#I had said I’d be free but I think I was lying

[eternallynamelessvoid]

One day I hope I’m just vapor in the clouds in the never-ending water cycle. I’d actually have purpose then.

I wish I had wings.

Really I just wish I could run.

[xneens]

three cents

you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[snarltoothed]

chronically ill crowd what is your least favorite weird symptom/condition???? mine is hyperhydrosis <3

[paddockletters]

late-night talkings | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x reader

summary: Late at night, unable to sleep, you and Oscar dive into a heartfelt conversation about racing, the future, and life beyond the track. As memories resurface and dreams unfold, you realize just how much the future holds for both of you.

author's note: first fic with oscarrrr, i hope you liked it .. Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

It was well past 1 AM, and neither of you could sleep. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the dim light barely enough to push back the darkness. You lay next to Oscar, staring at the ceiling, each of you lost in your thoughts.

His sigh broke the silence first, and you turned your head slightly to see him lying on his back, eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

“Nope,” you replied, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “You?”

Oscar chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not even close. My mind won’t shut off.”

You shifted closer to him, the blanket sliding down as you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture.

“Everything,” he finally said, his voice soft. “Racing, the future, us…”

You tilted your head, a small frown forming on your face. “What about us?”

Oscar let out a sigh, his eyes flickering over to meet yours. “I’ve been thinking… about where I want to be in a few years. About what happens after racing. And I don’t know, it’s just been on my mind a lot lately.”

You paused, taking in his words. It wasn’t the first time you had these late-night conversations, but this one felt heavier, more serious.

“What do you see?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I see more races, obviously. Hopefully a few wins,” he added with a small smile, but there was something deeper behind it. “But after that... I don’t know. I just know I want you there with me, wherever that is.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and comforting. You remembered a conversation you'd had early in his career, before everything got so intense, before the constant travel, the pressure, the sleepless nights like this one.

It was his rookie season, and everything had been so new—so exhilarating and overwhelming all at once. You were standing in the paddock, watching him from the sidelines as he navigated the chaos of his first race weekend. You could still remember the way his face lit up when he saw you after the race, his excitement bubbling over despite the exhaustion that lined his features.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he had said, pulling you into a hug. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the day. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here we are.”

“I always knew you would,” you had replied, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You were born for this.”

Now, lying next to him in the dark, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory. So much had changed since then, but in many ways, things were still the same. You were still by his side, through the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses. And he was still the same Oscar, even if the weight of the world sometimes rested on his shoulders.

“What about kids?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “Do you ever think about that?”

Oscar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “You’re really asking me about kids at 2 AM?”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Why not? You’re the one who brought up the future.”

He sighed, his expression turning thoughtful. “I do think about it sometimes. Not anytime soon, obviously, but... yeah. I could see us with kids one day.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he added with a teasing grin, “They’d have to be faster than me, though. I can’t have slow kids.”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting his arm. “You and your racing. I swear, you’ll be teaching them to drive before they can even walk.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous sparkle you loved so much. “Absolutely. I’ll get them in a kart as soon as they’re old enough. Gotta keep the Piastri legacy going.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. It was moments like this—these small, quiet conversations—that reminded you of why you loved him so much. Despite the craziness of his career, despite the pressure and the constant traveling, he was still the same goofy, thoughtful guy you fell in love with.

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be doing if you weren’t racing?” you asked after a beat of silence.

Oscar turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think… this is where we’re supposed to be. I don’t think I’d be happy doing anything else. And I like to think you wouldn’t either.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re right. I can’t imagine a life without you doing what you love.”

His hand found yours under the covers, and he squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in the best way, and you leaned in closer, resting your head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The conversation lulled, but the silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the future stretching out ahead of you in a way that felt both daunting and exciting all at once.

But eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and you could feel Oscar’s breathing start to even out as he drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a little while longer, your mind swirling with thoughts of everything you had talked about—the future, kids, racing. It was all so uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared.

As sleep finally began to claim you, you whispered into the quiet, “Goodnight, Oscar.”

In the dim light, you felt him smile, his arms tightening around you as he mumbled sleepily, “Goodnight, love.”

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally

Authors note: The one MCU man I'd be with (Well, and Nomad Steve)

Word count: 710

Marvel Masterlist How They React To Masterlist

   Bucky couldn't help but be a bit proud of himself. He'd just returned from a hanging out with Sam, and the man had helped him finally figure out how to take a selfie. So now, even though it had taken a while and some help, he was able to take a decent picture of himself that he actually liked. And having been successful with technology once tonight, he decides that he's going to push his luck at furthering this understanding and enjoyment of it, by attempting to figure out how to send it to you.

   You're always so kind to him, have been since day one really, and you're always excited when he takes steps towards getting caught up by learning new things. He's very appreciative of it, and you. It makes him feel good and like his accomplishments, no matter how small, do matter. 

  However, that earlier feeling of accomplishment he had quickly goes away when he reviews the outgoing message that had just sent. Now all he feels is dread and embarrassment, because he had sent you the entirely wrong picture. Instead of getting his smirking face, you’ll be getting an admittedly blurry picture of his boxer clad legs with his hardened dick poking out the fly as his flesh hand wraps around it.

   “That…that is not the one I sent. I didn't…oh fuck”

   What's he supposed to do here? What's he supposed to say? He certainly didn’t want you to feel disrespected by this mistake, he wasn’t some asshole that wanted to boost his ego by gaining attention over his dick. But he certainly felt like he would come off that way. Even if he explained himself, he feared you would think he wasn't being truthful. 

   His scowl deepens and he flexes his vibranium fingers out of nervousness as he contemplates the situation. Maybe Steve was right, maybe he should have just gotten a flip phone. Surely then he wouldn't be in this predicament. But no, he had to listen to Sam and Tony and get a ‘smart phone’. What was so damn smart about it if it couldn’t even send the right picture?

   Over in the gym, you had just finished your workout and were standing by your locker to gather your change of clothes so you could shower when your phone buzzed on the bench. You finish wiping off your forehead with the towel before picking up your phone to see what was up. You smile when you see the notification from Bucky, as it always warmed your heart to see the man getting to rediscover life and the new aspects of it, and unlock your screen to see what he’d sent.

   Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see the picture and you quickly exit your messages to glance around and make sure no one else is close enough to see what you'd been sent. Satisfied with everyone's distance you re open the picture, and despite its blurriness you can tell the man is very well endowed.  And though you really do like what you see, there is no doubt in your mind that you were not meant to receive this. Bucky never even caught on to your subtle flirting, so there was no way he’d be bold enough for this.

   This wasn’t meant for me, was it?

   He stares at the text for an unknown amount of time, it felt like a trap. If he said yes, but you hadn’t liked it or him, it would ruin your friendship. But if he said no, and you were interested in him, he’d be blowing his shot with you. 

   Bucky?

   He falls back against his mattress with a sigh, he might as well be truthful, This wasn’t what I meant to send, no. But I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t thinking about you when I took it.

   Your face heats up and butterflies erupt in your belly, Well, I just happen to have some free time. Maybe you can elaborate on what other feelings you have when you think of me

   Only if you promise me that Sam never hears about how bad I screwed up or how mushy I can be

 You chuckle, I wouldn’t tell a soul

[spacerockfloater]

Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

[chubbycelebs]

Fame Greedy

Jeremy Sumpter was stood on the set of a new advert he had been signed up to by his agent. After his successful childhood in films, Jeremy struggled to break free of his past and become a serious actor now he was older. He could never land movies despite his incredible body and devotion to the roles. He was becoming frustrated with his situation. After he finished filming the advert for the day he stomped back to his hotel room and slammed the door in frustration. What more do people want. Jeremy went for a shower to cool off and when he walked out of the bathroom with a white towel around his waist he saw his agent sat on his bed. “Jesus Adam warn me next time I could’ve been naked” Jeremy said jumping slightly as he realised just how naked he was. “Oh I don’t mind Jeremy just ignore me whilst you get ready. There’s some things I wanna run past you” Adam, his agent said to him. Jeremy started to get changed. As said before he has a pretty perfect body so he wasn’t embarrassed when he dropped his towel in front of his agent to pulled on some white briefs. “So I know you are frustrated by doing adverts all the time and I think I’ve figured a way to change your direction” Adam said scrolling through his phone trying to find something. “Oh please anything is better than doing these pissing adverts” Jeremy chimed in now pulling on some jeans. “Well you see there’s been a role open up and they want you specifically.” Adam put his phone down and looked at Jeremy as he pulled on a tight shirt that showed off his toned body. “Omg no way! That’s amazing I’m so down!” Jeremy said cracking a smile. “Well there’s a catch you see. They want you but they want you to erm bulk up a bit…”

“what do you mean? How much?” Jeremy said becoming a little skeptical. “Well they didn’t give a maximum number but they said at least 60 lbs.”

“60 lbs!!!! If I gained that I’d be fat?!? Are you sure?” Jeremy said shocked by this number. “Well Jeremy they kind of want that. You see your playing a gamer for this movie and they want a big guy so they asked for you to do this…”

“Jesus christ. Well I guess I can always lose it after the film. Fine I’ll do it. Go get me some food then” Jeremy said standing up pacing around his hotel room. Was he really about to do this? He worked hard for his perfect body just to get roles and now they want him fat? I guess 60 lbs isn’t life changing. I could definitely lose that he said to him self.

Every day now Jeremy would wake up and start eating and wouldn’t stop until he passed out from a food coma. He loved eating cakes and pies and fast food. He thought there could be worse things to do. Just being told to sit on his arse and stuff his face with crap wasn’t so bad. Some days he even enjoyed lying around in his tight briefs stuffing his gut.

He started to feel his body soften as time went on. His abs melted into a soft belly that was bulging outwards. As he sat rolls formed on his body. He looked down and poked them. His finger sinking deeper into his gut was kind of intriguing. He’d never been this soft it was interesting finally letting go. It was also so easy that he started to enjoy it. He made games for him self to try and eat as much as possible. He would gain these 60 lbs in no time.

6 months had passed and the 60 lbs of fat he was asked to gain was sitting softly on his body. His body looked like it had melted away into lard. His once fit body was now replaced with a body of someone who’s lazy and unable to stop eating. Jeremy had to admit, yes he was concerned to start with but he really enjoyed the process. He loved eating and over eating. He loved sitting and doing nothing all day. And truthfully he enjoyed the extra weight on his body.

He was asked for a screen test so the ex jock actor came into the studio and got ready for the screen test. He was asked to sit in just white briefs and to sit in the set built for the movie. The camera and sound crew were all set up and ready. The director calls action and Jeremy started acting the first scene. The scene was asking Jeremy to lay on the sofa with a bag of crisps on his belly and eating the whole bag whilst a video game plays in the background. He admitted that he thought there’d be some lines to say but he happily just laid back and stuffed his belly. The director yelled cut and asked for Jeremy to come to his office. “Everything alright?” Jeremy asked the director as he entered the office still in his costume. “Jeremy my boy look at you. You look amazing. Thank you for your devotion to the project” the director said placing his hands on the sides of Jeremy’s belly. Jeremy couldn’t help but feel proud of his gain. “You see though. When envisioning the character we thought he would be well fatter. He’s a really lazy greedy character and you just look a bit chubby. We want some really mass on you.” Jeremy was a little taken a back. He felt like a lard arse already but maybe this wasn’t enough. “Alright then. I’ll erm gain some more for you then.”

“Amazing thank you Jeremy. You are gonna be one big star one day!” Jeremy walked back to his hotel room his belly rumbling. He plopped him self down on his bed. He caught a glimpse of him self in the mirror opposite his bed. He pulled off his shirt and looked at his bulging belly, the rolls that replaced his abs. He had never thought he’d get this fat but now he was gonna have to get fatter. He called for room service and huge trolly of food came to his room. He’s gonna enjoy these next few months of stuffing.

Every month Adam came round to check on Jeremy and make sure he was making progress. He would make Jeremy strip down and show his fat body. He took measurements of every part of his expanding body.

“Wow you really are packing on the pounds huh big guy?!” Adam said patting Jeremy’s belly. “I just need this role Adam. I’ve gotta show I’m serious about this. Plus it’s not hard being a lazy slob all the time anyway” Jeremy walked over to the trolly of food and stuffing in a burger. “Well you sure are a lazy slob.” Jeremy looked around at Adam as he said this. “See you next month chubs!” Adam walked out of his hotel room. That’s when Jeremy felt the hot pulse of horniness in his tight underwear. Did he enjoy Adam fat shaming him? Something about being called a lazy slob and chubs made his dick stand to attention. Maybe this fat body wasn’t bad at all. In some ways it’s actually better maybe…

A year had passed Jeremy never stop eating. He never did exercise. And never wanted to lose the weight. He awoke one morning and pulled on a tight white vest and his usual white briefs. He looked at him self. His round fat gut was huge now and hung out of his white vest. His underwear barely fit his fat figure now. He pulled up a photo of him self from last year and was so pleased to see how his body had changed. What a lard arse he had turned into. He remembers being told about this role and vowing to lose the weight after he finished but. Kw he was this huge, he never wanted to go back to his fit old self. If anything he wanted to be bigger. That evening filming started for the film. Every scene had Jeremy stuffing and eating him self silly. For months the director had him stuffed with food on camera. He had very little lines and spent the whole time being a hog on set. All this pigging out lead to him to gain even more weight and by the end of filming, the old fit boy had transformed into a huge round lard filled fatty.

Jeremy!! So good to see you big guy!” Adam came in on the last day of filming. He was met with the sight of a morbidly obese Jeremy. “You look huge!” Adam said as he hugged the greedy actor and placed hands on his belly. “Adam what actually is this film? All I’ve done is eat and be a fat pig for months. Why is that?” Jeremy said with a grin looking at Adam who had his hands on Jeremy’s fat gut. “Oh you see I was gonna say but I just kept forgetting. You see there’s a load of people who really enjoy seeing fit men get fat so me and the director thought you’d be perfect. We’ve been filming you for well over a year as you’ve grown into the man you are today. It’s like a documentary all about how you’ve turned into such a huge hog. And it’s gonna be a smash hit!”

Jeremy looked at Adam and couldn't help but smile. “You better sign me up for the sequel to this film then Adam”

“Don’t worry. The presale for this movie is already insane so you’ll be back. You’ll be along side Tom Holland as well next time!” “Oh I can’t wait to see how that goes…”

Based on the recent images I’ve posted on Jeremy Sumpter I decided to write a story with some images along side them. Hope you guys enjoy this story of the growing actor. Hopefully his fame will out weight him one day!

[harryslittlefreakk]

too sweet

summary: essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on.

warnings: swearing, light angst, smut (rough sex, oral m receiving, slight domrry) also don’t ask me how he can receive oral if she’s on the desk ?? it just happened

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: much like the rest of the world, i can’t stop listening to too sweet :) and to me it has ceorry written all over it!! as always please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really want to start trying my hand at more tropes and aus so please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see!!!

my masterlist & taglist can be found here 💖 love you

“Mr Styles, I-”

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s not a set back, it’s just-”

“I can show you, please.” You were begging and pleading like this job hadn’t been draining the life out of you for months now. You knew that Harry was right, but you didn’t want to, couldn’t, accept another failure.

“Listen.” His words were stern but his face was soft as he reached over the table, placing a ringed hand over the top of yours. “It’s not personal. To succeed in this business you need grit. No one ever got to the top without a hint of cunt, me included.”

He held up his free hand as you opened your mouth, silencing you before the words had even begun to form. “You are special. You don’t have that mean streak, and I refuse to be the one to manufacture it within you. I will find a spot in this company for you, shift people around if I have to. You need to find a role that grows with you, not one that will tear you down.”

You nodded slowly, speechless as his words sunk in. How can you be fired for being too nice? Not cunty enough? You tugged your hand away from Harry’s as if it burned you, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is this because of the cakes?” you asked, cringing as you thought back to all the nice things you’d done around the office. If you weren’t supposed to be nice, why not put that in the job description? Under requirements: IT skills, maths degree, asshole.

Harry laughed, leaning back in his seat as he grinned at you. “In a way, I guess it is because of the cakes. Just trust me, okay? This is for the best. I’d never forgive myself if I turned you into a monster. Finance is a cut-throat world,” he finished, staring out into the office.

When he didn’t say anymore, you stood up, smoothing out your skirt across your thighs. “Thank you for your time, Mr Styles. I’ll wrap up my work and send it over to you, I assume you won’t need me past lunch?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you y/n,” he smiled, nodding as you turned away.

“Dick,” you muttered, pulling the door closed behind you. You could hardly rant and rave to his face, especially after repeatedly hearing how nice you are, but you were inwardly seething. Treating your colleagues like shit would be a good reason to get fired, treating your clients like shit would be a better one. But to be too kind? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make sense to you, but it was still downright unfair. You had grit, and you’d show him.

You sat silent and dignified until the office left for lunch, wrapping up with the clients you had and sending the remainder to Harry. No one stayed past lunch on a Friday, so the second the last stragglers left, you rushed to the Harry’s office door. You had no game plan, except for bursting in and proving him wrong. Only, as soon as you were about to reach out and knock on the door, it swung open. “Y/n.”

“I have grit,” you told him, slipping past him into his office. It was all you could think to say.

“I-”

“Close the door please,” you motioned your head towards Harry’s seat, signalling for him to sit back down. He was frozen in the doorway, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “I have grit,” you repeated, gaze following Harry as he pushed the door closed and circled back around his desk.

“You said that,” he sniggered, loosening his grey tie as he watched you pace around the office. “If I didn’t have grit,” you started, willing something entirely different to come out your mouth, knowing that it wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t mention that I know you spent the entire Christmas party in here with Stephanie. With the door locked. And I wouldn’t mention that I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” you finished, eyes glued to the skyline behind Harry’s head.

His jaw clenched a few times, his hands flexing against the wood of his desk. “Good point,” he murmured, his expression totally unreadable as he looked at you. “Come and sit down.”

You padded over tentatively, fingertips gripping the back of the chair as you pulled it out in front of you.

“Not there.” He pushed his chair back, tapping on the wood between his hands.

“What are you-” you started, gaze darting between Harry’s icy stare and your feet, dragging themselves the short distance to Harry’s desk.

“You came here to show me you have grit, no?”

You nodded, heart in your throat as you perched on the edge. “How were you going to show me?” he continued, his eyes unrelenting in their pursuit of weakness within you.

You knew what your game-plan was, but you weren’t expecting Harry to catch on and call your bluff. His voice was muffled by the blood pounding in your ears, your jaw tight as you tried to remain composed under his watch. He leaned back when you stayed silent, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze raked down your body. “What were you going to do, y/n?” he asked again, hooking one foot around yours to pull your legs open.

A tiny gasp falling from your lips was the only sound you made, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Harry reached forward, pushing your skirt up around your hips until he saw a flash of your red panties. “I think,” he started, fingertips trailing down your exposed thigh. “You were going to show me that sweet little cunt, show me what it can do. Am I right?” he continued, satisfied as he looked at the trail of goosebumps his touch had left.

You nodded again, eyes fluttering closed in a bid to expel some of the anticipation creeping through your core. “Use your words,” Harry muttered, tugging on your thighs until you landed in his lap.

You opened your eyes, inches away from his face as he splayed a hand across your lower back. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine. His cock twitched beneath your core at the name, his eyes dark.

“From this moment onwards, anything that happens within these walls is between us. Do you understand?” Harry asked, his voice husky and yet somehow softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Of course,” you replied, hoping your eyes communicated the sincerity that your words couldn’t.

Harry placed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down slightly until his firm cock bulged against your entrance.

“What are you and your grit going to do about this then?” he smirked, his fingertips digging into your clothed flesh. You almost choked on the lump in your throat, eyes bulging as you shifted on top of Harry’s girth. His stare was like a challenge, daring you to retreat or prove yourself wrong. But you’d gone too far to back down now, so you swallowed the first taste of tomorrow’s regret and locked your eyes on his, rolling your hips across his lap before stepping off of him.

You answered his questioning frown by sitting back on your heels between his legs, reaching forward with a tentative hand to palm him over his trousers. Harry let you feel him for a second, before swatting you away to unzip his slacks and push them down his thighs.

From the moment you’d first met him, you knew Harry was objectively hot. He was attractive in the same way a friend’s dad would be - enough to appreciate but too out of reach for it to be any more than that. But now as you stared up at him, the strained fabric of his Calvins tight against the cock he was about to fuck your face with, he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Harry tugged the waistband of his boxers down, only enough to set his length free, grabbing hold of your wrist. “No one is to know,” he growled, waiting for your confirmation before guiding your hand to his length.

“No one, sir,” you murmured, pressing your parted lips to the side of his shaft as he pulled his hand away.

“Good girl,” was all Harry could manage as your pout wrapped around his tip, your tongue swirling across the nerves. You let your saliva drip down him, rubbing it across his skin with an unsteady yet firm hand. It felt dirty, transactional almost as if he might let you stay if you performed well enough for him. But you knew you didn’t want that, and he wouldn’t want you working for him once you’d milked his cock for all it had.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your mouth away from him, your hand still working up and down his length. Your gaze darted up to meet his, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you’d seen before. He was almost animalistic, something feral juxtaposed in his features as he watched you silently, frozen in place. You willed yourself to look away as you bent further down, poking out your tongue to lick a wet line along his cock, but you couldn’t focus on anything but Harry’s face. Your arousal was pooling between your thighs, a breathy moan tumbling past your lips as you took more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You couldn’t take him all, not even close, so your hands worked at the rest of him, one wrapped around his base while the other found his balls, squeezing them gently as your cheeks tightened against his girth. Harry let out a small groan, his first display of your mouth having any effect on him, his hand instinctively tangling into your hair as if he’d been here with you before.

He used his grip to hold your head steady, directing your mouth up and down his length. His cock was knocking into the back of your throat, your whimpers mixing with groans and splutters, until he stopped suddenly, pushing back in his chair until there was distance between the two of you. You were too much, the sight of your pout wrapped around his tip too much for him to take.

“Up,” he demanded, placing a protective hand over the edge of the desk to save you knocking your head. You pulled yourself up to meet where he stood, resting against the desk to take the weight off your shaky legs. Harry’s thumb swiped across your jaw, his eyes fixed on your face. Your swollen red pout, your heavy-lidded eyes, mascara gathered under your lower lashes. You looked a fucking mess, and he was loving every second of it.

He bent down slightly, fingers slipping under your skirt to hook around the side of your panties. He pulled them off, helping you to raise both feet, before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.

“Turn around,” Harry murmured, nodding as you obeyed him. His fingers trailed across your hips, pushing on your back until your stomach hit the wood of his desk.

You let out a whimper as he pressed a hand between your legs, his fingertips dancing across your skin until they met your entrance, hot and sticky and so ready for him. Harry swiped a finger through your folds, a tiny chuckle the only sound he made as you squirmed, his free hand splayed across your back, keeping you pinned down. “Got yourself all worked up f’me, huh?” he drawled, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, too overcome with need to form any words. Harry pressed into you, collecting your juices on his tip before pushing himself inside, eyes screwed shut as your walls constricted around him. Your whimpers turned into a string of expletives, his girth too much for you to take. “Tight little cunt, all for me,” Harry whispered, stilling inside of you now that he’d bottomed out. His hands were digging into the skin of your ass, your curves engulfing the base of his cock. “All for you,” you panted, desperately trying to find something to grip on to, something to steady you while Harry tore you in two.

He pulled back, mouth hanging open as he watched himself emerge from your pretty pink lips, his length already smothered in your juices. He wanted to resist, to be gentle with you, but your cunt was begging him to destroy it, to instil in it some of the grit you claimed to have. It was between his head and his heart, yet Harry could only think with his cock.

He slammed into you hard, your hips knocking against the edge of his desk, the contents of his drawers rattling as he drilled into you. His office was far from sound proof, and any stragglers left in the building would hear nothing but your cries and screams as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock hitting every inch of you. But that only spurred him on further, the thrill of your pleasure coursing through his veins. He landed a blow on the curve of your ass, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watched the red hand print appear, the skin bouncing with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Har- fuck,” you cried, breathless as Harry slammed his hips into yours before pulling out completely. He grabbed at your waist, tugging at your dress for you to turn over. “I need to see you,” he growled, eyes completely darkened when you turned to face him. You’d never seen him with as much as a hair out of place, yet now he looked possessed by his own lust. He was messy, curls hanging down his forehead and a blush to his cheeks, shirt half unbuttoned.

He circled around your clit as you looked him up and down, eyes never leaving yours. “Taking me like a fucking good girl,” he whispered, pushing back into your entrance.

“I can’t- please, sir,” you whimpered, chest heaving as he continued fucking into you with the same ferocity as before. Between his cock, his fingers, his face, you were coming apart. He was twitching inside of you with every moan that left your lips, his own climax creeping up as quickly as yours was. He stilled for a moment, his fingers never ceasing as they rubbed pleasure into your nerves. “You can, and you will. Come for me,” he urged, grabbing a hold of your waist as he thrust into you, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’m, fuck-” was all you could cry, your mouth falling open as you shook and writhed under him, his words coaxing out an orgasm stronger than you’d ever imagined. Your eyes brimming with tears, brows knitted as you cried out, hips bucking into the palm of his hand. Harry slowed down slightly, seconds between each thrust as he worked you through your high, your cream coating every inch of his thick cock.

The second you stilled, he slipped his hand under your back, pulling you up to sit as he pulled his cock from you. Harry dragged a thumb across your bottom lip, smirking at your tiny pout as you felt the emptiness in your cunt. “Open up,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his tip, pushing it past your lips as he worked his hand up and down the length.

You took him into your mouth for the second time that day, the mix of your juices like sweet nectar against your tongue. You were dizzy from your climax, every inch of your core on fire from the sheer brutality of his cock, your walls still pulsing. Harry was grunting and groaning, even his moans husky as he twitched between your lips, his jaw tensing as he came undone, hot cum shooting to the back of your throat.

He held a hand to the nape of your neck, grounding himself as he bucked into you, filling you up at a much faster rate than you could swallow. “Good girl,” he cooed, letting you lick every last drop of cum from his tip before he pulled away, sinking down into his chair as his hand dropped down your body.

You leaned your arms back against the desk, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath, the stinging of your entrance doubled by the sudden lack of touch.

Harry kept watching you, still under your spell, unable to will his eyes away as you panted. “You have grit,” he whispered, a glimmer in his eye. “But I can’t let you work for me after that.”

“As long as you know I have grit, Mr. Styles,” you smirked, rolling your head down to look at him again.

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever

[undiscovered-horizon]

Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

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Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you. 

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

[lyyhyuck]

fluff; bestfriend!haechan x reader, words: 565.

🎧 chasing cars - snow patrol and there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

“every time i’m here, i get jealous of your blanket. seriously what material is this? its crazy how its so soft. i’ve never had bed sheets this soft”, your best friend, haechan, said, truly sounding amazed. you looked over and saw that he completely buried himself in your blanket, only his head sticking out.

it made you laugh lightly, but you didn’t answer. you focused on your homework while haechan just enjoyed doing nothing and lying around. the room was filled with the smell of tea. your cup freshly refilled and hot, while haechan‘s cup was only half full and already cold, standing on your night stand.

“and im jealous of you because you can lay there stress-free”, you replied, but facing him with your back since you’re sitting at your desk. he watched you doing your assignment for a minute or two, not wanting to interrupt you because he knew you get the most amount of stuff done when you’re in a ‘flow’ like now.

you apologized to your best friend for having to work first and put on headphones and finished your work in about thirty minutes. when you turned around on your desk chair, you see haechan has dozed off. a soft smile spread on your lips and you decided to let him nap for a while. you packed your bag for the next day, then grabbed your phone and made yourself comfortable on the space that was left of your bed, being careful not to wake him up.

another twenty minutes passed before haechan woke up, stretching and yawning. “rise and shine!” you greeted him. he laughed quietly, “shut up”.

“i’d really like to have my bed back”, you said. “too bad it’s mine now”, hyuck sticked out his tongue at you. you shrugged, “not like we haven’t shared a bed before”, and lifted up the blanket to get under it too. “hey, move!”, you told haechan, who just stared at you at first but then did move. you snuggled into your sheets, which were indeed very cozy - haechan did not exaggerate this time - and didn’t even notice how your best friend tensed up next to you.

“sorry”, you mumbled, “you probably expected a more exciting hang out than this.”

“no”, haechan said, “i knew what i signed up for when i texted this morning.”

you had to laugh, “why would you want to hang out here when i would be busy studying? are my sheets really that great?” haechan smiled “well yeah they are great. but-“, he paused, “i just wanted to spend time with you”. your heart melted at the way he looked at you. the moment suddenly felt very intimate.

your body acted before you could think and you snuggled into haechans side. he wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on top of yours.

the room fell quiet for a while and you just enjoyed the moment, butterflys dancing around in your stomach.

“you know”, you hesitantly said, “i just wanted to spend time with you, too.” haechan kissed the crown of your head then. immediately, your cheeks turned red but you turned around to look him in the eyes nonetheless. you grinned, “i would always choose your company over anything even if it means that i study while you sleep”.

haechan kissed you.

masterlist

[chamomiletealeaf]

Warnings: afab! fem reader, spanking, dacryphilia, squirting, hair pulling, tiny bit of degredation? Bratty reader

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Captain?”

You cross your arms and look up at Price during a briefing, standing as if you were taller than him. You had strongly disagreed with a decision he made for a future mission and the rest of the Task Force was staring at you in awe of your sudden assertiveness and attitude towards your superior.

He wanted to go in to take down the Shadow Company and rip them apart from the inside out, sending you in first as bait, and you had argued that would be too obvious something was up. You proposed infiltration would be better, stealthier, and you would go in first and have Gaz lead you around base through the cams until safe for the others to sneak in too.

But Price was not having it with your disagreement and sassy attitude like a spoiled teenager arguing with her dad for not getting something she wants.

“I’m not letting you go in with risk of being caught and killed. Graves is a narcissist, going against him is dangerous. Much easier to pretend you come in peace, alone. It would boost his damned ego.” Price says.

“He’s not fucking stupid. He fooled us all. Only someone as equally dense as him would think that’s a good plan.” You snap back at him.

The 141 stare at you, scared for what Price is gonna say next. His eyebrows raise in disbelief at your insult, and he steps closer, slowly and carefully to you.

“Watch your tongue soldier.” He growls at you through clenched teeth.

And that’s how you got here, looking up at him asking what he’s gonna do about it.

He then grabs you by the back of your neck, spinning you around and pushing you towards the door which he slams open with his free palm, leaving the rest of the team watching in shock at what the hell just happened, and even more so the cliffhanger of not knowing what is going to happen.

Price shoves you into his office, slamming the door behind him and pushing you towards his desk, stumbling over your feet.

“Gonna teach you some fucking manners. What the fuck’s runnin’ through that stubborn little mind of yours that’s got you thinkin’ you can talk to me that way?” He says, caging you in between him and the desk making you lean back while he places his palms on either side of you. His voice dripping with anger.

You don’t break and continue your arguing with him.

“Well maybe if you talked to me before making me the center of some bullshit plan then I’d have some respect for your decisions.” You spit back at him.

He spins you around and slams you against the desk, pressing your cheek into the cold wood of it while your palms fly up onto the desk to catch yourself.

He leans in to your ear, pressing his body flush against yours, one hand in your hair pressing your face into the surface of the desk and another between your shoulder blades to keep you steady.

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a fucking brat and learned to watch that pretty little mouth of yours I wouldn’t have to do this would I? But this is what you wanted, wasn’t it.” He whispers darkly into your ear, and you feel yourself throbbing at the way he’s manhandling you and saying such dirty things to you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this, but you can’t let him know that. No, you were stubborn, you couldn’t let him win that easily.

“Fuck you.” You say through your smushed cheeks, and Price laughs.

“Yeah, bet you wanted that too.” He says amused.

“Gonna teach you a real good fuckin’ lesson yeah? Maybe you’ll learn when to shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He says as he yanks you up by your hair and you hiss.

He pulls you with him behind his desk and he sits in his chair, pulling you down with him and you fall over his lap.

“Yeah that’s it. Over my lap.”

You whine at his roughness and the pain from pulling your hair, still trying to process what’s happening.

Then, Price’s hand yanks your cargos down, leaving you in a cute lacy thong.

“Oh sweetheart, this what you’ve been hidin’ under all this?” He chuckles villainously. “Wonder if what you got under that shirt matches.” He smirks, and all you can do is whine in shock of what he’s doing to you, but fuck did you love every second of it.

His amused tone then turns angry again as he pulls you up by your hair again, forcing you to crane your neck back to look at him, hands gripping his thigh.

“Gonna spank this pretty little ass fuckin’ raw until you apologize to me.” He says, then shoved your head back down to fall over his thigh.

He rubs a hand over your ass, massaging your cheeks and then he lifts his hand up, and forcefully brings it back down.

Smack

The sound of his palm slapping your skin echoes in the small room of his office, and you yelp at the force of it. Price laughs again at your submissiveness.

“Not so chatty now are you?” He says as he lifts his hand back up and you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation of the next spank.

Smack

Price keeps spanking your ass harder and faster until it’s red with his handprint branded onto your ass cheeks, nothing but the sound of your whimpers, the slapping of skin, and his dirty words filling the room. You refuse to give him the apology he wants both because of your stubborn, bratty self, but also because this was making you soak your panties like you never have before. This was a dream come true having your Captain manhandle you and punish you the way you deserved for being so smart-mouthed with him.

“This is what you get, when you fuckin’ smack. backtalk smack. me smack. you get spanked smack. Like you deserve smack. You fucking smack. Little minx.”Smack.

Price delivers three more fast and hard spanks to your ass until he hears you sniffle.

Your head is hanging down over his knee so he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of Price’s hand smacking your ass repeatedly.

“Aww sweetheart.” He says before he laughs to himself.

“Are those tears? What, you gonna cry from a few little spanks to this pretty little ass?” He asks in mock sympathy with a smirk on his face.

You sniffle again and whimper not answering him, still hiding your face.

He tugs your hair up to see your tear stained pouty face.

“Aww those are tears.” He fakes a frown, mocking your expression.

“You can make this all stop if you just say you’re sorry love.”

“Mm mm” you shake your head, a few more tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, making him chuckle darkly again.

“You know.” He says as his hand creeps its way down to your clothed pussy, rubbing right where you were practically gushing out of your thong all over the both of your thighs.

“If you weren’t so wet, or rubbing your little clit all over my knee, I’d believe you didn’t want this to stop from your stubbornness. But I think you like getting spanked don’t you sweetheart?”

You just whine in response and rub your pussy over his knee again, not caring about letting him win anymore. You just wanted him to make you cum now.

He laughs at how pathetic you look and he moves your thong out of the way to stick a finger in your dripping pussy.

“Oh fuck love, you’re even wetter than I fuckin’ thought.” He says as he pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, other hand still gripping your hair so you keep eye contact with him.

“You apologize, and I’ll let you cum. Got it?” He says sternly.

You hesitate for a second, not really wanting to push your pride aside, but you needed to cum. Your pussy was throbbing and leaking so hard you couldn’t even think straight and you felt like it would never stop unless you got to cum.

You nod, and Price starts thrusting his finger in and out again. You hump his knee as your eyes roll back into your head. He lets go of your hair, making your head drop down again so he can spank you as he fingers you.

“Go on sweetheart. Say you’re sorry for being a brat.” He says bringing his palm down over your ass cheek again, making you jolt as he finger fucks you still.

Your mind goes fuzzy as he inserts another finger, his ring and middle finger fitting perfectly snug next to each other as they move in and out your sopping pussy.

You moan loudly at the sudden stretch which makes Price just finger you faster.

“That’s it. Keep rubbing that pussy on my knee. Rock those hips. Fuck you’re so damn tight. Such a pretty ass all marked up with my handprint.”

He remembers why he’s doing this in the first place and grips your hair one last time, pulling you up again.

“Say. It. Or I’ll fucking stop.”

You feel your orgasm get closer and closer and the thought of him stopping was worse than anything in this moment.

You look up at him, mouth open, fucked out look on your face with tears running down your cheeks now from pleasure instead of pain.

“I’m sorry. Fuck John I’m sorry. Just, please don’t stop.” You whimper out pathetically. “I won’t talkback to you again just please, let me cum.”

Price smirks and stops his movements, which makes you whine out loud.

He leans down to your face, licking your tears off your cheek before dragging his tongue up to your ear to whisper: “Good.”

He sits back up and speeds up even faster, fucking you so good with his fingers as you continue to hump his knee. Your hands are gripping his thighs for leverage as you feel yourself at the edge of your release.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers. Show me how sorry you are.” He demands, grip still tight on your hair and fingers pumping in and out faster and faster each time.

“Fuck John I- I’m, I’m cumming fuck-“ you babble out right before you roll your eyes back and squirt all over your bare thighs, Price’s clothed thigh, and his hand as your orgasm rips through your body making your pussy pulse around his fingers.

“Oh fuck sweetheart. Yeah look at that. Soaking my hand, fuck. Squeezing me so good.”

He fingers you through your orgasm, then he lets go of your hair and you drop your head down trying to catch your breath.

Price pulls your now soaked thong back over your pussy and pulls your cargos back up, wiping his hand on his own. He then helps you up to sit on his lap and you curl up on him, leaning your head into his neck.

“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.

You hum in response, closing your eyes.

“Listen, we can discuss the plan over again. I won’t force you to do anything you’re that uncomfortable doing.” He tells you.

You open your eyes.

“Funny you think I was ever going to listen to you in the first place.” You retort with a smirk.

He laughs.

“God, what am I gonna do with you?” He asks jokingly.

“Well if it’s anything like what you just did, then I’m in full compliance.”

You both laugh and you snuggle back into his chest, both knowing you were definitely going to back talk him again, but also both glad you ever did.

tag: @pearisvlogs

[siilvan]

HELLOOO! I hope your requests are open, if not take this as a (filthy) plot suggestion

you and price were alone in the middle of nowhere for a mission. It went pretty good and it ended quickly. the evac would not come until morning, so you found a safe house to settle for the night. you weren't an official couple yet, but it was obvious that there was something between you two. since there was nothing to do, you began joking around and laugh at stupid jokes, and jokingly you you sat on his lap, to jokingly flirt. he got immediately excited but he didn't want to admit it. so you show him that it was effectively like this 🤭

dusk

characters: john price

summary: you decide to take advantage of being alone with the captain for the night.

genre: general, explicit, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, reader is shorter than price, grinding, fingering, riding, unprotected piv, lotsa praise

word count: 4.2k

note: sorry i didn’t post for a month do you guys still like me

i’m also sososo sorry if the quality isn’t up to par, i wrote this over like 4 weeks— i hope the semi-longer chapter makes up for it <3

"come on, inside." price’s gruff command guides you through the wooden door and into the apartment. while shaking off the grime and lingering adrenaline, you take in the interior. laswell’s description was spot on: modest, discreet, and unfit for long-term usage. as if reading your thoughts, price huffs out a laugh from next to you.

"it’s not much, but it’ll do for the night," he says, stepping further into the space. the slightly rotted floorboards creaked under his heavy boots, as if rejecting your very presence. "we’ve camped out in worse places, haven’t we, lieutenant?"

you hum while considering your response. "suppose we have, this place at least has a bathroom." he follows your eyes as you nod towards the door at the other end of the room, left open to reveal a humble bathroom. "hope it has hot water, i’d murder for a warm shower right now."

price shrugs before motioning in the same direction. "feel free to try it out, then. just be sure to keep your voice down if you’re displeased."

"should i invite you to join if i’m pleased, captain?" you ask, blinking up at him with a small smile on your lips. the question is laced with faux curiosity - you’re already well aware of what his answer will be.

"perhaps a cold shower would be better for now." he responds, stepping closer to you. the distinct scent of cigar smoke and dry wood cologne invades your senses as he holds your chin in a gentle grip, angling your head upwards. "what d'you think, sweetheart?" the rough pad of his thumb runs across your bottom lip, forcing you to part them and effectively wiping the smile off your face.

"i think…" you murmur, lifting your hands up to press them flat against his vest. "…that i’ll try to leave some hot water for you, since i’m so nice."

his eyes narrow as your palms slide upwards to his chest; a sensation he couldn’t quite feel through the thick material separating the two of you, but it sent heat through his veins and pooling in his stomach nonetheless.

you step back and disappear into the bathroom without another word. price’s eyes follow you the whole way, and a low sigh escapes him once the door is closed behind you. he shakes his head and tugs on the front of his vest, right above where your hands had rested just moments before.

"yeah, a fuckin' angel’s what you are." he mutters, sarcasm and fondness equally mixing in his tone.

the water felt like ice on your skin, much to your chagrin. the relaxing shower you had hoped for was instead a quick rinse followed by a grumbled string of curses as you toweled yourself off. despite your disappointment, you were just thankful to be clean.

price’s voice, albeit slightly muffled, was audible through the door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to listen in on his conversation, so you do what any curious person would do: crack the door open just enough to hear him clearly.

"everything’ll be fine, kate. you don’t need to worry about us." price says with a short chuckle. he starts to speak again, until a voice in the radio interrupts him. you push the door further open, desperately trying to make out what the other voice - laswell, you presume - says in response, but to no avail. whatever she says pulls a frustrated noise from his lips.

"we’ve never had any problems before, have we?" the distinct sounds of old furniture groaning under unwelcome weight signals that he’s sitting now. "i’ve heard this speech a hundred times already, you don’t need to repeat it. we’re both adults perfectly capable of staying on-task for one night."

thoughts of what price could possibly be talking about swiftly flood your brain, pulling your attention from the ongoing conversation. ever since meeting the captain, it was obvious that there was something between you two; "fast friends" soon turned into a mutual attraction that neither of you were willing to firmly acknowledge or deny. innocent flirting had evolved into an agonizing tension, slowly driving you mad while simultaneously drawing you in deeper.

at this point, you’re ready to follow the man to his quarters and cut the tension yourself because, despite his straightforward nature in all other fields, price refuses to take the first step with you. leaving yourself to speculate on why only leads to more questions, so you choose to focus on ways to make him finally snap instead.

there’s a knock against the doorframe, making you jolt and let out an embarrassing yelp. through the sizable crack in the door, you can see price eyeing you down with a sly smile adorning his face.

"have a good shower, lieutenant?" he asks with a tilt of his head. he knew you were listening, that much you could tell.

you open the door fully, allowing him to lift an arm to lean against the frame, his body cutting off your only escape route. still, you try to avoid his gaze. "it was cold," you concede with a grimace. "you and laswell having problems, captain?"

price chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "i wouldn’t call it 'problems,'" he pulls back and straightens his stance, somehow making himself look even bigger than he did leaning over you. "she thinks we’re not to be trusted overnight."

you would be offended by the claim, if it wasn’t completely true. standing in front of him only serves to flood your mind with things you could do while alone together, completely disregarding your training that commands you to stay on-guard. at this moment, you felt more like a hormonal teenager daydreaming about her crush than a soldier.

"i have no idea why she’d think that." you scoff dramatically, feigning shock. "we’re professionals, we can handle ourselves for one night." you manage to shoulder past him and back into the main living space. with an innocent smile playing on your lips, you settle on one side of the couch.

"proving her wrong, eh? we can do that." price follows your example and takes up the other half. your eyes are practically glued to him as he shifts and gets comfortable, legs spreading while his arms settle on the back and the arm of the couch. the dark fabric of his uniform is slightly strained in his current position, perfectly showcasing his hulking, athletic physique under the layers of clothing.

you really wouldn’t complain about being crushed under him.

"tell me a joke," you mutter after clearing your throat, thighs squeezing together as you attempt to get your thoughts back on track. "laswell never said anything about jokes being inappropriate, right?"

price’s head lolls back against the cushion as he pretends to genuinely consider your question. "no, she didn’t. suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun, is there?" he says, sending you a cursory glance and a small smile. his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he shifts again to face you.

"all right, i got one." he chuckles to himself and leans forward. "what do you call a shipment full of military-issued t-rexes?"

you give him a tight-lipped smile and a soft 'hmm?', already slightly regretting your decision. just slightly, though. the smile on his face morphs into a cheeky grin before he continues.

"small arms."

you groan and shake your head in disapproval. "that was awful, price. i think i’d rather listen to ghost’s puns over that." you complain amidst the occasional chuckles leaving your lips. despite the awfulness, he still managed to make you laugh.

"ah, don’t be so quick to defend him. he’s who i stole the joke from." price confesses, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as your shoulders shake softly from subdued laughter.

"i should’ve guessed, that has 'two goldfish in a tank' written all over it." you shake your head once more and look at him again. you blink in surprise when you realize that his gaze is already on you, practically burning against your skin. there was something there, swimming in his pale irises whenever he looked at you. the naivety inside you called it yearning, and the cynicism called it meaningless lust.

still, you wanted him. physically, and perhaps even more. you'd hate yourself for letting an opportunity like this slip by.

"since you're no comedian, sir, why don't we try something else?" you close the short distance between the two of you and toss your leg over his knee, settling yourself on his lap. "we're both professionals, so surely a little... closeness, wouldn't be an issue for us, right?" your hands come up to rest on his broad shoulders as you lean back, keeping a respectable distance despite your current position.

price stares at you wordlessly for a few seconds, his clenched jaw and softly furrowed brow being response enough. you decide to test the waters, shifting forward and back gently, playing it off as an adjustment for comfort. his hand immediately leaves the arm of the couch and lands on your hip, rendering you motionless above him.

"you wanna test me, is that it?" he asks. a shiver racks your spine from the low timbre of his voice, the question practically leaving his lips in a growl. "get yourself a win, so you can brag for a week about beating the captain?" the hand still resting atop the back cushion leaves it to join the other on your hips.

you shrug nonchalantly, fighting the urge to melt under his touch. "your words, not mine. all i want to do is be close to my dearly beloved commander - we are alone in foreign territory, after all." you fight against his hold, trying to move against his thighs.

you'd rather die than admit that you're already soaking through your underwear from just this. you don't need price to gloat about winning, you need him to fuck you stupid. unbeknownst to you, the man was currently fighting every urge to do exactly that. he could feel himself getting hard inside his slacks, his cock straining hard against the material.

he doesn't fight when you bend your upper body forward, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, as you speak softly next to his ear. "what if i get scared or cold, sir? won't you take care of me, since you're so kind to me?" your breath brushes against his skin as you whisper, earning a firm squeeze that most definitely leaves crescent-shaped marks on your skin.

it was a losing battle, anyway.

you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly pulls your bodies flush, your chests pressed together with only your hands to separate them. his hips buck up into you, pulling a shameless moan from your lips. you respond in kind, hands fisting in his uniform as you grind against the imprint on his pants.

"price–"

"you’re a fuckin' tease, y'know that?" price huffs, a low noise escaping him while you rock back and forth. he starts pushing and pulling you along meanwhile, pressing you down harder against him and pulling stuttering breaths from the both of you.

"tell me what you want, love."

"want your cock–"

"you haven’t earned it yet."

you let out a frustrated groan at his response. price merely chuckles and holds you still again, preventing you from even trying to chase the high you’ve been craving for what felt like an eternity.

"i want you to be a good girl, and get yourself off on my thigh." he ducks his head to press a kiss against your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head back to make room for him. "i’ve seen you stare at them before, i know you’ve thought about it, love."

he drags his lips upwards, his coarse beard prickly against your skin, until he reaches your ear. "go on. show me just how badly you’ve been wanting this."

like a good soldier, you take orders well. you waste no time in lifting yourself up to straddle his large thigh, biting back a moan as you rub your clothed core against him. price groans and leans back to watch with hooded eyes as you buck your hips, enraptured with the sight.

"c’mon, wanna hear you– don’t go quiet on me, now."

"fuck, captain–"

"attagirl." his hands move from your hips to drag your shirt up and over your head. he tosses it somewhere across the room, his attention shifting to your newly-exposed skin. he moans, guttural and deep, at the sight, and the sound only adds to the arousal already dripping from your core.

you grind down hard against his thigh, soaking through your underwear onto your uniform pants. you're sure price’s cargos are getting soaked as well, but you're not willing to get off him to check.

price moves with trained precision as he pulls your bra off, leaving your upper half completely bare under his hungry gaze. he draws one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and lets out a satisfied hum against your heated skin. one of your hands tangles in his short hair while the other clutches his shoulder for stability as you desperately rock back and forth, gasps and lewd moans spilling from your lips.

"wanna cum– please, sir–" you whine at the painful ache in your cunt, the layers of fabric only serving to block you from reaching your release. "need you– need you to make me cum."

"i know, pretty girl. i'll take care of ya." he groans softly after releasing your nipple, moving to leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses from your collarbone to your neck. he reaches for your waistband at the same time, popping the button open and unzipping your pants. his rough thumb pad presses against your clit through your underwear, rubbing small and quick circles around the sensitive bud. your hips stutter and jolt forward into his touch as his name and another whine falls from your lips.

"there you are, just like that– that's my girl, you're doing so good for your captain." price mumbles praise and leaves open-mouthed kisses against your pulse, his cock rock hard and dripping pre-cum that was surely staining his briefs.

you can feel your release building up, months of teasing and agonizing tension spurring you on as you grind into his leg and his touch. your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up as you whimper out complaints. he sucks dark marks into your feverish skin meanwhile, ignoring your complaints and pathetic attempts at removing his shirt yourself.

"off." you whine, successfully untucking his shirt from his slacks but failing to get any further. price bites down hard on your shoulder, laving over the indents with his tongue a few seconds after, before he travels up to your parted lips.

"patience, sweetheart."

you huff and lean in, brushing your lips against his and letting out a soft whimper of his name in an attempt to sway him. a moment passes, the only movement being your hips rocking back and forth, and you silently think that you’ve convinced him.

his radio, which has sat on the table next to the couch silently until now, suddenly goes off and distracts you from your haze. price’s hand squeezes your hip again, forcing you to sit still as he grabs the device. he sends you a quick look of "be quiet" before answering it.

"go for price." he clears his throat immediately after, his voice slightly strained and thick with frustration and lust. you sit as still as you can, willing yourself not to move despite being so fucking close before you were interrupted. you can hear a familiar voice on the other end, but paying attention to it wasn’t even an option with how worked-up you were.

something about tomorrow’s exfil, you manage to piece together despite being wholly uninterested. you couldn’t hope to focus, anyway, with price’s eyes trained on your teary-eyed expression during the entire conversation. you’re so distracted with him that you don’t notice his hand sliding past your waistband and into your underwear, until a finger starts circling your puffy clit.

before you can stop yourself, you gasp from the unexpected sensation. one of your hands flies up to cover your mouth, muffling the breathy moans that pour from your lips as price starts to rub harsh circles around your clit and bounce his thigh under you.

"what was that sound?" the person that he was talking to - laswell, of course - asks after a beat. price shushes you softly before responding.

"just the lieutenant. she got startled by a mouse." he chuckles, sounding completely unbothered whilst sending you to cloud nine. the conversation ends shortly thereafter, and he tosses the radio to the other side of the couch before turning his attention to you again.

"nearly got us caught there, love." price pulls your hand away from your mouth and captures your lips with his own, greedily drinking up your moans. "you want the team to find out about us, yeah? want them to know what you let your captain do to you?"

"'s your fault i made noise–" you pull back just enough to argue, rocking your hips in sync with his leg's movement, panting like a bitch in heat every time your cunt was rubbed just right. price revels in your debauched state, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smile as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

his finger leaves your clit and moves south, easily sliding through your folds before adding another. he groans when you grind against his fingers, coating them in your arousal as his name tumbles from your lips. he teases at your entrance for a bit, until he shoves the two fingers inside you without any warning. your jaw goes slack as he suddenly thrusts his thick fingers knuckle-deep, stretching you out and stopping your hips dead in their tracks.

"thought you needed me to make you cum– changed your mind all of a sudden?" price cocks his head to the side. you try to respond, but can only release another moan as he curls his fingers upward, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"no– need more, need you," you can feel fat tears gathering at your waterline, threatening to spill over. his free hand guides you, forcing you to ride his fingers as they twisted, stretched, and thrusted into you at a brutal pace. "fuck, fuck, fuck– gonna cum–"

you clutch onto his shoulders for stability, holding his uniform tightly as you whine and moan freely. your orgasm hits you like a train, wave after wave of pleasure flooding through your body head to toe. his fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit, effectively dragging your pleasure out as long as he could.

when you finally come back to earth, price is carefully pulling his fingers out of you. he brings them to his lips and eagerly sucks on them, cleaning your orgasm off with a pleased hum.

you shift in his lap and feel his cock fighting to escape his slacks, drenched and utterly ruined by you. slowly, your fingers glide down his chest and torso, coming to rest just above his belt. you fiddle with the buckle, the heel of your palm brushing against the sizable tent in his pants.

he immediately responds, a grunt escaping him and only serving to spur you on. you undo his button and zipper before shifting your attention to his hardened cock, massaging it through his layers of clothing.

"fuck, sweetheart," his gravelly moan is like music to your ears. his hips lift upwards, chasing your touch like a moth to a flame. "you gonna let me fill up that pretty little cunt of yours?" he asks, his eyes trained on you despite the pleasure washing over him.

you nod frantically, already reaching into his cargos and pulling his cock out. it comes to rest at your entrance as you line yourself up and start to rub your cunt against his length, dragging it through your dripping, sensitive folds. you moan in tandem, rocking your hips against his length while he drips pre-cum that mixes with your excess arousal. it makes even more of a mess, but you can’t be bothered to care.

with a hoarse growl caught in his throat, price buries himself deep inside you, pulling your hips down to meet his. the air is knocked out of your lungs as you struggle to accommodate his size, feeling a slight burn despite your prep.

"fits like a fuckin' glove. knew you would– my sweet girl, taking me so well. like you were made to take my cock."

you paw at his shoulders and moan when he starts with shallow thrusts, barely pulling out before slamming back in. the burn quickly fades into pure pleasure as he ruts into you, hands roaming all over your body, struggling to find purchase. you cling to him as you lift your hips and drop back down, trying to time your movements with his thrusts.

his shirt came off at some point, but you were too blissed-out to notice when. you happily admire the view as best as you can while bouncing on his cock, panting and moaning his name every time he hits that perfect spot - which, he does. often.

your head falls forward, forehead pressing into his and rapid breaths co-mingling. his hands circle your middle and hook around your thighs, using them as leverage to move you on his cock like a toy. your nails dig into his shoulders and create ugly red marks on his skin, nearly breaking it and making him bleed. his hands are holding your thighs in an iron grip, leaving behind similarly-shaped bruises for you to find in the morning.

all you can focus on is price and his cock bullying its way deeper inside you. you feel so full, stretched out on his length and struggling to catch your breath every time he thrusts up into you. the distinct sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cunt drooling around him and making wet noises that sound downright pornographic.

"love– ah, fuck– y'feel so fucking good," he pulls back and drops his head to rest on your shoulder, muffling his throaty moan against it. "so good, so perfect– wanna fuck you like this every day, feel this perfect cunt wrapped around my cock– fucking hell, i want you, need everyone to know that you're mine."

your stomach tightens, burning with the rapid approach of your second orgasm. the noises coming out of price were animalistic, barely coherent after he buries his face in the crook of your neck while frantically fucking up into you.

"none of those boys deserve you, love. they can't– fucking christ– they can't please you, can't satisfy you. y'need a real man, someone who'll keep you nice and full."

"price, fuck–" your head was spinning, dizzy from pleasure. your walls flutter and pulse around his cock, forcing a whine out of the captain. "'m yours, sir. please, i wanna cum– want you to cum inside."

you feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge. your pelvis aches from the force of price's sloppy thrusts as he loses rhythm, rutting into you like a man starved. despite the countless nights spent fantasizing about him, you never expected him to be so feral. it's like he's an animal trying to breed you, to stake his claim on you.

the thought sends you over the edge, cumming with a debauched moan of his name. price keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his cock hot and heavy inside your cunt. his thrusts were erratic, desperate, as he chased his own release. you try to ride him despite the overstimulation, practically going limp in his arms as he drags you along.

"gonna cum, love– inside? y'gonna let me fill you up like a good girl?"

you nod your head, sniffling and blinking back hot tears. "yes–! want it inside, please, i've been so good–"

"agh, fuck–" price grunts and presses his hips flush to yours. he cums a second later, burning liquid spilling into your fluttering cunt. he shallowly thrusts into you, making some spill out onto your glistening thighs and his ruined cargos. after a couple more thrusts, he falls back against the cushion, hands sliding up to rest on your hips.

you two sit in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. price presses chaste kisses to your shoulder and the side of your throat while his thumbs rub gentle circles into your sweaty skin. you lazily play with his short hair, dragging your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. he groans softly and shifts under you, making you whimper from the ache between your legs.

"guess we can't be trusted alone," you mumble and sigh, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

price hums and chuckles softly. "i think we handled ourselves just fine. i had an eye on the door."

"i''ll take your word on it," you huff and lean against him, your heart skipping a beat when his arms wrap around you. "i won, by the way."

"sure you did, love."

taglist: @sofasoap , @rohansregret

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A single photo puts half of the truth out into the world. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fingering, swearing WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Nineteen - Mexico 2022 You woke to a delicious smell and felt the strains of the free practices deep in your bones and every muscle protested the movements needed to get out of bed. Giving up, you laid there for a minute more, mentally preparing for the final free practice and qualifying race, before tossing the blankets back. 

You probably looked like a zombie the way you stumbled your way bleary eyed through the hotel suite to find Charles cooking breakfast. 

“Good morning, baby.” Lando grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into his lap while he waited patiently at the table.

“Just morning,” you grumbled with a yawn. “Nothing is good before noon.”

“I can think of one thing,” he teased as his fingertips traced the curve of your leg.

“Feeling a little tender, chérie?” Charles asked with a kiss to your forehead as he placed two plates on the table. “We can give you a massage after breakfast. Bon appétit.”

“Okay, maybe there’s a few good things in the morning,” you conceded before opening your mouth for the forkful of food Lando offered. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Sorry, love, Zak’s invited me and Danny to a charity event,” Lando apologised with a pout. “I’m sure Charles can take care of you all on his lonesome.”

“Of course,” Charles said with a soft smile, “but I’d rather you be with us.”

You shifted on his lap to face him and kissed your way along his jaw to his lips. “Me too.”

“Me three,” he murmured when you pulled back to finish eating.

As promised, after breakfast you found yourself lying face down on the bed with massage oil drizzled over your skin. Heavenly moans filled the pillow your face was buried in as the two of them found every knot in your muscles and eased them away with their strong hands. 

“I hope you don’t make sounds like that for Kristian,” Lando teased. He had given up helping Charles working his way along your body and instead parted your legs to focus his touch on one particular place. 

“Can’t say he’s ever fingered me,” you said before laughing at the soft spank he responded with. “Yet.” Heat burned across your ass at the smack he dealt and your yelp turned to a moan as he soothed the sensitive skin with his palm before kissing it softly. 

“I think our Lando is a little possessive of you, chérie.”

You squirmed on the mattress as his fingers worked their way back into you to find your cunt soaked for him. “I like it.”

“I’m not possessive, I just don’t want to share with you anyone else.”

You lifted your head from the pillow and found Charles’ lips pressed lightly as he tried not to laugh but the amusement was thick in his voice, “That’s what possessive means, mon cher.”

You felt sorry for Charles as he was given a three-place grid penalty for something that wasn’t entirely his own fault. It was easy for the stewards to say he could have used his wing mirrors to see George coming up behind him on his flying lap but the window of view was so small that the stars had to align to actually see anything and react in time. 

His engineer should have warned him.

The urge to go to Ferrari and find him almost won but Max called out before you could leave the garage. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you said as you scratched the nape of your neck nervously, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is it a date?” You hated how intense his scrutiny was and his eyes narrowed the longer the question went unanswered. 

“Does it matter?”

“You’re dodging the question, zusje.” Max crossed his arms and looked over your shoulder. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” Your mood turned sour as you heard Jos’ voice behind you. “Are you coming to dinner?”

Max shook his head. “She’s going on a date.”

“And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t choose to spend my evening with you,” you said as you turned to face your father. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Jos asked with a tick in his jaw. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Let’s list off the reasons. 1) it’s none of your fucking business, 2) it’s none of your fucking business, 3) it’s none of your-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Max growled as he dropped his arm over your shoulder and turned you away. “We’ll talk about this later, go calm down somewhere.”

You stormed out of the garage without a goodbye and straight into Ferrari’s next door, ignoring the looks they gave you as you climbed the stairs to where the driver’s rooms were. 

Carlos had just opened his door as you were passing it and he looked a little dishevelled and disappointed as he sighed to himself, and you could only imagine how much worse Charles was feeling. “Tough quali for you guys,” you said as you caught his attention and accepted the hug he offered. “How’s he doing?”

“Pissed off. Xavi is probably hiding in a hole somewhere by now. I would if I were him,” he huffed a humourless laugh. “It’s good that you're going out to dinner, I don’t think he would leave his room otherwise.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You gave Carlos a little wave as he went on his way before you knocked on Charles' door. “Hey, it’s me.”

The door opened before you had even finished speaking and you slipped inside quietly as you saw the sullen look on his face. Needing to comfort him, you caught the door with your shoe and kicked it shut so you could cup his face in your hands and pull him into a kiss. 

“I forgo-” You froze against Charles as the door swung open and Carlos filled the doorway, his jaw slack as he stared wide-eyed. “What the fuck, mate,” he hissed quietly as he stepped inside and closed the door shut. “You know Max is going to kill you, right?”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Charles muttered as he stepped back and took your hand instead. “What did you forget?”

“Huh? Shit, I forgot.” Carlos frowned and looked back at the door. “So…Just friends, ay?”

“Not just friends,” you chuckled, squeezing Charles’ hand. “But not ready to go public just yet.”

“Because of Max?”

“Because of Lando,” Charles admitted. 

“Ohhhh, because he’s been in love with her forever and you got the girl,” Carlos nodded to himself as he spoke only to stop when you laughed. 

“Because we are dating Lando too, and it will be a PR nightmare to explain.” You laughed as Carlos’ mouth dropped open and he pointed between the two of you. “Me, Charles and Lando, yes.”

“Woooow,” he laughed as he recovered and shook his head once more. “Max is 100% going to kill the both of you. Nice knowing you, mi amigo.”

“Thanks for your support, mate,” Charles drawled sarcastically and reached for his keys. “Let’s go, amour.”

“Can I just ask…” Carlos leaned back against the door so Charles couldn’t reach the handle. Crossing his arms, Charles rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for the question. “Does she top you like in the driver standings?”

“First Pierre, now you, putain de merde,” Charles sighed and pushed Carlos out of the way as he laughed. 

But then the laughter dried up and he turned to you offended at the news. “Pierre knew before me?”

“Since Suzuka,” Charles said with a smirk knowing it would irk him more.

Carlos reeled back and his eyes widened. “What the fuck, and that pendejo didn’t tell me. How long have you been together?”

“Just before Monza.”

“Before Mon…Monza! Ay!” Carlos dragged a hand down his face. “I thought we were friends, and Lando too? That guy has never kept a secret in his life.”

You looked at Charles with a giggle. “So dramatic, is he always like this?”

“Mhmm, try being teammates with him,” Charles replied with a roll of his eyes. “He just needs time to process, and I want to get out of this place before I cross paths with Xavi.”

“Kristian would have a coronary if he saw this. I’m so full but it’s too good to waste.” The Italian restaurant Charles had found in the centre of Mexico City was beautiful but the menu was definitely not suited to your pre-race diet. “Is this your plan to slow me down tomorrow?”

Charles stroked your hand beneath the table. He had managed to get the reservation for a secluded corner booth hidden behind a thin thatch privacy wall, but you still tried to remember to be careful. “Nothing can slow you down, amour.”

“Not even the metaphorical baggage I carry around?” 

“What?” Charles choked on a laugh and had to take a drink of water to stop coughing.

“Something Lando said a while ago.” You chuckled at the memory as you twirled more creamy fettuccine around your fork. “Apparently I have daddy issues, along with his temper.”

“You’re nothing like Jos.” Charles shook his head adamantly. “Back in karting my family would come and cheer me on and I remember when Max came anything less than first place, Jos wouldn’t even clap for him. He didn’t want anything to do with him unless he was on the top of the podiums.”

“I know what an asshole my father is, you don’t need to convince me,” you muttered quietly, feeling sorry for Max’s upbringing that was vastly different to yours.

“I’ve watched you cheer for Max from the pits when you’ve had to retire early. I’ve seen how concerned you get when he’s in a crash,” he said, bringing your attention back to the present. “You’re nothing like Jos.”

Unable to articulate how grateful you were to hear those words, you instead chose an action. Charles froze with surprise for a moment when you kissed him before instinct took over and his fingers curled around your nape to deepen it further. The white wine that had been paired with the pasta was warming your body but not as much as Charles’ hand was as it crept up beneath your dress.

A throat cleared beside the table and Charles pulled back with a sigh as a waiter stood awkwardly holding a dessert menu. 

“No, we’ll take the bill, thank you,” Charles said before the young man could offer the specials. 

“You seem to be in a rush to leave all of a sudden,” you teased in his ear as the waiter left with Charles’ credit card. 

You watched his teeth bite his bottom lip before his eyes trailed down your body. “I want dessert, amour, just nothing they can offer.”

The car ride back to the hotel was tantalisingly slow and it felt like the air conditioner was set on high with the heated looks shared between you. It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were able to tear your eyes away from him and you saw the name on the ID.

“Shh, it’s Max,” you warned before answering the call. “Hey bro, how’d dinner with the donor go?”

“When were you going to tell me you were dating Charles?”  The air in your lungs froze and you knew Charles had heard the exclamation by the tightening of his fists around the steering wheel.

You knew there would be alerts going off on Kristian’s phone as the Aura ring on your finger picked up the sudden spike in your heart rate. “Wh-what makes you think that?” 

“Because you said you were going on a date and now I’m seeing pictures of you and Charles kissing.” 

A tirade of curse words tumbled from your lips, colourful enough to make Charles blush as he indicated to pull into the hotel valet entrance. It wasn’t unusual for any of the drivers to spend time outside of racing together but now the crowd waiting seemed to have a new hunger. 

“Keep driving,” you urged as you saw the cameras flashing. “Go!”

“Pull Charles on the phone,” Max growled. “We need to have words.”

“Fuck off, you’re not my father so don’t act like it.”

“In that case, here.” 

“Don’t you even think about-” you heard the phone exchange hands and hit your head against the window when you heard Jos’ voice.

“What do you think you are playing at? Do you know how this reflects on the family?”

You ended the call and turned the phone off so neither of them could ring back. “The audacity of that man! I’m sorry, Cha, I fucked up.”

“Amour,” Charles said softly as he reached across and took your shaking hand. “It will be alright, we will figure it out together.”

“Shit, Lando!” You rushed to turn your phone back on and saw the missed calls from Max, Jos and even Vicky - which was a low blow since you would have answered your little sister’s call if you had seen it. “He’s not answering.”

“He is probably still at the charity dinner,” Charles reasoned as he stroked his thumb over your hand gently. “We can’t just drive around all night, we will have to go back to the hotel at some point.”

“I know…this just changes, well, everything.”

A smile tipped up Charles’ lips as he reached a stop light and looked across to you. “It doesn’t change one thing; I love you.”

Click here for part five.

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara.

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part ii.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, stalker!miguel, top!miguel, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, weak!male reader, sir!kink, thoughts of sex, masturbation, fingering, spying, kinda dubcon (?), heavily focused on sweat and smelly musk (hehe).

notes: say hi to my first miguel story! i couldn't stop thinking about him ever since I rewatched the movie, tbh.

—at first, miguel was rather reluctant to hire you for babysitting.

—your experience was almost non-existent, if it hadn’t been for that one time you babysat your nephew… eight years ago. of course, you left that part of information out.

—but miguel deemed you trustworthy, concluded that so even before he ran a background check on you.

—and so far, he seemed correct.

—on the first day, he was just as nervous as you were, leaving his precious and sacred gift to the world with a complete stranger—it was frightening and if he had the choice, he wouldn’t have done this.

—he would tell you about the cameras installed throughout the house—mostly for the safety of gabriella’s, but your well-being was also a considerate factor in this choice. 

—you were small, and if miguel said that you looked weak, you’d probably say a questionable thank you considering how quietly submissive you were towards him.

—later that first night, miguel knew he made the right choice in picking you (out of a measly three candidates, but still). 

—you managed to get gabriella to sleep by her bedtime, one routine that miguel still hadn’t figured out yet.

—but to be fair, babies woke up and slept according to their own terms, so did they really have a bedtime other than day, afternoon, and night?

—like the first night of many, you bid him goodbye after being paid.

—goodnight, sir! i’m pretty much free all summer until my semester starts, so if you need me on stand by or something… go crazy!

—all right, I’ll keep that in mind. 

—and… thank you.

—something ignited in him when you guys spoke. it must’ve been… what, your fourth interaction together? 

—the first few have been more formal—interviewing you, introducing you to gabriella, and checking up on you with a phone call. it was limited, a thick barrier that miguel would put up between you and him because it was work—just work.

—even though he sent you off fairly quick, the interaction was long enough for him study you like he never did before. 

—he never realized how handsome you were, optimism practically seeping from your smile to your voice. it was a stark contrast to his moodiness, strained by the constant amount of stress put on by work, and furthermore by an ongoing divorce case.

—but he liked you, more than he’d like to admit.

—miguel liked the way you would tuck your shirt into your pants. a younger version of him would’ve labelled you a nerd, church boy even.

—but he found it attractive when the fabric laid on your chest with the right amount of tightness—a slightest exposure that would have him staring for an embarrassing amount of time.

—he also found it attractive when the peak of summer closed in on you.

—one day, you would show up at his doorstep in shorts.

—you preferred walking. 

—no wonder you were so radiant to him, you practically soaked in the sun every day before you two would meet.

—sorry if i look like a mess, sir- i look gross, don’t i?

—that feeling in him returned again, churned like butter as he would watch the sweat calmly roll down your aching legs.

—i’d be lying if i told you no, wouldn’t i?

—you were a mess, miguel would go on to agree to himself. not because of the way your hair sparkled in the sun as it latched onto sweat—but because of the way you were completely oblivious to how you made him feel.

—it only grew stronger with subsequent meetings.

—you can use my shower, you know. it’s gotta be uncomfortable to be sweaty in those clothes for—what—eight hours?

—no, no! I’m fine, sir. i don’t think it would be right of me to-

—well, just throwing it out there in case you needed to. 

—next time, then!

—and the next time, you would carry an extra bag of clothes because you and miguel both knew the outcome.

—it was a proud moment when miguel could smell his body wash on you when you left that night.

—sure, he probably bought the most generic brand he could find. but he has never smelt that scent on you before, so it inflated his ego to know that you’d be walking home in his usual scent.

—sleeping in his scent.

—like every other night, a shower would mark the end of miguel’s day. it was his favorite pastime—all thoughts were left behind as soon as he stepped under the shower head, letting the warm spray of water wash him of stress.

—when he stepped out, something caught his eye in the corner of the tiled floor—something blue.

—your briefs. 

—you forgot to take your briefs with you because you were rushing when you heard gabriella suddenly cry.

—it would’ve been off-putting by anyone else, but this was you.

—this was your briefs, miguel would then hold up like a trophy. a piece of fabric that would contain and cover you—touch your most vulnerable parts.

—with the current feelings miguel had for you, it would’ve been a missed opportunity if he simply threw it in the washer.

—so, he doesn’t.

—11 am. where miguel would usually find himself sleeping by this hour—he was inhaling the scent of your musk instead, scrunching your sweat-stained briefs to his face as he jerked off in bed.

—in all honestly, he was ashamed to admit that he loved the smell of your sweat.

—but miguel would nonetheless take deep whiffs, desperate to smell you in your most vulnerable state.

—and he comes at the very last second when he can.

—it wasn’t enough for him though, so miguel doesn’t waste a single second to jerk himself off again—his cum lubing his sensitive cock up with a generous amount of stickiness and slick.

—good morning, sir!

—(m/n), i thought i said that you can call me miguel?

—oh… right! sorry, that completely slipped my mind. i must’ve forgotten.

—never stop forgetting, miguel muttered to himself, fucking his heavy cock into  the depth of your briefs.

—he loved the way you called him sir. it made him feel authoriative and only fueled his want and need to protect you—you and your weak body. 

—you’d be powerless if something were to happen to you, and the chances of that happening were well in your wits since you continued to insist on walking home.

—unbeknownst to you, every night miguel would follow you in the shadows—an undisclosed bodyguard of some sort—until you reached home.

—even then, he wasn’t fully relaxed because most crimes always took place domestically.

—he would watch you from below, through your window, for quite some time, making sure your parents’ house was a danger-free zone. 

—and it wasn’t until you took your pants off and began stroking yourself through those same blue briefs, that he was finally at peace. 

—fuck... miguel stopped fucking into your briefs to take another whiff of the fabric until his nostrils stung—a mixture of you and him together now. 

—the fabric clung around miguel’s cock as his thick precum was the only glue that pieced him and the presence of you together. 

—he would think back to how you would suck on two of your fingers as you stroked yourself to nothing but lewd thoughts—your eyes tightly closed to visualize your perverted mind into reality. 

—what are you thinking about? who are you thinking about? is it me? are you thinking about my cock?

—the air in his bedroom has gotten heavier, thick with sex as he sweated under the cloud of you fingering yourself with the clumsiest yet neediest precision.

—he spat on his cock to slick it up again—because he could go on for hours—replaying back to the night where he watched you completely juxtapose with the innocent image he had of you prior.

—your hips were lifted up, legs awkwardly bent back as you dug into yourself, working your hole open deeper with one, then two, then three fingers because—miguel was right. like a spell, you were thinking of him and his cock.

—he had to be big, you were so sure of it. the fact that you strained your neck from looking up at him was a telling sign that he was, as ignorant as that was.

—and you were practically drooling at the thought of his cock stuffing you with the most fulfilling amount of pain and pleasure.

—you’d want him to be ruthless with you and show no mercy as he couldn’t care less about the way you whimpered and cried out for him to stop.

—fucking you from behind as his strong arms held you in a headlock, applying pressure that would frighten a choke out of you.

—because you were nothing but his fuck toy.

—it was all overwhelming for miguel on that night, almost too good to be true and he had to squeeze his cock through his sweats to make sure this was reality.

—you would confirm that it was, with the image of you coming all over your chest and stomach, all to the pathetic plunging of your fingers.

—and miguel does too, coming powerfully, to the point of shudders running down his broad back, into a part of your briefs where it would hold your own dick because he wants his smell to be imprinted on you, inked deep into your flesh.

—until you smelled like his.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[thirtysomethingloser92]

If you are still takin one shot prompts can you write something with Remy x female reader where they are always arguing but everyone knows they’re in love with each other except the two of them? With smut?

(Idk if u do kinks and feel free to ignore this bit if u don’t but if u do can you write in heavy praise kink?)

Love ur writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Warning: Contains Smut. I dunno how to feel about this one honestly, it was written in a haze of sleep deprivation and absence of coffee; but I still hope you enjoy!

The X-Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon, a rare occurrence that most of the team appreciated. With no missions on the horizon and the younger students out on a field trip, the mansion basked in an almost eerie calm. That is, until Remy Lebeau strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune with his typical swagger, and found you rummaging through the fridge.

“Mon dieu, chérie, y’ coulda left me somethin’ to eat,” Remy drawled, leaning casually against the counter.

You didn’t even glance back at him, too focused on your hunt for leftovers. “If you weren’t always late, you’d have something left,” you shot back, finally pulling out a container of pasta. “Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t eat this too.”

He smirked, staring at you with those infuriatingly charming red-on-black eyes. “Lucky, huh? I’d call it somethin’ else, but I ain’t here to argue semantics.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh really? Because that’s all you seem to be good at.”

“Non, non, I’m good at plenty o’ things, chérie. You just never give me a chance t’ show you.” He winked, and you felt a familiar heat crawl up your neck—annoyance, definitely annoyance.

“You know what, Remy? You could charm the devil himself, but it won’t work on me,” you retorted, grabbing a fork and digging into the pasta defiantly.

“Is that a challenge, chérie?” Remy leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your heart skip a beat, not that you’d ever admit it.

“You wish,” you muttered around a mouthful of food.

Before he could reply, Storm walked into the kitchen, her eyes flicking between the two of you with an amused smile. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer. You and Remy had been at each other’s throats for years. From the moment you first joined the team, there was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was his cocky attitude, the way he sauntered into every room like he owned the place, or the way he always had some snarky comment ready no matter what you said. It didn’t help that he was infuriatingly charming, either—always ready with a flirtatious quip, especially when you were at your most exasperated.

But as the years went by, something shifted. What started as irritation evolved into something more complex, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was as if every argument, every sarcastic exchange, was building something between you—a tension that neither of you could deny, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

You’d find yourself lying awake at night, replaying your latest spat with him in your head, only to realize that you weren’t just angry—you were excited. You started to notice the way his eyes sparkled when he got under your skin, or how his voice softened ever so slightly when the banter got too heated. It was maddening, really, how much he affected you, and how you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, even when you wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

The worst part was, you knew he felt it too. You could see it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or in the way he’d linger just a little too long in a room after everyone else had left, as if waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the tension. And yet, you both kept dancing around it, neither one willing to be the first to admit that the fiery arguments weren’t just arguments anymore.

That morning in the kitchen was just the latest in a long string of these encounters. Five years of sniping at each other, of pretending that the growing heat between you was just frustration, not something deeper, something almost… intoxicating.

“Just tryin’ t’ get somethin’ t’ eat, Stormy,” Remy said with that familiar grin, leaning casually against the counter. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you busied yourself with your breakfast, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up whenever he was near.

Storm raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. “And are you succeeding?”

“Not yet, but y’know, she likes t’ make it difficult,” he replied, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your pulse quickened. “If by ‘difficult’ you mean not letting you steal my food, then sure.”

Storm chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re not the problem here,” you insisted, but even as you said it, you noticed the knowing look Storm gave Remy. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying this little game far too much.

“Whatever you say,” Storm replied, her tone light but her eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just... try not to burn the kitchen down, alright?” With that, she left the room, leaving you alone with Remy again.

“She’s got a point, y’know,” Remy said after a moment, his voice taking on that maddeningly smooth tone that always seemed to get under your skin. “We do seem t’ have a bit of a... fiery relationship.”

You glared at him, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected you. “Keep dreaming, Lebeau.”

“I don’t need t’ dream, chérie. I got all I need right here,” he replied, his voice softening in a way that made your stomach do flips.

And there it was again—those words that left you momentarily speechless, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t have a snappy comeback, which was rare. Instead, you just stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you.

Before you could decide, Jubilee burst into the kitchen, her usual energy crackling around her like static electricity. “Hey, have you guys seen—oh, never mind, found them!” she said, her eyes darting between you and Remy. “You two arguing again?”

“Not argu—“ you started, but Remy cut you off.

“Just a lil’ friendly banter,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Jubilee sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You two need to just kiss already and get it over with.”

You almost choked on your pasta, your eyes widening in shock. “What?!” you spluttered, while Remy just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“See, even Jubilee agrees,” he teased, leaning in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady.

You pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest. “In your dreams, Lebeau.”

“Maybe so, but y’know, dreams do come true sometimes,” he murmured, that infuriating grin still firmly in place. You wished you could wipe it off his face—preferably with your fist, but you knew that would probably just make him laugh harder.

Jubilee just rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your continued denial. “Whatever, keep denying it. But everyone knows you’re totally into each other.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Because the truth was, part of you already knew she was right. You’d been fighting it for years, but deep down, you couldn’t deny it any longer: you were falling for Remy LeBeau, and that scared you more than any mission or enemy ever could.

But if you were falling, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him know that. Not yet, anyway.

“Everyone’s wrong,” you snapped, but the words felt hollow even to you.

Remy just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see ‘bout that, chérie.”

As Jubilee left the kitchen, you found yourself alone with him again, and for once, the silence was more uncomfortable than the arguing. You could feel his gaze on you, and it made your skin tingle in a way that was more than just irritation. “No we won’t,” You said simply, turning on your heel and walking out.

The next morning, you were in the Danger Room, running through a solo training session. You needed to clear your head, to burn off the frustration that had been gnawing at you ever since that conversation with Remy. But as you moved through the simulation, dodging holographic enemies and firing off energy blasts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

“Y’know, chérie, y’coulda asked me t’ join,” a familiar voice drawled from the observation deck.

You gritted your teeth, not even pausing as you executed a perfect roundhouse kick to one of the holograms. “I don’t need your help, Remy,” you replied, your voice clipped.

“Didn’t say y’ did. Just thought y’ might enjoy some company,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, I don’t,” you snapped, launching another energy blast that obliterated a row of targets. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped watching me.”

“Can’t help it, chérie. Y’ too fascinatin’ t’ ignore.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you muttered under your breath, but your focus slipped for just a second, and one of the holograms managed to get a hit in, knocking you off balance.

Before you could recover, Remy was beside you, his staff spinning in a blur as he took out the remaining enemies. “Y’ gotta keep your guard up, ma chère. Otherwise, y’ might get hurt.”

You pushed yourself to your feet, glaring at him. “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure y’ did,” he said, that damn smirk still on his face. “But it doesn’t hurt t’ have a lil’ backup.”

“I don’t need backup,” you snapped, brushing past him. “And I don’t need you butting in every time you think I’m struggling.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout strugglin’?” Remy asked, following you as you stormed out of the Danger Room. “Just tryin’ t’ help.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” you shot back, rounding on him. “You’re just... you’re just being annoying!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “Annoyin’, huh? That’s a new one.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, annoying. You’re always there, always making these stupid comments, always... just always in my space!”

His grin widened. “Y’ don’t like me in your space, chérie?”

“No!” you snapped, but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, Remy being close to you made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that made your heart race and your thoughts scatter. And that scared you.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Remy said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that always made your pulse quicken. “’Cause I like bein’ in your space.”

You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you. “Well, I don’t. So back off, Lebeau.”

He didn’t move, just watched you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “Y’ sure ‘bout that, chérie? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like y’ don’t mind it so much.”

Your jaw clenched, and you could feel your temper rising again. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But y’ like a challenge, don’t y’?”

You glared at him, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t a game, Remy. You can’t just... just flirt your way out of everything!”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

You blinked, thrown off by the change in his demeanor. “What?”

“Maybe I’m just tryin’ t’ get t’ know y’ better, chérie. Maybe I’m tired o’ all the fightin’.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “You’re the one who always starts it!”

“Non, I just finish it,” he corrected, his voice softening. “But maybe it’s time we stop all this fightin’ and start talkin’.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Talking? About what?”

“About us,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Us. You and Remy. It was something you’d never let yourself think about seriously, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t ignore it.

“Remy, I...” You trailed off, unsure of what to say, how to even begin to address the tangled mess of emotions this man stirred up in you.

But before you could figure it out, Remy took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Y’ don’t have t’ say anythin’, chérie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just... think ‘bout it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender, so unlike the usual banter between you, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll be waitin’,” he added, his breath warm against your skin, before he finally stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

As he turned and walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do.

Because as much as you wanted to dismiss Remy’s words, as much as you wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, you couldn’t. Not anymore. Not after he’d so easily slipped past the walls you’d built around your heart.

And that scared you more than anything else.

The next few days were a blur of awkward encounters and tense silences. You avoided Remy as much as possible, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. No matter where you went, he was there—at breakfast, during training, in the hallways. And every time you saw him, you felt that same confusing mix of anger and something else, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

It was driving you insane.

Finally, after a particularly grueling Danger Room session, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stormed into the rec room, where Remy was lounging on the couch, casually shuffling a deck of cards. He looked up as you entered, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Y’ look like y’ got somethin’ on your mind, chérie,” he said, setting the cards aside.

“You think?” you snapped, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Remy!”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“How so?” you repeated incredulously, stopping to glare at him. “You’re always there, always saying these things, always... just always around! It’s like I can’t get away from you!”

Remy’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t want y’ t’ get away from me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“Y’ heard me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m tired o’ playin’ games. Tired o’ pretendin’ like there ain’t somethin’ real between us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Remy, this is... I don’t even know what this is. We fight all the time. How could that be anything real?”

“’Cause fightin’ is better than nothin’,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’d rather argue with y’ every day than not have y’ in my life at all.”

The sincerity in his voice took your breath away. You’d always thought the arguments were just part of who you and Remy were, but now you were seeing them in a new light. Maybe the fighting wasn’t about hating each other. Maybe it was about caring too much.

But that realization only made things more complicated.

“Remy, I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can just... turn off the way I’ve always felt about you.”

“I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ turn anythin’ off,” he said gently. “Just askin’ y’ t’ let yourself feel whatever it is y’ been fightin’.” You shook your head, not daring to look away from him as he stepped closer to you, a small smirk crossing his face, “I don’t know how to,” You said simply. A laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah y’ do. Y’ know damn well how t’.” His eyes flickered to your lips, a silent ask of permission, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you fully understood. His presence was electric, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he closed the distance between you. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible, and you found yourself caught between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that drew you closer.

There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a crack in the confident facade he usually wore so well. It was as if he was laying himself bare, offering you a glimpse into the parts of him that he kept hidden from everyone else. For once, there was no playful banter, no flirtatious remarks—just the raw, unfiltered truth of what he felt.

“Y’ don’ have t’ figure it all out right now,” Remy continued, his voice low and soothing. “We can take it slow, see where this goes. But I don’ wanna pretend like there’s nothin’ here when I know damn well there is. And I think y’ know it too.” You wanted to look away, to turn and run from the intensity of his gaze, but something kept you rooted in place. The way he was looking at you made it hard to breathe, like he could see right through the walls you’d spent so long building. It wasn’t just the fights or the tension between you; it was the fear of what lay beyond them—the fear of letting yourself feel too much, too deeply. Remy was chaos and comfort all wrapped into one, and admitting what he meant to you felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

You clenched your fists at your sides, the familiar rush of panic creeping in. “Remy, I don’t think you get it,” you said, your voice breaking. “If I admit it—if I admit what I feel—it means I’m giving up control. It means letting go of this idea that I can keep everything in a neat little box and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Your heart pounded as you continued, each word feeling like a risk. “And I’m not used to that. I’m not used to letting someone in, not like this. I’m scared that if I do, it’ll all go wrong. That one day you’ll just—”

“Walk away?” Remy finished softly, his eyes still locked on yours. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, chérie. I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ give up control. I’m just askin’ y’ t’ be honest with me. Honest with yourself.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear. Every instinct told you to protect yourself, to guard your heart like you always had. But the way he was looking at you, the way his touch lingered on your skin—it made you want to believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that caring was a weakness,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That showing you how much I care would give you power over me. And I can’t help but think... if I let myself feel this, it’s just going to hurt.”

Remy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I ain’t here t’ hurt y’,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here ‘cause I care about y’, and I want y’ t’ see that. I want y’ t’ know that all those arguments, all that pushin’ and pullin’—it ain’t ‘cause we hate each other.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. He believed in this—in whatever this was between you—and for the first time, you allowed yourself to consider that maybe, just maybe, it could be real.

Swallowing hard, you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Okay.”

The uncertainty still lingered, but as you stood there, holding onto him, you felt the first stirrings of hope. Maybe fighting wasn’t the opposite of love—maybe it was just another way of holding on when you didn’t know how to let go. And as Remy’s lips finally met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, you realized that some battles were worth fighting after all. As Remy’s lips brushed against yours, it was gentle at first, almost tentative, like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let yourself sink into the kiss, something inside you snapped. All the tension, all the arguments, all the things you’d kept bottled up came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back with a desperation that surprised you both.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. Remy responded in kind, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and you could feel the heat between you building with every passing second. His tongue teased against yours, and you let out a small, involuntary moan that made him grip you even tighter.

“Chérie,” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged with need. “Y’ sure about this?”

You nodded, barely able to find the words. “I need this. I need you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. You let yourself be swept away, losing yourself in the feel of him—his hands on your hips, his mouth trailing heated kisses down your neck, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Remy guided you backward, his hands never leaving your body. You stumbled slightly, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud, and Remy followed, pressing against you with a possessiveness that made your head spin. His mouth moved lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, and you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your breathing became more erratic.

He slid one leg between yours, pressing against you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You arched into him, your hands roaming his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. It wasn’t enough—you needed more, needed to feel his skin against yours, and your fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Remy’s lips quirked into a brief, mischievous smile before he did the same for you, tugging your shirt up and over, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of you. He paused, just for a second, his gaze meeting yours in a silent question, and when you nodded, he wasted no time. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every line, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips.

You shivered under his touch, your own hands exploring the expanse of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach, and the feel of his skin against yours sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore. You tugged him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, and he obliged, pressing against you so that there was no space left between your bodies.

Remy’s mouth found yours again, the kiss hungrier now, and he shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made you gasp. He swallowed the sound, his tongue delving deeper as his hands slid down to your hips, lifting you slightly so that your legs wrapped around his waist. The movement was smooth, almost effortless, and he held you there, pinned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Tell me what y’ want,” he breathed, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, your fingers threading through his hair as you tried to catch your breath. “I want you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “All of you.”

He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes, and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, making you tremble. “Then y’ got me, chérie,” he said, his voice a husky promise against your skin. “Every last bit.”

“Been wantin’ this for a long time,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached up, brushing a hand along his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, the weight of the confession hanging between you. “More than you know.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile before he kissed you again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The rest of the world faded away as you lost yourself in him, in the heat and the urgency and the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Remy’s gaze was heavy, full of promises and unspoken desires as he moved away slightly, his breath warm against your skin. The air between you crackled with anticipation, each second stretching out like an eternity. His fingers traced a line along your side, his touch featherlight, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension building as he let his hand drift lower, skimming over the curve of your waist and dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants.

Every touch felt like a question, a silent plea for permission, and you answered by arching into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders and down the length of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless, and you lost yourself in the taste of him, the way his tongue tangled with yours in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new.

You let your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as you tugged him closer. He responded with a low growl, a sound that sent a rush of heat straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, nipping and kissing along the sensitive skin. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your clothes and pushing them aside as if they were nothing more than an obstacle keeping him from you.

“Y’ such a good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper that made your heart race. His hands were everywhere, exploring, mapping every inch of you like he was committing you to memory, and you reveled in the way his touch set your skin on fire.

You arched beneath him, a moan escaping your lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the press of his body against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only two people in existence.

His hands moved lower, deftly unfastening your jeans and sliding them down your legs with a practiced ease that made your breath hitch. You helped him, kicking them off as he watched, his gaze hungry and appreciative. He made quick work of his own clothes, his movements hurried but careful, as if he couldn’t wait another second to have you but still wanted to savor every moment.

When he finally settled between your thighs, the feel of him grounding you, you let out a shaky breath. Remy paused, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took you by surprise. “We don’t have to rush, y’know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “We got all night.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “But I want to. I want you.”

The words seemed to light something inside him, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all heat and need. Remy pressed closer, his body aligned with yours as he deepened the kiss. The world around you faded into the background as the heat between you intensified. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers dancing along your skin, and a shiver of anticipation coursed through you. Remy’s low groan resonated between you, a sound that sent a rush of heat through your veins, pooling low in your belly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, the flicker of desire mixed with that familiar, playful mischief that always kept you on your toes. It was a look that promised so much more than words ever could, and your heart raced at the thought of what was to come.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, dripping with that smooth Cajun drawl that always made your knees weak. There was a teasing edge to his tone, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched your reaction.

You couldn’t help but smirk back, feeling bold under his intense gaze. “I guess I can’t resist that Cajun charm after all,” you quipped, your breath hitching as his hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His chuckle was deep, resonating from his chest in a way that made your pulse quicken. The sound was warm and intimate, like he was letting you in on a secret only the two of you shared. “Good thing I’ve got plenty to spare,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver straight to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, claiming you in a kiss that was hungrier, more insistent. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, the taste of you driving him wild as his hand slid higher, exploring with a mix of confidence and reverence that made your body arch toward him. He pulled you closer, his tongue sweeping against yours, and you let out a soft whimper that only seemed to spur him on.

His touch was electric, a perfect mix of rough and gentle that had you gasping against his mouth. When his hand finally reached its destination, you could feel the heat of his palm pressing against your most sensitive spot, and you shuddered at the contact, a breathy curse escaping his lips against your mouth. The sound of it—the raw need in his voice—sent a thrill through you, and you knew just how much he wanted you, how close he was to losing control.

“Mon dieu,” Remy breathed, his accent thickening as his fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing and testing your resolve. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and uneven as he watched your expression shift with each calculated touch. “Y’ feel so good, chérie. Been dreamin’ ‘bout this.”

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the wave of sensation crashing over you. “Keep talking like that,” you managed, your voice trembling with barely restrained desire, “and I might just lose my mind.”

Remy grinned, his thumb circling with maddening precision, coaxing a low moan from your throat. “Well, ain’t that the point?” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand worked skillfully, each movement deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body responded to him. The tension built steadily, your breaths mingling as you both lost yourselves in the rhythm, the dance of push and pull that you’d been perfecting for what felt like forever.

The anticipation was maddening, the way he hovered on the edge, drawing out every little gasp and shiver, every whispered plea that slipped past your lips. He was relentless, his touch both gentle and commanding, as if he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, that the tension might break you, Remy leaned in, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“Tell me what y’ want, chérie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with desire and a hint of challenge. His thumb pressed down just a little harder, and you felt the world tilt, your breath catching in your throat. “I wanna hear y’ say it.”

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with want as you finally gave in, letting the last of your restraint slip away. “I want you, Remy,” you confessed, your voice raw and unguarded. “I want everything.”

His response was immediate, a soft groan escaping him as he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, the full weight of his need crashing into you like a tidal wave. And in that moment, with his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony, you knew you were lost to him, lost to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together time and time again. You weren’t fighting anymore; you were falling—fast and hard—and this time, you didn’t want to stop.

With a surge of boldness, you let one hand drift down his chest, tracing the lines of his toned abdomen before reaching lower. You felt him tense at your touch, and he broke the kiss with a moan.

You melted into his touch as his fingers explored every inch of your heat, teasing and tantalizing until you were dripping with need. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure consumed your senses.

Needing more than just his touch on the outside of your panties separating him from where he longed to be; Remy’s fingers slipped past the fabric effortlessly; sending shivers coursing through your body. He growled at the feel of how wet and ready you were for him. His thumb found its way to your clit circling it slowly driving waves after waves of ecstasy. In between moans, you managed to slide down Remy’s briefs freeing an erection throbbing so hard it wanted nothing more than bury itself within your warmth without any other obstacles.

His fingers kept their steady rhythm inside of you bringing you closer to the edge with every passing second, each deliberate thrust like a promise of what was yet to come.

With a gasp that turned into a low moan, you tightened around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. He watched every blissful moment, his eyes full of admiration and lust; before he withdrew his hand and placed it behind one of your thighs lifting it slightly in a silent request, “Good girl,” He whispered, his forehead resting on your own. You gladly obliged, wrapping your leg around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer.

Remy positioned himself at your entrance, his tip teasingly grazing your folds. He locked eyes with you, seeking permission, and you nodded, desperate for him to fill the ache inside of you. With agonizing slowness, he pushed forward, inch by glorious inch, until he was buried deep within your heat. A symphony of sighs and groans spilled from both of your lips as he stretched you deliciously.

“Fuck,” Remy muttered through gritted teeth. “Y’ feel s’ good.”

You echoed his sentiment with a breathy moan as he began to move. Each thrust was a perfect blend of passion and restraint, hitting all the right spots and driving you higher with every stroke. The world around you faded away until it was just the two of you, lost in the rhythm of each other’s bodies.

His hips rocked against yours in a deliciously torturous tempo that had your head spinning. He held onto your hip tightly guiding himself deeper. Without warning, you moved one of your hands, moving its way up and down his chest until it reached its final goal. Softly grasping one nipple between thumb and index finger before applying more pressure, tugging it as you felt another low growl rumble through his chest.

“Merde,” he hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration lacing his voice.

Feeling the effect you had on him only spurred you on, and your hand trailed lower, gripping his ass tightly and pulling him impossibly closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the air along with your combined moans, driving the passion between you to new heights.

Beads of sweat rolled down your bodies as the temperature rose with every stroke. Your senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the delicious friction that threatened to send you both hurtling over the edge.

Then, with a primal groan that could have set fire to a room, Remy came undone; his whole body trembling as he spilled himself inside of you. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he rode out his release; whispering incoherent words in French that made heat pool between your thighs. His orgasm triggered yours too, waves after waves crashing through your body leaving in their wake nothing but pure bliss.

You clung to each other as reality slowly seeped back in, your breaths ragged and hearts pounding. Remy pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, struggling slightly to maintain balance but never separating from within. He eventually pulled out, cupping your face gently and capturing your lips in a tender kiss full of unspoken promises.

Remy gently placed you down, a soft exhale escaping your lips. Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of what had just transpired, a mix of lingering heat and a deep, unexpected tenderness that left you feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable. You watched as Remy reached for the clothes you passed to him, a simple gesture that felt strangely intimate—more so than anything else that had just happened between you.

There was a flutter in your chest, a complicated tangle of emotions that you couldn't quite sort through: the satisfaction of closeness, the warmth of his touch, but also the creeping uncertainty that always seemed to follow moments like this. You wanted to savor the way his fingers brushed against yours when he took the clothes, the unspoken connection that made your pulse quicken despite the calming aftermath. But beneath that was the faint whisper of doubt, the question of what this all meant, and where it would leave the both of you when the morning came.

You studied Remy as he pulled on his shirt, his movements unhurried and almost thoughtful, as if he was taking his time not just with the task but with the moment itself. He glanced up at you, catching your eye with that familiar, roguish smile that always seemed to know more than it let on. It was a smile that made your heart skip a beat, because it was impossible not to be drawn in by it—by him. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, if his mind was as clouded with thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'where do we go from heres.'

The air between you was charged with unspoken words, the room thick with the weight of shared breaths and the faint scent of him lingering on your skin. There was a comfort in it, an aching sweetness in the quiet that stretched between you, but also a nagging fear of missteps and misunderstandings that seemed to lurk just outside the glow of the moment. You found yourself caught in the delicate balance between wanting to keep things light, easy, as they'd always been, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and make this real, to solidify the intangible connection that pulsed between you.

As Remy pulled on his pants, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze softened when it landed on you, a subtle shift that made your breath hitch. It was as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built, right into the heart of your hesitation and hope. It unnerved you how easily he seemed to read you, how effortlessly he could make you feel seen without even trying. And maybe that was the scariest part of all—how much you wanted to be seen, to be known, even when it felt risky, even when it meant opening up to the possibility of more.

You pulled your own clothes closer, the fabric cool against your still-warm skin, and took a moment to steady your breathing. The urge to say something—anything—bubbled up inside you, but the words seemed to tangle on your tongue. What do you say when everything feels like it's teetering on the edge of changing forever? When you're caught between the safety of what you know and the terrifying promise of what could be?

Remy caught the hesitation in your eyes and paused, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Y’ good, chérie?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the playful banter you were used to; it was sincere, almost vulnerable, like he was reaching out to you in a way that went beyond words.

You nodded, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. Your feelings for him were a messy, beautiful tangle of affection and desire, friendship and something more profound that you were still too scared to name. It was overwhelming, this rush of emotions that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. But as you looked into Remy’s eyes, that familiar spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to take the leap.

"Well, someone looks pretty pleased with himself," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Remy chuckled, turning to face you with that infuriatingly charming smile. "Can’t help it, chérie. I aim t' please, and from th’ look on y’ face, I’d say I hit th’ mark."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, Lebeau."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Naw, chérie, m’ ego’s jus’ fine right where it is." His hand drifted lazily to trace patterns on your arm, his touch light and absent-minded. "’Sides, y’ didn’t seem t’ mind a bit of that charm earlier."

“Don’t push it,” you warned playfully, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

“Too late,” he quipped, his grin widening. “Y’ already all tangled up in it.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling up as you pulled your jumper on, "I can’t believe I put up with you," you sighed dramatically.

Remy’s laughter rumbled through him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “’Cause y’ love m’ charm, chérie. An’ y’ love me, too, even when y’ won’t admit it.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "You know, you’re lucky you’re good at this, otherwise you’d be out of here so fast."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Lucky f’ both of us, then."

You swatted at him, but your laughter spilled over, mingling with his. It was moments like these—caught between playfulness and something deeper—that made everything else feel worth it.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-Two

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: Summer Break Days

Summary: Saiki's vacation plans are interrupted by idiots, but at least he gets some time with (Y/N).

            (Y/N) sighed and put their head down on their desk. “Finally. Exams are over, and it’s summer break.”

            “But they won’t let us out of school early,” said Saiki.

            “Any plans outside of relaxing?” said (Y/N).

            “We agreed to watch Pride and Prejudice,” said Saiki.

            Feeling their cheeks warm, (Y/N) smiled. “You were really being serious?”

            “I don’t joke,” said Saiki.

            “Awesome! Then how about we do it—”

            “Hey, Saiki, (L/N)!” Kaidou and Kuboyasu appeared behind them. “Do you have a minute?”

            Saiki nearly scowled as his time to make plans with (Y/N) was interrupted, but he prevented himself from doing so. The sooner we hear them out, the sooner they’ll leave us alone.

            “Do you want to get a motorcycle license with us over the summer break?” asked Kaidou.

            “Let’s get one together,” said Kuboyasu.

            Well, I’m done listening. I have no interest in a vehicle that can only go as fast as my brisk walking speed, thought Saiki. “I don’t have the money for one, so no.”

            Kuboyasu nodded in understanding. “It does cost a lot.”

            “When is the course?” asked (Y/N).

            Kaidou showed them to days, and (Y/N) shook their head.

            “I’m doing a course in confection arts those days, so I’m not free,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s too bad,” said Kaidou.

            He and Kuboysasu walked away.

            “I protected my vacation,” said Saiki.

            “Are you seriously not going to do anything with anyone other than watch a movie with me?” aid (Y/N), chuckling.

            “You’re the only one I want to hang out with,” said Saiki matter-of-factly.

            (Y/N) fought back the blush and tried to remain their usual, jovial self in the face of such a statement from Saiki. “That’s sweet, Kusuo.”

            “Ignore it,” said Saiki. (Y/N) just laughed.

            Mera was the next person to walk up and speak to them. “Do you have a minute?” she asked the pair. “Do you want to work with me over the summer? It’s a bit far, but…”

            “No thanks,” said Saiki.

            “It depends, what type of job is it?” asked (Y/N).

            Curse (Y/N)’s kindness, thought Saiki.

            “All you have to do is take suspicious pills given by suspicious researchers at a suspicious laboratory and sleep!” said Mera brightly.

            “Oh, sorry, Mera, but I can’t risk messing up my taste buds since I work so often with food, and medicines have a tendency to skew taste if you get sick,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “That was your problem with that idea?”

            “Aw, okay, (L/N). What about you, Saiki?” asked Mera.

            “It’s too far away.”

            Gloomy, Mera left them and went to ask more people. Saiki and (Y/N) decided to get up and head into the halls to wait for the bell to go off to let them leave since exams had finished.

            “Oh, Saiki, (L/N), I was just looking for you!” said Hairo, smiling. “Do you want to join our club’s summer training camp?”

            “Hairo, we’re not in your club,” pointed out (Y/N).

            “Two members canceled, but we don’t want to waste trip money,” explained Hairo. “What do you think?”

            “We’re part of the Occult Club, and it’s doing something,” said Saiki, completely lying.

            “Oh, that’s too bad. Have fun,” said Hairo, walking away.

            “I didn’t know we had something with the Occult Club,” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “We don’t, and we didn’t even want to be a part of it, so we’re not going if Toritsuka does plan something,” said Saiki.

            “Normally, I’d say we should give it a try, but it will be one of Toritsuka’s ideas…” said (Y/N), trailing off.

            “Exactly,” said Saiki.

            “Saiki! (L/N)!”

            “Speak of the devil,” remarked (Y/N).

            “We don’t need to listen to him,” said Saiki, taking (Y/N)’s wrist and pulling them away from Toritsuka.

            “Hey! Let’s have an Occult Club training camp!” said Toritsuka, trying to catch them.

            “Toritsuka, what would the point of a training camp for the Occult Club be?” said (Y/N).

            “I need help getting with Arisu!” said Toritsuka.

            “You’re already using her first name?” said (Y/N). “That’s familiar.”

            “He’s just being weird,” said Saiki.

            “Pleeeease?” said Toritsuka. “It’s called Operation Spirits: Love-Struck Arisu and Popular Reita.”

            “That’s a terrible name,” said Saiki.

            “But you did tell Hairo we were doing something with Toritsuka,” whispered (Y/N).

            Unfortunately, (Y/N) was right. Still… “I still won’t go.” Saiki walked off.

            “If you’re not going, I’m not,” said (Y/N) brightly, following him.

            “Hey!” exclaimed Toritsuka, offended at Saiki and (Y/N)’s lack of enthusiasm to help him.

            “You still have a free break!” said (Y/N), grinning.

            “Don’t jinx it,” said Saiki.

            “Oh, Saiki!” said Teruhashi, running up towards him. “I was hoping to see you before break. Saiki…do you have any plans for summer break?”

            I can’t say no to her if she wants to go out, everyone would get angry. Saiki hated social norms.

            “I happen to have tickets to the amusement park opening up,” said Teruhashi. “Would you…would you want to go with me?” She glowed and smiled.

            Saiki froze, trying to find a way out of it. (Y/N) glanced at the tickets and smiled apologetically at Teruhashi.

            “Oh, I’m sorry, Kokomi, but Kusuo and I made plans for that day,” said (Y/N).

            “O-Oh? You did? The two of you?” Teruhashi glanced between the two, and Saiki was alarmed by the thoughts going through her head.

            “Yep! We’re having a movie night. I’m sorry,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s alright. I understand. I, um, yeah.” Teruhashi couldn’t get the courage to ask for Saiki to go with her another day. If she did, it would mean she was interested in spending time with Saiki and not just “happening” to ask him. “Have fun!” She hurried away.

            (Y/N) sighed and frowned. “I hope she gets over her crush soon. It would be healthy for her to like someone who could like her back. I hope they aren’t obsessed with her, though. She deserves someone who likes her for her, not her beauty.”

            Saiki was amazed that in one swift move (Y/N) had saved him from going on a date and getting attention because it was wish Teruhashi and simultaneously wished for Teruhashi to have a wonderful love-life. They really were too nice.

            “Saiki! (L/N)! There you are,” said Toritsuka, catching up to them. “Come on, let’s do a training camp!”

            “Enough with the club,” said Saiki.

            “Wait, you decided not to go?” said Hairo, appearing out of nowhere.

            “Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki patted Toritsuka shoulder and gave Hairo a peace-sign.

            “Oh, you’re coming? Great!” said Toritsuka excitedly. “It’ll be the first and second of August!”

            “I suppose we are,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “That’s awesome, since our training camp is the third to the ninth,” said Hairo instantly.

            “I can’t, sorry,” said (Y/N). “I need time to do my summer homework.”

            “Too bad, but I guess you have to be a good student. Saiki, I’ll put you down for going, okay? It’s in Tooi-cho!”

            “Wait—”

            Hairo ran off.

            “Hey, the job I told you about is in Tooi-cho, too!” said Mera, appearing out of nowhere and looking at Saiki happily. “And it starts on the tenth and lasts a week!”

            Poor Saiki’s free time was quickly filling up.

            “You’re getting a job, Saiki? Then you’ll have money for the course and a motorcycle!” said Kaidou.

            “You can get a license with us,” said Kuboyasu, smiling.

            Every single day of Saiki’s break was filled up with activities with people. He nearly deflated, and (Y/N) patted his back in consolation.

            “If you need the time off, we can move our movie night to a different time,” said (Y/N), not wanting to intrude on Saiki’s need for time alone. They knew that recharging from social interactions was imperative to maintaining mental health.

            “No, I want to have the movie night,” said Saiki stubbornly. It was the only thing he’d want to in the first place. He refused to give up that.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Then I’ll make sure it’s a relaxing night. No need to stress yourself out. I’ll make some snacks, you just have to show up, okay?”

            Saiki really did think (Y/N) was an angel, and he needed to find a way to thank them for their endless generosity and patience.

l

            Summer arrived, and the first day of Saiki’s long, people-filled break began with Toritsuka’s Occult Club shenanigans.

            “Welcome to the temple!” said Toritsuka, showing the Occult Club around the temple he lived in. “This isn’t my house, but my dad knows people here, so they are letting me stay.”

            “Wow, so cool!” exclaimed Makino and Yumehara.

            “I bet his dad kicked him out,” muttered Saiki.

            “If not, it’s hard to believe someone so perverted was raised in a temple,” remarked (Y/N).

            “This way is my room,” said Toritsuka, leading them into a hall and opening a sliding door. “Come on in.” He grinned, hoping to get a good reaction from the attractive people in the room (mostly Makino, though).

            Saiki tuned out of his thoughts, exhausted with the romantic ideas floating within them. Unfortunately, he landed on Yumehara’s thoughts about having a chance to get with Kaidou tonight. Sighing, Saiki tried to block out everyone’s thoughts. Everyone’s romances were so dramatic. He’d prefer something simple, natural, domestic. He hoped that was something (Y/N) would prefer, too, instead of any drama. Maybe the movie night could become something more…

            Yare yare, now I’m doing it.

l

            Night arrived, and Toritsuka led the group to the woods, letting the moon rise high over them as midnight arrived.

            “Many people go missing in this forest,” he said mysteriously. “In the dead of night, the members of a murder-suicide family appear and drag—ack!”

            Saiki had flared the flame of a candle to stop Toritsuka from telling a fake story to scare everyone. The candle sputtered out.

            “This is not the place for games,” said Makino, trembling. “I can feel many dreadful spirits.”

            “Hey, don’t worry. I was born in a temple,” said Toritsuka, winking. “Now, let’s begin the test of courage!” He gestured to the dark path behind them. “We will take this path in pairs.” He grinned and patted Makino’s shoulder. “Lets just go with the flow and make our own pairs.”

            “Sounds good!” said Yumehara, grinning and grabbing Kaidou’s shoulders. “It would be a waste of our time not to!”

            “It’s almost like they planned it with one another,” whispered (Y/N).

            “They might have,” said Saiki in agreement.

            “Hold on, I want to be with Saiki or (L/N),” said Makino.

            “I want to be with them, too,” said Kaidou.

            “What? Why Saiki and (L/N)?” cried Toritsuka.

            “Kaidou is kind of helpless, and you’re a little weird,” said Makino. “So it was a process of elimination.”

            I was hoping to go with Kusuo, thought (Y/N), a little disappointed. Was it the exact same tactic as Toritsuka and Yumehara to get closer to their crush? Absolutely. Did they still like the idea? Of course.

            “(Y/N) and I are going together,” said Saiki firmly, and (Y/N) perked up.

            “If we can’t decide, let’s draw lots,” said Toritsuka, breaking a few sticks and putting them in his hand. “Those who get the sticks of the same length will pair up. Saiki, you can go first.”

            Saiki and (Y/N) exchanged a look. Saiki would definitely be using his powers to make sure they were a pair together (because they were friends. Best friends. Not because he had a crush and wanted to be closer. That would mean lowering himself to Toritsuka’s standards).

            “Saiki got a short one. Arisu, you’re next,” said Toritsuka. Makino pulled out a stick. “You got a medium-length one. Next is (L/N).”

            (Y/N) pulled out the other short one and smiled. “It’s you and me, Kusuo.”

            “Next is Chiyo,” said Toritsuka. He looked urgently at the middle one, and Chiyo pulled it out.

            “I got a long one,” said Yumehara, smiling.

            “My turn,” said Toritsuka. He knew which one to choose to get to walk with Makino and eagerly pulled it out. His eyes widened. It was another long one. “Wha—” Toritsuka looked at Saiki.

            “You were getting on my nerves, so I switched them,” said Saiki directly to Toritsuka’s mind.

            “That was you, wasn’t it?” said (Y/N).

            “I think he deserved it,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) chuckled, and Saiki found any flitting bit of remorse or pity he had go out the window at the lovely sound of their laugh.

            “Alright, Chiyo and I will go in first…” said Toritsuka, depressed.

            “Yeah…” Chiyo was equally gloomy.

            Makino began to chant for their safety while they walked into the woods, and Kaidou cowered near a tree nervously. (Y/N) and Saiki just watched.

            “So, what’s going on?” asked (Y/N).

            “They’ve abandoned their crushes and decided to like one another,” said Saiki.

            “That’s sudden,” said (Y/N), blinking.

            “Is it so easy for people’s feelings to change?” Saiki didn’t think so since his own were so steadily pointed towards (Y/N), never straying. But he was different, and although he didn’t care about what Toritsuka and Yumehara did, he wanted to understand if (Y/N) was also changeable (even if he didn’t know what their feelings towards him were).

            “When it’s not a really strong attachment and surface-level, yeah,” said (Y/N). They smiled at him. “But if it’s a deep affection, then no. Real love is constant.”

            Love. (Y/N) and Saiki both fell silent as soon as that word settled in the air.

            (Y/N) had never said that word or even thought it, but now that it was there, it felt true. It felt right. Their feelings for Saiki were constant and deep. They never faltered, and even through his flaws, they still cared. They accepted Saiki for who he was completely, and they never had their feelings waver. (Y/N) loved Saiki.

            Saiki blinked as he thought over the word. He knew what love felt like. He felt it for his mom and dad, for his grandma and grandma, and even, occasionally, for his brother. But that was familial. What (Y/N) spoke of was romantic. And he had to admit, it made sense. It felt…correct. He wanted to be around (Y/N). Their company was calming, never a hassle or a hindrance. He sought them out. He loved every quality they displayed, never ceasing to be amazed by their kindness whether it was aimed at him or others. He was thankful for their patience and understanding when he was rough and cold to others and hid his powers. He never wanted to lose what he had with them. But he also felt that his own feelings wouldn’t be lost. Saiki loved (Y/N).

l

            Pausing outside of (Y/N)’s house, Saiki took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure why, this was just hanging out with (Y/N), he did it all the time. However, this felt…different. He supposed it had to do with his realization—he loved (Y/N). Still, Saiki refused to let the intimidating grandness of that word scare him away from being friends with (Y/N). Besides, he had suffered his entire summer with idiots, he wanted to enjoy himself with (Y/N).

            He rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, (Y/N) opened the door. They wore a pink apron—dusted with flour and sugar from years of baking—and a wide smile.

            “Hi, Kusuo! Welcome!” said (Y/N), letting him in. “I’m almost finishing preparing everything, but the movie’s set up if you want to wait on the couch.”

            Saiki nodded and held up the cardboard in his hand. “I brought chocolate-covered strawberries.”

            (Y/N)’s face lit up. “I love strawberries! Thanks, Kusuo.” They laughed and closed the door as they walked farther in. “But I am surprised you didn’t buy coffee jelly.”

            “I know you like strawberries,” said Saiki. He’d chosen it for them.

            “It’s sweet of you to think of me,” said (Y/N), ducking their head and turning away so Saiki wouldn’t see their blush. “And if you had gotten coffee jelly—” they turned back around with a tray in their hands “—we would’ve had too much.”

            Saiki stared with joy in his eyes at the tray of coffee jelly, and (Y/N) laughed at his excitement. “We both thought of each other,” they said, putting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

            “We did,” said Saiki, simultaneously honored by the care with which (Y/N) had put together the coffee jelly and ashamed he hadn’t put more work into his gift for (Y/N).

            But then they sat down, apron off, eagerly opened the box of strawberries, and bit into one. Humming in delight, (Y/N) smiled with sparkles around them. All of Saiki’s doubts went out the window. He had made them happy. That was what mattered. (But he wanted to do better, make them happier, acknowledge he cared for them).

            “Delicious,” said (Y/N), grinning.

            Saiki could only stare at their smile before nodding and taking a bite of their coffee jelly. His slight smile as he ate it was all the compliment to their talents (Y/N) needed.

            “Do you want to start the movie?” asked (Y/N).

            Saiki nodded.

            “Get ready, this is important education for you,” said (Y/N), settling back in their seat beside Saiki and pressing play on Pride and Prejudice. “And if you like this, we’re watching the BBC series.” They smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll bribe you with more sweets.” (Y/N) just wanted to spend time with Saiki, peaceful and quiet. Domestic. Loving.

            Saiki didn’t say it out loud, but he had to admit that he didn’t need sweets to keep him around (Y/N). His love was that deep.

l

            “I love that movie,” sighed (Y/N) as the film ended. They popped the last strawberry into their mouth. “What did you think?”

            “It was nice,” said Saiki. Since he couldn’t read (Y/N)’s mind, he hadn’t gotten spoiled. “I liked Lizzie and Mr. Darcy. They made a good couple.” Much less silly than my parents for sure.

            (Y/N) grinned. “That’s what I think! What was your favorite part?’

            Saiki paused and considered. “I liked when Lizzie spoke to Wickham after finding out the truth. She was clever and made her point.”

            “I thought you’d like her wit since you’re so sarcastic,” chuckled (Y/N).

            “What did you like?” asked Saiki.

            “I like the whole thing, but my favorite part is that they change for the better.” They beamed. “Lizzie and Darcy acknowledge their faults and become better people. I think that’s great and super healthy. I try to do that as much as possible, too.”

            “You are a good person,” said Saiki, completely honest. “You’re nicer than me and everyone else.”

            “That’s sweet, Kusuo, but that doesn’t mean I can’t improve. Everyone has flaws, but that’s okay. We’re supposed to grow,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “…What a nice notion,” said Saiki, mulling the idea over. Changing for the better, growing as a person… “How do you do that?”

            (Y/N) patted his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry. For all your grumpiness, you’re a really good person. You help out your friends, keep them in line when they’re about to do something stupid, and are always looking out for others even when you claim they’re just annoyances.”

            “They are,” said Saiki.

            “Sure, but you could be way meaner. But you choose not to be,” said (Y/N). “Because you’re a good person.” They laughed. “And I know that for a fact because I wouldn’t hang out with anyone who was mean to others.”

            Saiki’s gaze softened as he looked at them. They thought so highly of him…His heart warmed at the care and affection in their voice. Saiki reached up and touched the hand on his shoulder.

            (Y/N) looked at him and blinked. Their laughter died away as they saw the look in his eyes they couldn’t quite read. “Kusuo?”

            “You’re too kind to me. I don’t tell you that I’m glad to have you as my friend, I barely do anything for you, but you’re still kind. To me. To everyone. I think that makes you the best person I know,” said Saiki.

            Shocked and flustered by the speech, (Y/N) turned pink. “I—uh—wow.” They looked at him a little shyly. “Thank you. But really, Kusuo, you don’t need to say all that. I know you’re my friend, and I know you like being my friend, too. I don’t doubt that. You don’t need to force yourself to be so vocal if that’s not your way of showing your friendship.” They leaned into his touch slightly, their fingers twining with his.

            “I’m speaking because it’s true,” said Saiki. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.” His hand settled around theirs and lifted it. He held it, not letting go, and looked at them. “You’re…You’re someone I care about. Someone that makes my days better. I don’t show it as much as you deserve, but—"

            Beep! Beep!

            The alarm of the oven went off, and (Y/N) and Saiki jolted apart in shock. Their hands fell apart.

            “Oh, crap, the cookies I put in!” cried (Y/N), jumping up and running over before smoke tried to escape and set off the fire alarm.

            Saiki stared at the hand that had been holding theirs and then looked back up at them. Something had almost happened. Something was about to be said. They had gotten so close to something changing between them.

            And sweets, of all things, had betrayed Saiki.

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