let her out, or are we pretending she doesn’t exist?".

Jensen chuckled, finally turning his head toward the bathroom.

"Sweetheart?". His voice was sickeningly amused, way too pleased with himself. "You gonna come say hi, or you planning on hiding in there all day?".

You froze, heart pounding, throat suddenly dry as hell.

Jared knew?

Jared fucking knew?

And Jensen never told you?!

You were going to kill him.

Slowly.

You exhaled sharply, gathering yourself, before stepping out of the bathroom, towel still wrapped around you, your face heating instantly when Jared’s knowing gaze landed on you.

Jared blinked.

Then, with zero hesitation, he smirked.

"Oh". He nodded, fighting back a laugh. "Yeah. That definitely tracks".

Jensen’s grin widened, watching the way you glared daggers at him before crossing your arms, clearly one second away from launching something at his head.

"You knew", you said flatly, eyes locked onto Jared.

Jared snorted. "Oh, yeah. Jensen spilled days ago. Thought you knew".

Your eyes snapped back to Jensen, murder flashing behind them.

"You are so fucking dead".

Jensen grinned like a bastard, completely unbothered.

"Yeah, yeah", he murmured, stepping closer, hands slipping around your waist as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your temple, just to piss you off more. "Still worth it, though".

You swore you saw red.

And Jared?

Jared just laughed his ass off.

Eventually, Jared shifting his weight before casually holding out his hand toward you.

"Well", he said, smirking, "since we’re not pretending you don’t exist anymore, I guess I should properly introduce myself—".

But before you could take it, his expression shifted, realization hitting him like a freight train. His hand hovered in midair for a second before his face twisted in horror, and he yanked it back.

"Actually, you know what—never mind". He grimaced, shaking his head, his face scrunching up like he just walked into something disgusting. "I just remembered exactly what you two were doing before I knocked".

Your face flamed, heat rushing to your ears as the memory of exactly what had just happened surged through your mind.

Jensen, meanwhile?

Losing his damn mind.

He let out a loud, unrestrained laugh, gripping his stomach as he leaned against the doorframe, fully enjoying the absolute mess unfolding in front of him.

"Wow, Padalecki", he mused, mockingly wiping a fake tear from his eye. "And here I thought you were all about bonding".

Jared shot him a flat look, clearly unamused. "Yeah, I’m good, thanks. No need to get that close".

Jensen just grinned, slinging an arm lazily around your shoulders, pulling you closer as his fingers toyed with the edge of your towel—just to mess with you.

You immediately tensed, glaring up at him. "Jensen", you hissed through clenched teeth, shifting slightly, hyper-aware of just how little was covering you.

He winked, voice dropping.

"Relax, sweetheart", he murmured, lips brushing your ear, "not like Jared hasn’t already figured out how thoroughly I just fucked you".

Your entire face ignited, heat rushing through you so violently you had to physically shove him away.

"Jensen!", you sputtered, barely resisting the urge to smack him.

Jared groaned loudly, rubbing his temples. "For the love of God, can we go now?".

Jensen let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulders like getting up and leaving was the biggest inconvenience in the world. "Yeah, yeah. Just lemme grab a shower real quick", he muttered, stretching. "Need to get her off my body first".

Your face somehow got even hotter, and Jared immediately threw up his hands.

"NOPE", he declared, turning around so fast it was almost cartoonish. "I refuse to hear another goddamn word. I will be downstairs, waiting, pretending none of this ever happened".

And just like that, he was gone, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the hall.

The second the door clicked shut, you spun on Jensen, smacking his arm hard enough to make him chuckle.

"You are such an asshole", you snapped, mortified beyond belief.

Jensen just laughed, stepping closer, hands gripping your waist again.

"Yeah", he murmured, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips, "but you like me anyway".

Only ten minutes later, Jensen was moving around the room, hastily buckling his belt, his shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair damp from the world’s fastest shower.

You were still sitting on the bed, still half-naked, towel barely hanging onto you, watching him with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

"Never seen you move this fast", you teased, tilting your head as he grabbed his SnapBack off the dresser and shoved it on backwards, clearly prioritizing speed over style.

Jensen shot you a look, smirking. "Yeah, well, someone made me late", he murmured, pointedly, as he reached for his watch—

Only to realize you had already picked it up.

You held it out lazily, wrist dangling over the edge of the bed, watching as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing yours as he took it.

That little touch—as brief as it was—made your stomach flip, and suddenly, you were too aware of the way he was looking at you.

Like he was thinking about throwing you back onto the bed all over again.

Like he was debating if being late was really that big of a deal.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Better hurry, or Jared’s gonna come back up here and kick the door down".

Jensen exhaled sharply, reluctantly strapping the watch onto his wrist, still smirking like a bastard. "That man needs to take a breath. It’s not like they’re starting without me".

"You mean the convention where thousands of people are literally waiting for you?".

He shrugged, completely unbothered, but then his eyes flicked back to you—still sitting there, still wrapped in nothing but a towel, still looking too goddamn tempting for your own good.

His smirk turned dangerous.

"You’re really not making it easy to leave, sweetheart", he muttered, fingers trailing lightly along your bare thigh, like he was considering being just a little later.

Your breath hitched, body still sensitive from before, but you quickly swatted his hand away, sending him a warning glare.

"Nope". You shook your head. "You’re already late because of me. I am not responsible for you missing your flight next".

Jensen chuckled, hands up in mock surrender, but you could see it—the way he hesitated, the way he looked at you like he wanted to stay just a little longer.

And that?

That was dangerous.

Because you couldn’t let this become more than what it was.

So you forced a smirk, tilting your head as you leaned back against the pillows, stretching slightly.

"Besides", you murmured, voice laced with mock innocence, "I think you’ve had more than enough of me for one morning".

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his smirk faltering just for a second before his gaze darkened, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you again.

But instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a grin, before taking a deliberate step back.

"Yeah, we’ll see about that", he muttered, winking before turning toward the door.

And as he grabbed his keycard and slipped out, leaving you alone in that messy, wrecked hotel room—

You had a feeling he was right.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

The silence in the room was deafening now that Jensen was gone.

You sat there for a moment, towel still wrapped around you, staring at the mess of sheets, the faint imprint of where he had just been. The room still smelled like him—his cologne, the heat of his skin, the lingering scent of sex and something more.

And yet, all you could think about was what had just happened.

Jensen told Jared about you.

Your stomach twisted at the realization, your fingers gripping the edge of the towel tighter.

Why?

The two of you weren’t even labeled. That had been his rule, not yours.

No commitments. No expectations. Just this. Stolen moments, hotel rooms, late-night calls that always ended the same way.

Jensen had made it clear from the start—he wasn’t looking to settle down again, not after everything with Danneel. You were his secret affair or whatever the hell this was.

So why the fuck did he tell Jared?

Jensen wasn’t the type to just share information for no reason. Jared was his best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean Jensen had to tell him everything.

Especially about you.

And yet—he had.

Days ago, apparently. And he hadn’t even mentioned it. Hadn’t even warned you.

Your heart did a weird, uneasy flip, frustration creeping up your spine.

What did it mean?

Was it just Jensen being careless?

Or was it something more?

You hated that the question lingered, that it stuck in your chest, leaving you restless in the empty bed. Because no matter how much you told yourself this was casual, simple, no strings attached—

Jensen had just tangled you up in something you weren’t prepared for.

And you weren’t sure what the hell to do about it.

Inside the car, the steady hum of the road filled the space as Cliff sat in the front seat, engaged in casual conversation with the driver. The ride to the convention center was smooth, quiet—until Jared turned to Jensen, his voice low, casual, but laced with curiosity.

"She’s pretty young, huh?".

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his fingers drumming lazily against his thigh as he leaned back against the seat. He didn’t react right away, just let the words sit in the air for a second before exhaling through his nose.

He knew what Jared was doing.

"She’s twenty-five", Jensen muttered, glancing out the window like that was supposed to end the conversation.

Jared tilted his head, not buying it. "So… twenty-one-year age gap?". His brows lifted slightly, his tone neutral, but Jensen knew him too well.

"Jesus", Jensen grumbled, running a hand through his damp hair, still backwards in the damn SnapBack because he hadn’t even bothered fixing it properly. "Thanks for the math, professor".

Jared smirked but didn’t drop it. "I mean… it’s kinda a thing, dude", he said, shifting slightly to look at him. "Not saying it’s bad. Just… different for you".

Jensen didn’t respond immediately, but the muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Because yeah, Jared was right.

It was different.

Jensen wasn’t blind. He knew people would raise eyebrows if they knew. Twenty-one years. That was a big gap, no matter how he spun it. And yeah, you were young, but you weren´t a kid—you were smart, independent, and didn’t take his shit.

And yet, that wasn’t the part that bothered him.

It was the fact that Jared was bringing it up at all.

Which meant he noticed something.

Jensen sighed, shifting in his seat, still staring out the window. "She’s not some kid, man", he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "She knows what this is. I’m not leading her on".

Jared made a small humming sound, still watching him. "Right".

Jensen glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?".

Jared shrugged, tone even. "Nothing", A beat of silence, then— "Just saying, if it’s really nothing, you wouldn’t have told me about her".

Jensen’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral.

"Thought you’d figure it out anyway", he muttered, shrugging. "You always do".

Jared huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. But you never tell me unless you want me to know".

And there it was.

Jensen’s fingers flexed against his knee, his teeth pressing together slightly, but he didn’t argue.

Because Jared was right.

Again.

And that?

That was the part that fucked with him the most.

Jared sensed the difference immediately.

It was subtle, something most people wouldn’t catch—but Jared knew Jensen too well.

During the double photo ops, Jensen was usually his usual self—smiling, laughing, making fans feel comfortable. But there was always something else, something second nature to him.

He looked.

Jensen always checked out the women who caught his interest, just a quick glance, a flick of his green eyes as if gauging if they were worth a second look.

He’d done it for years.

Hell, even when he was married to Danneel, he still had that instinct—never acting on it, never disrespectful, but the habit was there.

But this time?

Nothing.

Jensen’s gaze never lingered. Never even flickered to anything other than the camera, the fan he was greeting, or whatever dumbass joke Jared was cracking beside him.

Not once did he do the subtle once-over. Not once did he let his eyes wander, even briefly.

Jared took note.

He took a lot of notes.

Especially when, during a break between photo ops, Jensen pulled out his phone, his expression shifting just slightly—a look that Jared had never seen Jensen wear while texting someone.

Not some smug grin like he was setting up a fun night. Not some casual response like he didn’t care.

This was different. This was soft.

Jared leaned over slightly, trying to get a glimpse. "Who’s got you smiling like that?", he teased.

Jensen immediately locked the screen, tucking his phone away without so much as a word.

And that?

That spoke volumes.

Jared smirked to himself, shaking his head.

"Yeah", he muttered under his breath. "That’s what I thought".

The panel was going smoothly—plenty of laughs, plenty of inside jokes, the usual back-and-forth banter that fans ate up. Jensen and Jared had been doing this for so long it was second nature at this point.

But then, the question happened.

A fan stepped up to the mic. “What’s the biggest age gap crush you’ve ever had?”.

Jensen froze for a second, his brows knitting together as he tilted his head.

He was clearly trying to decipher the question, his brain gearing up for the wrong interpretation.

“I don’t know.. I don’t… I mean..I didn’t really have like.. uh.. crushes on celebrities when I was… I was too busy…“, he mumbled, still trying to piece it together.

Jared, standing beside him, instantly sensed the opportunity.

He grinned, just barely, leaning into his mic. “Doesn’t have to be a celebrity”.

The moment the words left his mouth, Jensen stiffened.

It was so fast, so subtle, but Jared caught it.

“Well”, Jensen started, but Jared interrupted him. “I‘m gonna answer for him“.

“Oh, great”, Jensen muttered, taking a long, slow sip of his coffee, like he was bracing himself for whatever the hell was about to come out of Jared’s mouth.

Jared, still grinning like a smug bastard, paused for dramatic effect, scanning the audience before leaning forward again.

“He has… he currently has.. a crush.. on somebody who is… ”, he drawled, dragging it out.

Jensen’s entire body tensed.

His eyes flicked with panic, just for a second—the kind of split-second panic that screamed oh, shit, I just got caught.

And that reaction?

Worth every damn second.

Jared barely bit back a laugh as he pivoted, fast as hell, finishing the sentence smoothly.

“34 years younger and 31 years younger”, He nodded dramatically. “And they’re his daughters”.

The audience roared with laughter and `aaaww´s´ completely missing the tiny moment that had just unfolded.

Jensen exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching, before leaning into his mic with a deadpan look.

“What he said!”, Jensen quickly shot and earning more laughter from the fans.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

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