#I’ve been meaning to make this for a while

[goldsainz]

# RAFE CAMERON — THE SOFTEST LOVE !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ with fatherhood comes a softness rafe learns to embrace.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing (shit, once), smidge of angst but it’s really all just comfort, daughter’s name is ellie.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i fear i’m having a severe case of baby fever… like it’s BAD bad. i have a pile of requests and yet i can only write dad!fics😓

word count : 693

The morning sun spills through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It’s early—too early, really—but you’ve learned that time doesn’t quite matter anymore. Not with your daughter, Ellie, in your life.

She stirs in her bassinet beside the bed, little whimpers escaping her lips, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as if reaching for something—or someone.

Rafe gets to her before you can even sit up.

You watch as he leans over the bassinet, his strong hands—hands that have known roughness, hands that have fought, hands that have carried weight heavier than he should’ve ever had to bear—now moving with the utmost gentleness.

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. He scoops her up with ease, cradling her against his bare chest. “What’s got you up so early, huh? Just missed me?”

You smile, sinking back into the pillows, watching the way he rocks her. Ellie makes a small, contented noise, her tiny body relaxing against him as if she knows she’s safest there, all while Rafe looks down at her like she hung the moon.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it—the way fatherhood softened him in ways you never imagined. You knew he’d love her, knew he’d protect her with every fiber of his being, but this? The quiet devotion? The way he’d wake up at the slightest noise she made? The way he held her like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world?

It was something else entirely.

“She wasn’t even crying,” you tease, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “You just wanted an excuse to hold her.”

Rafe glances over at you, smirking, but there’s no denying it. He’s been completely, utterly wrecked by his little girl.

“I mean… can you blame me?” He carefully sinks onto the edge of the bed, adjusting Ellie so she’s nestled against him, her tiny cheek pressed against his chest. “She’s already the cutest thing on the planet, and she hasn’t even hit the cute ‘trying to talk’ phase yet.”

You hum in agreement, shifting closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as you reach out to stroke Ellie’s soft curls. “She has your eyes, you know.”

Rafe lets out a breath, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“I hope she doesn’t get anything else from me,” he says, quieter this time.

You frown, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Rafe…”

“I just—” He shakes his head, adjusting Ellie slightly as she squirms. “I look at her, and I want her to have everything good in the world. And I think about all the shit I’ve done, all the mistakes I’ve made… and I just—I don’t ever want her to see that side of me.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice.

“She won’t,” you reassure him, your hand sliding down to rest over his. “She’s going to grow up knowing the version of you that sings her to sleep, and carries her around the house for hours when she won’t settle, and wakes up before dawn just to hold her. That’s the only version of you that will matter to her, Rafe.”

His jaw tenses, but you see the way your words land, see the way his shoulders relax just slightly.

Ellie lets out a tiny sigh in her sleep, her little hand clutching at his necklace. Rafe huffs out a small, amused breath, shaking his head.

“She’s got me wrapped around her little finger already, huh?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

He turns to you then, pressing a kiss to your forehead before shifting to press another to Ellie’s, lingering there for a moment.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs.

You laugh, curling into his side, wrapping an arm around both him and Ellie. “No, we’re just here to make sure you keep that soft heart of yours.”

Rafe scoffs, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he holds his girls a little closer, letting the morning light wrap around all three of you like a promise.

Softness. Love. A life worth protecting.

And for once, Rafe Cameron has everything he’s ever needed.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a jealous s/o

Disclaimer: I’ve had about ten different requests regarding jealousy, and while this doesn’t cover all of them, it does address some. Disclaimer #2: It would be out of character to write that everyone handles it perfectly, so read at your own discretion. Lastly, as always, I’ve got an Arcane longfic in progress! If you’d like to read it, click HERE, and it’ll take you straight to the AO3 page.

Jayce:

You need to get a grip.

He’s an understanding person, but there’s a limit to everything. If jealousy stems from insecurity and is brought up as a calm and peaceful discussion, he’ll sit beside you to talk it out.

However, if it’s a scene, if it escalates into yelling, restrictive demands on his freedom, or absurd and over-the-top behavior, he’ll enter a period of coldness where he’ll reflect on things.

But if it happens again, don’t expect understanding.

You can’t expect to publicly humiliate someone like that, try to control them because of your own insecurities, and not face a negative reaction.

Viktor:

Raises an eyebrow, his only initial reaction.

The first thing he’ll do is laugh—whether because he finds the situation ridiculous or it’s just an instinctive response, that’s what you’ll see first.

From his perspective, he’s working like a beast of burden not just to be independent but to be a person with dignity, breaking free from the dynamic imposed by Zaun and Piltover that has shackled him like some original sin. And now, not only do you not trust him, but you’re also trying to put him back in the role of a pet that needs taming and obedience.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, knows he hasn’t been giving attention to anyone else but you and his work.

That’s why jealousy only damages the relationship.

Ekko:

Perplexed.

Assuming no one would take a public scene well, in the case of a civil confrontation, he’d mostly be confused.

It makes sense, sure, given how close-knit all the Firelights are, but it never occurred to him that it might bother you.

He doesn’t even know how he should react. He’d definitely try to talk with you, figure out what exactly made you feel that way, and explain the ambiguous situation that set you off.

A scene isn’t a dealbreaker with him, but it does lead to a few days of awkwardness before a fight inevitably happens.

That doesn’t mean he lacks self-respect, though. After the umpteenth time, he’ll simply give up.

Vander:

He’s too old for this kind of nonsense, to be honest.

If you throw a scene, he’ll just ignore it. He’ll let you yell and stomp your feet until you’re out of energy, let you cool off, and then come back to have a conversation.

His response will be laced with irony, like, “Well, who wouldn’t be jealous of the most charming man in the Lanes, after all?” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the issue seriously—he’s just trying to lighten the mood.

He’ll ask how you think he should handle it but ultimately decides for himself whether your request is reasonable or over the top.

When you lose your cool, he’ll treat you the same way he used to handle kids throwing tantrums.

Silco:

Let’s assume no one would dare make a scene in public with Silco out of pure survival instinct. That alone would be an immediate dealbreaker, and you wouldn’t have any chance to confront, talk, or even approach his space again.

A private scene would irritate him regardless. When you’re done, his response would be, “Is that all?”

He’s a diplomatic person. The idea of yelling—or even wasting unnecessary energy on these trivial little issues when his vision is grand, almost boundless—feels almost insulting to him.

If, however, you approach it as a calm and rational discussion, while he may still feel mildly annoyed, he’ll try to reassure you and help you understand that there’s no real reason for you to feel that way.

Jinx:

A fertile ground for conflict, given her fear of abandonment, obsessiveness, and jealousy.

Reverse card: if you start a scene, there’s a high chance she’ll throw it right back at you, leading to a full-blown argument.

Her fear of losing you means that even if your request makes her furious, she’ll still do what you want.

Not the healthiest relationship you could have, but hey, who am I to judge?

She’s not one to leave arguments unresolved. After the shouting match, there have to be cuddles, even if only to prove there’s no lingering resentment between you two.

Vi:

Completely caught off guard.

Now, no one likes a scene, BUT she grew up with a sister who felt emotions way too strongly, so there’s a good chance she’ll switch into “caregiver” mode and try to calm you down immediately instead of getting mad.

She wasn’t expecting an outburst like that. She’s likely more hurt by the fact that you feel this way than anything else.

After the fight, she’ll probably ask to hold you for a bit, trying to make up for unintentionally hurting you.

She’s open to changing the things you need her to change because she values you more than other people.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn’s problem is that she has the dignity—and let’s be honest, that’s what it is—to tell you to fuck off after a jealous scene, especially if it’s in public. But unfortunately, she pours her soul into relationships, so she’ll try to talk it out.

She’ll meet you halfway within reason. Obviously, you can’t ask her to stop going out alone with colleagues after work, but if your concerns are more reasonable, she’ll try to accommodate them.

However, that doesn’t mean she’ll be calm immediately after the scene. Quite the opposite. She’ll need the rest of the day to cool off and a night’s sleep to forget how angry she was.

If you handle things diplomatically instead of with a scene, she won’t be angry but might feel a bit sad.

Mel:

If you throw a scene, expect to be left right where you are—literally.

If you want to yell, stomp your feet, and act immature, she’ll just turn and walk away, and you’ll find out the state of your relationship when you try to return to your shared apartment and find it empty.

It’s not about pettiness; it’s about the humiliation of being publicly exposed, about dragging your private matters into the open, showing so little respect that you can’t even grant her privacy.

If it’s a discussion, prepare to bottle it up.

Everything she does is for appearances, for trust, and as a political figure, she can’t neglect something as crucial as her public image.

It’s up to you to trust her enough.

Sevika:

A public scene disgusts her and puts her in a horrible position. She’ll be mocked—Silco will hit her once and tell her that “You walk her like a dog,” and his goons won’t let her live it down either.

Depending on her mood, the timing, and countless other factors, her reaction could range from ignoring you to screaming at you in the bar to telling you to get a grip or even walking away and ending it.

It’s about respect, pride, and understanding where your limits lie—and this might be one of those moments where you’ve crossed the line.

If you talk things out calmly, don’t expect her to console you. Whether you trust her or not isn’t her problem.

She holds no grudges, but she also has no intention of babying you.

[auspiciousships]

Hi! I know this is a funny and cute post but I’ve worked in cheetah conservation (with both wild and captive cheetahs) and saying that cheetahs are bad at being wild animals and we should just domesticate them is a viewpoint that could be harmful to conservation efforts so I wanted to say some things:

Companion dogs: Using companion dogs as evidence that cheetahs do best in captivity is incorrect. Cheetahs often use companion dogs because their lives in captivity makes them stressed. Do you ever see wild cheetahs with companion animals? No, because they are less stressed in the wild and therefore don’t need one. Most adult cheetahs are also solitary animals (with some exceptions in the form of small male bachelor groups) so to say they get too stressed when alone is also incorrect.

Cheetah brith rates: Yes, they’re low in the wild. That’s a concern for conservation for sure. But do you know where cheetah birth rates are even lower? In captivity! Cheetahs are notoriously difficult to breed and even when breeding is successful they have high infant mortality, presumably in part due to the stress of being captive.

Cheetah cub raising: Mom not protecting her cubs makes perfect sense if you think about it. In the face of a predator you can choose fight or flight. Cheetahs are pretty bad at fighting and are famously able to run fast, so fleeing is the best option for mom’s survival. Why is mom’s survival important? Because she’s at breeding age and can make more cubs, while there’s no guarantee her cubs will make it to breeding age and breed successfully. I know it sounds harsh and it’s not how humans do it but that doesn’t mean it’s not a valid survival strategy.

Low survival in the wild: So this is mostly on us, unfortunately. As we start developing more land we cut off their territories which means less resources for them and less mating choices. This leads to genetic bottleneck (beyond the scope of this post but if you’re interested I’ll certainly explain it) which leads to higher rates of mutations. Also, many cheetahs are getting killed by local farmers who are trying to protect their livestock from the local predators. These are complex issues that lots of experts have been working on for years, but the solution is NOT to take cheetahs out of the wild.

People used to keep them as pets: Why do you think they stopped? Despite looking lazy for 23 hours of the day, they use that last hour sprinting at speeds that we can’t really support in captivity. Even those dog hunting lures don’t go fast enough. If cheetahs can’t get their energy out running, they get stressed and stop reproducing and start dying.

Captive cheetahs don’t kill humans: This is a stats thing. There are about 89.7 million pet dogs in the US. It’s not unusual for the average American to come across a dog once a week, even if they don’t own one. Every encounter with a dog has the chance to break bad, which means there are billions of chances for an American to get killed by a domestic dog each day. Even if you factor in the fact that the probability of a dog attacking you is really really low, if you shuffle a deck of cards enough times eventually you’ll put them back in order. There are only a few hundred captive cheetahs in the world, and unless you’re a zookeeper at a zoo that houses one, your typical human isn’t coming in contact with them with any sort of frequency. Also, zookeepers are trained professionals who have protocols that keep them safe while the average dog owner doesn’t even bother to keep their dog leashed in public areas (again, another post). If cheetahs became a widespread pet we would probably see deaths from them increase because while they’re so “cute” they’re also capable of hunting and killing wild game.

Don’t believe me? At the institution I worked, they didn’t let any volunteers shorter than 5’2” near the cheetah cages. Why? Short humans look snack sized and our cheetahs would start stalking them. And these were adults who knew how to behave calmly around wild animals. Imagine how a kid who moves unpredictably could trigger a cheetahs prey drive.

Anyways, I know cheetah=friend shape is fun and it’s cool to imagine having a big cat as a pet, but the illegal pet trade is actively contributing to the wild cheetah population decline and I would hate for people to be unknowingly supporting that. No hate to the people above me or anyone reblogging this; the desire to domesticate things that are cute is very common and often stems from a lack of education.

(And if it’s any consolation, their fur isn’t actually that soft!)

Imagine hearing this behind the bush and you thought its a cat 💀💀

[luvashli]

PRIVATE SHOPPING

Synopsis -> When Chrome Hearts employee Y/N meets global idol Ni-ki, a professional encounter turns into forbidden tension. Despite the rules, their undeniable connection pushes them to risk everything for a chance at something real.

PAIRING: idol!ni-ki x fem!chromeheartsemployee!reader

GENRE: oneshot, romance, forbidden love, Celebrity/Non-Celebrity Relationship, Workplace Drama

STARTED: 1/26/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 2.9k

Note: haha i just wrote this for fun, after seeing all those videos of ni-ki in the chrome hearts store on tiktok. Enjoy :)

The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the otherwise silent Chrome Hearts shop. You were used to the serene atmosphere, where the only sounds were the clinks of jewelry and the murmurs of clients admiring the pieces.

Today, however, the shop wasn’t open to the public. A private appointment had been scheduled for someone important—so important that the entire store had been rented out for the occasion.

You adjusted a display of necklaces for the third time that morning, your hands steady but your thoughts racing. Your manager had emphasized the importance of professionalism today, which you found slightly redundant. Being professional was second nature to you.

When the glass door finally swung open, the sound startled you out of your thoughts. You straightened instinctively, your gaze falling on the figure walking in.

He was taller than you’d expected, his dark hair slightly tousled and his oversized hoodie making him look effortlessly casual. You recognized him immediately—Ni-ki, the youngest member of one of the most famous idol groups in the world.

His fame wasn’t something you actively followed, but even you couldn’t avoid hearing his name. It was everywhere—on billboards, in magazines, and in playlists.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted politely, bowing slightly as he stepped further into the shop.

He looked at you, his eyes curious but guarded. “Afternoon,” he replied, his voice quieter than you’d imagined it would be. He pulled down his mask slightly, revealing a polite smile.

“Feel free to let me know if you need assistance,” you added, keeping your tone neutral.

He nodded, his attention already wandering to the displays around him.

For a while, you let him browse in peace, watching discreetly as he moved from one case to another. Despite his casual demeanor, there was a sharpness to the way he observed each piece of jewelry, as if he were studying it.

Finally, he paused by a display of rings. You stepped forward, maintaining a respectful distance. “Are you looking for something specific today?”

“What would you recommend for someone who already owns a lot of Chrome Hearts?”

The question caught you slightly off guard. “That depends on what you’re looking for,” you replied smoothly. “Are you interested in adding to your collection, or are you looking for something unique?”

“Both,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “I’ve been collecting Chrome Hearts for years. It’s kind of an obsession at this point.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “An obsession?”

He smiled, sensing your interest. “Yeah. I think I was fifteen when I got my first piece—a ring. It was a gift from a stylist on one of our first shoots. Ever since then, I’ve been hooked. I love the craftsmanship, the designs... everything about it feels timeless.”

You nodded, genuinely impressed. “You don’t hear that often. Most clients are more interested in trends.”

“I’m not really into trends,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I like things that have meaning, things that last. That’s why I keep coming back to Chrome Hearts. Every piece feels like it has a story.”

You considered his words for a moment, then reached into a nearby display case. “If that’s the case, you might like this.”

You handed him a silver chain with an intricately designed cross pendant. “This piece is part of a limited collection. The design is inspired by vintage Chrome Hearts from the early 2000s. It’s subtle, but the detail makes it stand out.”

Ni-ki examined the necklace closely, his fingers brushing over the pendant. “This is perfect,” he said after a moment.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied, stepping back slightly.

As he continued to look at the piece, he glanced up at you. “You know a lot about this brand,” he remarked.

“It’s part of the job,” you said simply.

He smirked. “Yeah, but you sound like you actually care. That’s rare.”

You didn’t respond immediately, unsure how to take the compliment. Instead, you focused on returning the other pieces to their proper places.

“So, what about you?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a favorite piece from the collection?”

You hesitated, not used to being the one answering questions. “I don’t own any Chrome Hearts,” you admitted.

“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“It’s not exactly in my budget,” you said with a small shrug.

He chuckled softly. “Fair enough. But if you could pick one piece, what would it be?”

You thought for a moment before pointing to a sleek silver cuff bracelet in one of the displays. “That one. It’s simple but versatile.”

Ni-ki followed your gaze, nodding in approval. “Good choice. Maybe one day I’ll see you wearing it.”

You glanced at him, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, he placed the necklace and a few other items on the counter.

He looked up at you then, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “How long have you been working here?”

“Long enough to know what fits our clients,” you answered, deflecting the question slightly.

He chuckled softly, slipping the ring onto his finger. “You’re good at this.”

“Thank you.”

There was a brief silence as he admired the fit of the ring, and you took the opportunity to step back, giving him space.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, catching you off guard.

You hesitated. “It’s Y/N,” you said eventually, keeping your tone polite.

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. “I like it.”

You offered a polite smile but didn’t respond, returning to rearranging a nearby display.

Ni-ki continued browsing, occasionally asking for your opinion on a piece. As the minutes turned into an hour, you found yourself impressed by his genuine interest in the craftsmanship. He wasn’t just buying for the sake of it—he seemed to truly appreciate the designs.

Still, you kept a professional distance, even as he grew more conversational.

“You’re really serious about this, huh?” he said at one point, leaning against the counter as you placed a necklace back into its case.

“It’s my job,” you replied simply.

“And you’re good at it,” he said again, his tone sincere this time. “I mean it.”

“Thank you,” you said again, not letting his compliment fluster you.

He smiled at your calm demeanor, clearly amused by your lack of reaction. “You don’t get nervous around clients, do you?”

“Why would I?” you asked, meeting his gaze evenly.

His smile widened. “Most people do.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He laughed at that, the sound warm and genuine. “I can see that.”

The rest of the appointment went smoothly, though Ni-ki’s subtle attempts at small talk didn’t go unnoticed. By the time he’d chosen a ring and a necklace, the tension between professionalism and casual conversation hung in the air.

As he approached the door to leave, he turned back to you. “Thanks for your help, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you replied, bowing slightly.

“Have a good day, Mr. Nishimura,” you replied, your tone as professional as ever.

He paused by the door, looking back at you one last time. “See you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond, watching as the door closed behind him. Shaking your head, you returned to organizing the displays, telling yourself it was just another workday.

But deep down, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.

The Chrome Hearts event was in full swing, a buzzing culmination of celebrities, designers, and photographers mingling under the warm glow of chandeliers. You stood off to the side of the bustling fitting area, adjusting racks of jackets and accessories while trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

This wasn’t your first time working an event like this, but it was your first time with stakes this high. Chrome Hearts had pulled out all the stops, and ENHYPEN, one of the biggest names in the industry, was headlining the night.

You’d been assigned to assist with styling, specifically to help dress Riki Nishimura.

Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with him at the store. Despite his playful demeanor, he’d left an impression that was hard to shake. And now, here you were, preparing to see him again, knowing full well that professionalism was non-negotiable.

“Y/N, they’re here,” your manager said, motioning toward the private fitting area.

You turned just in time to see the group of seven walk in, their presence commanding the room instantly. Cameras flashed as they greeted the event organizers, each member exuding confidence in their own way.

Ni-ki trailed at the back, dressed casually in ripped jeans and a hoodie, but his sharp gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, followed by a small, knowing smirk.

You quickly looked away, busying yourself with the clothes rack in front of you.

“Y/N, you’ll be with Mr. Nishimura,” your manager reminded you, handing you the clipboard with his outfit details.

“Understood,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

When Ni-ki stepped into the fitting area, you greeted him with a polite nod. “Good evening, Mr. Nishimura.”

“Y/N,” he said smoothly, his tone teasing. “Nice to see you again.”

You kept your expression neutral. “Let’s get started. Your outfit is over here.”

He followed you to the rack, where a carefully curated ensemble awaited—a tailored leather jacket, silver accessories, and sleek black boots. As you began arranging the pieces for him, he leaned against the wall, watching you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

“You’re really good at this,” he said after a moment.

“Thank you,” you replied without looking up, focusing instead on adjusting the jacket’s cuffs.

“Have you been doing this for long?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

“Long enough,” you said curtly, stepping back to give him space to change.

He chuckled softly, after hearing nearly the same answers to his questions like the last time. “Still keeping it professional, huh?”

“It’s my job,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

As he slipped into the jacket, his movements deliberate, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly the pieces fit him. He had a natural presence that made even the simplest outfits look like high fashion.

When he turned to face you, fully dressed, you adjusted the silver chain around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin for the briefest moment. The contact sent a jolt through you, but you quickly pulled back, masking your reaction.

“Looks perfect,” you said, stepping away.

“Thanks to you,” he said, his voice quieter now. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken.

You turned away quickly, busying yourself with the clipboard. “You’re ready for the photos.”

As he joined the rest of the group, the atmosphere shifted. The other members greeted you briefly—Jay’s charismatic smile, Sunghoon’s quiet nod, Sunoo’s cheerful wave—but your focus remained on keeping everything running smoothly.

It wasn’t until the group dispersed for a break that Ni-ki found a moment to approach you again, this time in a quieter corner of the venue.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tone different now—less playful, more serious.

You glanced up from the accessory case you were organizing. “Yes, Mr. Nishimura?”

“Drop the ‘Mr.,’” he said with a small smirk. “It’s just Ni-ki.”

You hesitated, your professionalism warring with the tension that seemed to grow every time he was near. “How can I help you, Mr. Nishimura?” You emphasize his last Name.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was wondering if you’d let me have your number.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “That’s against the rules,” you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his gaze.

He tilted his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You stared at him, torn between the strict boundaries of your job and the undeniable pull of his presence. Finally, with a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, you reached for a notepad on the counter.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you muttered, scribbling your number down and tearing off the piece of paper.

His fingers brushed yours as he took it, his smile softening. “I won’t,” he promised.

Before you could respond, your manager’s voice called you back to work, and the moment ended as quickly as it began.

As you walked away, you felt Ni-ki’s eyes on you, the forbidden tension between you lingering like an unspoken secret.

Weeks passed after the Chrome Hearts event, and though you tried to maintain a professional distance, everything had changed. The slip of paper with your number on it had been the beginning of a line you never thought you’d cross.

It started with late-night texts.

The first one came a day after the event:

[Unknown Number]: Is it weird that I can’t stop thinking about how you chose that bracelet?

You stared at the screen for longer than you wanted to admit before typing a response.

[You]: It’s weird that you’re texting me when this is technically against the rules.

He replied almost instantly.

[Ni-ki]: Rules are overrated. Especially for something that feels this… different.

And that was how it began.

Over time, the texts turned into calls, the playful teasing evolving into deeper conversations. Ni-ki wasn’t just a global idol with an obsession for Chrome Hearts; he was surprisingly down-to-earth, funny, and honest in a way that caught you off guard.

But as the weeks went on, keeping things secret grew harder.

The first time he showed up at the store unannounced, you nearly had a heart attack.

He arrived disguised in a plain hoodie and cap, his presence still unmistakable. “I was in the area,” he said with a grin, leaning casually against the counter.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hissed, glancing nervously at your manager, who was busy in the back.

“And yet here I am,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze serious. “I couldn’t help it.”

Against your better judgment, you allowed him to linger, though every minute felt like a risk. When he left, he slipped a small silver ring onto the counter, one you’d once admired during your conversations.

“For you,” he said simply.

You stared at it, shaking your head. “Ni-ki, I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted softly. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

And just like that, the line blurred even further.

The turning point came during another Chrome Hearts event, this time at a private gala where the brand unveiled a new collection. You were there to assist again, your role similar to before, though now the tension between you and Ni-ki felt almost unbearable.

He arrived with the other members, dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit adorned with silver accents. When his eyes found yours across the room, the connection was instant, as if the noise and chaos around you didn’t exist.

As the evening wore on, he found small excuses to be near you—a whispered question about his cufflinks, a fleeting brush of his hand against yours as you adjusted his collar. Every interaction sent your pulse racing, though you tried to hide it.

But it wasn’t enough for him.

Toward the end of the night, he cornered you in a quiet hallway outside the main ballroom. His expression was serious, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, “this thing between us… I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

You crossed your arms, trying to put up a wall you knew would crumble under his gaze. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Ni-ki. If anyone finds out—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I know it’s risky, but I can’t ignore how I feel. Can you?”

His words left you speechless. For weeks, you’d tried to convince yourself that it was just harmless flirting, that you could keep things professional despite the way your heart raced whenever he was near. But now, standing so close to him, the truth was impossible to deny.

“Ni-ki…” you began, your voice faltering.

“I’m not asking you to break every rule,” he said softly. “I just want a chance. A real chance.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you wanted to say no, to walk away before things got even more complicated. But the way he looked at you—as if you were the only person in the world who mattered—made it impossible.

Finally, you nodded, your resolve crumbling. “Okay,” you whispered.

His expression shifted into a mixture of relief and joy, and for the first time, he let his guard down completely.

From that moment on, everything changed.

The relationship that followed was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. You met in secret, stealing moments when his schedule allowed it. Late-night car rides, quiet dinners in hidden corners of the city, and whispered conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning.

But the secrecy only fueled the intensity. Every touch, every glance, every stolen kiss carried the weight of what was at stake.

And though the risk was always there, neither of you could walk away.

Because in the end, some rules were meant to be broken.

Masterlist

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

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...

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[swappermanent]

(Wet) Dream Come True (Frank's POV)

Read the original by @immortalmrwavell here.

You might be wondering why I decided to take Max’s body from him. Trust me, I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times since it happened. Was it selfish? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Well… not as much as you’d think.

When Max’s mom and I first got together, being a father figure wasn’t exactly in my plans. Sure, I cared for Max, but I was stepping into some big shoes. A stepdad is supposed to guide, support, and be there when things get tough, right? Well, how the hell do you guide someone through something like losing their mom? I wasn’t prepared for that. And Max—he may have been old enough to fend for himself at 20, but he wasn’t ready to face the world alone. I did my best, but the truth was, I didn’t know if I could keep holding everything together.

As the months went on, my mind started wandering to the past. What would it be like to be in my twenties again? To have that energy, that freedom? To feel like the world was yours for the taking? At first, it was just a fantasy I’d entertain when life got too heavy. A little daydream to escape reality. But then… something changed.

I came across this weird little magic shop while I was running errands. The kind of place you’d almost walk past without noticing, tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop. I don’t even know what drew me in, but once I stepped inside, I found something I couldn’t ignore: a remedy that could swap bodies. The old man behind the counter explained it to me in hushed tones, like he was letting me in on some ancient secret. There was one catch, though—it had to be a mutual swap. Both parties had to, at least on some level, want to know what it’d be like to live in the other’s shoes. After that, all bets were off.

Now, let’s be real—what 20-something would actually agree to give up their youth, even for a little while? Sure, I was attractive and muscular. I’ve kept myself in good shape over the years, but still, I was in my mid-thirties. Most young guys wouldn’t see that as a fair trade. That’s when I started thinking about Max.

I’d caught the way he looked at me, those lingering glances when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The way his cheeks would flush when I caught him staring, the awkward way he’d quickly change the subject. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had a thing for me. I mean, hell, I’m flattered. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could use that. Max wouldn’t just agree to the idea; he’d probably jump at the chance.

So, I decided to test the waters. One morning, over breakfast, I threw the idea out there casually, like it was just some funny hypothetical.

“This is gonna sound like a funny question,” I said, piercing a sausage with my fork, “but if you could choose to switch lives with me and have my body for however long, would you wanna do it?”

I kept my tone light, but I was watching him closely. The way he fidgeted in his seat, the way his cheeks turned pink as he tried to hide his reaction—it was all the confirmation I needed. His sheepish response, something about how it’d be “weird but interesting,” sealed the deal. I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t just curious; he wanted it. Maybe not consciously, but deep down, he wanted to know what it’d be like to be me.

That was all I needed to make it happen.

When the time came, I added the remedy to our coffee, making sure Max drank every last drop. Watching his body slump as the effects kicked in was surreal, but when I opened my eyes and saw myself sitting across from me, I knew it had worked. My plan had actually worked.

I wasted no time. I’d already packed a bag with everything I’d need to start fresh—clothes, cash, important documents, a few personal items. I didn’t even wait for Max to wake up. I just grabbed my stuff and walked out the door, not looking back.

---

That was five years ago. Five years since I walked out the door, leaving my old life—and my old body—behind.

Now, this sexy body I’m in, Max’s body—no, my body—is 26. And let me tell you, I’ve made the absolute most of it. It wasn’t always easy; the first few months were an adjustment. I had to figure out how to carry myself as a younger man, and I won’t lie, it took some time to get used to seeing my reflection. But as the years went on, I really leaned into it. I started growing out my hair, experimenting with different looks. These days, I like to dress a little more feminine now and then—just enough to turn a few heads. And honestly? I love spending as much time shirtless as possible. This body deserves to be shown off, and I’ve been having an all-around good time doing just that.

Of course, that means my old body—the one I left Max in—would now be about 41. I never bothered to reach out to him after the swap, and, frankly, I hadn’t heard anything from him either. Part of me assumed he was mad, which would make sense. I mean, I did steal his youth, his twenties—arguably some of the best years of his life. Maybe he couldn’t confront me because of that. Not that I spent much time thinking about him these days. My life was too good, and honestly, I didn’t have any regrets. I had the life I wanted.

At least, that was the case until today.

I was at the gym, doing my usual workout. It’s a gym known for its gay clientele—big, muscular guys who weren’t shy about flaunting what they had. My kind of place. I’d just finished a grueling set at the squat rack, sweat dripping down my chest as I racked the barbell. I grabbed a towel and started wiping myself down when this super muscular, hot guy walked up to me.

“Hey, man,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, “mind if I work in with you?” He had this knowing smirk on his face.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. I was too busy eyeing him up. Thick, powerful arms, a wide chest, and legs that could probably crush a watermelon. He was older, but he had this ageless energy about him. Then, it clicked.

It was Max. In my old body.

My jaw practically hit the floor as I stared at him. “Max?” I said, disbelief dripping from my voice. “Is that you? You look… amazing.”

And he did. My old body hadn’t aged a day. In fact, it looked better than ever. He’d clearly been putting in work at the gym. My old body was practically glowing.

Max—or rather, my old body—grinned and crossed his arms over that broad chest. “It’s Frank,” he corrected, his tone smooth and confident. Then he flexed one of those massive biceps, his smirk growing. “But you’re damn right I look amazing.”

I stared at him, still a little stunned by how… okay he looked. Actually, not just okay—thriving. “I thought you’d be mad,” I said after a moment. “I mean, I kind of stole your youth. I figured you’d hate me for it.”

He let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back. Then, with that same cocky smirk, he raised one of those thick, muscular arms and took an exaggerated whiff of his armpit. “I was mad,” he admitted, “for maybe the first hour. But this…” He sniffed again, clearly enjoying his own musk. “…this helped me get over it.”

Before I could say anything, he casually ran a hand down to his crotch, grabbing his impressive bulge. “And this doesn’t hurt either,” he added with a wink, his tone dripping with smugness.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. “So, uh,” I began, trying to steer the conversation before I got too distracted, “I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you in San Diego. Is this where you’ve been all these years?”

Frank shrugged, his body language as relaxed and confident as ever. “Just moved to town, actually. Needed a change of scenery. Figured this would be a good place to start.” He looked me up and down, clearly taking in how much I’d changed. “And now I know why this gym has such a reputation,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah, well, I’ve been here a while. It’s a good spot.”

“Seems like it,” he said, his tone a little too casual, like he knew exactly how good he looked. “Anyway,” he continued, “we should grab a drink later, catch up. It’s been too long.”

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the moment. “Yeah, sure,” I replied, trying to sound just as nonchalant.

As he walked away to start his set, I couldn’t help but watch him. There was something about his casual cockiness, the way he carried himself with this slight earned arrogance, that was undeniably attractive. He wasn’t just comfortable in my old body—he loved it. And honestly? That made him even more appealing.

---

Later that night, we met up at a dive bar just a block away from his apartment. It wasn’t much—a little run-down, sticky floors, the smell of stale beer—but it had character, and it was quiet enough for a real conversation. When I walked in, I spotted him immediately. He was leaning casually against the bar, a beer already in hand, wearing my old Texas Tech T-shirt like it was made for him. It looked snug on his broad frame, the sleeves straining against his biceps, and for a second, I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name. Nostalgia? Jealousy? Lust? Maybe all three.

“Nice shirt,” I said, sliding into the stool next to him.

He smirked, giving me a once-over. “Figured it’d be a nice touch. Thought it might bring back memories.”

I laughed, feeling oddly sheepish. “Yeah, well, it looks better on you.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed internally. Was I… flirting? With my own body? I mean, technically, yeah, but how could I be this flustered? This was me, or at least it used to be. Yet here I was, stumbling over my words, feeling like a nervous wreck. Meanwhile, he—Frank, Max, whatever—was cool as a cucumber, his confidence practically radiating off him.

We ordered drinks, and he started asking me about my life. He was surprisingly attentive, hanging on to every word like he genuinely cared. It threw me off a little. “You’ve been busy,” he said after I told him about some of the things I’d been up to. “It’s good to see you doing so well.”

Was it weird that he almost sounded… proud?

Then he started telling me about his life—what he’d been doing in my old body. Turns out he’d made good money over the past few years working as a fitness instructor part-time, balancing that with his job as a mechanic. And apparently, he’d built up an online following, which had blown up enough that he was now financially set.

“It’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I thought I’d hate it at first, but I kinda love this life. It suits me.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, my eyes trailing over his broad shoulders and confident posture. “It really does.”

As the drinks flowed, I found myself relaxing a little too much. I didn’t even realize I was flirting until it was too late. My hand kept finding excuses to touch his arm or brush against his thigh. At first, it was just playful, but one of those touches lingered a little too long. My hand stayed on his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his jeans. He didn’t move away, and I didn’t either.

He turned to me with a raised eyebrow, that damn smirk spreading across his face. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’d think you were flirting with me.”

My face went red, and I quickly looked away, mumbling something unintelligible. But before I could pull my hand back, he grabbed my thigh, his grip firm and deliberate.

“Usually,” he said, leaning in just enough that I could feel the heat of his breath, “I don’t go for twinks. But I think I can make an exception for you.” His hand slid just slightly higher, his smirk turning into something hungrier. “I mean, I know how fantastic that ass is. And I’d love to try it out for myself.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t find the words to respond. All I could do was stare at him, my heart pounding as his grip tightened slightly, his confidence swallowing the room whole.

Stay Tuned For Part 2

[martiansodas-blog]

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

[earthchica]

always and forever

aaron pierre x black, fem! reader {actress}

summary: you and Aaron have been dating for five months. It's been great, and both of you are happily in love despite navigating each other's busy schedules.

warnings: explicit smut 18+, light teasing, morning sex, unprotected, light daddy kink, breeding kink, long-distance, dirty talking, bubble bath, boyfriend/girlfriend, actor/actress, not real life, original characters, use of Y/N, words: 6k

note: part 3 is here, and part 4 will be out on Saturday. thank you to everyone who voted in my poll yesterday. I hope you enjoy it.

part one | part two

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your bedroom. You stretched lazily, feeling the warmth and comfort of the bed where you lay next to Aaron.

Your heart swelled as you watched him—the way his lashes fanned against his cheek and the slight smile that danced on his lips in his sleep made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Aaron was everything you ever wanted; the way he treated you with love, respect, and emotional support was irresistible. He stirred, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttering open slowly.

When Aaron finally focused on you, his lips curled into that playful grin you adored. "Caught you staring again, love," he teased, his voice still thick with sleep, sending a rush of warmth through your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. "I can't help it! You're just so adorable when you sleep," you replied, a laugh bubbling up as he wiggled closer, practically snuggling into your side.

"Adorable, eh?" Aaron raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Well, you might just want to keep that to yourself. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know."

You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound breezy and light, as you nudged him playfully. "I think you’re just too easy to tease."

"I am not," Aaron shot back, playfully puffing out his chest. "Mhmm, okay, Aaron," you said with a smirk.

"I mean, I’ve got myself such a gentle giant with a little rough side to him. What more could a woman want?"

Aaron chuckled, leaned in, pulling you closer, and his eyes softened. “You know I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’. These past five months? They’ve been…”

He hesitated, looking for the right words. “We've known each other for two years as friends, but our relationship has blossomed into something so special. It's been amazing, and you make me so happy that I can't imagine myself not spending the rest of my life with you."

Your heart raced, you said, looking up at him and caressing his jawline with your finger while looking between his eyes and lips.

“Oh...I feel the same way, Aaron. You make me so happy, keep me grounded, and always make me feel assured and never doubtful.”

And then, with a deep breath that seemed to carry the weight of the moment, he said it: "I love you, Y/N."

For a split second, time froze. Your heart did a little flip-flop; surprise washed over you, followed quickly by a swell of happiness. “I… I love you too!”

The words slipped out almost instinctively, and a radiant smile broke across your face.

"Really?" Aaron asked as his face lit up. He pulled you into a warm embrace and began kissing your neck, which caused you to laugh, which filled the bedroom.

"Yes, I love you," you repeated with laughter. "Repeat it," Aaron whispered in your ear with a more lustfully, darker tone. You look into his eyes, and you know that like all too well.

Moreover, in a matter of minutes, you didn’t think he would have you on all fours, his strong hands gripping your hips relentlessly as he pounds into you without mercy.

Your right hand will be held behind you, rendering you to his every desire. And with each thrust, he demands that you declare your unwavering love for him.

"Oh, fuck I love you, Aaron," You cried, looking back at him. Aaron’s grin turned wicked, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

“Repeat it, love,” he demanded, giving your ass cheek a sting smack as his voice dropped low, rough, and dripping with that British accent that always made you weak in the knees.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love you, Aaron,” you gasped, feeling his hands slide possessively down your sides, gripping your hips with a firmness that made your breath hitch.

“I love you so damn much, you are the air that I breathe, Daddy.”

“Mm, that’s my sweet girl,” Aaron purred, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers dug into your dark-brown skin. “You’re mine, ain’t ya? All mine.”

“Yes, ahhh,” you whimpered, arching into him as his mouth trailed hot kisses along your lower back. “All yours.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Cause I'm not sharin’ you with nobody. You hear me? You belong to me, baby. Every inch of you.”

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you nodded frantically, your hands clutching at the sheets as he let go of your arm.

“Yes, Aaron. Only you.” you cried softly. Aaron chuckled darkly, pulling out of you, causing you to whimper and look back at him again.

“That’s what I love to hear,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance and tenderness. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly before flipping you onto your back.

Aaron hovered above you, spreading your legs up to get a better view of your wet pussy. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Fuck..you got me all heated, with just you saying three little words,” Aaron said, his voice low and gravelly, that British accent wrapping around every word like silk.

“I guess you got that great effect on me, love,” Aaron grunts, and you bite your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Is that so?” you asked, looking up at him. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. When he pulled away, his breath was warm against your skin.

“You got me all twisted up. Can’t focus on nothin’ but you.” His hands roamed your breasts, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “You feel that?”

His voice was rough as his hard dick traced up and down the wet pussy folds. “Feel how hard I am for you. That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.” He said and you moaned, unable to find the words as his touch ignited a fire deep within you.

Aaron’s lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

His hands moved to your thighs again as he settled between your legs. “You ready for more, baby?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Good,” he said, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “Cause I ain’t stoppin’ till you cumming.”

And with that, he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely and drawing a moan from your lips. His hands gripped the back of your tights, holding you in place as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Aaron,” you moaned, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you with a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“Shit, dear—you feel so fuckin’ good. Tight, wet, all mine.” His voice was raw, guttural, each word dripping with a possessive hunger that made your head spin.

“You like that?” he growled, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you arching off the bed. “You like how I’m stretching you out, fillin’ you up? Huh? Tell me.”

“Yes, oh yes Aaron!” you cried out, your voice breaking as he hit that spot deep inside you, over and over again. “Aaron—please—don’t stop!”

Aaron chuckled darkly, vibrating through his chest and straight into your core. “Oh, I'm not stopping, baby. Not until I hear you screaming my name. Not until I feel you clenching around this dick like you can’t let go.”

His hands slide up your body, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You gonna take all this dick, baby, like I know you can?” He asked in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling beneath him as he drove harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless. “Fuck—Aaron, you’re so deep—I can’t—”

“You can,” Aaron growled, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

“You're gonna take it all, sweetheart. Every inch. Every stroke. You belong to me, and I’ll ensure you never forget it.”

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, your body clenching around him as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

His grip on your wrists tightened, his body pressing you into the mattress as he fucked you with a primal intensity that left no room for thought—only feeling.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough, demanding. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his darkened gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me while I fuck you good. Watch how much you’re taking this dick like a good girl.”

You moaned loudly, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts as the heat inside you threatened to explode. “Aaron—I’m close—please—”

“Yeah?” Aaron rasped, a grin across his face. “You are gonna cum for me? Are you gonna let go all over this dick? Huh?”

“Yes!” you cried out, your voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure building inside you. “Aaron—I’m gonna—oh goodness, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, more urgent.

“Cum for me. Let me feel you lose control. Let me feel that pretty pussy milking this dick like you can’t get enough.”

The pressure in your core snapped, and you came undone with a scream, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Aaron didn’t let up, driving into you relentlessly as you rode out the throes of your orgasm. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“That’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed to see. You cumming on this dick like you can’t take no more. But don’t think we’re done yet love.”

Aaron slowed his pace slightly, allowing you to catch your breath before he leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear. “You ain’t tapped out on me yet, are you?”

“No,” you whispered hoarsely, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. Aaron lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms cradling your body as if you weighed nothing.

Your legs instinctively under his arms as his hands gripped your waist as he slid back into you with a deep, deliberate thrust. The sensation was overwhelming—your nails dug into his shoulders as a low moan escaped your lips.

“Hmmm, fuck” he growled, his voice dripping with hunger. “You feel that? We were made for each other. Fits you so damn perfect, doesn’t it?”

Aaron punctuated his words with sharp, punishing thrusts, each one sending shockwaves through your body.

“Aaron—” you whimpered, your head falling back as he pounded into you with a raw intensity that left you breathless.

“Nah, baby, look at me,” Aaron demanded, his voice rough and commanding. You forced your eyes open, locking onto his dark, smoldering gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me while I give you this work. You see how much this pussy belongs to me? How much do you need this dick?”

“Yes, fuck Aaron,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he drove into you harder, your body bouncing with every thrust. “It’s yours—it’s always been yours.”

“That's right,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck.

“And don’t you ever forget it. I want you to remember this moment and every movement we have. When I’m not here, even when we’re apart. Remember how this dick makes you feel. How it stretches, you fill you up just right. How it got you moaning like a mess, begging for more. You gonna remember that, ain’t you?”

“Yes, Aaron,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure began to build inside you. “I’m gonna remember—oh Goodness—I’m gonna remember everything.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “Cause Imma never letting you forget. This pussy mine and I’ma make sure it stays that way.” He shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your body arching against him as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. “Aaron, oh my goodness—I can’t—it’s too much—”

“No, baby, you can take it,” he snarled, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. “You gonna take all this dick, ain’t you? You’re a big girl; big girls do big things, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your voice rising with each word as the pressure inside you reached its peak. “Give it to me—please—I need it—”

“That’s it, love,” Aaron growled, his hands tightening on your legs as he buried himself deep inside you one last time. “Now cum for me, baby. Let it all go for me.”

The command in his voice was all it took. Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through you, your screams echoing off the walls as you clung to him for dear life.

Aaron’s groan was guttural, primal, as he felt you clenching around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his body. His thrusts slowed, but they were no less intense, each one drawing out your climax until you were trembling in his arms, utterly spent.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still laced with that same possessive edge. “Let it all out. Let me feel you cumming on my dick. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this—so fucking perfect.”

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak, but your body spoke for you. Your legs tightened around him, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if you never wanted to let go.

And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. “This dick is mine, right?” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with quiet confidence.

“Who else makes you feel like this? Who else gets you this hard, this desperate, this… undone?”

“Fuck, only you, baby, it’s all yours” Aaron let out a low, rumbling growl and buried himself deep inside you one final time. You felt him pulse within you, hot and thick, marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, wrapping up in each other’s arms. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the soft patter of sweat dripping.

Aaron’s forehead rested against yours, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He laid you gently on the bed and finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes softening as he saw you.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, and his gentle touches flutter you. “You alright, babe?” he asked, his voice a low murmur filled with concern.

His rough exterior melted away, replaced by a gentleness that always managed to flutter you. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked softly.

You shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “No, Aaron. You were amazing. Just… just the way I needed you to be.”

Aaron nodded, his thumb stroking your cheek as he studied your face. “Good. Cause I’d never wanna hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his face. “I trust you, Aaron. More than anyone.”

His lips curved into a genuine smile that matched his eyes, making them sparkle with love. “Good, I love you, And I ain’t ever letting you go.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours.

“I don’t want you to,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t ever want to be without you.”

“You won’t be,” he promised, his voice firm and unwavering. “Not as long as I’m breathing. You’re stuck with me, love. Always and Forever.”

“Always and Forever,” you echoed, your heart swelling with emotions you could barely contain. Aaron’s fingers lingered on your dark-brown skin for a moment longer before he kissed your forehead, soft and lingering.

Then, with a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, the warmth of his body leaving you feeling oddly exposed.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he said, his voice soft laced with tenderness. “You deserve to relax after… well, after all that.”

"Yeah, but i'm not complaining," You teased and watched as he padded across the room, biting your lip at the sight of his naked ass, his broad shoulders and muscled back catching the dim light filtering through the curtains.

Every movement was deliberate, and every step carried the confidence that made your stomach flutter. He disappeared into the bathroom, and soon, you heard the sound of water running and the faint hum of him adjusting the temperature.

You tried to get off the bed, but your body felt like it had been turned to lead. Your legs were jelly, and slight panic flickered in your chest for a moment.

You flopped back onto the bed and let out a soft groan, half-amused and half-frustrated. Aaron reappeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with that infuriating grin of his.

The one that always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin. “What’s the matter, love? Can’t move?” Aaron teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“Guess I really did a number on you, huh?” he added and you pouted, crossing your arms over your breasts as best as possible, though the movement felt like a monumental effort.

“You’re not funny, Aaron,” you muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched despite yourself.

“Oh, I think I’m hilarious,” he shot back, pushing off the doorway and sauntering toward you. His steps were slow and deliberate, like a lion stalking its prey.

When he reached the bed, he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Just say you need help, baby.”

“I don't,” you lied, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze. He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“Liar,” he murmured before swooping in to kiss your lips quickly. Before you could protest—or kiss him back—he straightened and offered you his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You hesitated momentarily before taking his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they interlaced with his. His grip was firm and steadying, and he quickly pulled you to your feet, though your legs still felt like they might give out at any moment.

Aaron wrapped an arm around your waist, his touch grounding and electrifying as he guided you toward the bathroom. The room was filled with steam, the air thick with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus from the bath salts he’d added to the water.

One candle flickered on the countertops, casting a soft, golden glow that made everything almost magical. The tub was enormous, bubbles spilling over the edges, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of anticipation.

“Thank you, babe,” you murmured, leaning into him as you stepped closer to the tub. “Of course, only the best for you,” he said simply, kissing your head.

Aaron released you long enough to kneel by the tub, testing the water with his hand before nodding in satisfaction. “Perfect temperature.”

He stood and turned to you, his eyes soft but still teasing. “Now, are you going to need help getting in, or can you manage on your own?”

You shot him a look, though no real heat was behind it. “I think I can handle it,” you said, though the way your legs wobbled as you stepped toward the tub suggested otherwise.

Aaron didn’t say anything but hovered close, his hands ready to catch you if needed. The water was divine as you slipped in—warm but not scalding, the bubbles clinging to your skin like a soft embrace.

You sank down with a contented sigh, letting the tension melt away from your muscles. Aaron watched you for a moment, and that infuriating grin still played on his lips before he began to leave.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Let you relax,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Unless you’d rather I join?”

“Duh, get in here,” you said with a smile. He chuckled, low and warm, and soon stepped into the tub behind you.

The water rose dangerously close to the edge as he settled in, his chest pressing against your back, his legs bracketing yours. You leaned into him, letting his warmth envelop you as the bubbles tickled your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft lapping of the water and the occasional flicker of the candle flames.

His fingers traced idle patterns on your arms, his touch feather-light but enough to send little jolts of electricity through you.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift in the moment's tranquility.

“You’re quiet,” Aaron murmured after a while, his breath warm against your ear. He added, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you said softly, though that wasn’t entirely true. “Just… this. You. It’s nice, I’m gonna miss you real bad”

You felt Aaron's arms tighten around you ever so slightly, his breath hitching for a moment before he let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

His lips brushed against the curve of your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his smile even without seeing it.

"I’m gonna miss you too," he admitted his voice low and tinged with something that sounded like regret. "More than you know."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his profile in the candlelight—his strong features, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

Aaron looked pensive, almost vulnerable, and it made your chest ache. "It’s not forever, just for a few weeks," you said softly, though the words felt hollow even to your ears.

"True," he agreed, but a weight to his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

You reached up, tangling your fingers with his where they rested on your arm. The steam from the bath curled around you both, making everything feel hazy and dreamlike.

"We’ll figure it out," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "We always do."

-

An hour later, you and Aaron were dressed, having shared a leisurely brunch filled with laughter and lingering glances. Now, you stood outside, watching him as he methodically loaded his suitcases into the trunk of his car.

The sunlight glinted off the metal, illuminating your surroundings, but all you could focus on was the rising emotion within you. You felt comforted and heartbroken when he closed the trunk with a decisive thud and walked over, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

Looking into his deep eyes, tears began to well up, threatening to spill over. You had never anticipated that saying goodbye would be this hard; it felt like he was taking a piece of you.

The thought of him being away for just a few weeks loomed heavy in your heart, making it feel like you were parting from your true other half.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Aaron murmured softly, brushing a thumb against your cheek.

“I promise we can make time; we can call, text, and FaceTime each other whenever you want, okay?” His voice was warm and reassuring, yet it still didn’t quite alleviate the ache inside you.

You nodded a silent agreement that felt both comforting and bittersweet. He glanced at his watch, and the moment felt even more fleeting.

“I’ve got to go now,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation hit you hard.

“Don’t forget me while I’m gone,” you said, trying to inject humor into the sadness, your voice tinged with melodrama. He chuckled softly, a warm smile spreading across his face, and then his expression softened further as he took your hands in his, kissing each one tenderly.

“I could never forget you, baby,” he said, sincerity etched across his features.

“It’s going to be okay; we can do this.” He pulled you into one last embrace, holding you tightly as though he could squeeze every bit of love and reassurance into that moment.

You both reluctantly pulled away, eyes locked, whispering the words that felt like a lifeline. “I love you, Aaron”

“I love you too, Y/N We’ll be back together before you know it.” With a heavy heart, Aaron reached down to grab his handbag from the ground.

Aron stepped back towards his car but then paused, turning to look at you one last time as if committing your image to memory. The moment stretched, and he climbed into the car, starting the engine, the sound a bittersweet reminder that he was leaving.

As he drove away, you watched until his car was just a dot on the horizon, feeling the weight of your longing settle deep within your chest.

[babydollslibrary]

QUESTION…? — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

published: February 4th, 2023

summary: in which Quinn and sunshiny good girl, y/n, have harbored feelings for each other for a while. but when they finally hookup, Quinn leaves in the middle of the night and let’s y/n believe maybe it was just a one night fling.

specific lyrics: “good girl, sad boy.” and “did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room and every single one of your friends was making fun of you but fifteen seconds later they were clapping too? then what did you do? did you leave her house in the middle of the night?”

warnings: kinda steamy but no NSFW. profanity.

not my gif

contrary to popular belief, i’m not oblivious to the irony of Quinn Hughes and i being best friends. the optimistic, always happy, constantly smiling hopeless romantic being best friends with the pessimistic, always looks miserable, rarely smiling hockey player? yeah, it’s baffled our other friends for years.

but when asked, i can’t really explain it. Quinn and i just click. we know what makes the other happy, or sad, or angry. it’s easy for us to be around each other. and we’re understanding of each other. i don’t push him to talk, and he’s one of the rare few who will just sit and listen to me ramble without asking me to shut up. as like all best friends we’re really close. we like to think we have no secrets. that we tell each other everything.

but, i have one.

i’m in love with my best friend.

i never meant for it to happen. when we became friends, i was actually glad to finally meet a guy that just wanted to be friends. no underlying motives, no moves being pulled. just friends. but eventually my feelings changed. it wasn’t all at once, like i read about in my romance novels. no. the changes were gradual. it started slowly, with me seeking him out more than my other friends. then it turned into getting butterflies in my stomach when we touched, no matter if we were holding hands, linked arms, or if i was just sitting close enough to him on the couch that our thighs touched. at first i chalked it up to him just being my best friend, but then the dreams started happening. dreams where he and i were dating. and eventually sleeping dreams turned into daydreams. and then i finally realized my true feelings. i’m in love with my best friend.

i’ve spent the better half of our four year friendship hiding my feelings from him, too scared that confessing might ruin our friendship. he’s never given me any reason to assume that he feels the same way, so i keep my feelings locked in a box in the back of my mind, only let free when i’m alone and daydreaming about what life would be like if we were more than friends.

i’ve since then gone on several dates with numerous guys, trying to find someone who makes me feel the way Quinn does, but it’s been a moot effort. every guy has been missing the spark that i feel between Quinn and i. and i always end up back to the beginning, spending my nights hanging out with my best friend and just hoping i’m strong enough not to spill my secret.

which brings us to now, where i’m mentally screaming over how good Quinn looks in his white button down shirt and black dress pants. it’s new year’s eve, and most of the Canucks team, their partners, and a few friends are lounged around Elias’s house. with five minutes until the new year, i’m sat on the couch clutching a glass of champagne, my sixth of the night, and animatedly chatting with Quinn, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. but i’ve learned by now that that’s just his resting facial expression.

“alcohol makes you chatty, doesn’t it y/n?” Elias laughs from his spot in the chair a few feet away from us. i stop talking, letting out a weak chuckle. it’s not like i’m unused to comments like that, i’m often told that i talk a lot, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little.

“it does. but i like it. i like listening to her talk.” Quinn defends. my heart flutters in my chest at his words. a blush coating my cheeks. “now back to what you were saying, y/n.”

i blink a few times, just staring at my best friend in front of me before i begin to speak.

“oh. i was just saying that i think my parents want me to visit soon. but i was done speaking.” i shrug.

“no, you weren’t.” Quinn’s brows furrow and he wears a scowl. “you were still talking.”

“well, i was about done anyways. but i can keep talking.” Quinn’s lips quirk in a half smile and he nods for me to continue. “well, i do think the concept of new years is pretty weird. and some of the traditions that people have are weird as well. like-”

i’m cut off by the simultaneous chants of the people surrounding us. counting down from ten. i smile and my face lights up. i love this part of the holiday.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!” i sigh as i watch couples pair off, ready to kiss their other half a happy new year, a longing look in my eye. i feel Quinn shift beside me, his thigh pressing closer into mine. but my eyes are locked on my friends all smiling at their significant others, so happy and in love. i want that.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” i’m snapped out of my thoughts by a hand grasping my chin. my face is turned and i’m able to catch a quick glimpse of Quinn’s eyes before my lips are covered by his. his hands move to cup my face, his lips moving over mine. it takes me a second of hesitation to realize what’s happening and my heart speeds up. i snap out of my trance in time to move my lips, locking us into a slow and passionate kiss.

“GO HUGGY! FINALLY!” i hear someone yell and everyone laughs, cracking jokes about how long it took for us to kiss. Quinn pulls back to lock eyes with me, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. he gives me a small smile before leaning in and capturing my lips with his once more. our friends start clapping and i smile into the kiss, making him pull away once again. this time he pulls away completely, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him.

what did that mean? does he like me the way that i like him? or was it just a midnight kiss between friends? is this gonna change anything, or are we just going to move past this like it didn’t happen? does he realize how much this means to me? my head is swarmed with questions that i may never know the answers to.

i stay glued to his hip for the rest of the night, my head still reeling from the kiss. not long after midnight, everyone starts to head home, and i follow Quinn out to his car so he can give me a ride. he opens the passenger seat for me, helping me in before shutting it and jogging around the front of the car, slipping into the drivers seat. the drive is unusually quiet, my usual chattiness drifted away after our kiss. instead i’m stuck inside my own mind, still wondering what it meant. when he pulls up and parks in a spot outside my apartment complex, he turns to look at me, and i manage a smile.

“you okay?” he asks. “you’ve been quiet.”

“yeah, i’m fine. just figured i’d give you a reprieve.” i joke. his expression tells me he didn’t appreciate my attempt.

“don’t do that.” he says.

“do what?”

“don’t let what Elias said get into your head. i love that you never stop talking. i like seeing you happy.”

okay he needs to stop talking before i do something monumentally stupid. like kiss him again.

“don’t worry, Quinny. i’m not gonna go silent on you. i was just joking.” i smile. “who else can i talk about all my star wars theories with, without them calling me a nerd?”

he laughs and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“you wanna come in and drink some wine while i tell you about how i think Palpatine is actually Anakin’s father?” i ask, and he nods.

“what else would i do?” he jokes sarcastically.

we get out of the car and Quinn leads the way up to my apartment, having been here hundreds of times in the past four years. i unlock my door and call out to my cat that i’m home. within seconds she comes around the corner, and Quinn scoops her up in his arms, cradling her like a baby. i listen to him coo at her as i grab a bottle of wine off my kitchen counter and pour two glasses.

within a few minutes, Quinn and i are sat on my bed, drinking our wine as i lay my feet in his lap and talk to him about my theory. Quinn listens intently, as if he hasn’t already heard it a million times, and absentmindedly lays his hand on my ankle, sending a spark up my leg.

“anyways, enough about that.” i finish. “how’s your mom? i heard you on the phone with her earlier. I miss Ellen.”

he smiles, a rare genuine grin at the mention of his family.

“she’s good.” he nods. “she misses you too. keeps telling me to bring you to the lake house this summer.”

“we’ll if that’s your way of offering, then i accept.” i tell him before joking- “i miss my favorite Hughes brother.”

“there’s no way that Luke is your favorite. i call bullshit.”

“you call bullshit every time i say it, but i still remain adamant. he’s the sweetest.” i tease. “he told me last summer that if i ever decide that i like younger guys, he’ll take me out. maybe i’ll finally take him up on that offer.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow, tickling the inside of my ankles as he speaks.

“oh please. he wouldn’t know how to handle you.”

i bark out a laugh and nudge his thigh with my foot.

“and just what is that supposed to mean?” i ask.

“it means that whatever man you finally decide is good enough for you, needs to appreciate you. he needs to love how much you like to speak, and your hopeless romantic side. he needs to appreciate that you always look on the bright side of things, and find a silver lining in everything. he needs to remember that you’re a sunrise person, preferring the beginning of a new day rather than the end, so you prefer your dates as brunch or picnics or going to a museum rather than dinner or a movie. and Luke is not that guy.”

my heart melts at his words. the fact that he knows these things about me and believes that i deserve to find someone who won’t make me compromise those parts of myself.

and there i go, doing something monumentally stupid, because before i can take a second to think before i react, i lean over and press my mouth to his. his lips lock with mine, moving slowly. i open my mouth, letting his tongue roam freely over mine. Quinn grasps my hips, pulling me in closer so that i’m straddled over his lap, and i roll my hips, lightly grinding down onto him, making him let out a groan.

he tastes like red wine and mint, an odd combination, but not a bad one. his hands slip under my top, skimming my bare skin as he settles them at my waist and pulls me closer. my chest is flush against his now, every breath i take making my nipples brush against his chest, sending pleasure driven shivers down my body, straight to my core.

“please.” i whisper against his lips.

“please what, y/n?” his voice is raspy, laced with lust and seduction.

“please Quinn. please fuck me.” i whimper as he pulls me down to roll over his quickly hardening length.

“whatever you want, baby.”

**

my eyes squint against the light coming in from my bedroom windows as i finally come to. it takes me a couple seconds to remember why i’m naked. and when the memories of the night before flash in my mind, i smile, rolling over in my bed to face Quinn. but his spot is empty. i reach over to feel cold sheets. he’s been gone awhile.

when did he leave? why did he leave?

tears prick at the back of my eyes, but i blink them away. he could just be in the kitchen. rising from my bed, i throw on an oversized t-shirt and some underwear as i glance around my room. his clothes are gone, the only ones left scattered on my floor being my own, sending another sinking feeling in my gut.

i leave my room, walking to my kitchen only for it to be empty. i check my bathroom, my living room, and my guest room, only for all of them to come up empty as well.

he left.

i finally let my tears fall, collapsing on my couch. i thought maybe he liked me, but was last night just an easy fuck for him? did he not want me in the way that i want him? in a relationship sense?

**

it’s been four days since Quinn and i slept together, and we haven’t spoken or seen each other in those days. it’s not unusual for us to not talk or see each other for a few days, but after our night together, i wasn’t expecting the complete silence. i told myself i would confront him the next time i see him, but the thought makes me anxious.

with the Canucks having two nights off in a row, a lot of them are going out to a bar, and as a close friend of the team, i was invited. Andrei didn’t tell me who all is coming though, so as i walk into the bar right now, i worry over the possibility of being confronted with Quinn.

my eyes roam the bar, searching for my friends, and when i finally spot them, i feel both relieved and anxious. i don’t see Quinn. i make my way over to them, giving hugs and fist bumps as i say my hello’s.

“i’m gonna go order a drink.” i let them know, but as i turn around, i see Quinn, who seems to be returning from the restroom. we lock eyes and he veers course, coming to a stop in front of me.

“hey.” he greets me, pulling me into a quick hug. my arms stay glued to my sides.

“hey.” i say weakly. before i can lose my confidence i speak again. “can we talk?”

Quinn nods and tips his head over towards an empty booth across the room. i lead the way over to it, taking a seat on one side while he takes the seat across from me.

“what’s up?” he asks, and i take a second to study his expressionless face. does he really not know what this is about?

“can i ask you a question?” i ask.

“yeah, of course.” he replies. he lifts the hat off his head and sweeps a hand through his hair before replacing the hat. i swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath.

“why did you leave?” i manage to get out.

“what?”

“that night. why did you leave? i woke up the next morning and you were gone.” i explain. he opens his mouth but i continue speaking. “i just need to know. did it mean nothing to you? because that night meant everything to me. and i was under the impression that it may have meant something to you, but then you left without even saying goodbye and it made me feel…cheap. so i just want you to be honest with me Quinn, did it? mean anything to you?”

Quinn’s nostrils flare and he winces, as if my words were hard for him to hear.

“of course. it meant so much to me, y/n. but it all happened so fast and right after i said those nice things. so, i laid awake overthinking. and i got it into my head that maybe you were just overwhelmed with what i had said and acted on impulse. that maybe it was just one night for you. and i could take that, so i left. i thought maybe that’s what you wanted me to do.” his voice is soft, barely audible over the commotion of the bar, and his words only make me more upset.

“so you didn’t think to talk to me? you just left?” my words are sharp, my tone incredulous. “if you would’ve talked to me then you would’ve known that i really like you, Quinn. i’ve been in love with you for two years. i wanted that night to happen. it wasn’t just a night for me. was the decision impulsive? maybe. but i thought about that happening between us for years. i wanted it. i want you. not just for one night, but forever.”

his hand snakes across the table, clasping my own.

“i want you too. forever. god, y/n, i’ve been in love with you since i met you. but i knew how much you’d been through with past relationships and i didn’t want to push you. and then when i thought enough time had passed, i didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so i took you in any way i could have you. if that was just as your best friend, then so be it. but i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, y/n/n.”

my head reels with his words, thinking back over them. wait what?

“what?” i whisper, my voice shaky.

“if you can forgive me for being an idiot and jumping to conclusions, i’d really like to be your boyfriend.”

my heart races, and i look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity.

“i’d really like that. but you can’t leave me like that again, Quinn.”

“i don’t think i ever want to leave you again.” he tells me. he stands, taking my hand in his and pulling me up so hard that i crash into his chest. he wraps his arms around my waist, leaning down and letting his lips graze mine, smiling. “my mom is gonna freak when i tell her we’re finally dating.”

my head drops back in a laugh before i tease-

“oh no, how am i gonna break this to Luke?”

[mareastrorum]

Hello! I’ve been looking at your blog after Critical Role episodes for a couple of weeks now and I have to agree with you wholeheartedly about pretty much all of it. I wanted to ask you your opinion on the idea that a majority of us are calling Bells Hells the bad guys because all they’re doing is ‘wanting to dismantle the oppressive force that aims to destroy an entire established society of innocent people’. I’m having trouble understanding what oppressive force that is?

Thanks for the ask! There's two parts to this, so I'm going to address them separately.

First, there is no "oppressive force that aims to destroy an entire established society of innocent people." Like, the only group that came close to that in this campaign was the Weave Mind and the Imperium, which intended to take over Exandria in its entirety and subject the entire population to hivemind slavery--but Bell's Hells did little to oppose them. Vox Machina (backed up by an army) demolished the Imperium's main forces at the Exandrian base of the bloody bridge. The Mighty Nein killed the Weave Mind and then started mopping up their allies that remained on Ruidus. Bell's Hells did nothing to support that rebellion other than assist on a scouting/sabotage mission and then flee.

Otherwise, there is no force aiming to destroy society. Ludinus wanted Predathos out so it could eat the gods, and there was no intent about anything other than that. He did not care one way or the other about collateral damage. Predathos doesn't either, but it wants to eat, and we do not know what level of divinity is too small for it to prioritize. And let's be serious, unless a god flees and lures it away, there's no reason for Predathos not to look at a planet full of life and think, "Hmmm, it might not taste good, but I am so fucking hungry."

A good while ago, when the Hells had initially reached Vasselheim, I saw discussion of whether Vasselheim and other Exandrian forces intended to wipe out all Reilorans and other Ruidus-based species. I think Evoroa's plea and assistance made directly to the leadership of Vasselheim has already prevented that potential result. Of course, the Exandrians are working together as a collective of dozens of factions, and each of those has untold numbers of individuals working for them. It's possible some of them will insist on war anyway, but given the actions of the three campaign parties, I don't see that happening on an organized scale. Regardless, Bell's Hells aren't focusing on that right now, and nothing they could/would do with Predathos would affect that either.

The only other faction that comes close to that idea is the Betrayer Gods, but they don't care about society. They want genocide. They want to murder every single mortal in existence, and then torment their immortal souls for all eternity. I literally cannot overstate the disdain the Betrayers have for mortals. They are Exandrians' ultimate enemy. The Divine Gate is the only thing protecting mortals from the Betrayers, and it requires every god to unanimously agree to drop it. That is phenomenal protection. There's been no serious threat to it since its creation.

In particular, I want to highlight that "the gods" as a category of entity are not a united faction. The gods don't rule anything on Exandria--not even Vasselheim. That's a purely mortal project! Mortals decided to build a city dedicated to the gods, and given that it's filled with their followers, the gods have historically spent particular attention to protecting it. That makes perfect sense, and it doesn't mean the gods are in charge of it.

Obviously, there will be other factions across Exandria that could fit that bill, but Bell's Hells hasn't had to deal with them in this campaign. Like, chaotic evil factions exist, they're just not in this story right now.

Next, whether Bell's Hells are villains, bad guys, etc.

I've written up how I assess villains in my pinned post. That's my general approach to any type of story, whether it's interactive, written, oral, etc. It's a very broad overview of when is a villain an effective narrative device? I am rather harsh in my criticism of villains: if they didn't improve the story, they should not have been included at all.

We could cherrypick through the various episodes to come up with an argument that Bell's Hells are the bad guys, but my problem with them is that they aren't effective villains. A villain's primary purpose is to highlight a theme in the negative: what is the wrong thing to do in these circumstances, and why is that? The reason they aren't effective is that they don't have a motivating purpose.

Bell's Hells are a chaotic faction that consistently deviates from whatever is requested of them. They claim to be for the people, then denigrate and oppose every faction they've encountered. They claim to have changed their minds about some of the gods (the Matron and the Arch Heart in particular), then repeatedly ignore or contradict the plain statements told to them, but they still seek out the gods' instructions regardless. This carelessness or apathy makes it impossible to map a philosophy onto the PCs other than "I felt like doing it in the moment."

None of them have been able to articulate a reason that they chose this path. Maybe the players will come up with some hamfisted excuse next episode, but it's still going to be unsatisfying from a narrative viewpoint. This stream had hundreds of hours to show that and instead needs someone to say it in the last episode. It's terrible storytelling, and none of them could claim that it was impossible to see this confrontation coming. We've known it was coming since Ludinus successfully bridged Exandria and Ruidus. There was time, and it was not spent wisely.

Going beyond dialogue, there's no consistency to Bell's Hells's actions except the desire to kill Ludinus. That muddled any potential message that could be conveyed about them as villains in a story except "kill Ludinus in particular." We can't even say they oppose any existing hegemony because none has been established in Exandria. There's no racial, economic, social, religious, etc. group dominating the world. Again, as said above, the gods don't rule anything, and they're stuck behind the gate.

Any potential to build Bell's Hells into worthwhile villains was squandered. Everyone but Orym had an explicit, tailor-made opportunity to lean into their darker personality traits, and every one of them chickened out--except Ashton, who gave into his desire to be special and have power to lash out at people standing over him. Unfortunately, Ashton's attempt to absorb another shard of a primordial would have also broken the game on a D&D level, so that got reversed and reworked into a character moment that also had no lasting impact on his character arc. Ashton hasn't bothered exploring it since. That's really the core problem: every time the PCs had the option to pursue a villainous path, they ran the fuck in the opposite direction, then dithered about what to do.

Without conviction, villains are merely bullies. They're just here to be mean, stop other people from getting what they want, and jeer at others when they get their way. We saw that in this latest episode. There's nothing Bell's Hells wants. They don't even want to be involved. They're just doing it because they can't even commit to going home--because they're player characters in a D&D game, and the players didn't want to switch to new characters.

That makes for a terrible villain story. Like, once we see the final episode and all the PCs have had an opportunity to take action and speak on their own behalf, we'd be able to revisit this with more definitive statements. Unfortunately, I can't think of a single way this could go that would correct the flaws I've already listed. It's far too late to correct the characters' lack of direction to develop a coherent villain arc for any of Bell's Hells.

[enhard]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:

MEAN!JUNGWON X FEM!READER

(i accidentally deleted their request but i have a pic of it i hope the person knows who they are🙏)

pairing: bf!y.jw x fem!reader

cw: SMUT , fluff at the end, blowjob, rough sex, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, very jealous won, mean sex, everything is consensual, muscle won🫦

thank u sm for this request anon!! i’ve been thinking about this and it is so sexy and perfect hopefully i wrote what u expected </3

“You’re home!” you exclaim, seeing your boyfriend enter your apartment. You’re innocently sitting on your couch, just wearing his hoodie with nothing but your underwear on underneath. He hits you with a cold “hey” before taking his shoes off. Your smile wipes off your face instantly, not understanding what’s wrong with him.

“Did.. something happen, won?” you say a little worried.

You can see him rolling his eyes at your words while taking his jacket off, revealing his contoured arm muscles. “You’re gonna act like you’re clueless?” he asks.

You ponder on his words, slowly crossing your arms. You furrow your eyebrows a bit, trying your best to make eye contact. He completely avoids eye contact though.

“Clueless… about what.. I don’t understand.” you sigh.

“Well you know, since you wanna act like you don’t know anything, today I found out that you went to the mall with Sunghoon. You forgot that?” he spits out.

You freeze a little. Two days ago you went out to a shop with Sunghoon just so you could waste time. Your boyfriend was busy at the time and Sunghoon offered to take you there… You’re just friends though.

“Jungwon… There’s nothing going on between us. We just went as friends.” you say hesitant.

“Oh yeah? then why didn’t you tell me anything?” he slowly walks towards the couch.

“I didn’t think it was that important…” you say with half a mouth.

He walks in front of you, smacking his hand against the couch arm making you flinch. “Did you enjoy his presence more than mine? Huh? Does he kiss you better than me?” you look at him in disbelief, your heartbeat getting faster.

“What?… Jungwon… I only love you. I’d never cheat on you. Sunghoon and I are just friends.” you really cross your arms now, looking at him a little pissed.

He grabs onto your jaw, keeping your head locked to his eyes. “I’m gonna put you in your place, and you tell me if he could ever fuck you like I will right now.”

You grab onto his arm, trying to make him loosen his grip on your face but to no avail. You lift yourself up to sit on your knees, and he follows your movements with his hand. “Won…” you look up at him with pleading eyes while biting the inside of your cheek.

“Stop looking at me like that or I might just rip these clothes off you.” he says in a low voice.

His words are so hot for no damn reason, he went from being upset at you to this in a split second, how could you even react? You just had to play along, those muscles alone did something to you.

“What’s stopping you from ripping them?” you ask a little pouty.

“That bratty mouth, might need to shut you up first.” he says, rubbing his thumb over your lips. You constantly look up at him, but your hands move to his belt right away. Once he sees what you’re doing, he releases the grasp on your face finally, your cheeks more swollen than before. He stares down at you, licking his lips.

You quickly take off his belt, throwing it across the room. You continue with his tight pants sliding them down to his knees. He gently grabs onto your hair as you palm his dick through his boxers. After you see how serious he looks at you, you act fast; taking his boxers off to see his cock spring up for you. You grab the base of it, leaning it to take the pink tip in your mouth. After his tip makes contact with your tongue, he’s quick to push your head forward, making you take his whole length in one go. You choke slightly, grabbing onto his thighs.

“If your mouth is so big to talk back to me, it can take my dick too, right?”

You nod with tears in your eyes. He slowly pulls out, thrusting back into your mouth with full force making you moan on his dick. Then he goes again. And again. And again.

“That’s what your mouth is good for. You’re taking it so well.” he says, picking up his pace.

You already can’t take it anymore, leaking saliva everywhere. You make a sortiment of different muffled sounds, trying to make him to atleast let you breathe but he loves it too much now. He fucks your mouth a few more times before pulling out. His goal wasn’t to cum, he just wanted to teach you a lesson. He grabs your neck now, watching your saliva run down your chin and on your knees.

“See now you can behave, why do you love being a brat just when i’m mad?” he says, slapping your face with his other hand. The sound of the smack echoes.

“I-I’m sorry… i’ll listen to you now..” you look at him, more desperate for his cock than ever.

He takes his shirt off, and slides off his pants off fully before moving to you. He smiles in his mind seeing that hoodie of his on you, but he’s never been more excited to take it off. Luckily you wore no bra that day, so the sight immediately blinded him. He leans in to kiss your nipples, switching between them every kiss or so.

He immediately moves his hands down your abdomen to the hem of your panties. He makes you spread your legs so he can get between them, ripping your panties apart with one strong movement. You just variate between looking at his hands and his pretty face. He throws the pieces of fabric on the floor, spitting on his fingers to rub your pussy with. You grab onto your knees tightly, getting ready to take him.

He leans in to give you a heated kiss, biting your lip in the process. He positions his dick, getting ready to thrust into you.

He gets his whole length in, in one go, making you gasp. He begins his heavy thrusts, pounding you into the couch cushion with each one. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget all about him.” He says, leaning in to bury his head into your neck. He goes faster and faster, grabbing onto your waist. He’s completely destroying your insides with his rough thrusts, you could feel his anger and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Such.. a whore. You’re all mine, understand?”

“Fuck… Jungwon… please.. i’m only yours.” you moan out, and that determines him to lift your legs up to his shoulders. He gets so deep inside you, it’s making you dizzy.

He sits up again, using his thumb on your clit making you shake a little. “S..stop I’m gonna…” you cry.

“You’re gonna.. what? Hm? Tell me love, let me hear you.” he circles your clit faster.

“won… ‘m gonna cum… please…plea..” you say, shutting your eyes.

“Aww.. already? can’t my brat handle any more? cum for me.” he says, squeezing your clit.

You snap right there with loud moans. You cum all over his dick, laying there helpless.

He pulls out, easily pulling you on your hands and knees. He begins thrusting into you again from the back, giving your ass smacks every now and then. He lifts one of your legs up just to get in deeper.

You cry out curses and groans while he picks up his pace again. “Look at you, bent over just for me. That’s right. Mine. Don’t ever let me see you with anyone again or I might need to mark what’s mine.” he moans too.

His words make you grab the couch as well as you can, clenching around him like hell. His back arches feeling your sudden tightness, barely being able to go on. “You’re gonna make me cum… fuck that pussy’s so good.” he continues. After a few more thrusts he goes crazy, cumming inside you instantly with more hot moans from him.

He pulls out, letting you finally rest. He turns you back around, pulling you into a tight embrace. He gives you a sweet kiss, moving down to give your shoulders a few kisses too. You both regather your thoughts, and he finally cleans you up and dresses you into some comfortable clothes. “I’m sorry for being so rough on you, my love…” he says embarrassed and you smile. “Don’t worry, you’re so fucking attractive when you’re pissed off.”

You slowly get wrapped into his arms, and he gives you endless kisses. You end up cuddling in your bed while feeding each other snacks. “I love you.” He whispers, on the verge of falling asleep. You run your fingers through his hair, giving him a small peck on the tip of his nose. “I love you more, now rest Wonie, you have a long day tomorrow.” you say softly.

“Don’t care… as long as you’re there with me…” he says, half asleep. You smile, continuing your head massage. He ends up falling asleep in your arms, and you drift off to sleep not long after.

a/n: definitely had fun with this, a little shorter than i thought but u can just call this a drabble sidjejiss thank u anon <33

[cyberseong]

extra credit.

pairing: yunho x f!reader

genre: smut/pwp, professor!yunho, non idol au

warnings/topics: not proofread, there’s quite a bit if plot before it gets to the actual smut, dom!yunho, sub!reader, blowjob, facefucking, unprotected sex, yunho’s a bit mean in the beginning, use of pet names (sweetheart, princess)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i haven’t posted on here in months, but i wrote this so i could at least get something out. i might be able to post more regularly soon, but anyway, enjoy! notes/reblogs are appreciated!

it’s nearing the end of april— which only meant that the long, excruciating exam season was upon you, just like it was for every other student enrolled in college.

you’ve been studying your ass off, but the amount of assignment and project deadlines that were creeping up on you made all your effort look meaningless. with more near-failing grades than you’d like to have, you decided on requesting grade improvement opportunities from the professors of these classes.

the first two gave you extra credit assignments with no hassle— something you could do quickly for a decent grade boost, as not even the professors wanted to be stuck grading them as a side quest during a month where they were already overwhelmed with important papers to grade.

you made it to the room which held your third and last professor that you’d bother for the day— professor jeong. he taught business ethics; it should’ve been an easy passing grade, but professor jeong was someone who wanted to make his class a living hell for his students, simply because he had the time and was getting paid to do so. he made it a mission to give out intricate and detailed assignments, even selecting a 20-page paper as your semester final.

he definitely wasn’t going to be lenient when it came to extra credit assignments either.

taking in a deep breath, you knocked on his office door, waiting to hear his exasperated “come in” before opening the door and sliding into the room.

he looked incredibly tired, more so than usual; stacks of students’ finals were sprawled out on his desk. surely he’s regretting his petty decision of giving such a hard assignment right about now. regardless, his frustration only made him more attractive than he already was normally; you’d be lucky if you could make it out of his office alive with the way his intense gaze made you so uncomfortably hot.

“good afternoon professor jeong… i wanted to ask if any extra credit assignments were availab–”

“no. if you really wanted a passing grade this semester, y/n, you would’ve made that project that was turned in a few days ago look a little less rushed and pathetic than it was.” yunho spoke with a flat tone, only looking away from his computer once to give you a strong, disappointed look as he finished his critique.

“well– yes, that is true, i’m truly sorry about that professor… i’ve been so swamped with studying and going to class and working that i didn’t have much time for the assignment… even a small extra credit assignment would do, or even an extension on the original–”

“was i not clear enough the first time? even on the first day of my class, i made it very clear to everyone that half-assed work would not be tolerated nor forgiven. i will not be giving you an extra credit opportunity, y/n.”

the way he spoke down to you so sternly alone was enough to make you quiver; the man was the living and breathing embodiment of sex appeal itself; you had to be extra careful in not letting your mind drift off even while having such a serious conversation with him.

you were almost certain he had seen the way you looked at him. the tone in which he reprimanded might as well have caused you to come undone right there in the middle of his office. most of the people who took his class only registered for it because of how hot he was compared to the other old and worn out professors that taught classes for your major. so, could you really be faulted for following in everyone else’s footsteps?

“are you sure there’s nothing i could do to bring my grade up? i really need to pass my classes this semester, i’ll do anything, please,” you felt so pathetic begging him for a chance at the possibility of a grade improvement, but it was better than retaking his entire class again after the summer.

yunho sighed before taking his reading glasses off of his face, finally removing his attention from his screen in order to analyze the situation at hand. the underlying suggestive intent of your words caused him to cock an eyebrow; he takes in your position over his desk, the way your slightly leaning into it and the way your cleavage is on full display in front of his face at the moment told him all he needed to know about your request.

a small grin crept onto his face as he reconsidered his previous firm rejection to your request. there’s no harm in a little fun, and he’d be a fool to reject an advance from such an alluring student of his, right?

“anything… is that so…” yunho teases, getting up from his chair and walking around his desk, towering over you as he now stood in front of you. “if you really wanted some extra credit, i could use a nice stress reliever right now… siting and grading 20-page essays for hours without break has made my body so tense…” he mockingly whined, rubbing a hand over his stiffened neck to verify his words.

you looked up at him with doe eyes, practically waiting for whatever his next command would be. you were surprised at how easy it was for him to fall for your act– not that you were complaining about his fast submission. you were lucky to even hold his attention for this long, let alone have the honor of relieving his stress in exchange for a better grade in his class.

“get on your knees, sweetheart,” yunho paused, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his slacks. “you’ve done so much talking and pleading, why don’t you show me what else this pretty mouth of yours is capable of?”

a blush crept over your cheekbones as you obeyed him, pulling his hard length out of the confinement of his boxers and stroking it slowly with your soft, manicured hand. as you spread the precum down his cock to reduce the friction, yunho groans at the sudden feeling pulsing through his body.

you took most of his cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue swirled around his tip. you eventually fit his entire length into your mouth, deepthroating it as your head bobbed back and forth with ease. you moaned around it, sending vibrations throughout yunho’s core– this elicited a long, drawn out groan from him, followed by a string of curses as his hands find their way to your hair. he maintains a stern grip on your luscious strands as he takes control of your head, thrusting into your face to chase his high that was approaching.

“f-fuck, princess, your mouth feels so good around me– so fucked out all because of my cock, hm? you take it so well y/n,” he teased before giving your throat one final thrust before spilling his seed into your mouth, moaning as you stroke his length once more, overstimulating him in the comedown of his climax. “get up off the floor and bend over the desk, sweetheart.”

almost as if your body was moving on autopilot, you immediately follow his command. before you could even lay upon the desk, yunho’s large hands are halting your movements to quickly undo the buttons of your blouse, causing the garment to be thrown somewhere on the floor of his office. he undoes the hooks of your bra before discarding of that as well. he gently but hurriedly pushes you forward onto the polished wood, trailing a hand down your spine in admiration of your soft, glowing skin that covered your body. the action sent shivers throughout your body, the ghostlike touch of his fingertips now haunting your lower back. his other hand traveled to your skirt, lifting it up to reveal a red lace undergarment that just barely covered what it was meant to.

“looks like you planned for this, unless you just normally go around with such an inviting surprise hidden under your clothes. i’d be disappointed to hear that anyone else is getting this view, sweetheart.” he spoke with a half-sincere tone as he moved the lace to the side, the tip of his length now teasing your wet entrance. he only slid in deeper as you began to respond.

“ah, you’re the only- fuck, only one professor jeong, only ever- fuck! wear it on days i have your class,” your vocal moans sound through the room as his thrusts became deep and fast, his cock hitting all the right places to make you a wrecked, hysterical mess.

“i’m- mmh, so close professor, fuck, ‘s so big, i can’t,” you ranted. he gave one last long thrust before you reached your high, coming undone on his length. he sped up his last few thrusts, causing you to see stars as you were already getting overstimulated from the overwhelming orgasm he just gave you.

yunho soon pulled out, cleaning the both of you up a little before he pulled your skirt back down and freshened up himself. he handed you the clothing that was previously discarded to the floor before he adjusted his tie and sat back down in his office chair.

“you can consider your grade in my class to be fixed, y/n,” yunho said with a bit more life in his words than he did when you first came into his office. he fixed his hair and put his reading glasses back on his face, his fingers soon clacking on his keys again. “and feel free to visit my office again any time; i’ll be here to help.” a slight chuckle left his lips as he made the double meaning of his words apparent.

“thank you– and you'll see me again very soon, professor jeong.”

[harrywavycurly]

The Almost Bumble Fumble: Roses and Petnames

Part 1: Here

CW: none

A/N: I’m so glad yall wanted more of this, I do enjoy these two they are fun so just let me know if you’d like to see more of them✨

Tag List: @georgiarose94 @maiajadestyles @fandomfreak404 @likea-silhouette @obsessiveenthusiast @thegr8estpuff @triski73 @amarenonamari @cloudyluun

Summary: You have a new Friday night routine and as fate would have it you also get a Saturday morning surprise✨

“Are these your only options?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so teasing as you ask the simple question but Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it as he holds up two hangers that have his shirt options for his dinner later in the evening.

Now if anyone had asked what you do on your Friday nights after work you know they’d think you were a bit off your rocker if you explained how you spend most of your Friday evening cuddled in the corner of your couch with a bottle of wine while on FaceTime with Harry Styles. But it’s the truth and it’s been your Friday routine for about three weeks now ever since you scrolled upon his profile on a certain dating app. Friday nights being your chosen night to spend with each other through phone screens since that seems to be the day when both of you have the most down time. Minus tonight because Harry reluctantly agreed to going to dinner with a few friends but you still get a few hours of his time which he made sure to clear his schedule for. Something that of course you weren’t aware of, you just assume that he calls you at the usual time of five in the evening because he needed some advice on his outfit and didn’t feel like bothering anyone else.

“Uh well I could go back in the closet and pick something else but-you really don’t like the red?” He asks as he looks down at the silky red long sleeved shirt and then back to you with a quirked brow. You rub your lips together as you shake your head making him let out a huff.

“I’m sorry it’s just a lot of red very close to your face.”

“So if I changed my face it would be a winner then?”

“Harry honestly when is the last time you wore that much red?”

“I wear red all the time.” He argues as he tosses the hanger holding the red shirt onto his bed before holding the other shirt option up to his chest as he looks at himself in his mirror.

“No you wear red as an accent color like red with giant white hearts or a floral print on top of it not just solid red.” You explain as you reach over for your glass of wine that’s sitting on your coffee table. Harry rolls his eyes as he moves around his bedroom so he can grab the pants he plans on wearing.

“I just think the blue is boring.” He states as he holds up the pants and the shirt in front of his iPad that he has perched on top of his nightstand, opting for his iPad so he has a bigger screen to see you on but you did tease him about it when he first used it last week because it reminded you of you grandpa using his iPad to take photos during the holidays.

“Blue makes your eyes pop.” You tell him making a small smile appear on his face as he eyes the blue short sleeved shirt one more time. “Besides it has white and pink stripes on it so I’d hardly call it boring.” You add before taking a sip of your wine.

“I wear blue a lot though so shouldn’t-”

“I’ve never seen you in blue.” Harry makes a face that lets you know he isn’t sure if you’re joking or not. You let out a chuckle as you lean over to place your glass back on the coffee table.

“You saw me get tattooed on television wearing a blue and white shirt love.”

“Yeah but that wasn’t in the flesh like in person or even over a phone screen.”

“So if you don’t see it with your own eyes in person then it doesn’t count? Is that what I’m learning tonight?” Harry can’t help but laugh and shake his head when you nod in response, he doesn’t know why but it’s little conversations like this that have him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside and deep down he wonders if it’s because it just feels like a conversation between two people who like each other.

“Exactly now go put the whole outfit on and I’ll tell you if it’s acceptable or not.” You smile at the way Harry doesn’t even hesitate to walk off to his bathroom so he can change. “Oh and remind me again who all is going to be at this dinner?” You only raise your voice the slightest amount since you know he can hear you.

“A few people from the label as well as Jeff and I think Mitch and Sarah but I’m not completely sure if they’ll come or not.” He answers as he walks out of the bathroom messing with the buttons of his shirt. He stands a little bit away from the camera so you can get the full picture of his outfit. “So? What do we think?” He asks as he holds his arms out and does a slow spin making you laugh as you bring your phone closer to your face so you can see the details of his black trousers better.

“Is that a gold belt?” Harry looks down at the belt he picked and immediately starts to undo it so he can slide it off while shaking his head and giving you a shrug.

“Gold belt? No why-why would I pick a gold belt with cool toned colors? That’s absurd.” You just roll your eyes as he mindlessly tosses the belt towards his closet door and gives you a playful grin. “Obviously I’ll wear a silver one.”

“Do you need a belt or is it just an accessory?”

“Uh no I don’t-”

“I like it better without the belt.”

“You know it’s sort of odd I’m taking fashion advice from someone I’ve only ever seen in pajamas or workout clothes.” Harry watches your face as he teases you because neither of you can manage to go long without a playful jab at the other and you find it’s something you enjoy about talking to Harry, he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

“You’re literally the one who called me and asked for my opinion and besides you said my smiley face pajamas were cute.” You remind him as you stand up from your couch and head into the kitchen while Harry walks over to where he keeps his jewelry so he can begin to pick out his rings.

“They are very cute.” You smile when you look at your phone screen and see him concentrating on finding a certain ring, the statement about your pajamas being cute falling out of his mouth without even having to think about it. “What are your thoughts on pearls?”

“Oh I only have inappropriate thoughts about pearls. What about you?” Harry lifts his eyes away from his jewelry case so he can send you a playful glare while the corner of his mouth goes upward into a small smile.

“Are you drinking red wine?” You laugh as you place your phone on the counter making Harry get a decent view of your kitchen ceiling. “You get a bit cheeky on red wine.” He adds as he goes back to picking out a few rings.

“I think pearls would look nice.” You answer his original question, ignoring the one about what kind of wine you’re drinking.

“What are you doing? Why am I still looking at the light fixture above the sink?” Harry doesn’t mean to sound whiney but he also doesn’t have much time left before his driver will be arriving and he would much rather be looking at your face than your ceiling.

“I’m putting a pizza in the oven you’ll get my face back in a few minutes you drama queen.”

“What kind of pizza?” He feels as if he already knows the answer because wine and pizza seem to be your usual Friday evening routine and he’s only ever seen you make one type.

“I’ll give you three guesses and if you get it wrong then I’m hanging up and unmatching with you.” You threaten as you grab your phone allowing him to see your face again after what was really only a few minutes but to Harry felt like half an hour.

“Three cheese on one of those flatbread crusts?” Harry guesses and when he sees you smile he knows he’s right making him grin in return.

“Wow a man who pays attention. You’re a rare gem Harry Styles let me tell ya.” Harry laughs as he clasps his dainty pearl necklace closed, ignoring the way his cheeks feel a bit warm at your compliment.

“I like learning new things about you so of course I’m paying attention to you love.”

“Stop it.” You place a hand over your face as your cheeks turn a light shade of pink making Harry smile. “You aren’t allowed to say things like that to me Harry it’s rude.”

“Rude? It’s just the truth.”

“Because what am I supposed to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He reassures as you finally lower your hand allowing him to see your face again. He gives you a soft smile as the two of you just stare at one another for a moment. Harry can practically see his words sinking in, him admitting that he likes learning things about you and he doesn’t really have time to get nervous that maybe he overshared or said something wrong as he watches as you slowly start to smile and look away from him.

The two of you have casually flirted with each other but it normally is in the middle of random conversations and most of the time it’s been over texts exchanged during the week, so hearing him make a comment like that to your face is something you aren’t quite used to. But you don’t hate how it makes you feel, all the butterflies it causes to erupt in your tummy and how pink your cheeks get. And you know it’s not because it’s Harry Styles saying it, it’s because someone you’ve found yourself developing a rather large crush on is saying it as his way of dropping little hints of how he’s feeling about you.

“I like the pearls.” You motion to your neck and Harry just smiles as he takes a small step backwards so he can show you his hands letting you see which rings he went with. “Oh no initials?”

“Eh everyone at this dinner knows my name so there’s no need for them.” You laugh as he shoots you a playful wink.

“That isn’t why you wear them Harry and you know it.” Harry just shrugs as you grab the phone and carry it with you as you head back into the living room to grab your wine glass.

“No I wear them because I’m a narcissist right? That’s what the rumor is?” He questions as he watches you take a sip of your wine that is in fact red making him smile to himself.

“I have no clue? Are there rumors about your rings?” You ask with a raised brow as you place your glass down on your counter before leaning your phone against your coffee maker so you can check on your pizza that’s in the oven.

“I don’t really know actually. I know people think I’m like a hand guy and-”

“Well yeah you’re totally a hand guy.”

“What? I am no-”

“You have a song about choking someone and you have that cross tattoo and all the rings.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m-I’m a hand guy? That just means I like rings and uhm the choking thing isn’t like-”

“Harry.” He stops his rambling and looks at you the moment his name slips out of your mouth making him let out a huff as you just stare at him with an oven mitt on one hand and the other resting on your hip. “We listen and we don’t judge okay? It’s fine. Besides you have nice hands.”

“Thank you.” Harry feels like his cheeks are going to be permanently flushed a light shade of pink with the amount of blushing you have him doing. You hear a light dinging sound come from your phone as you put your oven mitt on the counter.

“Was that you or me?” You ask as the corners of Harry’s mouth start to droop a bit.

“It was me. My driver is here.” You want to roll your eyes at how he lets out a sigh as if going to dinner with his friends and a few label people is the absolute worst thing he could be doing with his Friday night.

“Well have fun and I’ll talk to you later okay?” Harry just gives you a smile as he nods and runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to fill you in on any hot gossip I hear.” You laugh as you grab your wine glass so you can take a sip. “Enjoy your pizza and your wine. I’ll talk to you later love.” You smile as he gives you a small wave that you return with your free hand and before he ends the call he quickly blows you a kiss that makes your face get hot just as the screen goes black.

What are you doing right now?

You smile as you read Harry’s text, having spent most of the morning chatting with him about how his dinner went last night you’re not shocked at his sudden subject change. You quickly type out a reply before grabbing your sunglasses and your water bottle and walking out your front door.

About to go on a little walk. What about you?

Harry chews on his bottom lip as he reads over your text, he doesn’t know why he feels a sense of nervousness begin to overtake him for simply wanting to hit the FaceTime button near your contact name in his phone. Now that he knows he wouldn’t really be interrupting anything serious, not that walks aren’t important because he knows you enjoy your “hot girl mental health walks” as you call them and go on a few a week but surely you could walk and talk to him at the same time.

“Oh just do it already Harry don’t be a ninny.” He mumbles to himself as he uses his thumb and presses the FaceTime icon.

“Well hello there.” You smile as you answer after just two rings. “Miss my face already huh?” Harry has to laugh to keep himself from just openly admitting that yes, he did miss you a bit because he didn’t get his usual amount of time with you last night due to his dinner plans.

“How’s the walk going? Are you doing your usual route of going around your neighborhood?” He asks as he notices some trees and bushes in the background as you continue walking down the street near your house.

“Sort of but I’m going left instead of right at the stop sign up ahead.” You inform him as you hold your phone up and flip the camera so Harry can see the stop sign just a few feet in front of you. “See where that leads me.”

“Sounds like an adventure.”

“What’s the pop star got on his agenda today? Anything fun?” Harry just shrugs as he sits down on his couch and runs a hand through his hair.

“No plans today actually.” He answers as you flip the camera back around so he can see your face. “I am feeling a bit restless though so I might go to the gym later-”

“The gym in your house or the gym you do your little boxing stuff at?” You ask before you take a quick sip of water while Harry silently deals with the fact you managed to remember him briefly telling you about his boxing class the other day that he takes at a gym not too far from his house. “What? You thought you were the only one who pays attention?” You joke as a grin takes over Harry’s face as he shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.

“No I just-I don’t know? It feels nice.” He clears his throat before he continues trying to explain how he’s feeling. “I don’t always feel like people are actually hearing what I’m saying. Sometimes I think people sort of get caught up in who I am so they kinda can’t focus on what I’m saying so it’s just a nice feeling to know you’re listening.” You can’t help but feel your heart drop the tiniest bit at Harry’s honesty, having no clue what it must feel like for him to not know if what he’s saying is even registering with whoever he’s talking with or if it’s just going in one ear and out the other because they let the fact he’s Harry Styles get in the way of really hearing him.

“Well you do talk a lot but don’t worry I’m always listening even if sometimes I look like I’m not.”

“Oh yeah? Like that time you were asleep? Were you listening then love?”

“I wasn’t asleep I was just resting my eyelids. Blinking all day is hard work.”

“Last time I checked sweetheart that’s just called sleeping.” He doesn’t mean to let the petname slip out but he also isn’t mad that it did because in his mind he’s been talking and getting to know you for three weeks now so calling you something other than love isn’t that bad, or at least he hopes you don’t take it badly.

“Okay and when was the last time you checked? Because I wasn’t asleep. I responded to your question and everything.” You can’t help the smile that takes over your face as you try to keep the conversation going without letting Harry know how his little petname has you feeling like you’re back in high school talking to a crush. But of course Harry notices right away how your cheeks get pink and your smile seems to stretch extra wide as you continue on your walk, finally reaching the stop sign and heading left.

The two of you continue talking as you enjoy your walk through a new part of your neighborhood. You notice once you’re about five minutes away from where you turned left that the houses in this part of the neighborhood are mostly gated and a bit on the bigger side than the ones in the part you live in. Harry is in the middle of telling you a story from his One Direction days when he notices you stopped walking.

“Everything okay?” His voice is only mildly filled with concern as he can clearly see you’re not hurt and for the most part he can see you’re still alone on the sidewalk you’re currently walking on.

“Oh yes sorry I just got distracted by these flowers.” You say with a laugh as you turn the camera around once again so Harry can see the flowers that had you stopping in your tracks.

Now Harry could argue that he’s quite used to being sort of caught off guard, having been stopped at random and sometimes inconvenient times by people asking for a photo or just wanting to say hi. But being actually shocked isn’t something he’s used to, so when you turn your camera around to show him some flowers he isn’t at all prepared to see his own flower bed appear on your screen. The reason he knows it’s his flower bed that he has right outside his front gate is because of the roses, something his mother planted there during one of her visits and he makes sure to take excellent care of them.

“Uhm those-those are very pretty.” He answers as he quickly gets up from his comfortable spot on the couch and heads for his kitchen where he keeps the tablet that shows the cameras he has around the outside of his house.

“Right? I love roses they are simple but so pretty.” You explain as you flip the camera back just as Harry is taking a little look at the camera he has on his front gate and sure enough on the screen he sees you standing there holding your phone up while slightly bent over so you can smell his roses.

“What color roses are your favorite? I quite like the classic red ones if I’m being honest.” He asks in an attempt to get you to stay where you’re at for as long as it takes him to find and put on his shoes.

“Oh the reds are lovely but the pink-” You stop talking when you hear a sound coming from behind you that sounds an awful lot like a door opening and then shutting.

“Pink huh? I don’t know why I had you pegged for yellow or maybe orange.” Harry watches your shoulders go tense as he stands behind you, right outside his gate. You look down at your phone and see Harry has turned his camera around so all you’re seeing is your back letting you know you’re in fact not dreaming and his voice is really coming from directly behind you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble as Harry ends the FaceTime call so he can slide his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. You slowly turn around and slide your sunglasses up so you can see him better. He gives you a smile and a small wave as you put your phone in the side pocket of your leggings.

“You’re real.” Harry laughs at your comment as you take a small step towards him as if you’re worried he might disappear if you get too close.

“I am.” He answers with a smile as he also takes a step towards you but unlike you he’s not worried about you disappearing he is more so worried you don’t think he’s actually standing here.

“It’s nice to finally meet-” Before he can finish his sentence you’re dropping your water bottle on the ground causing a metallic clanging sound to be heard as it lands, then you’re wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he immediately returns.

“You smell good.” Your voice is muffled a bit as your face is pressed against Harry’s chest but you know he heard you because you feel his chest vibrate as he lets out a low chuckle.

“Would you uhm mind some company on the rest of your walk?” He asks nervously once the two of you pull away. You give him a small nod before you turn to grab your water bottle off the ground.

“I’d love some.” Harry smiles as you slide your sunglasses back down and turn so you’re facing him. He takes a step towards his flower bed and you watch him bend down and reach out for one of the roses.

“Since you like them so much.” He explains as he stands up and hands you one of his roses, you let out a sigh as you take it from him with a smile.

“That was smooth Harry real smooth.”

“Yeah that’s probably the smoothest I’ve ever been.”

“So it’s all downhill from here then?” You tease as you bring the rose up to your nose and give it a sniff. Harry laughs as he takes a step to the side so he can stand next to you on the sidewalk.

“Exactly.” Is all he says as the two of you begin walking down the street, you keep the rose in your hand while Harry has to shove his in his pocket so he doesn’t try to reach over and grab yours.

“Looking forward to it.”

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Private but not Secret ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: Did not expect to become so busy lately, this is the final part before the actual finale so everyone buckle up 😭 Thank you all for the support once again and as always don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support!

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

@pitlanespy the way y/n and lando are handling their relationship is so refreshing. they’re not flaunting, but they’re not hiding anymore either. we love a balanced couple

@chicanechatter y/n and lando have mastered the art of keeping it private but not secret. leave them alone and let them enjoy their love!

@turn1drama ok but y/n keeping things private yet giving us hints every now and then is such a power move. the girl knows her pr

@papayaruIes well duh, she’s a socialite. she’s practically an expert

@f1gossipupdates I can’t believe Y/N and Lando are finally being open-ish. Like, she really said ‘we’re together, but y’all don’t need all the details.’ I respect it!

The short off-season break had been a rare pocket for you and Lando to relax without the rush of race weekends or the scrutiny of flashing cameras. It was a crisp afternoon in Monaco, the sun reflecting off the gentle waves as the two of you sat on the terrace of Lando’s apartment overlooking the harbor.

With steaming cups of coffee in hand and a blanket draped over your shoulders, the moment felt calm, natural—far removed from the chaotic world outside.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Lando broke the silence, his voice soft. “Being able to just exist without worrying about anyone watching.”

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It does. I was almost starting to forget what that felt like.”

The two of you had tiptoed the fine line between privacy and secrecy, but the responses to your soft launch had been surprisingly supportive.

Fans who had once speculated endlessly about your relationship now seemed to respect the boundaries you were trying to set. It was refreshing, almost liberating.

Lando set his mug down and turned to face you fully, his expression growing more serious. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he began, hesitating just enough to make you raise an eyebrow.

“That sounds ominous,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled but didn’t look away, his blue eyes searching yours.

“I don’t want us to hide anymore,” he admitted.

“I mean, I know we’ve already agreed to keep the details of our relationship private—and I want to stick to that. But I hate the thought of going to the next Grand Prix without you. It feels wrong now like I’m leaving a part of me behind.”

Your heart softened at his words, but you couldn’t help the cautious tone in your response. “Lando, you know how intense it can get. Even with the positive reactions, there will always be backlash. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything. I’ve been through enough to know that people will always have something to say, but it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is us—and I want you there with me, not just in the background but by my side. I think we can handle it together.”

You studied his face, finding nothing but sincerity in his expression. It was hard not to be moved by his resolve. You had spent so much time questioning if the two of you could make it work, but Lando’s unwavering confidence in your relationship made you want to believe it too.

“And you think it’ll make things easier if I’m there with you?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft.

He grinned, leaning closer. “I know it will. Plus, you being there might actually make all those post-race media sessions bearable.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Norris. You win. I’ll come with you to the next Grand Prix—but you’d better promise to share some of the attention.”

His face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Deal.”

As the two of you sat back, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow around you, it was clear that this decision marked the start of a new chapter. No more hiding in shadows or ducking behind corners. You would face the world together, one race at a time.

The soft hum of Monte Carlo filled the space between your words as you sipped your coffee, the warmth of the mug grounding you.

Pietra leaned back into the plush armchair across you, her curiosity palpable as the sunlight bathed your living room in a golden hue.

“So,” Pietra began again, her voice playful yet genuinely inquisitive. “Are we finally getting the tea on you and Lando?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you set your mug down on the table. “You’re so nosy.”

“Nosy?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Please, I’ve been invested ever since that media meltdown since your birthday. There’s a difference. Now spill.”

Her lighthearted tone brought a smile to your face, but the memories of the past month made your chest tighten slightly.

Pietra had been one of your closest confidantes ever since you met Lando's close circle, one of the few who truly understood the chaos of public scrutiny and the complexities of trying to maintain a personal life within it.

If anyone could handle the details of what you’d been through, it was her.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “We’re good now,” you said, the words feeling like a balm as they left your lips. “Really good, actually. But it wasn’t always like that.”

Pietra’s expression shifted, her teasing giving way to concern. She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “What happened?”

You hesitated, your fingers lightly tracing the rim of your coffee mug as you gathered your thoughts.

“When everything blew up, it felt like the world was against us. The media was relentless, fans were speculating every little thing, and it felt like we couldn’t catch a break. It all came to a head, and we ended up having this huge fight.”

Her brows knitted together. “Over the media?”

“It was more than that,” you admitted. “It was the pressure, the constant hiding, the fear that we’d never be able to have something real outside of all the noise. Lando was frustrated, and I don’t blame him. But he said some things…” You trailed off, the memory still stinging.

Pietra reached over, placing a comforting hand on yours. “Things that hurt?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. And I was so overwhelmed, I left. Went back to Saint Tropez. For a while, I thought that was it for us. I couldn’t see how we’d come back from it.”

She squeezed your hand gently, her voice soft. “But you did.”

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“We did. During the break, Lando found out I was in Monaco. He called me—said he wanted to talk, that he couldn’t leave things the way they were. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him, but when I did…” You paused, exhaling deeply. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

Pietra’s eyes softened, her smile encouraging you to continue.

“We had a long talk. About everything—what we want, what we’re afraid of, what we’re willing to do to make this work. It wasn’t easy, but we both realized that letting go wasn’t an option. We care about each other too much to let all the outside noise ruin what we have.”

Pietra leaned back, her smile widening. “That’s huge, Y/N. It sounds like you both really fought for this.”

You nodded, the relief of the memory settling over you. “We did. And now, we’re taking it one step at a time. He asked me to come to the next Grand Prix with him. He doesn’t want us to hide anymore, and honestly, I don’t either. But we’ve agreed to keep things private—no oversharing, no giving the media more than they need. Just us, on our terms.”

Pietra’s grin turned mischievous. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the paddock’s reaction when you show up with him again. The fans are going to lose it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sure they will. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels… manageable.���

“That’s because you’re doing it the right way,” Pietra said confidently. “You’re setting boundaries, and you’re doing this together. It’s going to be okay.”

“Thanks, Pietra,” you said, your smile grateful. “It feels good to finally have some clarity, to know that we’re in this together.”

“Absolutely,” she said, a sparkle in her eye. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. You owe me every detail about how it goes when you’re back at the Grand Prix.”

You laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t in weeks. “Oh, trust me, I’ll have plenty to share.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of hope. For the first time in a while, the future with Lando felt bright, and you were ready to take on whatever came next—together.

liked by mclaren, lando and others

laurant.yn off-season kick off

francisca.cgomes 😍

mclaren starting the break right 🧡

lando ❤️

@f1landolove SHE POSTED HIM. SHE REALLY POSTED HIM. Y/N AND LANDO ARE OFFICIALLY OFFICIAL. I’M SCREAMING. 😭❤️ 

@paddockqueen_ Not me refreshing my feed 100 times today just to confirm it wasn’t a fever dream. Y/N posted Lando on her MAIN. THE MAIN!!! 🔥👀

@pitstopsocialite_ Y/N really said, “Soft launch era is OVER.” That pic of Lando is giving boyfriend energy. We love to see it. 🥰

@f1overdrive Okay, but I’m lowkey jealous… Y/N Laurant is the definition of having it all. Fashion icon + F1 driver boyfriend? Goals

@neutralnora Honestly, happy for them. Y/N seems like she keeps Lando grounded, and he deserves that. 🥹

@shadypaddock I give it six months. Relationships in the spotlight rarely last. 🙄

The energy in Singapore was electric, the vibrant city buzzing with excitement as race weekend loomed closer. You stood beside Lando, your suitcase rolling quietly behind you as you both exited the airport.

The humid air wrapped around you, mingling with the chatter of fans and photographers who had already spotted you.

Flashes of cameras ignited like small bursts of lightning, and the occasional murmur of your name reached your ears. You instinctively glanced at Lando, who gave you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

“We’re really doing this,” you said softly, your voice a mix of nerves and determination.

“Yeah, we are,” Lando replied, his eyes meeting yours with steady resolve. “No more hiding. No more letting them control the narrative. It’s just us, and we’re not apologizing for it.”

The ride to the hotel was quiet, the occasional buzz of your phone from notifications breaking the silence. You knew the media frenzy was already kicking off—pictures and videos of the two of you had likely hit social media within minutes of your arrival. But for the first time, you didn’t feel the weight of it.

As you stepped into the hotel lobby together, the atmosphere shifted. Fans waiting in the lounge glanced your way, some pulling out their phones, their whispers barely audible over the soft music playing in the background.

“People are watching,” you said under your breath, your fingers brushing against his arm.

Lando chuckled lightly. “Let them watch. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

His nonchalant attitude eased the tension in your shoulders, and you found yourself smiling despite the circumstances. The two of you checked in without a hitch, the staff professional and discreet, even as you caught sight of a few camera flashes from outside the glass doors.

Once you reached the privacy of your suite, the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding finally began to dissipate. You sank onto the plush couch, letting out a long exhale.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you said, glancing at Lando as he placed your bags by the wall.

He sat beside you, leaning back with a grin. “See? I told you. We can handle this.”

You turned to face him, your expression softening. “It’s just… surreal. To finally be here with you, not worrying about every little thing. I mean, I know the rumors and gossip won’t stop, but it feels different now.”

“It does,” Lando agreed, taking your hand in his. “Because we’re not letting it control us anymore. We’re doing this our way, on our terms.”

You nodded, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “It’s going to take some getting used to, though. I’m sure the paddock will have a lot to say.”

“Let them,” Lando said with a shrug, his tone calm but firm. “I don’t care what they think, as long as you’re with me.”

His words sent a wave of reassurance through you, and you squeezed his hand gently. “You’re really good at this whole boyfriend thing, you know that?”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I try.”

The two of you spent the evening talking, discussing how you’d navigate the paddock together, and agreeing to address any questions with a united front. By the time you went to bed, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t in months.

The Singapore paddock buzzed with excitement, the air thick with humidity and anticipation for the race weekend ahead. As you and Lando walked through the gates together, it was impossible not to notice the ripple of energy your presence caused.

Fans lining the barriers gasped, some clutching their phones tightly as they captured the moment.

“There they are!” someone whispered loudly, their voice barely audible over the collective murmurs. “It’s Y/N and Lando!”

Flashes from cameras and phones lit up around you as you kept a steady pace beside Lando. He was calm, his expression relaxed but confident, while you mirrored his composure, your hand grazing his arm lightly as if to reassure yourself.

Fans erupted into chatter, their voices mixing with the distant hum of engines.

“Oh my God, they’re actually together.” “Do you think this means they’re official-official?” “They’re not hiding anymore, but they’re still so lowkey. I love it.”

As you passed a group of fans holding up McLaren flags, Lando glanced their way with a small wave and a quick smile. You couldn’t help but grin when you heard someone squeal, “He looks so happy!”

Inside the paddock, the atmosphere was no less intense. Team members and media professionals stole glances at the two of you, some openly curious, others trying to act nonchalant.

You caught sight of a camera crew lingering near the McLaren hospitality, their lenses subtly but unmistakably trained on you and Lando.

“Ready for the circus?” Lando muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward you.

You smirked, keeping your gaze forward. “I think I can handle it. You’re the one who’s got to focus on racing.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch. “I’ve got that part covered. It’s the rest of this that’s new for me.”

Before either of you could say more, you spotted Lily Zneimer and Hattie Piastri approaching from the McLaren hospitality, their faces lighting up when they saw you.

“You’re here!” Lily exclaimed, her voice full of excitement as she pulled you into a quick hug. “I was wondering when you’d show up!”

Hattie grinned, giving Lando a knowing look before turning to you. “And here I thought you’d keep us guessing forever.”

You laughed, your nerves easing slightly. “I figured it was time. Can’t keep hiding forever, right?”

“Exactly,” Lily agreed, linking her arm with yours. “And you’ve got us. The paddock isn’t so bad once you’ve got the right people.”

Lando excused himself briefly to check in with his team, leaving you with Lily and Hattie. You felt the stares around you but found yourself surprisingly unbothered, their presence grounding you.

When Lando returned, he didn’t hesitate to rejoin you, his arm brushing against yours in a way that felt both casual and intimate. He didn’t seem fazed by the whispers or the cameras subtly tracking your every move.

Instead, he leaned down slightly and murmured, “Told you we’ve got this.”

You glanced up at him, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. “We do.”

As the two of you walked deeper into the paddock, side by side, it was clear to everyone watching: while you weren’t laying out the details of your relationship, you weren’t hiding it anymore, either. And from the way fans’ excited chatter filled the air, it seemed they couldn’t be happier to finally see you together.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[chvoswxtch]

☾ action- blurbs (request a director’s cut to make it spicy)

mob!bucky barnes having the hots for his boss’s daughter… oh no, whatever will the hoes do? her dad would kill him if he ever noticed him looking at his little girl (little girl as in just his daughter, not as in she’s actually still young, the boss is just old, so she’s probably relatively close to bucky’s age. anyhow, this is not an important detail, could be hot with an age gap too. okay, i’ll stop rambling) in the way that he does

what the hoes did is run wild with this (it's me i'm the hoes)

you planted this slutty seed in my brain, so pls enjoy the slutty vision it bloomed into <3

as a reminder, director's cut means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

blurb below the cut

a bronx tale starring bucky barnes

“Don’t make a fucking sound.”

The edge of Bucky’s mouth was lifted in a faint snarl as he growled at you, forcefully gripping your hips and spinning you around to face the bathroom counter, pushing at your back to bend you over while kicking your legs apart with his foot.

This is what you wanted. It’s why you’d worn such a short skirt and a low cut top. Why you’d leaned over the kitchen island to enjoy a popsicle, taking your time to savor every lick. Why you’d untied the strings of your bikini top when you laid out on your stomach to enjoy the sunshine. All under the watchful eyes of your father’s right hand man, who was the object of all your fantasies, and hadn’t been paying you nearly enough attention lately.

You knew the second you disappeared upstairs, he’d be hot on your heels, and you smirked to yourself, shedding your panties on the way to the bathroom, leaving them on your bedroom floor like some kind of invitation. You knew he’d be riled up, pissed off from your taunting, and he’d make you pay for it.

But his attention would be on you.

A low groan left his lips along with a hiss of a curse when he pushed the short skirt up and saw how wet you were for him.

“Christ doll, you need it that bad?”

Sneaking a glance over your shoulder at him with a pout, you wiggled your hips a little, trying to press your ass against the huge tent in his pants.

“It’s been over a week, Buck. Been having to play with my toys.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened into storm clouds as he met your gaze in the mirror, gripping your hair and yanking your head back with his flesh hand while his metal one swiftly unbuckled his belt and tugged down his zipper.

“You know I hate it when you use those.”

“Well if you were here to fuck me, I wouldn’t have to.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. You were pissing him off on purpose, he knew it. You both knew it. And he hated that it was working. You always knew exactly what buttons to press. Without warning, he gripped your hips and snapped his own forward, and you let out a sharp cry and jolted forward as his thick cock became buried to the hilt inside you.

“Shut up.”

Bucky hissed in your ear, his flesh hand coming up to cover your mouth. He forced you to look at him in the mirror, and he didn’t give you a second to adjust before he began to fuck you over the counter with a feral intensity.

“Fucking brat. Your needy little cunt is gonna get me killed, you know that? Walking around here with your short skirts and your fuck me eyes. When daddy finds out what I’ve been doing to his little girl, he’s gonna fucking kill me.”

You tried to form words, but your brain had been reduced to mush, and the only thing coming out was incoherent moans and whines that were muffled by Bucky’s palms. It was selfish of you to put his entire life on the line just because you couldn’t get enough of him. But you and Bucky had gotten away with sneaking around for six months now.

There were severe consequences to the risk you were taking. But Bucky seemed to forget that your father was wrapped around your little finger.

And whatever you wanted, you always got.

[imreidswifey]

“𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨”𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -𝐒.𝐫-

Bad pun but I thought it was cute

Summary: Barista reader develops a crush on regular customer Dr. Spencer Reid, leaving cheesy pick-up lines on his coffee cup each day to make him smile.

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Ship: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

———————————————————————————-

It was the highlight of your mornings: the familiar sound of the bell above the café door, signaling the arrival of your favorite customer. Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever met—or served coffee to. Tall, with a lanky build and hair that always seemed on the verge of rebellion, Spencer exuded a quiet confidence wrapped in endearing awkwardness. His mismatched socks and habit of nervously fiddling with his messenger bag strap as he waited for his coffee added to the charm.

You’d been working at Bean There, Brewed That for six months now, and Spencer had been a regular since day one. The man was a creature of habit. He always ordered the same thing: a large Americano with two sugars, and he always brought a book to read while he sipped his drink.

But it wasn’t his order that captivated you. It was his quiet “thank you,” the shy smile that accompanied it, and the way his eyes lit up when he read something particularly interesting in his book.

Which was why, about a month ago, you decided to get brave. It started small—a smiley face on his cup. Then a quote from a book you thought he might like. Then, one morning, you decided to do something completely out of character for yourself: you wrote a bad pick-up line on his cup.

“Are you a magician? Because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

You had fully expected him to throw the cup away without a second glance. But instead, he’d chuckled—a low, soft sound—and looked up at you with wide, hazel eyes. “Did you… come up with this?” he asked, tilting his head in genuine curiosity.

“Uh, no,” you admitted, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I found it online.”

And just like that, a new ritual began. Every day, you’d write a cheesy pick-up line on Spencer’s cup. And every day, he’d read it, smile, and sometimes even laugh.

Today was no different. You stood behind the counter, feeling a little nervous as you scrawled today’s line onto his cup. When Spencer entered, looking as disheveled and adorable as ever, you felt your stomach flip.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you said, handing him his Americano.

“Good morning,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you a second longer than usual.

He took the cup, his long fingers brushing yours briefly, and read the line aloud: “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but what you didn’t expect was for Spencer to blush. His cheeks turned pink, and he looked up at you through his lashes, his lips twitching into an uncharacteristically shy smile.

“That’s… clever,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, well, I figured you deserved a good laugh,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Spencer lingered for a moment, his fingers tapping anxiously against the cup. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You know, statistically speaking, people who share bad pick-up lines with someone are often more interested in… getting to know them better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this Spencer Reid’s way of flirting?

“Are you saying you’re onto me, Dr. Reid?” you teased, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “I think I’ve been onto you for a while now,” he admitted, his blush deepening.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he took a deep breath and set his coffee cup down on the counter.

“Would you… like to get coffee sometime? Outside of this place, I mean. Not that I don’t like this place—I do, obviously—but maybe we could… you know, talk more? Without the counter between us?”

It was the most endearing, rambling attempt at asking someone out you’d ever heard.

“I’d like that,” you said, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

Spencer let out a breath of relief, picking up his cup again. “Great. I’ll… uh, see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed, watching as he walked away, his step just a little lighter than usual.

And on the counter where his cup had been, you noticed something written in his small, neat handwriting:

“Are you a barista? Because you’ve bean on my mind all day.”

Two days later, you found yourself sitting at a cozy little coffee shop across town. Spencer had suggested it, claiming it had “statistically superior coffee” compared to most places.

He arrived precisely on time, wearing a patterned button-down shirt, a sweater vest, and a slightly crooked tie. His hair looked a little more tamed than usual, but there was still a wild curl that defied gravity. He carried a book under his arm—a habit, you guessed, he’d never break.

“Hi,” he said, shifting nervously as he stood by the table.

“Hi,” you replied, smiling up at him. “You’re right on time.”

“Punctuality is… important,” he said, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. He cleared his throat and sat across from you, placing the book on the table. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I did some research. I mean, not on you specifically—just in general about first dates. Statistically, coffee dates are considered a low-pressure option.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing some of his tension. “You did research for this date?”

His blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not exactly… well-versed in this kind of thing. I wanted to make sure I didn’t mess it up.”

“You’re doing great so far,” you said, and you meant it.

The barista arrived to take your orders, and Spencer surprised you by remembering exactly how you liked your coffee. He must’ve noticed your expression, because he offered a sheepish smile. “I pay attention,” he said simply.

The conversation that followed was effortless. Spencer was awkward at first, fumbling with his words and occasionally losing his train of thought, but once he found his rhythm, he was captivating. He told you about his work—though he kept the more gruesome details to a minimum—and you listened, fascinated, as he explained behavioral patterns and statistical anomalies.

“You’re really passionate about what you do,” you said, leaning forward.

“I guess I am,” he admitted, his voice soft. “It’s not an easy job, but… helping people? It’s worth it.”

“And who helps you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My team,” he said after a moment. “They’re like family to me. But… I guess I don’t always make time for myself.”

“Well,” you said, offering a smile, “maybe we can work on that.”

He looked at you then, his gaze so intense it made your breath hitch. “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

As the date went on, you discovered more about him: his love for science fiction, his fascination with obscure facts, and his absolute hatred of cilantro. In turn, you shared pieces of yourself, and he listened with an attentiveness that made you feel seen in a way you never had before.

When the coffee cups were empty and the conversation had slowed, neither of you made a move to leave. Spencer finally broke the silence, his fingers nervously tracing patterns on the table.

“I, um, I had a really nice time,” he said.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice warm.

“I’d like to do this again,” he added, his words rushed, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve.

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing his. “I’d like that too.”

For the first time, Spencer smiled—not his usual shy, fleeting smile, but something brighter, more confident. It was a smile that made you realize you’d been right about him all along.

Dr. Spencer Reid might be awkward, brilliant, and a little socially inept, but he was also kind, thoughtful, and deeply, unapologetically himself

And as he walked you home that evening, his hand brushing against yours, you knew one thing for certain: you’d write a thousand bad pick-up lines if it meant seeing him smile like that again.