#The only thing I look forward to is maybe spending time with him

[0scarp1astr1]

࣭ ˖ 𐔌 𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 ࿐ . ۫

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Kimi and you always had a crush on each other, your father, Toto Wolff knew this. After a world of heartache and a break up, Kimi is there to mend it with the support of your father. ||

ᯓ★ Kimi Antonelli x Fem! (Wolff) Reader

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Angst, Fluff

ᯓ★ Warning: None, really, just an angry Kimi that punches your ex

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: Thank you guys so much for showing support towards my other post. It means a lot, and I see all the support you've been giving me. Here is some Kimi. I will be working on requests as soon as I upload my original works to my draft. I do apologize if this isn't the best work of mine!!!

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Toto had always been a devoted father—the kind of man who, the moment he held you for the first time, knew without question that he'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. From that instant on, his purpose was clear: give you a life full of wonder, safety, and choice. And for a long time, that meant spoiling you just a little—okay, a lot—because nothing made him prouder than giving you a life most kids could only dream of.

But as you grew, watching you change from the little girl who clung to his leg into a young woman carving out her own place in the world… well, that was the hardest challenge he'd ever faced. Not even Formula 1 came close. If he could, he would’ve frozen time—kept you small, safe, protected in the bubble he built. But your mother, Susie, had always been the wiser one in those moments. She’d tell him gently, "Let her live, Toto. She knows what she’s doing."

And he trusted you. Deeply. He always had. Even when every part of his protective instincts begged him to hover, to step in, to control—he held back, because Susie was right. You had a good head on your shoulders. You knew what you wanted, what you didn’t. He just had to believe in that.

Still… that belief wavered the day he met your boyfriend.

From the first handshake, Toto had to grit his teeth. There was something off—something smug, careless, cold. He tried to give the benefit of the doubt at first, tried to play civil. But dinner that night had been a disaster. The boy barely looked you in the eye, spoke with that detached tone that set off every alarm in a father’s soul. He interrupted you, ignored your opinions, tossed out passive comments that stung with disrespect.

And when Toto confronted Susie afterward, trying to reason out his frustration, the only thing he could mutter was, “He treats her like one of the guys. He doesn’t see her. Not really.”

You tried to brush it off. You always did. Maybe, deep down, you figured your dad wouldn’t approve of anyone. He had never made your love life easy. It wasn’t that he wanted to sabotage it—he just had impossibly high standards. He wanted someone who saw you the way he saw you: as someone rare, worthy, and deeply loved.

Then came the day he brought you with him to work.

And everything quietly began to change.

That was the day you met Kimi Antonelli—young, respectful, focused, and, unlike your boyfriend, someone who actually listened when you spoke. Toto watched the first interaction from across the paddock. It was subtle. A handshake. A smile. But there was something in Kimi’s posture—something in the way he looked at you—that caught Toto off guard.

It wasn’t long before you and Kimi started spending more time together. He wasn’t flashy or overly forward, but he showed up—every time. And every time you laughed around him, something settled in Toto’s chest. Even Susie noticed. You were lighter when Kimi was around, more yourself.

And though Toto never said it out loud, he was rooting for him.

He’d seen the signs: the way Kimi’s ears turned pink when you said his name, the way he nervously played with his hoodie strings whenever you walked into a room. The way he leaned in when you talked, fully tuned in like there was no one else in the world. Toto recognized the feeling—because it was how he used to look at Susie when they were young.

Usually, that would’ve been Toto’s cue to intervene, to draw boundaries, to be the protective dad. But with Kimi? He felt none of that need. Kimi wasn’t just respectful—he adored you. And Toto approved. Quietly, but wholeheartedly.

Just earlier that day, Toto had watched Kimi’s face drop when you casually mentioned your boyfriend was coming to pick you up. That flicker of hurt was brief, quickly buried—but Toto saw it. And though he knew it was probably wrong, he couldn’t help but wish the boyfriend would disappear altogether.

Still, Kimi had been kind. Encouraging. He smiled and told you to have fun, even though Toto could tell it cost him something to say it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Toto leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand cradling a half-empty mug of coffee that had long since gone cold. His eyes weren’t on the cup, though—they were fixed on the clock hanging above the stove. Each tick felt louder than the last, like a slow, steady drumbeat to his anxiety. 10:15 PM. Fifteen minutes past the curfew he had set. Not a hard rule, not a command—but a boundary. A sign of care. Respect. And you weren’t home.

He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest as he exhaled sharply through his nose. His mind spun. You were eighteen. Legally an adult, yes. But to him, you were still his daughter. Still, the baby he carried on his shoulders through airports. Still, the teenager who came to him crying the first time school made the world feel too big. You were his, and even if he knew he couldn’t protect you forever… he couldn’t help the fear that always crept in when you were late.

Especially tonight.

Because he knew who you were with. And if there was one thing that tightened every muscle in his chest, it was him—the boyfriend who never seemed to look Toto in the eye. The one who was all charm and zero substance. The one who never bothered to say thank you, who treated curfews like suggestions and your boundaries like inconveniences. From the start, Toto had sensed something off. A chill beneath the surface. But for your sake, he bit his tongue. He didn’t want to be the overbearing father who pushed you away by pushing too hard.

Still, it gnawed at him.

Footsteps approached from behind—soft, steady, familiar. Susie wrapped her arms loosely around him from behind, resting her chin gently against his shoulder. “She’ll be home, love,” she murmured with that even voice of hers that always grounded him. “We didn’t raise her to break all the rules.”

Toto sighed, his jaw tightening. “It’s not about the rules. It’s about respect. Time. Safety. That boy doesn’t care about any of it. I told him when he picked her up—I made it very clear. And yet…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The clock answered for him.

Susie stepped back, hands trailing down his arms as she gave him a soft look. “She has your fire and my good sense. Let her make this choice, Toto. You have to let her learn.”

He gave her a tight nod, but it didn’t soothe the worry burning under his skin. She left to check on Jack—no doubt to rescue the living room from a whirlwind of superhero toys and the soundtrack of laser sound effects—but Toto stayed rooted in place, his gaze flicking between the clock and the front door as if staring hard enough would make you walk through it.

By 10:32, he had started pacing. By 10:36, he was rubbing the back of his neck, trying to slow the gallop of his heartbeat. By 10:39, he'd nearly picked up his phone—just to check in, just to see—when he heard it.

The soft click of the front door opening.

His heart leapt, but the relief that flooded him turned quickly into alarm when he saw you standing there.

You were back. But you were broken.

Your face was pale, your eyes red-rimmed and glossy with tears that had dried only to be replaced by fresh ones. Your lip trembled, and Toto's chest clenched so tightly it stole the breath from him. All the lectures he’d rehearsed—You’re late, He doesn’t respect you, I told you so—they vanished. Gone. There was no room for them when his daughter was standing in the doorway, looking like the world had just collapsed at her feet.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t speak.

He just opened his arms.

You crossed the room without hesitation, like a wave crashing toward the only shore that ever made you feel safe, and the moment you hit his chest, you let go. Sobs broke from you like thunder—loud, sudden, raw. And Toto held you like he had when you were five years old and scraped your knee, like he had when nightmares used to steal your sleep. His arms wrapped around you with that quiet strength only a father has, one hand gently cradling the back of your head.

"He broke up with me," you choked through tears.

Toto went still. He didn’t need to hear the details. Didn’t want them. His fury flared like a match in his chest—hot and instant—but he didn’t let it reach his face. You didn’t need anger. Not yet. Not now. Right now, you needed to fall apart in the arms of someone who loves you without condition or judgment.

So he pushed down the rage. The urge to call the boy. To drive across town. To remind him exactly who he had just hurt.

Instead, Toto held you closer.

After what felt like hours in your father’s arms—though in truth, it had only been minutes—you finally felt your body begin to release the tension it had been holding so tightly. The sobs faded into quiet sniffles, and the storm that had burst so violently inside you now softened to a low, steady ache. You pulled back just enough to look up at Toto, his steady hands still on your shoulders, his eyes full of unspoken love.

“I’m gonna head back to my room,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

Toto gave the faintest nod, brushing a thumb gently across your tear-streaked cheek. “Alright, liebling. I’m here if you need me.”

You nodded, but you didn’t speak again. You turned and climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the quiet of the house. When you finally shut the door behind you, your room felt darker than usual—like the grief had followed you in and taken a seat.

You collapsed onto your bed without even changing out of your clothes, the softness of your pillow doing nothing to ease the tight ache in your chest. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, still damp with your tears. There were texts—two from your mom, one being a photo from Jack that was sent from her phone, just a photo of a LEGO tower, and one—unsurprisingly—from your now ex-boyfriend.

You didn’t open it.

Your thumb hovered for a second, then moved to the one name that always brought a flicker of comfort. Kimi Antonelli.

You didn’t think. You just hit Call.

The phone barely rang once.

“Hey! Y/N, I was just—” Kimi’s voice lit up at the sound of your name, his energy clearly bright, distracted by something in the background—voices, laughter, maybe music—but then, in a heartbeat, it changed. “Wait... are you crying?”

You didn’t even realize you had started again until your voice cracked. “He broke up with me,” you managed, and your breath hitched painfully. The words felt raw, too sharp in your throat.

There was silence for a second. Not hesitation—just stillness. Kimi’s voice came back low, firm. “Okay. I’m coming over.”

“No, it’s—” But the line had already gone quiet.

Somewhere across town, Kimi Antonelli was standing up from a half-eaten dinner, pulling on his jacket while his friends called after him in confusion. He gave a distracted wave over his shoulder. “She needs me.”

“Who?” one of them asked, brows raised.

But Kimi didn’t answer. He was already out the door.

His footsteps were quick as he crossed the parking lot to his car, the cool night air biting at his skin. He barely noticed. His mind wasn’t on the racetrack, or the media, or even the rare night off he’d been looking forward to—it was on you. On the sound of your voice, cracking with pain. On the ache he imagined behind your silence.

Kimi had never heard you cry like that before. And God, he hated it. Hated knowing someone had made you feel that small. That disposable. That unseen.

He gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, jaw clenched as he drove through the city streets toward your house. This wasn’t how he had imagined it—finally showing up for you, finally being the one you reached out to. He didn’t want it to be under these circumstances.

But he also didn’t care.

Because if you needed him, he’d be there.

Not for some big moment. Not to say something clever. Not to fix everything. Just to be—to hold space, to remind you that not everyone leaves, that not everyone breaks you and walks away. Some people stay. Quietly, without expectation, with nothing but steady presence and a heart full of care.

And his? Was entirely yours.

As he turned onto your street, headlights sweeping across familiar hedges and fences, he slowed the car in front of your house. Lights were still on in the kitchen. He could see the faint silhouette of Toto passing by the window. He hesitated only briefly before grabbing his hoodie off the passenger seat and stepping out into the night.

He walked up the driveway, nerves bubbling somewhere deep in his chest—not because of you, but because he knew your father was still awake. And Toto Wolff wasn’t exactly the type of man a boy arrived in front of, unannounced, after 11 PM.

But this wasn’t about pride. It wasn’t about nerves.

It was about you.

And that was enough to steady his hand as he rang the bell.

Toto glanced up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he’d been nursing a second, untouched cup of coffee. His brow furrowed. At this hour, unannounced visitors were rare. He stood slowly, his height casting a long shadow across the hallway as he approached the door. Through the frosted glass, he could see a figure—tall, lean, shifting his weight anxiously.

When he opened the door, the porch light fell across Kimi Antonelli’s face.

He looked… nervous. Not afraid, exactly, but purposeful. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes meeting Toto’s without flinching.

Toto didn’t speak at first. He simply raised an eyebrow.

Kimi cleared his throat. “Hi, Mr. Wolff. I—I know it’s late. I wouldn’t normally just show up like this, but Y/N called me and…” He paused. “She sounded really upset.”

There was something in Kimi’s voice—earnest, raw, respectful—that eased the tension just slightly from Toto’s shoulders. Still, the father in him remained protective. Measured. Guarded.

“She is,” Toto said evenly. “It’s been a rough night.”

Kimi nodded once, shifting his weight again, but he didn’t ask to come in. He didn’t push. “I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone. If she wants me to leave, I will. But I promised I’d show up if she ever needed me.”

Toto studied him.

He saw the signs again—the open posture, the sincerity, the quiet strength of a boy who didn’t come with rehearsed charm or performative pity. Just presence. Toto felt something in his chest relent, just a little.

“You’re not like him,” Toto said quietly.

Kimi’s brows drew in, unsure if it was a challenge or a statement.

Toto held his gaze. “And for what it’s worth… that’s a good thing.”

Then he stepped aside.

“You know the way.”

Kimi blinked, surprised for a split second by the gesture. “Thank you,” he murmured, slipping off his shoes before making his way upstairs with soft, deliberate steps.

Your room was dark, save for the faint glow of your bedside lamp. You lay curled under your blanket, hoodie on, face still blotchy from crying but eyes dry now—empty in a way that was almost worse.

You didn’t expect the knock. It was soft, a gentle triple tap that made your heart skip.

You sat up. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and there he was—Kimi, still in his hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy from running a hand through it too many times. His eyes found yours immediately, and whatever breath you had left in your lungs caught.

“Kimi…”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door quietly behind him and crossed the room in a few strides, lowering himself to the edge of your bed like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice warm and steady. “I’m here.”

That simple phrase unraveled something inside you all over again.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” you admitted, voice cracking.

Kimi smiled, a little sad, a little tender. “You called the right person.”

You looked down, ashamed. “I feel stupid. Like I should’ve seen it coming. He was never—he never really…” You trailed off, your throat closing again.

Kimi leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Not tonight. You don’t owe anyone that—not even yourself.”

Your chin trembled, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out for him—fingers brushing his sleeve like an anchor. He took your hand gently, threading his fingers through yours without hesitation.

“I just… I feel so used,” you whispered, eyes stinging. “Like I was never enough. Or maybe too much. I don’t know anymore.”

Kimi’s grip tightened slightly, reassuring. “No. No, don’t do that.” His voice wasn’t angry, but it was fierce. Protective. “You were always more than enough. He was just too small to see it.”

That broke you.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. And he shifted instantly, wrapping one arm around you, pulling you gently into his chest. His hoodie smelled faintly like clean linen and his cologne, and his heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek.

He didn’t move. Didn’t fidget. He just held you—with patience, with silence, with that kind of safety only someone who really sees you can offer.

You closed your eyes.

Kimi spoke again after a moment, voice barely above the hush of your breath.

“I’ve watched you try so hard to be seen by someone who never deserved you,” he said. “I wanted to say something a hundred times, but it wasn’t my place. I just… I hoped you’d see it on your own. And you did. Even if it hurts.”

“It hurts so much,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing softly across the back of your hand. “But it won’t forever.”

You let the silence fall again, but this time it wasn’t hollow. It was warm. Healing.

Kimi stayed.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The silence in your room had grown softer. No longer heavy or thick, but something else—like quiet after a storm. The ache in your chest was still there, raw and pulsing, but it had settled into something manageable. Something you could breathe through.

Kimi hadn’t moved much. He still sat beside you on the bed, legs stretched out, back against your headboard now. You were curled under the blanket beside him, wrapped in one of his hoodies now—he’d taken it off the moment you demanded it, discarding yours to the floor with no care.

He glanced over at you, catching the way your eyes had dulled again.

“You’re thinking about him,” he said gently—not accusatory, just perceptive.

You gave a tired little nod. “Yeah. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kimi said instantly. “It’s grief. That’s real.”

You smiled, humorless. “I don’t even know what I’m grieving. He barely treated me like I mattered half the time. I guess I just thought… if I tried harder, he’d see me.”

Kimi was quiet for a beat. Then: “You know what that sounds like?”

You tilted your head. “What?”

He turned toward you slightly, eyes twinkling. “The plot of every bad teen drama ever made.”

You snorted. “Wow, thank you. That really helps.”

“I’m serious!” he grinned now, leaning into the moment. “You’ve got the tragic breakup arc, the mascara running down your face—sorry, you wiped it off, but I saw it earlier. You’re in oversized clothing that doesn’t belong to you—mine, by the way—next thing you know, there’s gonna be a moody montage of you staring out a rainy window while sad indie music plays.”

You laughed, really laughed—sudden and unexpected. It cracked something open.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in the hoodie sleeve. “You’re the worst.”

“I prefer ‘underrated comedic genius,’ but I’ll take what I can get.”

You looked at him then, really looked—at the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, at the softness in his expression that didn’t ask anything of you, only gave. He wasn’t here to fix you. He was here to sit with you in it, in the mess, in the sadness—and somehow still bring light.

“I missed this,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Missed what?”

“You. Laughing with you. Feeling… normal.”

Kimi’s smile faded into something gentler. “You don’t have to be normal tonight. You don’t have to pretend, or laugh, or bounce back.” He reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with more care than anyone had touched you all week. “But if I can make you smile once in a while… I’ll do that. Every time.”

Your throat tightened again, but this time not from grief.

“You’re kind of amazing,” you whispered.

Kimi’s ears turned pink. “Don’t say that. I’ll get cocky.”

You gave him a look. “You already are cocky.”

“Okay, true, but usually it’s because I drive cars very fast, not because the prettiest girl I’ve ever known said something nice to me.”

Your heart did a somersault—and for the first time that night, it didn’t hurt.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The laughter had faded. The tears, too.

You’d fallen asleep not long after, head resting on Kimi’s shoulder, your breathing soft and steady. The weight of the night had finally won, and your body gave in—exhausted by emotion, lulled by comfort, by presence, by the quiet safety of him beside you.

Kimi hadn’t moved for a long while. He just sat there, still, eyes tracing the curve of your features in the dim light spilling through your bedroom curtains. You looked peaceful again. Not whole—but healing. And something in him bloomed with fierce protectiveness.

Carefully, he shifted. Slid down just enough to tuck the blanket more securely around you. His hoodie was still around your frame, sleeves falling past your hands like a cocoon.

He bent down, his lips brushing your forehead in the softest whisper of a kiss.

“Buonanotte, mia stella,” he murmured, barely audible. Goodnight, my star.

His words hung in the air for a moment, warm and sacred, before he stood and turned toward the door—taking one last glance at you, asleep and safe.

But as he gently cracked the door open, he was met with a shadow leaning quietly in the hallway.

Toto.

Kimi froze mid-step, guilt flickering in his eyes as if he'd been caught sneaking out. But Toto didn’t speak right away. He simply nodded, stepping aside to let Kimi pull the door closed behind him.

“Did she fall asleep?” Toto asked, voice low and even.

Kimi nodded. “Yeah. She cried a lot. But I think she… I think she’s okay now. Just tired.”

Toto gave a slow, thoughtful nod. He studied the boy in front of him for a moment—not as a driver, not as a prodigy or a teammate—but as someone who, without being asked, had shown up for his daughter in her most vulnerable hour.

“I watched you with her earlier,” Toto said quietly. “You didn’t say much. You didn’t try to fix it. You just… stayed.”

Kimi shifted slightly, unsure if it was a compliment or a critique. “I didn’t want her to feel like she had to be okay. I just wanted to be there.”

“That’s exactly what she needed.”

A pause. A beat of silence that held a hundred unspoken things.

Toto crossed his arms, not out of sternness—but comfort. Familiarity.

“She’s always been… emotionally sharp,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Feels things deeply. Even when she pretends she doesn’t. When she was seven, she rescued a bird with a broken wing and cried for two days when it didn’t make it. She buried it in the garden. Gave it a name and everything.”

Kimi smiled faintly. “That sounds like her.”

“And when she was thirteen, she got into a fight with a teacher over another kid being bullied. Came home with detention and a bloody lip. Said she didn’t regret it.”

Kimi’s smile widened.

Toto looked at him now, not as a father assessing a threat—but as one recognizing a quiet truth.

“You’re the first boy she’s brought around who actually listens to her,” he said softly. “Not just waits to talk. Not just talks over her. You see her. And that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Kimi’s throat bobbed. “I care about her. A lot.”

“I can see that.”

Toto let a long breath pass, then reached into his pocket and handed Kimi something small—an old, worn keychain. It was shaped like a little silver compass.

“She used to carry this everywhere,” Toto said. “I gave it to her when she started secondary school. Told her it would always help her find her way back home, even if she got lost.”

Kimi took it carefully, reverently.

“She stopped carrying it when she started dating him,” Toto added with a tinge of bitterness. “I don’t think she even noticed. But… if you ever see her doubting herself again, remind her. She’s never really lost.”

The silence between them now wasn’t awkward. It was full. Like something had settled.

“I’ll protect her,” Kimi said, voice quiet but certain. “I promise.”

“I know,” Toto replied, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “That’s why I’m letting you stay in her life.”

And with that, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the front of the house with a faint smile. “Go get some sleep, Kimi. You’ve done enough tonight.”

Kimi gave a grateful nod. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Call me Toto,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

As Kimi stepped out into the cool night air, that little compass keychain tucked in his jacket pocket, he felt something shift inside him—not just relief, not just affection.

Hope.

And maybe… something dangerously close to love.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It had taken Kimi three whole weeks to work up the nerve to ask you to the amusement park. Not because he didn’t want to—he really did—but because every time he imagined asking, his brain short-circuited into a flurry of “what if she says no” and “am I being weird?”

He’d ended up at your house again that morning, as usual, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie while sitting at the kitchen counter. Your dad, Toto, was making coffee—classic black, no nonsense—and giving Kimi the kind of look dads give when they know exactly what’s going on, but enjoy watching you squirm anyway.

“Amusement park, huh?” Toto asked, taking a slow sip. “Kind of cheesy.”

Kimi’s ears turned crimson. “Is it too cheesy?” he asked, his voice barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator. “I mean… do you think she’d want to go?”

Toto gave him a smirk that was half-tease, half-approval. “You’ve got a better chance if you actually ask.”

Before Kimi could respond, you came shuffling down the stairs in your pajamas—hair messy, one sock on, yawning like the world wasn’t waiting on you. Both of them looked up. You blinked at them, still half-asleep.

Kimi stared for a second too long, then smiled to himself. You looked chaotic in the morning, sure—but to him, it was cute. Soft. Familiar in a way he couldn’t explain.

And then—panic. The words in his head scrambled, suddenly impossible to get out. Toto nudged him discreetly in the ribs.

Kimi cleared his throat, nearly choking on it. “Uh—I bought passes,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “Do you… want to go to the amusement park with me?”

The silence that followed was louder than it needed to be.

He felt his pulse spike, every second stretching unbearably long. It wasn’t even a date—not technically—but still, the idea of you saying no had his stomach in knots. He stared at you, waiting for some kind of expression, some clue.

Then you shrugged, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Sure,” you said, casually. “I’ve got no plans.”

Kimi let out a breath so heavy it could’ve knocked over a chair.

“Cool! Yeah—cool,” he said too quickly, nodding way too much. “Take your time! I’ll, uh, I’ll just hang here.”

You padded back upstairs to shower, leaving him alone with your dad, who gave him a nod of approval that made Kimi sit a little taller.

Meanwhile, the water washed over you, bringing clarity you didn’t know you needed. It had been a while since you’d done anything just for fun—since your last relationship ended, your world had felt like it was stuck in grayscale. But now, as the scent of your favorite shampoo filled the air, something small and good started to stir inside you again.

Picking an outfit felt like a challenge at first—should it be simple? Overthought? What was the vibe? But you settled on something that made you feel like yourself. Clean. Light makeup. Hair styled with minimal effort. No pressure, just… something new.

Finally ready, you headed downstairs, each step tapping like quiet punctuation on a page you didn’t realize you were writing.

"I'm ready," you called out, stepping into the hallway where Kimi was already waiting. He turned to look at you—and though he didn’t say anything right away, the smile that spread across his face said more than words.

Toto looked up from the living room and gave Kimi a firm pat on the back. “Be safe,” he said, with a playful tone wrapped in a layer of dad-seriousness. “And home before eleven.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Got it, Dad.”

You hugged him quickly, the kind of warm, familiar squeeze that said thanks for having my back even when you’re annoying. Then you turned toward the kitchen.

“Bye, Mom! Love you!” you called.

She poked her head out from behind a cupboard, smiling at the sight of you. “Have fun!”

And then Jack, your little brother, peeked around the corner, already grinning. “Don’t throw up on a rollercoaster!”

“Bye, Jack!” you laughed, tossing him an exaggerated wave that made him cackle.

You stepped outside with Kimi by your side, the sun already rising high in the sky, bathing everything in that soft golden glow that only seems to show up on good days. The breeze was warm against your skin. The door clicked shut behind you.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like something good was about to begin.

The highway stretched out ahead of you, painted in fading streaks of gold and blue. The windows were halfway down, letting in a warm breeze that made your hair dance, and Kimi’s playlist filled the car—an eclectic mix of chill indie, chaotic throwbacks, and a few songs you’d never admit to liking if anyone else were around.

Kimi was in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against the center console in time with the beat. His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, and he was focused on the road, jaw set in that half-serious, half-goofy expression he got when trying not to miss an exit.

You leaned your head against the seat and looked over at him. “This playlist is kind of unhinged.”

Kimi grinned. “It’s called ‘Road Trip But Make It Existential’.”

“That explains the emotional whiplash.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you had already hit three drive-thrus for snacks and argued over who had better taste in gas station candy, and now the conversation had settled into a comfortable quiet. The kind that only really happens with someone you don’t have to fill space with.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

After the initial excitement at the gate faded, the two of you found a rhythm—slow, easy, no pressure. The kind of wandering where the destination didn’t matter. The kind where the conversation meandered as much as your path through the park.

The first stop had been an old-fashioned photo booth, tucked near the carousel. Kimi dragged you inside, half-joking that you needed proof you were outside the house again. The machine blinked to life, the countdown starting before you were even ready. The first picture was blurry, your hand still adjusting your hair. The second caught Kimi mid-laugh, you smirking at him with one eyebrow arched. By the third and fourth, you were both laughing for real. It felt ridiculous. And perfect.

“Frame-worthy,” Kimi said, holding the strip up to the light with a mock-serious face.

“Frame-worthy if we frame it in irony,” you teased, taking the photo and tucking it into your pocket.

Next came a snack run. You both settled on soft pretzels and sodas, sitting on a shaded bench while a jazz cover of a Taylor Swift song floated from a nearby speaker. Kimi tore his pretzel into perfectly even halves and handed you the bigger piece without saying a word. You noticed. You didn’t say anything either. But your chest ached in the softest way.

As the afternoon wore on, he made a point to pull you toward games—mostly the silly, winnable kind. You tried the ring toss and failed spectacularly. Kimi tried and failed slightly less, which he acted like was Olympic-level achievement. He won you a plush penguin from a knock-over-the-cans game and immediately named it Sir Waddlesworth. The name stuck.

You wandered past a duck pond with swan boats lazily circling, and he offered to row one with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Only if you want to see what happens when I try to row us in a straight line and fail miserably,” he said.

You passed. But the image made you laugh harder than anything had in days.

Later, you shared a strawberry snow cone under the shade of a pink-and-white umbrella. He let you eat the top half, pretending it was “too cold” for him but smiling every time you looked happy. Your fingers brushed a few times when he held the cup steady for you, and though neither of you commented, neither of you pulled away, either.

The laughter was constant—but never forced.

He let you be quiet when you needed to be. Gave you space when you stopped walking to people-watch or stare too long at the spinning swings in the distance. When your thoughts slipped into darker places, you found him beside you again, nudging your arm, pointing out some ridiculous park character mascot in a massive frog costume breakdancing to pop music.

You giggled. He grinned. And for the first time in days, you didn’t feel weighed down by the breakup. You felt… human again.

Kimi glanced at you then, watching your eyes follow the lights of the park. “You’re different today,” he said gently, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

You turned to him, tilting your head. “Different how?”

“I dunno. Like… a little more you. Less like you’re trying to carry a hundred things alone.”

Your smile faltered, just slightly, but it didn’t disappear. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me? Yeah.” His tone wasn’t teasing. It was honest. Simple.

You both stopped walking near the edge of the park, where the Ferris wheel stood tall in the distance, a soft hum of lights circling its frame. The sun had started its descent, the gold of late afternoon bleeding into a rose-pink sky.

Kimi followed your gaze. “We doing it?”

You glanced at him, and for once, you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I think we are.”

The sun was bleeding into the skyline, casting the amusement park in that honeyed gold light that made everything feel softer than it really was. You and Kimi stepped into the Ferris wheel bucket together, the world slowly shrinking below you as the ride creaked into motion.

You'd spent the day wandering the park—sugary churros, shared jokes, quiet looks that lingered too long. It had been fun. Real fun. But now, with the noise below fading and the world pausing as your bucket crested higher, your chest felt heavier.

You leaned into Kimi, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It felt natural—too natural. His body relaxed under your touch like it had been waiting for that moment all day. A quiet sigh escaped you, but it wasn’t relief. It was confusion.

The ride paused near the top, swaying gently.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you murmured, eyes on the horizon.

Kimi shifted, just slightly, to look at you. “You don’t have to deserve me. I want to be here.”

You didn’t answer right away. The wind teased your hair, and you blinked slowly, heart beating faster for a reason you didn’t want to name. You felt Kimi’s fingers brush against yours, just barely, testing a line.

“I think I forgot how it felt to be seen,” you admitted.

He turned more fully toward you, his voice lower now, soft but sure. “Then let me remind you.”

You looked up just as he leaned in—slow, tentative, eyes flicking to your lips. Your heart surged and stalled all at once. Panic gripped your chest. And before you could think it through, you flinched back.

“No—wait, I…” you said quickly, breath catching. “I can’t.”

The words came sharper than you meant.

Kimi froze.

His expression faltered, confusion giving way to hurt in the space of a heartbeat. He pulled back, his hand dropping to his lap. The air shifted between you—suddenly colder, thinner, like the altitude had finally caught up with you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I just… I’m not ready. It’s not you, I swear—”

He nodded once, quickly. “It’s okay.”

But it didn’t sound okay.

Silence draped over the two of you as the Ferris wheel began to descend again, the world creeping closer while your hearts pulled apart. Kimi stared ahead, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. You sat stiffly beside him, hands in your lap, wondering how such a perfect day had just cracked.

The ride ended with the soft lurch of the bucket returning to the ground. Kimi was the first to step out, offering his hand still—but it didn’t have the same warmth.

You took it anyway.

The walk back through the park was quieter than before. No more teasing comments. No more shared laughs. Just the distant hum of carnival music and the growing thud of regret in your chest.

You kept glancing at him, wishing he’d say something—anything—but his lips stayed pressed in a line. He didn’t look mad. Just… disappointed. Distant.

You wanted to explain, to make it better, but every version of the truth felt tangled in your throat. That your heart still ached from the breakup. That kissing someone new, even someone like Kimi, felt like stepping into something you couldn’t undo. "Thank you for today," you muttered, getting a silent head nod in return.

The air on the ride home was thick and uncomfortable and even more uncertain for both of you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Things shifted after the almost-kiss.

Not suddenly. Not with explosions or slamming doors. But slowly—like a cold draft slipping through a window you didn’t realize was open. The air between you and Kimi, once filled with warmth and quiet laughter, had turned still. Hesitant. And it hurt more than you’d ever expected it to.

The first week was silence laced with half-hearted smiles and ghosted texts. You’d type something, only to delete it. Wait for a response that never came. Kimi wasn’t ignoring you, but he wasn’t reaching for you either. The rhythm of your friendship—the easiness, the comfort—it all hung in the balance, stretched too thin between unspoken apologies and feelings neither of you quite knew how to name anymore.

The second week wasn’t any better. Kimi poured himself into Formula 1 like a man trying to forget. Practice, strategy meetings, simulator runs—he was sharper, faster, and more focused than ever. Everyone noticed it, even Toto. Especially Toto.

He noticed your hollow expression when you glanced at your phone and saw nothing. He noticed the way Kimi’s name hovered at the top of your most recent contacts, untouched. And he noticed the ache you carried like armor, silent and too heavy for someone your age.

It was that ache that brought him to your bedroom one quiet afternoon.

You sat by your window, legs curled under you, your phone resting useless in your hand. The light outside was soft, golden. But it did nothing to warm the cold fog in your chest.

Toto knocked softly before stepping in, voice gentle. “I’m heading out soon for the upcoming Grand Prix. I’ll be gone for a while.”

You gave a faint nod, your eyes never leaving the view outside.

He hesitated, then added, “Kimi’s been looking strong. Mercedes has a real shot this weekend. I know how much you like Lewis—I’ll tell him you said hi.”

You forced a smile. It didn’t reach your eyes.

“I know you’ve always been hesitant letting me come to the races,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You were scared when I was little… but this time, I want to go. I need to go.”

That got his attention. He turned to face you fully. “Why?”

Your gaze dropped to your lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Because I have to see Kimi. I have to make things right.”

Toto didn’t speak right away. He just watched you, eyes softening with understanding. So you kept going—pouring out the words you’d been holding back for days.

“That day on the ferris wheel… I should’ve let him kiss me,” you admitted, voice cracking ever so slightly. “Because I wanted him to. God, I wanted him to. And I pushed him away—not because I didn’t feel something, but because I did. And it terrified me.”

You blinked fast, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “I was afraid of what it would mean, of how real it would get. I just got out of something that wrecked me, and then there he was—so kind, so constant. And I hurt him, Dad. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

Toto let the silence stretch for a moment, letting your confession breathe in the space between you. Then he crossed the room, sitting beside you and placing a warm, grounding hand on your shoulder.

“I always approved of Kimi,” he said quietly. “Your mother did too. He’s a good kid, and he cares for you more than I think you realize.”

You sniffled, nodding.

“I don’t want to lose what we had,” you whispered. “Even if it’s just friendship, I don’t want the distance to win.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Then don’t let it. Come with me to the Grand Prix.”

Your head snapped toward him in disbelief.

“But…” you began.

He held up a finger with a wry smile. “Avoid the media. Your mother will have my head if you end up in the tabloids for sneaking kisses in the paddock.”

That earned your first real laugh in days—a watery, grateful sound as you threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Thank you, Dad.”

He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The air around the paddock buzzed with anticipation—reporters rushing past, team members running checklists, and engines screaming in the distance like thunder caught in metal. Monaco always carried an energy unlike any other race, and yet, your heart was racing for an entirely different reason.

You were searching.

Dodging between camera crews and mechanics, you weaved through the sea of people with one thought: Find Kimi. Your chest was tight, your palms clammy. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, hadn’t heard his voice, hadn’t felt his presence. And now that you were here, you needed him to see you—to know.

You passed the Mercedes garage, glanced toward the hospitality suite, even peeked into the briefing room, your nerves mounting with every step. The sounds of Formula 1 echoed all around, but it was the silence between you and Kimi that screamed the loudest.

Then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of timing, you turned a corner—and froze.

He was standing there.

Not Kimi.

Him.

Your ex.

The one who had left your heart in pieces weeks ago. Dressed casually, lanyard swinging from his neck, as if he belonged here, as if he deserved to stand on the same ground you were trying to rebuild yourself on. And the moment he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flicker of false charm you used to fall for.

“Y/n,” he said, stepping forward like you hadn’t spent two weeks crying over him. “God, I’ve been trying to reach you. I just want to talk.”

Your stomach twisted. “No,” you said firmly, trying to walk past him.

But he grabbed your wrist.

Not hard, not aggressive—but enough.

Enough to make your breath hitch. Enough to freeze your heart.

“Just listen—please,” he insisted, voice desperate. “I made a mistake, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I miss you. I miss us.”

“No,” you repeated, yanking your arm back. “You don’t get to do this. Not here, not now.”

But he didn’t let go.

His grip tightened slightly, voice rising with desperation. “I know I messed up, but you still love me, right? You’re not really over me. That guy—Kimi—he’s just a rebound. I know you.”

You felt like the air had been ripped from your lungs. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

And then everything happened fast.

A blur of movement behind you.

A fist connecting with a jaw.

A sickening crack.

Your ex staggered back, holding his face in shock. You turned just in time to see Kimi standing there, chest heaving, eyes wild with a fury you’d never seen in him before. His hand was clenched, knuckles already reddening, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Just stared your ex down like he was daring him to speak again.

“Don’t ever touch her again,” Kimi growled, voice low, sharp, and foreign in its anger.

Your ex didn’t respond—only muttered something and stumbled away, holding his jaw and casting one final look over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

And then silence.

Not around you—the paddock was still alive with noise—but between you and Kimi.

His gaze shifted from your ex to you, his shoulders still tense. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize maybe—but you cut him off before he could.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, the words tumbling out fast and unfiltered. “That day at the amusement park—I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you. But I was scared. And I didn’t mean to hurt you, Kimi. I just… I didn’t know how to feel anything again after him, and then you came along and made everything feel real again, and it terrified me.”

Tears filled your eyes, not from fear or sadness—but from relief. Relief that he was here. That you were still here.

“And when you stopped calling,” you said, voice cracking, “when you stopped being there—I missed you so much it hurt.”

Kimi stepped forward, still silent, still breathless.

You looked up at him, voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. Not with you.”

His brows softened, the anger completely gone, replaced with something tender and aching.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering.

“I would’ve waited forever,” he said, voice hoarse. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“I do,” you said.

No hesitation this time.

And for a long moment, you simply stood there, the chaos of the world fading around you, replaced by the quiet certainty between two people finally letting their hearts be known.

No more fear.

No more running.

"A date, after the race, we're going on a date," you said, causing Kimi to smile softly at you, agreeing with your words. "A date, we're going on a date," he agreed as he went to walk away, your hands clasp his race suit, quickly pulling him back into place, your hands moving with a quickness to cup his cheeks. "What are you-" Kimi was caught off guard by the kiss, a bold move from you, but something he didn't complain about.

"Just...giving you some good luck out there..."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The waves of the Mediterranean lapped gently against the sides of the boat, each one reflecting the city lights of Monaco like spilled stardust on water. The air was warm with a salt-sweet breeze, carrying with it the soft echoes of distant music and late-night laughter from the shore.

You sat at the bow, legs stretched out, the hem of your sundress fluttering around your ankles. Behind you, Kimi poured two glasses of sparkling water—he had insisted on something simple and sweet, no pressure, no pretense. Just the two of you and the quiet rhythm of the sea.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep sapphire streaked with silver. You glanced back at him, watching the way his expression had softened—his eyes no longer clouded with doubt or fear, but lit up by something warmer. Something steady.

Love.

Kimi walked over and passed you a glass, sitting beside you, his knee brushing yours.

“You ever think we’d end up here?” he asked with a small grin.

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Honestly? No. But I hoped. Somewhere deep down, I always hoped.”

He looked down at you, his gaze lingering. “Even after the ferris wheel?”

You went still for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Even then. Especially then. I was just scared. Of what it meant… of what it would feel like to be happy again. But tonight, with you… I’m not scared.”

Kimi smiled, brushing his fingers lightly against your cheek. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something small—delicate—a charm on a simple bracelet. A tiny silver heart, engraved with your initials and his.

“I wanted to wait until after the race,” he said, voice a little shy. “But… I thought this might be something you’d like.”

You blinked, touched beyond words, as he gently fastened it around your wrist.

“I love it,” you whispered. “And I love you.”

The words fell out of you so effortlessly it surprised even you—but Kimi’s expression didn’t falter. His eyes glistened slightly, and the grin that curved his lips was something out of your dreams.

“I love you too,” he said, cupping your face gently in his hands.

The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t needy or desperate.

It was soft.

Full.

Healing.

He kissed you like he meant to erase every doubt you ever carried, and when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re safe with me. Always,” he murmured.

You nodded, your fingers lacing with his as you sat in that peaceful moment together, the boat swaying gently beneath the stars.

By the time you stepped through the front door of your home, shoes in hand, hair tousled by the wind and cheeks sore from smiling, the house was mostly quiet.

Except for the soft clink of glass from the kitchen.

Toto stood at the counter with a late-night espresso, raising an eyebrow as you walked in. He took one look at your glowing face and the bracelet glinting on your wrist… and smirked.

“So… I take it the night went well?”

You squinted at him. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Toto gave an innocent shrug. “I may have offered him some guidance. Encouragement. Advice from a man who knows a thing or two.”

You crossed your arms. “You coached him.”

“I may have used the words if you break her heart, I’ll break your front wing,” he admitted with a dry chuckle.

You groaned, but there was no real annoyance in it. In fact, you smiled.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said softly, walking over to wrap your arms around him.

He returned the hug warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, cara mia. I’ve seen the way you look at him. It was always going to be him—you just needed time.”

You pulled back and nodded. “I think I finally got it right.”

He smiled. “Good. Now go to sleep. You’ve got a boyfriend who’s going to win the next Grand Prix, and a very nosy father who will absolutely take credit for it.”

You laughed all the way to your room.

And as you lay down that night, the sea still rocking in your bones and the feel of Kimi’s kiss lingering on your lips, you realized something:

You weren’t just in love.

You were home.

And one more thing, your dad really knows what's best.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

TAG LIST: @lacey-blog @svt-dk97 @linnygirl09 @coolpeanutchaos @wertyuizxcvbnm @fctnllvrs @alltypesofanimallover @fangirlmusicbiashoe @thatsnotaddy

[woniwontons]

hi! i have a request for a fic where bob/sentry/void get cuteness aggression for the reader, like they are being motherlike and sweet to a kid or a puppy or smth and they find it so domestic and adorable they need to squeeze the reader in their arms or something 😩 it could be all of them together or separate imagines i don’t know how to put it into words so i need your help 🙏

i love it

imagine bob likes to squeeze and bite you ~

w.c: 608 words; warnings: biting, cuteness aggression, baby fever, super fluffy

While shopping for a friend's baby shower, the tiny clothes, blankets, and rattles were the cutest things you’d ever seen. Especially a small onesie themed after Thor that had a little red cape.

Bob trailed behind quietly, pushing the cart for you, silently reacting to every soft gasp and coo you made at everything.

When you found the Thor onesie, you opened your mouth into a silent scream. “Look at the cape! It’s so cute,” you said, holding it up for him to see.

As you turned to place it in the cart, Bob didn’t answer. He just watched you. His eyes fixed on your side profile, your flushed cheeks, your soft lips.

His fingers twitched.

And before you could turn back to him, he crossed the small space between you. Firmly gripping your waist, fingers dug into your soft flesh, and pulled you against his chest. His hands slipped across your stomach, palms splayed wide, his chin settling on top of your head.

You felt the slow exhale he let out, warm against your hair. Surprised, you blinked, caught in the quiet weight of his sudden affection.

“That is really adorable,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. Then, softer still: “Maybe you can buy one for ours someday.”

“Ours?” you echoed, tilting your head up, wide-eyed.

His grip only tightened, arms folding you fully into his chest now.

He wanted that with you so badly, to see you happy holding their child. To spend his money on their son or daughter on whatever your heart desired. Whatever onesies, toys, or furniture was necessary to see this maternal joy on your face all the time.

He didn’t elaborate out loud. Just gave a low, “Mhm,” like it took everything in him to leave it at that. Like anything more would break the thin thread of control he was holding onto.

You spun around to face him, flushed with heat that showed evidently on your neck. “Let’s get it then,” you said, breathlessly. “And maybe leave before I forget we’re in public.”

~

On the way home, you were in the passenger seat, window cracked just enough to let the breeze in. A song you liked started playing on the radio, and you were singing without thinking. Softly at first, then a little louder when the chorus hit.

Bob’s hand rested warm and steady on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles. Every now and then, he glanced at you and shook his head with a quiet laugh under his breath.

You didn’t think much of it until he suddenly pulled the car over.

No warning. Just the motion of him pulling the car into park and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires.

You barely had time to ask what he was doing before he leaned over the middle console, grabbed behind your head, and pulled you into a kiss. Fast, hard, like he’d been holding it back since the store.

You were startled at first, frozen, but only for a second. Then your fingers wrapped around his wrist, your other hand gripping his shirt as you melted into him. He pushed forward, mouth claiming yours, one hand firm on the side of your waist like he needed to keep you there.

Then Bob grabbed your hand, the one on his wrist, and started kissing it instead. Slow at first, tracing over your knuckles with his mouth. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, crinkling at the sight of your embarrassed face.

And then—bite.

Hard, right between your thumb and wrist.

“Hey!” you yelped, half laughing, half wincing as you pulled back to look at the forming mark.

He just shrugged, planting a firm kiss on your cheek before resettling into his seat. “I just couldn’t help myself with you looking at me like that.”

You could still feel the pressure of his teeth long after he pulled away. His hand never left your thigh.

click here to request a fic from me!

preferred characters located on my pinned masterlist ~

[revelboo]

On my hands and knees foaming at the mouth begging for more content revolving around blaschkos lines

Like what do you mean I have cool patterns and I can't even see them. Mechs being able to see them is such a fun idea

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Patterns

Wheeljack x Reader

• Gasping as your head falls back against his shoulder, sitting straddling his lap with his spike buried deep, every time he leans forward, you feel his length shift inside you. Needing him to move, thrust inside you as his palm slides to your shoulders to get you to bend forward and you both groan. Have no idea what he’s doing, as his other palm splays against your belly and you realize he’s retracted his battle mask when his lips brush the skin at the nape of your neck. “I like these,” he growls, hips rocking unhurriedly under you as his servo slides against your shoulder. What is he talking about? Freckles or an old scar, maybe? It’s hard to focus when you feel so full of him in this position.

• Palm cupping your shoulder, he lays back, dragging you down on top of him. Hips flexing under you, feeling your slick heat grip his spike he catches one of your wrists, servos chasing the whorls and spirals on your skin. “Freckles?” You mumble, the words breathy as one of your thighs slides against the outside of his. “Little spots?” Stretching to make you whimper a protest, he dabs his servos in his slick on the inside of your thighs. And traces one of the markings on your arm painting the pattern with him.

• “These,” he says, and his vocal indicator flash pink when your head turns to look at him. What is he talking about? Maybe after fifth overload, his processor is overheating a bit? You know you feel over sensitive and exhausted. And he frowns slightly at your expression. “The patterns all over your skin. They look like a galaxy.” And you just shake your head. Sucking in a shaky breath when he sits up and his spike drives deep to make you tremble, so close to climaxing again.

• “There’s nothing there,” you manage, shivering against him and he growls. You can’t see them? Watches you hold out your arm, staring at it, before squirming in his lap, grinding with a moan. “Imagining things.” Gripping your hips, he helps you ride him and vents against your neck. He’s not imagining anything, you’re beautiful. And you can’t see those fascinating patterns at all, apparently. Making him wonder what purpose they serve.

• “I see you,” he growls, servos flexing as you move against him, feeling your body winding up again somehow. Knowing you’re probably going to spend the rest of the day passed out on your belly in his berth, too sore to move. Still have no idea what patterns he’s talking about, but maybe he doesn’t see like you do? You’ve never bothered to ask, so maybe he only sees in infrared or something? Or he really did glitch his processor that last round. Or it’s a weird alien thing.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Fives always kisses the reader on the forehead before mission - they’re friends but theres a little bit of tension- but then he gets badly injured and the reader spends the night next to his bed, incapable to leave him, and when he’s still not waking up she kisses his forehead and bammm the flirt is awake and they just have stars in their eyesssss

“Kiss It Better”

Fives x Reader

Fives always kissed your forehead before a mission.

He never made a big deal out of it. No lingering looks, no awkward pauses. Just a brief touch—soft and warm—right in the center of your brow as he passed, like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. And maybe it was. He kissed Jesse’s helmet for luck once. Echo got a punch in the arm. You, apparently, got forehead kisses.

It had started on Kamino. First deployment. You were shaking in your boots, pretending not to be terrified. Fives—cocky, charming, and stupidly handsome in the way all the clones were but only he knew it—had given you that trademark grin, leaned in, and brushed your forehead with his lips. Just for luck, he’d said. Nothing more.

But he kept doing it.

Every mission.

And every single time, your heart skipped a beat.

“Ready to go, cyar’ika?” he asked one morning, helmet tucked under one arm, the other reaching out toward you.

You scoffed, stuffing extra medpacs into your bag. “Don’t call me that unless you mean it, Fives.”

“Oh, I always mean it,” he winked, stepping close.

He bent, warm fingers brushing your cheek as he kissed your forehead again, soft as breath.

“I hate you,” you whispered automatically, voice unsteady.

“Liar,” he said, and then he was gone.

⸻

That mission was supposed to be a quick recon. In and out. But the Separatists had gotten smarter—or maybe just luckier—and the outpost exploded before anyone could retreat.

You saw the blast before you saw the blood. Smoke. Screaming in your comms. And then Jesse’s panicked voice yelling, “Fives is down! I repeat, Fives is down—!”

You didn’t remember running. Just the taste of ash in your mouth and your hands shaking as you dropped to your knees beside the twisted figure on the ground. His armor was charred. His face—oh, stars, his face—was bloodied, lashes fluttering as you pressed your hands to the wound in his side.

“Stay with me, Fives,” you begged. “I swear to the Maker, if you die, I will hunt you down and bring you back just to kill you again—”

He didn’t respond. He was already unconscious by the time the med-evac arrived.

They stabilized him.

But he didn’t wake up.

Not that night. Not the next.

You refused to leave the medbay. You were a medic—technically off-duty—but no one dared argue. You sat beside his cot, curled into the too-small chair with your knees drawn up, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets.

You were numb. Exhausted. And heartsick in a way you couldn’t explain. Because this was Fives—flirtatious, charming, annoying Fives—and the thought of him gone made something deep in your chest crack open.

You realized, sometime around the second sleepless night, that maybe you hadn’t hated those forehead kisses at all.

Maybe you’d been waiting for the day they meant something more.

⸻

You fell asleep with your head beside his arm, one hand resting lightly on his.

The beeping of the monitors was your lullaby. That, and the quiet sounds of clone medics passing in and out, voices hushed out of respect or fear. No one knew if he’d wake up. The damage was internal. The bacta was doing what it could. But his body… it was tired.

He just needed a reason to come back.

You looked at his face in the sterile light. Even pale and bruised, he still looked like Fives. There was a hint of a smirk in the curve of his lips, a stubborn quirk in his brow.

And suddenly, you knew what to do.

You leaned forward.

Your breath caught.

And for the first time, you kissed his forehead.

Soft. Lingering. Like a promise.

You whispered, “Come back to me, Fives. Please.”

You drew back slowly.

And that’s when his eyes fluttered open.

You froze.

So did he.

His gaze—bleary, confused—found yours almost immediately. And despite everything—despite the pain, the haze, the IV lines—he smiled.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched. You stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly blurring your vision.

“You—kriffing idiot,” you gasped, half laughing, half sobbing. “You weren’t supposed to—!”

“You kissed me,” he interrupted, voice low and hoarse, but unmistakably smug. “That was new.”

“I was saying goodbye,” you lied, cheeks burning.

“Liar,” he whispered, echoing himself from before. His fingers moved slightly, brushing your hand. “I heard you. You said please.”

You pressed your lips together, throat tight.

“I missed my forehead kiss before the mission,” he murmured, trying to sit up.

You pushed him gently back down, blinking away tears. “You nearly died. Maybe don’t flirt while you’re still bleeding internally?”

He gave a weak chuckle, but it turned into a groan.

You cupped his cheek carefully. His skin was warm under your palm. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared myself too,” he whispered, sobering.

There was a pause.

Then, quietly:

“You kissed me first this time.”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe it meant something.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting despite the exhaustion.

“I was hoping it did,” he said softly. “Because every time I kissed you before a mission, I wanted it to mean more.”

You blinked.

Then smiled, slowly.

“Stars in your eyes, Fives?” you asked gently.

“Only when I’m looking at you.”

You leaned down again, and this time your lips brushed his—barely there, a feather-light kiss.

His hand squeezed yours, and he sighed, utterly at peace for the first time in days.

You didn’t leave his bedside for the rest of the night.

[sunarots]

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

24. freak accident ♡

Though you try to follow Hajime’s position on the rink, you find yourself spending more time actually looking for him. You’ll lose sight of him amongst his teammates until he’s skating towards the goal with the puck.

Sendai is leading by two points and there’s not much time left, so things are looking good for the team — you think. If you’re being honest, everything Akaashi’s been teaching you has gone in one ear and out the other. You called one of the fights a scrimmage, before he pointed out that the game was a scrimmage.

“Are you enjoying it?” Oikawa leans towards you, shouting over the noise of the crowd. “I can’t tell by your face.”

“I am, actually. I do like hockey, but I never had the time to learn anything about it.” You cross one leg over the other and turn to Oikawa, having lost Hajime on the rink again. “It’s violent, but I kind of like it.”

“I like when they slam someone into the glass right in front of me,” he announces, turning his focus back to the game. “Sometimes you can see their nose start bleeding.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Says the guy who acted like he was dying when he dislocated his shoulder.”

“Hey, I also had a broken…” Oikawa turns his focus back to the rink, leaning forward towards the glass. “Oh, shit! Someone’s down!”

“Where!?” You copy his actions, following his gaze over to the crowd on the far side of the rink. “Ouch, what happened?”

Oikawa shrugs his shoulders. “Probably a fake. That happens, sometimes. Mainly when they’re losing.”

“It’s our uniform.” Akaashi hovers above the bench, trying to get a better look. “I think the puck got him. Maybe a stick?”

The crowd separates so the injured player can get past, helmet discarded and a hand covering his face. Bokuto skates beside him (of course you can recognise his striking white hair), scanning the crowd before spotting the three of you.

“It’s Iwa-chan!”

You can feel your heart skip a beat when you realise, instantly jumping to your feet and grabbing your bag from the floor. Not bothering to excuse yourself, you squeeze past the people trying to get a better look at the action so you can reach the gate before them.

“Can you take him to the nurse? We need as many as possible. Let me know how it goes! Wait, no… Never mind!” Bokuto gives you no time to react; he’s already skating back to his team.

As if sensing your worries, Hajime pats your back lightly with his clean hand. “It’s just a little blood, I’ll be fine.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bench and uses his free hand to untie his laces. “Can you-“

You’re already crouching to help him take them off, picking them up and flashing him an attempt of a smile. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s get you checked out.”

He laughs as he follows after you. “Who’s doing the checking?”

“The nurse, obviously.”

With a sigh, Hajime presses the tissue harder against his nose. He takes in a sharp breath at the pressure, making a weak attempt at scrunching his face. “It’s just disappointment after disappointment today.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

taglist (CLOSED). @standcom @thoughtswithbbg @aboutkiyoomi @angtopia @yunavx @celestialm1nd @surfeitstar @xiaoquanquans @istann @aldebrana @mdmraz @softpia @wakashudou @mo072806 @90s-belladonna @rrosiitas @suuunarin @chaotic-neutral-ig @nanasrkives @hrithi11 @itsdragonius @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @wordsofelie @p4lli @a-sorrowful-tune @iluv-ace @matt444nixi @charleslec-airlines @meikstv @amterasuu @rabbitcola @sickpatientt @sophiahearttss @himec @torkorpse @nscuit @labsbedamned @iloveiwaizumihajime @snoowply @followingmysunsposts @navymacaroons @lover-no-lover61 @shozuken @sunaispretty @luvvcho @idexmids @luckybibucky @h3xi2g0n3 @soy-garbage @cloudtato

[theabbystabby]

You know how people get seasonal depression? I'm getting, like, reverse seasonal depression. I'm depressed because I live in Minnesota and there's no snow. There hasn't BEEN snow. Just rain, fog, and dead leaves.

Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I love everything about it. And the snow ties it all together with a neat bow. Yeah, sure. It's a pain in the butt when we get A TON of it, and when ice comes into play. But we live up north. It just comes with the territory. It's not only beautiful, but it's something we need environmentally. It's super unsettling that we've only been dusted with snow twice and it didn't stay for more than two days.

It's made it really hard to enjoy the things I love most about December. Lights and decorations don't dazzle me as much, the brown views are so hard on the eyes, hyper awareness of the state of our environment weighs heavy on me, and it's just... Soul crushing. This year has been awful for me for a lot of reasons, and this feels like salt in the wound.

It's going to be a sad, dreary Christmas. And I don't know what to do.

[magiefish]

THEY DID THE METACRISIS AGAIN.

AND THIS TIME HE'S NOT EVEN SAFELY CONTAINED IN HIS OWN UNIVERSE!

AND THEY MADE THE FIRST BLACK DOCTOR PLAY SECOND FIDDLE TO A WHITE ONE AND

OH MY GOD TAKE THAT BOYS TARDIS AWAY FROM HIM GODDAMIT I WANT TO WATCH HIM

DIE

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah? Cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive, ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide." A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right, Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences, but you're already making your way back towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. That might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, maybe they can smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief.

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to meet just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat, while he pounds you from behind. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the two groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[asxgard]

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Love Game

[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]

Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in

Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t

Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.

Word Count: 8K

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“That fucking kid.”

You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it.  He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time. 

Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.

“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”

Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.

“Scott!”

You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder. 

Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut. 

You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.

“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head. 

“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.

You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.

Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen. 

“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”

Shit. 

“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”

If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?

You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it. 

You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.

“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”

“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze. 

“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”

You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.

“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”

You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet. 

“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Ah, there it is.

“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.

“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”

You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.

“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”

“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”

“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.

“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.

You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book. 

“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“

“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”

He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.

I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.

Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?

You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.

“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.

Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?

“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”

“Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”

You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.

You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down. 

You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’

You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand. 

“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”

Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.

“Ready? And…go!”

He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.

“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.

He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him. 

You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air. 

“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?

“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”

Nope, definitely different. 

You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan. 

“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.

“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “

You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.

“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”

He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.

“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”

You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it. 

“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.

“Aw, pretty girl -“

You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face. 

“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.

His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.

“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”

You still had his shirt in your tight grip.

“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.” 

You sighed and finally let him go.

“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird.”

“You were the one flirting with me.”

“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Sure, you will.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.

“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.

You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.

“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.

Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.

You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.

“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.

“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.

“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”

“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”

You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes. 

“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”

He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”

That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.

“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”

She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.

“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”

You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.

You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door. 

“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.

You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.

“In a way? Kind of.”

Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.

“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”

“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.

“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.

“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”

You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”

You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.

“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”

Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs. 

“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.

Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer. 

He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.

‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’

Except that you knew damn well it was a lie. 

“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.

“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”

You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got that right.”

You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.

“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.

“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. 

“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”

“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”

“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?” 

Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”

You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”

“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”

“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”

“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”

“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”

“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table. 

“I think you’ll prove me right.”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we betting, exactly?”

“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”

“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”

With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.

“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”

You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you. 

“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.

“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”

You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care. 

You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”

“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”

“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”

He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”

He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.

So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.

Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.

You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.

You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately. 

He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.

You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.

“Oh, so, what do you do there?” 

“Well, I own it.”

You squinted and sat up straight.

“You own the company.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him.  She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.

“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”

You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.

“You know what? Sure, why not.”

You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.

You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face. 

You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”

“We don’t even know each other's names.”

“Do we have to?”

You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.

“You can kiss me.”

He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.

Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.

“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”

You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.

“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.

“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.

“Yeah. Get lost.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.

You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.

‘What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.

“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”

“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”

You were nearly shouting at each other.

He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”

“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”

You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”

You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.

Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.

“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”

“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”

You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.

“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.

You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.

“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”

You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.

“So…you -“ 

His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.

“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head. 

“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.

His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”

You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.

“You mean it? All of it?”

You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.

“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”

His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”

“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.

“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”

“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

His expression was as smug as could be.

“That you still like me? Yeah.”

“How? Am I that obvious?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”

You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.

“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?” 

He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.

“I won the bet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”

“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead. 

He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.

“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.

Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.

“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.

Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.

“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.

“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you. 

You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.

“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”

He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.

“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”

He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.

“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.

“No - no, ma’am.”

It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second. 

“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”

You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail. 

“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.

“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”

You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly. 

“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”

He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.

He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.

“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.

“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.

He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.

“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.

“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”

You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.

You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.

“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself. 

“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”

You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.

“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.

“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”

He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”

He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours. 

“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.

You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.

He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.

“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.

He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again. 

“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“

His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.

You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him. 

“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”

“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”

He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.

You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.

He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.

“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.

“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.

He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ -  please, I need you.”

The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.

“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?” 

He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.

“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.

“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’  about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.

“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.

He groaned at full volume again.

“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.

“Open.”

He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.

“Good kitty.”

He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.

“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”

The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.

“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on. 

“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.

His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.

“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.

He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room. 

“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”

Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.

“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”

The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.

His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.

“Love you so much.”

He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.

“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”

Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.

His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.

“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”

He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.

“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.

“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.

You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.

“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.

He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.

“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.

“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.

You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”

You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help. 

“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”

Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”

You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.

“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”

“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”

“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”

“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.” 

“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.

“Neither of you ever believed us!”

“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle. 

“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it

Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3

[eli-com]

need me some more judd pretty pls

୧ *·˚ — JUDD BIRCH

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, afab!reader, mature content, p in v, oral (f! receiving), jealousy, fingering, ooc!judd, terrible writing, MDNI

a continuation of my other 2 Judd posts with innocent!shy!reader. not in the same order as the og scene in the show just for the purpose of the fic.

please have some grace. I stayed awake all night writing this whilst trying to fix my sleep schedule for my lecture monday x

— Judd loves his younger siblings, as hard as that may be to believe. He’s always been protective over Leah and Nick; only he got to make fun of them. However, a lot of the time, they do things that really piss him off. Whether it be Nick hitting on you, or Leah throwing a slumber party with her overly loud and clingy friends, as she was doing now, his brother and sister really knew how to annoy him.

Currently, he was laid on his bed, a pillow shoved over his face as he did his best to drown out the excessive giggling coming from Leah’s room. If there was one thing that really got to him, it was overly loud people. Why couldn’t they just speak at a normal volume? They wouldn’t speak at all if it were up to Judd, but he’d accept anything lower than the volume they were at right now. He despised his sister’s peppy attitude and overly-optimistic way of thinking, which, unluckily for him considering the situation, she shared with a lot of her friends.

You were supposed to be coming over tonight, so at least that gave him one thing to look forward to. The two of you had been ‘seeing each other’ for a three or four months by now, and in all honesty, Judd was loving it. He couldn’t get enough of you, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He was all over you, every second he could be. Whether it was at his house, at school, when you were getting lunch at your favourite cafe, he didn’t care. If he wanted you, he was gonna have you. In all honesty, Judd considered you his girlfriend by now, even though he’d never actually used the word.

He’d never been in a real relationship before, only ever having a few girls he’d sleep with when he needed the relief. But it was different with you, he wanted to be around you, enjoyed your company. He’d never experienced that with anybody before. He was used to the comfortable routine of sleeping with someone and completely blanking them the next day. He could never do that to you, he wouldn't even dream of it. Maybe it was laughable, the fact he was known throughout school for his rebellious attitude, yet he'd wound up falling for one of the best behaved girls in town. He didn't care enough to think about it that much, though. All he knew was that he liked you, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep you around.

It wasn't long before he heard a familiar ring tone from his phone, a small grin gracing his lips as he grabbed it and saw your name on the screen, along with a photo he'd taken of you asleep in his bed. He'd been tempted to change it, especially when Leah and Nick had first seen it and relentlessly teased him for 'being a sap', but the sight of that sleepy smile on your face stopped him every time. He'd answer the call without second thought, already knowing you were outside.

"How many times do I need to tell you to just use the doorbell like a normal person?" He'd growl down the phone, doing his best to act annoyed, though you knew he was anything but. In fact, he was actually extremely excited at the prospect of getting to spend time with you.

"I don't wanna disturb your family." You'd argue back, sweet, gentle voice coming through somewhat robotic on his phones speaker. He could only scoff, shaking his head as he all but ran down the stairs and opened the door. The moment his eyes met yours, he was pulling you inside, wrapping an arm over your shoulders and beginning to guide you towards the stairs that led to his bedroom. Though, he'd never been the luckiest person in the world, and the two of you were spotted before he could whisk you away.

"(y/n)!" Elliot would exclaim, throwing his arms up into the air as he made his way over, Diane close behind. The older couple would give you the same welcoming smiles that they always did, pulling you into a warm hug and asking how you'd been. Judd was unsure how he felt about the fact you got along so well with his family. On one hand, it was frustrating. He'd do anything to just be able to rush you upstairs and have his way with you without any interruption. But on the other, he couldn't deny the way his heart ached at the sight of you laughing with his sister and mother, or helping his dad out in the kitchen. You seemed to slot yourself into their dynamic with such ease, as if you belonged. The idea was sweet. Not that he'd dare voice that thought aloud. At least, not this early in the relationship.

"Judd didn't tell us you were coming over." Diane would hum, eyeing her eldest child with a look of annoyance. His mother wasn't a fan of how he tried to hide you away. It wasn't like he was ashamed of being with you, the mere idea of that was laughable. He simply wasn't a fan of his entire family knowing what he was getting up to in his spare time. Especially when it came to his activities in the bedroom. Besides, he wanted to save you at least some of your dignity.

"Oh, it was kind of a last minute decision." You'd explain, though that wasn't true at all. Every time you left Judd's company, he'd make sure to create plans for when you'd next hang out. He didn't like last minute decisions, and he wanted to ensure there would always be a definite time for him to see you. He craved your company in a way he'd never experienced, and so, he didn't like the idea of going without it for too long.

"That's no problem. We'll set a place for you at dinner right next to Judd-y." Elliot would nod, smiling down at you. Though, Judd was quick to intervene.

"No need. We'll eat in my room. I don't need Leah and her friends sending (y/n) deaf." He'd roll his eyes, tightening his grip around your shoulder, hand running along your arm affectionately. He'd never imagined himself to be a physically affectionate person until he met you, but he just couldn't seem to get enough.

"Don't be rude, Judd." Diane would chastise, despite the small smirk that rested on her lips. Even she had to admit that her daughters friends spoke in a tone too high pitched to be natural. "You know how important family dinner is to your father." Elliot would simply shake his head, patting his wife's back.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure these two just want as much time together as they can get. I remember when we were like that. I couldn't keep my hands off of you when we first got together." The older man would sigh lovingly as he stared at his wife, bringing her closer by the waist. Diane would chuckle under her breathe, grinning.

"You're still like that now." She'd note, causing Judd to hold himself back from gagging. He was used to his parents open-nature when it came to anything surrounding the subject of sex and physical intimacy, but he'd rather they didn't freak you out with it.

"Right, well, we'll be going." He'd grumble, successfully guiding you up the stairs this time. He was quick to shove you into his room, shutting the door once he was inside with you.

"I think it's sweet how your parents are still so in love, I mean-" You were cut off by Judd slamming your back against the bedroom door and practically shoving his tongue down your throat. He didn't want to talk about his parents right now. He'd been thinking about you all day, ever since he'd first woken up to a painful hard on with nothing but the thought of you on his mind.

"Stop talking about them." He'd grumble against your lips, his knee moving to slot between your legs and rub against your crotch. Instantly, a breathless moan escaped you, causing him to grin. He'd never get used to just how reactive you were to his touch. Just the pretty noises you made were enough to have him straining against his pants.

One of his hands would move to rest against the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair and guiding your head ever so slightly back. Slowly pulling back from the kiss, a thin strand of saliva would form between your lips, a smug grin pulling at his mouth. Those wide doe eyes of yours would never fail to make his heart thump in his chest.

"You miss me?" He'd ask, nosing at your cheek before beginning to trail kisses along your jaw. Maybe the question made him sound needy, pathetic even, but he couldn't help it. "I missed you." He'd admit, kisses moving down to your neck now, quickly finding that one spot that had your head leaning back and hips gliding over his leg. His tongue would run over the skin, before he bit down gently, humming at your salty taste. "Know how many times I fucked my fist thinking 'bout you this morning?" He'd all but growl.

"Judd..." You'd sigh, tilting your head to the side as if to offer up more skin for his mouth to attach to. Though, you quickly froze up when you heard the loud laughter coming from the direction of Leah's room. Judd could only groan, continuing to bury his face into your neck and assault your soft skin with his mouth. "They're g'nna hear us." You'd whimper, his hips rolling against your lower belly.

"Don't give a shit." He'd huff out, shaking his head as his hands began to slide under your shirt, thumbs running under the wire of your bra. Instinctively, you'd press your chest further into his touch, arching your back in the process. He'd grin to himself. "Let them hear." He really couldn't care less if Leah and her little friends heard him fucking you. They were allowed to be as loud as they wanted and disturb his peace, so now he'd disturb theirs.

"But-" You'd choke out the singular word, cut off by how his hands slid beneath your bra and cupped your breasts. He'd quickly get to work, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his fingers and thumbs. God, he could play with your pretty tits all day if you let him. He'd worship every part of your body for as long as possible.

"Just shut up." He'd bite out, pulling back to glare down at you. It wasn't a mean glare, but one of lust and need. He craved you, needed you in every possible way he could have you. "Don't you wanna make me feel good, huh? Just ignore them and focus on me. Gonna make us both feel so good, baby." He'd mumble into the curve of your jaw, hands sliding down to your waist and beginning to undo the button of your jeans. You seemed to finally give in, nodding and helping him pull down the offending clothing.

As he yanked them down your legs, he'd sink onto his knees, staring up at you as he did so. His lips would travel over your thighs, pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin every now and then. He'd help you step out of the jeans, leaving you in a pair of pretty navy panties. His fingers would trail affectionately over the lacy material, groaning under his breath as he toyed with the edges.

"So pretty like this, baby." He'd murmur into your skin, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh, hearing you whimper in response. His hands would move back to cup your ass, groping at the flesh as his kisses moved up to your heat. He'd press a gentle kiss to the front of your panties, grinning when your hips jolted forward, chasing him as he pulled away. You were so damn desperate, no matter how many times he had his way with you. Every time was like the first.

"Judd." You'd groan out, one of your hands moving through his hair this time, yanking on it so that his gaze met yours once again. You were frustrated, that much was obvious. "Just want you. Now." You'd whisper.

He wasted no time in rising to his feet again, pulling down his own pyjama pants as he did so. He never wore underwear underneath; that was something you'd learnt pretty early on. You'd almost moan at the sight of his length, a bead of pre already leaking from the pink tip. You couldn't stop yourself from running your thumb over it and bringing it up to your lips, causing Judd to groan in response. You were so damn hot without even trying to be.

With that, his hands would grab at the back of your thighs, arms working to lift you up into his hold and wrap your legs around his waist. Your back remained pressed into the door, and his fingers would waste no time in pushing your panties to the side. A low hum rumbled at the back of his throat as he ran his shaft through your folds a couple of times, lubing himself up with your arousal. Then, as if the two of you were running out of time, he'd press himself into you to the hilt, groaning as he rested there. You'd cry and claw at him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, one hand lost in his hair.

You'd breathe in slow unison, both doing your best to catch your breath and relax. It wasn't often you went straight into it like this, Judd always preferred to play about with you a bit first. But, who was he to deny you when you sounded all whiny and looked at him with those big, pleading eyes of yours? He was weak for you, and he made no attempt to hide it. He'd give you a few moments to get used to the size of him, feeling your velvety walls clench around him and holding himself back from just pounding into you.

Soft hands would play with his hair, and your lips would press to his cheek. He took that as a sign to move, and so, he did. His hips would roll up into yours, making sure to go slowly at first, allowing you to feel just how deep he could reach at this angle. You'd whine and mewl in his ear, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck, breathless pants escaping him. You were so tight, so warm, so perfect. His hands remained resting on your ass, fingers flexing as he groaned into your skin.

"That's it... That's all you wanted, huh? All you ever want, hm? Such a slut for me." He'd murmur, feeling you nod in response, eyes squeezed shut. Slowly, his hips were beginning to pick up the pace, his own need to feel you overwhelming him. "You like that? Like feeling how deep I can go?" He'd continue to ramble, slowly moving to push one of your legs up to your chest until it hooked over his shoulder. You'd whine out, throwing your head back. He was even deeper now.

"God, Judd, feels good... So full." You'd moan weakly, head tilting to the side, jaw hanging open. All kinds of small sounds continued to pour from your lips, and he'd do his best to memorise every single one. His forehead would press against yours, gaze never daring to glance away from your own. He loved watching you fall apart for him, loved seeing just how much he affected you.

"Yeah? You like that?" He'd hum, grinning sadistically as he once again picked up the pace. He was practically slamming into you now, his own body keeping you pressed to the door as his hips pounded into your own. The door would creak with each movement, and he was sure just about anybody in the house would be able to hear your loud moans now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The only thing on his mind was feeling you cum around him, and so, that was what he continued to work towards.

"Judd..." You'd stutter out between sob-like moans, tears appearing in the corners of your eyes, hands travelling up to cup either side of his face. He'd turn to press a quick kiss to the palm of your hand before going back to focusing on his ruthless pace. That familiar coil was forming in your belly, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Your head was spinning, and you could feel hot tears of pleasure cascading down your cheeks. He was pounding into you so deeply, hitting all the right spots that made your toes curl and back arch. "Fuck, Judd." You'd babble, glancing down at where your bodies connected, seeing how he moved in and out of you with such ease.

Though, he was quick to steal your attention, nudging his forehead against your own and huffing out. "Eyes on me." He'd murmur. "Wanna see your eyes when I make you cum." You could only whimper in response, brows furrowing as he chased your orgasm. With just a few more harsh strokes, your legs would begin to shake, and that familiar feeling of white, hot, pleasure would come down upon you. You'd let out a loud cry, and he'd gasp, picking up his pace yet again. It wasn't long until he was reaching his own breaking point, feeling himself spill inside of you, eyes still holding your gaze. There was something so intimate and loving about the way he stared at you, the way he handled you with such gentleness.

The two of you would stay in place for a while, continuing to stare at one another, breath mingling together as one. He'd lean into your touch on his face, momentarily allowing his eyes to close now as he regained his strength. His hands would slowly massage your trembling thighs, helping you to calm down, relax. A low sigh would escape him before he began to pull himself out of you, moaning as he did. With that, he'd carry you over to the bed, placing you into it with gentle care.

"You okay?" He'd hum, leaning down to brush some hair from your face. His eyes held nothing but care and affection in them, his touch tender. You'd nod, panting and chasing his touch, causing him to grin. "Let me get a cloth for you." He'd grumble, reluctantly pulling away to begin cleaning you up.

The process wasn't long, and he was in bed with you in no time, arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest. He loved being able to just hold you and relax with you like this, the two of you simply existing with one another, appreciating each others company. These were his favourite moments, the ones where all he could hear was the sound of your light breathing, and all he could feel was your body against his. Of course, the moment couldn't last, and before long it was interrupted by his brother opening his bedroom door.

"Judd, mum says you need to come down for dinner-" Nick was cut off by the sight of the you laid across Judd's chest. His face would grow a deep shade of red, eyes wide. Soon enough, his pervy little friend was stood behind him, also taking in the view. The two boys would simply freeze, eyeing up the sleeping girl in his bed.

He was quick to act, grabbing hold of a pillow and throwing it in their direction, pulling up the blankets so that no part of you was on view to them. He'd die before he let Nick and his freaky friend get a look at any part of you belonging to him. Those kinds of views were for his eyes only.

"Get the fuck out!" He'd yell, pushing you gently off of his chest and sitting up to cover you with his own body. The boys would yelp and run away when they saw Judd sit up, slamming the door shut as they left. Though he was glad they were gone, he could feel you beginning to stir beside him. He'd kill them later for waking you up.

"What is it?" You'd huff out, rubbing at your eyes and leaning up. Judd would run a hand over your arm, smiling at the sight of you so groggy from your power nap.

"Dinner." He'd huff out. "I'll go down and get you a plate, yeah? You stay here." He'd insist, though you seemed to have other plans, shaking your head and slowly moving to sit up.

"No, we should eat with your family, don't wanna be rude." You'd mumble, fixing your hair and slowly crawling out of his bed on shaky legs. He'd groan, not only at the idea of having to sit through dinner with his family, but also at the thought of not being able to just lay in bed with you for a little while longer.

He'd helped you get dressed into a pair of his jogging bottoms and an oversized shirt, before beginning to guide you downstairs. He'd grin proudly to himself when he noticed the shake in your legs as you came down the stairs, but you were quick to slap at his chest, causing him to huff.

His parents would give him knowing looks as the two of you entered the dining room and he pulled out a chair for you, but he'd choose to ignore them, focusing on you instead. You gave him that sweet smile that never failed to make his heart flutter, before taking a seat and allowing him to push you in. As he moved to his seat beside you, he'd finally notice Leah's friends who were sat at the table, greeting him and completely disregarding your presence.

"Hey Judd.."

"Hi..."

"Wanna watch me eat a sausage?"

Judd could feel bile raise in his throat, but he did well to just roll his eyes and ignore them, biting back an insult that he knew both you and his mum would tell him off for. Leah would glare at her friends and give them a look of warning, which they seemed to completely ignore.

You, on the other hand, didn't find it so easy to ignore their flirtatious tones. It was uncomfortable to hear other girls openly flirt with the guy you were sleeping with, of course it was. And, to make matters worse, it wasn't exactly a secret that you were sleeping with him; you were in his house, wearing his clothes and eating a meal his parents had made (not to mention the fact they'd most definitely heard him having his way with you less than an hour ago). Yet, despite all of that, they continued to flirt with him like you weren't even in the room.

Neither you or Judd had brought up the topic of a relationship in the last few months. Things were good as they were, and the two of you were comfortable in the little routine you'd created. You had no idea what his thoughts were, but you'd most definitely begun to fall for him. Your heart slammed against your ribcage every-time you caught him so much as look in your direction at school, cheeks growing hot whenever his shoulder grazed yours in the halls. The sex was great, no doubt, but you wanted more than just that. You enjoyed his company, craved it. You wanted to be able to spend time with him without using the excuse of wanting a good fuck. Not that you'd ever bring it up to him. As far as you knew, you were nothing but a way to get off for him. Sure, he spoke to you sweetly and gave you better treatment than you ever thought he was capable of, but what if that was just how he was with every girl he slept with? He could be a gentleman and still keep his reputation of an asshole.

Whilst you zoned out, Judd would take it upon himself to grab hold of your plate and begin to place food onto it. As he did so, he could feel Leah's stare on him, causing his natural frown to grow deeper. He already knew she had something to ask.

"Um, hey, Judd..." She'd say as sweetly as possible, staring at her older brother with a look of hope. He was already bored of whatever this was.

"Whatever it is, fuck off." He didn't even glance in her direction, making sure to give you an extra scoop of the potatoes he knew you loved. Then, he was sliding the plate in front of you, grabbing his own plate and scooping on just about the same thing he'd given you.

"Oh, come on! I just want you to text your hook-up in the city and, like, buy us some mushrooms tomorrow." She'd plead, holding her hands to her chest as if to look somewhat innocent. It was ironic, considering she'd just asked for drugs.

"Yeah, we wanna get high and figure out if we're actually friends." One of her friends would chime in, writhing in her seat in an attempt to look cute. Judd didn't even bother glancing in their direction.

"Please? We'll pay you double." Leah would add on, which seemed to finally convince him.

"Fine. I'm saving up for a pressure cooker." He'd grumble, placing his own plate in front of himself and shoving some chicken into his mouth.

The group of girls seemed to light up upon hearing his agreement, cheering amongst themselves and smiling brightly at him like he was God's greatest gift. Just the way they ogled him was enough to have you shuffling in your seat, feeling a strange possessiveness build up inside of you. You weren't used to this; you'd never been jealous over a person. Were you being pathetic? Would he laugh at you if he knew you were feeling this way? Probably.

"You're our hero, Judd." A brunette girl would sigh.

"I love you, like, for real." Another would chime in, sending Judd a look of pure adoration.

"Gabrielle!" Leah would exclaim, sending her friend a look of disapproval.

"What? Your brother's hot!" The girl would defend herself, causing your face to scrunch up as you did your best to focus on the food in front of you rather than their conversation. Judd seemed to ignore them with such ease, why couldn't you?

"Seriously, he's such a badass." Another would murmur, eyeing him up like a piece of meat. It just didn't sit right with you. Everyone at school was always too scared of Judd to approach him, you'd never expected girls to fawn over him like this.

As if noticing your distress, Judd would glance at you out of the corner of his eyes, taking in the way you stabbed at the meat on your plate. His hand would move to run along your leg, before he affectionately squeezed your thigh, brows ever so slightly raised, silently asking if you were alright.

You couldn't tell him that the way they spoke about him upset you. He'd probably panic about the fact you were clearly growing feelings for him and kick you out. So, you just smiled and continued to eat, leaving him to watch you in confusion.

"Exciting, the Birch house, isn't it?" Nick's barely moustached friend, Andrew, would sigh, eyes trained on you. Judd's gaze would sharpen when he saw how the two boys were looking at you, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clutched at his knife and fork.

"Don't talk to her, you little shit." He'd grunt out, giving Andrew a deadly stare that had the smaller boy shrinking back in his seat. You'd turn to Judd, shaking your head as if to tell him to stop scaring the kid. He'd huff, subtly moving his chair closer to yours, knee brushing your own. He had no doubt the creepy teen would be having wet dreams about you later, and that made his stomach turn.

"You wanna come with me tomorrow?" Judd would hum as he ate, tone low, eyes glancing at you every now and then, trying to gauge your reaction. You'd freeze for a moment, turning to him. He'd never really asked you to hang out like that. At least, not anywhere that wasn't at school or his house. Going out with him like that would be new. "To get the 'shrooms for Leah and her pack of crows." He'd nod his head over to the lively girls, as if you'd been confused by what he meant.

"Yeah, 'course." You'd smile in return, nodding. Though, you still felt a slight discomfort in your stomach. The flirty glances Leah's friends continued to send Judd didn't go unnoticed by you, and you weren't sure how much longer you could put up with it.

Dinner didn't last too long after that, and by the end of it, you'd only managed to finish about half of what Judd had put on your plate. Clearly, the continuous comments and looks from Leah's friends had ruined your appetite.

Now, you found yourself back in Judd's room, sat in his bed scrolling through your phone as he sat on the side lifting some weights and watching you. He'd noticed how off you'd been at dinner, and the urge to find out what was bothering you gnawed at him. You always finished whatever his parents had made you for dinner, not only because you thought they'd hate you if you didn't, but because you genuinely enjoyed his father's cooking. After a while, it was clear you weren't going to say anything, so he took it upon himself, placing the weight to the side and moving to rest a hand at your ankle.

"What's up with you?" He'd grunt, brows narrowed in question. You looked sad, uncomfortable, and he hated it. He was so used to you being giggly and playful around him, so to see you like this was unsettling. It didn't feel right.

"Nothing." You'd glance up, meeting his gaze and shrugging your shoulders. Then, you went back to your phone like nothing was wrong. No, he wasn't having that. You weren't going to just shrug this off like you weren't pouting and feeling sorry for yourself. He could read you like a book by now, and that frown on your lips was telling him you were anything but fine. So, his hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you further down the bed so that he could climb on top of you.

"Talk to me." He'd huff, snatching your phone from your hands and placing it to the side, ignoring how you whined in protest. He was practically straddling you by now, hands either side of your head. It took all of his willpower to ignore the rise and fall of your chest.

"'S nothing, I already told you." You'd huff out, resting beneath him with a defiant look in your eyes.

"Stop being such a fucking brat and tell me." He'd demand, hand travelling down to slide beneath the sweatpants he'd given you and glide over your folds. Your entire body would jolt, eyes growing hooded as you bit your bottom lip. "I'm not stupid, can tell something's bothering you."

"Never said you were stupid." You'd whine, hips rolling up to chase his fingers, which he quickly pulled away. A noise of upset left you, which made him grin.

"Tell me what you're thinking about." He'd encourage, thumb moving to draw slow circles over your clit, eliciting a breathless moan from you. You looked conflicted, as if debating whether or not to really tell him what was on your mind. A part of you wanted to, wanted to just confess your jealousy and hope he'd comfort and reassure you. But, another part of you was screaming not to, telling you that it would be stupid to even mention the thought to him, that he'd just shrug it off and call you an idiot. Finally, after a few more strokes of his thumb, you'd break, gaze tracing over anything but him as you let out a shaky breath of air.

"I don't like how Leah's friends look at you." You'd whisper, head turning to the side to look at the wall. Judd's movements would pause as he hovered over you, a look of confusion overcoming his features.

"How they look at me?" He'd repeat. You'd nod.

"How they look at you. How they speak about you." You'd add on, moving to brush away some hair that had fallen into your face, nervously fiddling with the strands. Judd would take a few moments to think about your words, before a small grin settled on his features. "Like you're a piece of meat."

"Yeah?" He'd hum. "You sure you're not just jealous?" He'd grumble, leaning down to press a kiss to the love bite he'd left on your neck earlier. A shiver would run down your spine, back arching off of the bed as you chased his lips.

"No." You're respond quickly, lips pulling into a pout. You knew this would happen, knew he'd just make fun of you. You shouldn't have said anything. His hand would move back to your cunt, fingers gliding ever so gently through your folds, causing you to whine and gasp.

"You're not?" He'd hum. "Not jealous of how they were trying to flirt with me? Of how they look at me?" He'd ask, collecting your arousal on his fingers before bringing them up to his lips and taking them into his mouth, allowing himself a taste of you. A low hum escaped him, and he was quick to move his fingers from his mouth to yours, allowing you a taste as well. "'S not a bad thing, baby. It's kind of cute." He'd shrug, making you whine around his fingers as they stuffed your mouth full. A low chuckle left him.

"You worried I enjoy it? Worried I like 'em?" He'd ask, gaze never breaking from your own. You seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when his fingers moved from your mouth and back down to your crotch, you'd quickly find yourself nodding. Judd would coo mockingly, tutting under his breath. "Poor thing." He'd mumble, hand moving again.

Slowly, he'd begin to sink down on the bed, until he was face to face with your heat, lips ghosting over the material of the sweats you wore. His gaze was heavy on your face, hands smoothing over your clothed thighs as he continued to rile you up.

"Did you see me look at them? Even once?" He'd ask, moving forward to press a soft kiss to the material. "When did I ever even glance in their direction, huh?" He'd practically growl. "Didn't, did I?" You shook your head in response.

"No." You'd mewl, staring down at him, using your forearms to hold you up so you could watch him.

"So what makes you think I like 'em? In what world would I give them even a moment of my time, huh? Acting like I wasn't up here fucking you an hour before dinner." He'd hum, slowly pulling the sweatpants down, grinning as you lifted your hips to help him. You were always so damn eager and willing. Such a good girl for him. He'd take your panties along with them, wanting to just get to your skin. "Such a greedy little thing, huh? Don't even want other girls looking at me?"

"Yeah." You'd admit breathlessly, nodding like an idiot. You didn't care how pathetic you looked right about now, all you could think about was having his mouth on your cunt. He'd chuckle when he heard your agreement, shaking his head and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

"Those annoying shits don't stand a chance with me, sweet thing." He'd murmur, pressing more kisses over your inner thighs. "Not when I've got you." He'd grin.

With that, he was leaning down, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to your heat, causing you to gasp and lift your hips from the bed. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around your thighs and taking hold of your hips, holding you down so that you couldn't move. His tongue would flick out to move in tight circles over your clit, lips pulling into a smug smirk when you cried out a moan.

"Such a pretty girl. All mine, right?" He'd murmur into your pussy, licking a long stripe through your folds and humming as your arousal collected on his tongue. You were so sweet.

"Yeah." You'd squeak out, making him chuckle.

"Mhm, and I'm all yours, yeah?" He'd continue to ask, knowing you weren't really in the right mind to be answering questions right now. His mouth was attacking your heat, and he expected you to respond to every word he asked.

"Uh-huh." You'd sigh, nodding deliriously.

"Smart girl. My smart girl." He'd praise, moving his thumb up to rub circles over your bundle of nerves, tongue moving down to kitten-lick over your hole, leaving your walls to clench around nothing. Breathless gasps and whimpers would continue to pour from you, going straight to his head.

"Judd." You'd sigh out, head thrashing from one side to the other as you did your best to contain the sheer need you felt for the man between your legs. He'd just continue to chuckle to himself as he heard your whines, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

"Mm? My jealous girl need something? What d'you need, baby?" He'd coo almost sadistically, evil eyes staring up at you as he leaned away from your heat. You'd sob at the loss of contact, attempting to roll your hips but failing due to his grip on them.

"Wanna cum." You'd huff, one hand moving to rest on his head, attempting to guide his mouth back down. He'd refuse, remaining where he was and grinning.

"You g'nna be good? G'nna tell me when you're upset next time instead of being a little brat and ignoring me?" He'd ask, causing you to immediately nod along. You'd agree to anything if it meant he'd finish what he'd started. "Need your words, baby. C'mon." He'd encourage, causing you to sob.

"Yes, Judd, do what ever you want." You'd whine.

"Don't cry, baby." He'd hum, leaning back down and moving his hand away from your clit, fingers circling around your entrance now. His tongue would move to take over the job his thumb had been doing, kitten-licking at your bundle of nerves. "Been so good for me." He'd mumble.

With that, two fingers slowly slid into you, immediately beginning to pump in and out. He was practically making out with your cunt by now, fingers curling and hurling you towards your orgasm. Your own fingers would yank on his hair desperately, anchoring his face to you as you continued to try rolling your hips, still failing.

He was relentless in his movements now, giving you exactly what you'd asked for, though it was somewhat overwhelming. The pleasure was building quickly, not allowing your mind to keep up with your body. Before you could even register it, you were coming undone, chest heaving and moans vibrating in your throat as you felt yourself release. Judd would groan, lapping up whatever he could get, nose bumping with your clit every now and then, causing you to whine.

His lips continued to kiss at your cunt until you finally began to calm down, pussy growing sensitive and hips attempting to escape his touch as it grew too much. He'd hum, moving back up to lean over you until his lips met yours in a sweet kiss. It was slow and gentle, as if he was deliberately being soft with you.

"Meant what I said." He'd whisper against your lips, clean hand moving up to run over the side of your face, stroking your cheek tenderly with his thumb. "'M all yours, don't want anybody else like I want you, especially not Leah's bitchy friends." He'd grumble with a huff from his nose.

"Haven't wanted anybody else since we started... Only ever crave you, crave havin' you near me, crave your company." He'd explain, tongue momentarily sliding into your mouth, causing you to hum when you tasted yourself on it. Then, he'd pause, as if silently debating over something.

"I don't normally do the whole relationship thing, never thought I'd be any good at it." He'd admit quietly, leaning back to look at you beneath him. "But I want that with you. Want to know that you're mine, want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours." He'd confess almost shyly. You'd go silent for a while, causing him to frown and huff. "You don't have to say anything-"

You'd cut him off by pulling him down into another kiss, this one faster, more excited and passionate. "Yeah." You'd sigh. "I'd like that." You could feel him smile, genuinely smile, against your lips, causing your heart to flutter.

"Good." He'd growl. "Was gonna have to kill you if you said no."

[usedpidemo]

Savior (aespa Karina)

“Someone help me. Please!”

“Scream as loud as you can, no one’s coming to save you, princess.”

“That’s right. So just be a good girl and give us your money.”

“Help!”

It’s at this point where, against your better judgment, you stop dead in your tracks. The damsel in distress’s right behind you, backed into a corner by two bullies. Her possessions are strewn all over the floor, purposefully kicked out of her reach. There hasn’t been much physical harm done to the girl, but she looks to be the delicate type—someone who’s bound to crumble and break after a few hits.

Looking over your shoulder, the two students spot you and turn their attention against you immediately, recognizing you as a threat. “Hey,” says the first student, stepping forward to intimidate you with his burly physique. “This has nothing to do with you. Run along if you don’t want to join this loser over here.”

“Yeah. Don’t go around acting tough just cause you got two other guys with you. Just keep it pushing,” says the second thug, lankier in figure, in agreement with his partner.

Standing your ground, you steel your resolve, having no intention to run. In fact, it’s the complete opposite: you’re down for a fight. Your two companions also follow suit.

“So you wanna be a hero? You’re gonna regret it,” the first bully says, cracking his fists, ready to swing. “Oh, you’re so gonna regret it!”

That is to say, he’s the one who’s about to regret his life choices.

Like a raging bull, the thug lunges toward you, only for you to swiftly kick his legs from underneath, sending him flying across the hallway before he violently lands head first on the ground, most certainly giving him a concussion. He’s done.

The second bully tries to throw a follow-up punch, but you stop its momentum with one hand. Twisting it sideways, the bones crack loud, immediately followed by a screech of pain from his lungs. He drops to the floor in agony, holding his bent knuckle with his healthy arm.

“Oh—oh God—oh fuck—fuck—” Tears flowing from his eyes, he grovels in extreme discomfort, unable to stand before you. “What are you—”

“Now run,” you order, and he promptly complies, hopping off the ground, then fleeing in the opposite direction.

All that’s left is the girl. She had been watching the entire time. She’s overjoyed.

“Y-you saved me,” she says, tone relieved and her spirits held high. “How can I thank you—”

“Don’t push it,” you tell her, already walking away with your companions, waving her off. You don’t help her as she gathers her belongings. “Don’t get yourself in danger next time.”

Part of you already has second thoughts saving this girl. Jimin, the name written on her ID, is undeniably pretty, but you have nothing to gain from this encounter—or from her. She’s only studying in this university on a scholarship, and it shows in her appearance: she’s not the cleanest, nor is as well dressed as everyone else on campus. At best, you’ll probably get called into the office regarding this incident, as well as getting another target placed on your back by those bullies.

None of which are worth a drop of your concern. You can study anywhere else; you have the resources and the connections courtesy of your rich family, and the two companions by your side are your trusted bodyguards that have been with you since childhood. You can honestly live out your whole life without even lifting a finger. Generational wealth is the ultimate lifehack.

And yet, you’re in college at the behest of your parents, who spend more time abroad than at home. This is you going through the motions, looking after yourself.

After the next class, right as everyone’s packing their things and exiting, you spot her again. Jimin’s natural beauty is a lovely sight for the eyes. It’s only now do you realize you’ve shared at least one class with her. Maybe more; you’re too oblivious to the world around you to really notice. You only care about the bell that rings at the top of the hour so you can finally go home.

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly calls out to you, having noticed you glancing at her every now and then. You attempt to feign ignorance, but she approaches you and seizes your hand, catching you red-handed. “Can I speak to you, please?”

She sounds too nice to turn away. You’d be in the wrong to ignore her.

Still, you won’t fully look at her, the glint in her eyes blinding. You can only pray this is a brief exchange. “Sure. But make it quick.”

“I just want to say thank you—for earlier,” she says, her voice warm and sincere. She’s shaking your hand in appreciation; you allow her. “I’m not as rich as everyone else here, as you can see.” She looks down at her modest wear, apologetic about her appearance for some reason, “So—I don’t really have much. I’m only here on a scholarship—”

“Right.” You interrupt her, trying your hardest not to sound annoyed or bothered, though some of that impatience permeates through your filter. “Anything else you wanna say?”

Jimin becomes flustered, seemingly aroused by your low voice. A brief glance reveals her cheeks flushed red, her body trembling anxiously. She can’t have her way with words, either. “S-sorry. I just wanna say if you need help with schoolwork or anything, my services are available! My grades are good, I promise! That’s all. Again, thanks and see you around!”

Before you can even say a word or call her name, she already has one foot out the door, along with her belongings.

—————

One look at the student database proves her point: Yu Jimin, nickname Karina, might be what she advertised: an academic genius.

Her grades are mostly in the mid nineties across the board, if not low nineties. She’s only a year away from graduating—alongside you. The offer lingers on your mind, positively tempting.

“Sir, this just seems like a waste of money,” your one bodyguard turned hacker tells you, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. “There are more reputable tutors with better qualifications we can fly in from across the country if you really need a personal tutor. Also, your grades are good as they are. You don’t seem to be struggling with any specific major or subject right now. There’s no reason for this.”

“Yeah, and whose money are we spending?” you reply, annoyed at his admittedly sensible comment. 

“What will your family say about this?”

“Did I ask to be enrolled in this university? This course? Besides, they’ve never shown up for any of my graduations! I doubt this will be any different in a year or so. Go find her number so I can contact her.”

Sighing in defeat, he eventually acquiesces. They have to. “Of course, sir.”

—————

The next day on campus, Karina’s seated at the dining hall with her friends. Her eyes can only focus on one thing, or in this case, one man: the person that saved her yesterday. 

“You’re serious? Him?” Ningning looks concerned about her friend. She’s glaring at him with plenty of skepticism. They all know who he is. Not Karina, though. “That guy’s no good at all.”

“What are you saying?” she looks at her, puzzled at her comment. “He really did save me from those bullies. Don’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, but like—he’s not a good person!” Giselle frowns at the man, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her hands. “He’s a chaebol kid. He’s seriously no good! I’ve heard he gets into fights often; that's why he has bodyguards to intimidate anyone who tries to oppose him.”

“Rumor says he’s in cahoots with some crime syndicate—or at least his dad is,” Minjeong interjects, more trepid than anything. “That’s how he got his money. Who knows what kind of evil they might be doing!”

“But he was nice to me yesterday! If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have tried to save me, you know?” Karina stubbornly pays no heed, insisting her case to them, despite their growing frustration and fright. “You guys are overthinking this way too much.”

“It’s just so he can gaslight you into believing he’s a good guy. Please, Karina, he’s not what you think he is.” Ningning implores for her to listen, but to no avail.

“We’re not saying he’s truly bad, but there are signs,” Minjeong adds, agreeing with Ningning. “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look—if he’s actually a bad guy, I’m running, all right? I’m ditching him right then and there, no questions asked.” Karina reassures them, hoping to calm them down right as the man approaches their table. “He’s coming right now.”

While the others silently avoid any form of contact or communication with you, hiding their not so subtle disdain, she happily waves. “Hi. Did you think about it?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, nodding. “I’m interested.”

“Really?” Karina’s eyes gleam at the opportunity. “What do you need help with?”

“Lots. I’ll tell you after class.” Knowing her friends are evidently uncomfortable with your presence, you simply walk past her and through the cafeteria door. “See you around.”

“Bye!” she waves at you again, delighted that you’ve taken up on her offer.

When it’s clear that you’re no longer in sight, Karina’s friends turn to her in utter disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re not going to—”

“I will.”

“Oh, God dammit.”

“Karina, please.”

—————

Later that day, Karina’s waiting by the campus parking lot, holding on to the promise of you showing up. It’s been almost an hour since classes ended and there’s no sign of you anywhere nearby. It looks like you’ll leave her out to dry, until—

“Miss Karina.” A man calls out to her from inside a luxurious car. As the windows roll down, she recognizes the driver as one of your companions. One of the rear doors automatically swings open. “Please step inside.”

Without a second thought, she enters the vehicle before it drives away.  

During the ride, the bodyguard asks her a question. “Does Miss Yu have a drink preference?”

She’s slowly taking it all in, flustered at how you’re treating her so generously. It’s overwhelming at times. “N-no. I’m not really a drinker. W-where’s—”

“He has already gone ahead. He’s preparing the house ahead of your arrival. When we get there, you will change clothes before meeting him. At his request, I have been assigned as your personal assistant and driver.”

“Y-you? Assistant?” She can hardly believe it. “Wow…”

Karina is rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. She’s taken aback at her sudden change in predicament. It’s a Cinderella story through and through. The only missing element is some antagonistic force threatening to end this fantasy abruptly, but that’s the least of her worries. What’s more concerning is how she’ll compose herself before you.

Especially when she sees the scale of your house upon arriving. She’s never seen wealth this exceedingly open and grand.

There’s no time to admire the opulence, however. She’s brought inside hastily by your bodyguard. Inside, a team of stylists are waiting, rushing her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms for a complete overhaul. They’re careful to measure her hair, her size, her everything. Everything is done on the spot, with next to nothing in terms of personal input from Karina herself.

—————

You hear it. The gentle, careful steps of heels clicking. Karina’s ready. So are you.

Turning around to welcome her, you’ve got this whole speech practiced and memorized, with a card hidden in your pocket for good measure. Instead, you end up tongue tied; her presence proves overwhelming to the senses. You can only stare in awe. All black dress and matching heels aside, she looks like an angel descended from heaven. Without blemish, without any sort of imperfection. She’s unreal. 

Any less of a person you are and you would have fallen to your knees on the spot, groveling on the ground when Karina walks forward, ignoring how nervous she is as you. She modestly smiles, carefully twiddling her fingers. She doesn’t recognize how pretty she is.

It becomes all the more embarrassing when Karina makes the first move. “I knew you were rich, but not this rich.” Her eyes are glancing around the expansive room, admiring all the little details, thankfully dismissing how speechless you are.

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to blurt out, unsure of what to say. In her sight, you’re her hero, her knight in shining armor that can seemingly do no wrong. Meanwhile, you’re overcompensating your lack of social skills by hiding behind a shallow enigma and as much vanity as possible. “Not exactly my money, to be fair. My parents raised me like this.”

You’re trying not to look anywhere in her direction—whether that be her pretty eyes, her warm smile, or her shapely figure in that body-hugging dress. It’s the only way you can function normally without completely falling apart.

“So—you’re gonna introduce me to them?” she asks, her tone saccharine and innocent. 

“I wish,” you reply, sighing wistfully thinking about their absence throughout most of your formative years. She’s unaware; you’ll let the insensitive question slide. Only for her. So you immediately change the topic. “Let’s go outside. Our dinner is waiting for us.”

You reach out your hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation. In your mind, you’re already jumping around, performing cartwheels in celebration, with fireworks blasting everywhere. For the most part, you’ve been punching up, failing to impress girls unimpressed with your wealth and are far beyond your reach. Everyone else in that campus would kill to be in Karina’s position right now, but something about her caught your eye that no one has. 

The purity in this girl’s heart is something else. 

Outside, a table full of hearty food is set before you two, a candle lit at its center. Sitting her down on one end before joining her at the other, it’s only background dressing for conversation. She refuses to eat, struggling to make sense of all this. The appeal behind all this luxury is wearing off at an alarming rate.

“What’s up? Not hungry?” you gently ask, already making predictions of her answer. Your designated assistant for her is on standby for anything she wants.

“Not really,” she says, her eyes staring back, wide, accompanied with her innocuous smile. A direct attack on your heart. “I’m—here for tutoring first. I don’t know what this is all for.”

“Yeah. You are here to help me,” you tell her, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, already in a state of panic. “I’m just—” you swallow a sudden lump in your throat, “welcoming you since it’s your first time visiting.”

“Like, I think this is really cool! I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t afford any of this.” Karina’s trying not to put any more pressure on you, but it’s really doing the exact opposite: you’re already seeing signs of a terrible end. “I just thought you were nice because you saved me from those bullies, you know? That’s it.”

“Yeah. I know,” you reply, looking down as the awkward air between you grows larger and larger. See, she has a point: it was never about asking for help, nor was it ever about improving your grades. It was always about her. Something changed overnight. You simply don’t know how to directly convey those feelings. 

“So—let’s just keep things between us simple,” Karina proposes. She rises from her seat, walking over with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m here to help you with whatever project, research, whatever—you only have to pay for my services. Is that good enough?”

“Wait. Karina let me ask one thing,” you say, finally mustering the courage to look her directly in the eye. 

“What is it?”

“Your friends,” you rapidly blink, “What did they say about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Her answer is delivered bluntly, straight to the point.

“They think I’m a bad guy, right?”

“N-no,” Karina stammers. That’s where you catch her. “They never said anything like that—”

Suddenly dragging her by the arm down to your level, you whisper in her ear, “Don’t have to lie, princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s only between us. Promise.”

Karina’s unsure of what to do. She’s quietly keening, lightly sweating, looking around for an out. The points her friends made are starting to make sense, but there’s nothing substantial—not yet.

After taking a moment, she folds. “They think your dad’s working with a syndicate. That’s it! There’s nothing else—”

You lightly shove her away, immediately concealing your face in the opposite direction. You didn’t expect her to catch on quickly. Karina’s utterly shocked by what you just did to her, cupping her cheek.

Empathy overrides every other thought.

“Sorry. I just—” You immediately approach her with a handkerchief, immediately assessing the damages, what little they might be. Karina takes a step back, trembling with fear.

“So, it’s true after all.” Her eyes widen. Gone is that sweet innocence; taking its place is a heightened sense of panic. “You’re really a bad guy—”

“Wait, Karina.” You raise a delicate hand, your voice as calm and little as possible. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

“Go on,” she says, cautiously wary, readying herself to run at any given moment. “But say it quickly,”

Stretching your body out to pursue her, examining her every move, every muscle. It didn’t have to end up like this. Surely, there are safer, more inconsequential ways to explain yourself. What a first date you’ve gotten into.

“It’s—not exactly what you think,” you tell her. Out of all the things to begin your justification, you’ve picked the worst possible choice.

“Really?” Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t buy it. “What’s with the reaction, then?”

Hesitating, you’re scrambling to find a believable reason, only to find just one option: the truth. “I—well—your friends are right, but—my dad doesn’t have anything to do with criminals!”

“So it’s you who’s dealing with them?” she replies, her brows furrowing, glaring at you.

“It’s nothing really serious, though. And I’m not involved with anything either! Believe me, I’m not going to get you hurt!”

Throughout this tense exchange, you’ve both made your way back to the house, one big step at a time.

“Trust me when I say: the only reason why I helped you was because I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Goddamn it—this is why I shouldn’t have stepped in, fuck—”

“You did that because—” she pauses, “you cared about me? For real?”

“I guess so,” you say, nodding vehemently, both your hands still raised high starting to ache. “I don’t do that for anyone! My bodyguards tell me to ignore what’s happening, but I just can’t stand someone as pretty as you getting hurt like that.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” Karina blinks, coming out twinkling and doe-eyed at the sudden revelation.

Secret’s out. There’s nothing to hide anymore.

Pausing, you admit, nodding much less energetically, silently cursing yourself spilling your innermost thoughts so casually, “Well, yes. I think you’re beautiful. All the more now.”

Karina stops moving. Her wariness is turning back to more open and willing caution. “So—this was really all for me.”

You continue to nod, this time in agreement. She still has so many questions. About you, your family, your income, your secret dealings. Clearly, her friends are onto something, whether by luck or by some past experience; not a hundred percent, but at least five to ten. It would be rash and irrational to completely trust every word you’ve said. No amount of kindness can possibly make up for the worry you’ve given her—

“Come here,” she says, lunging forward to wrap you in a sudden, tight embrace. Before you can comprehend anything else, her lips are pressed deeply against yours, sealing your fate with a passionate kiss. 

That’s where it should have stopped. A better person would have pushed her away, taken things slowly, spoken her through the terms of engagement. Even Karina said it herself; this is a transactional relationship. But seeing as you’re taking lease of her back, as well as her waist, tasting her saccharine lips—it appears as if she’s reneged on her word. 

You feel her tongue slip between your mouth, humming these incomprehensible delightful sounds your ears want to hear. It isn’t accidental; the taste takes you by surprise. Can’t show a little weakness, even if you’re close to buckling under the rapid growing pressure. The way she pours herself into the kiss, how she pushes you closer inch by inch—you can tell she’s wanted this. To be treated like a princess, to be treated right. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from the wrong influence, the only thing she sees is your willingness to take her with open arms.

The only thing pulling you away from her is the ceaseless ringing from a phone.

Karina pulls a phone from her skirt pocket, her eyes tilting down, fingers moving with urgency, furiously typing on the screen. Her cheeks burn a rosy red, ashamed of having to put herself first in this situation. She’s smiling innocently at you, a sight you’ve grown to love even more. You understand if she tells you she’s leaving; you’ve already got her ride home on standby.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing buttons, hearing the ringer beep as the message is sent. “I’m still living with my parents, so—” Looking around, she’s shaking her arms loose. “I don’t think I can spend the night here, or come home looking like this—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut her off, confident, if not a little smug. “Neither of those things are gonna happen. I’ll get your ride ready and your clothes taken care of. But it’s still a little bit early,” you say, glancing at your watch, grinning at the time. It’s barely past seven in the evening. 

“I told them I’d be home by around ten tonight,” she remarks, putting her phone away, her gaze returning to you.

“That’s all the time we need.”

—————

Like the gentleman she thinks you are, you escort Karina up the stairs, hand in tow, leading her to your bedroom. Once the door is slammed shut and tightly locked, you immediately drop the act, and you’re back to kissing her passionately again.

You can’t be any less patient. Only a few minutes have passed, and you’re already dreading the end. The feeling of letting her go, of having to go back to your normal life the moment she walks through that door. You can’t imagine interacting like normal students again. Most importantly, you can’t imagine being the bad guy in everyone else’s eyes.

Karina brings out both the best and worst impulses from you. Abruptly breaking the kiss, you shove her onto the mattress, issuing a simple command. “Take that dress off.”

It’s been the only thing racing through your mind ever since. This divine, angelic figure straight out of heaven—effortlessly shining, effortlessly wearing the simple piece like she’s meant to be a canvas to be painted and used.

Gracefully rising from the bed, Karina looks you dead in the eye. Taking one strap in her hand, she pulls it down her shoulder, then the other. Reaching around her back, gravity does the rest. The garment smoothly rides down her body, revealing inch after inch of her skin, until she’s reduced to only her panties. 

Kicking the expensive fabric aside, along with her heels, Karina’s near naked presence demands worship.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you’re able to say, and it’s apt—fuck is the only thing you want to do to her. Hard. Fast. Without care for comfort or concern. 

Your eyes have no fixed area to rest on. When it comes to Karina, every little part of her is a treat for the senses, whether it be her slim waist, her tummy, her slender legs. But nothing captures and retains the attention quicker than her well-endowed breasts. So huge, so pliable, you can only wonder in amazement at how she’s been able to keep them secret for the longest time.

“Something wrong?” Karina asks, snapping you from your mindless daze, her tiny voice a contrast to the sheer sexiness she’s radiating just by standing there in the nude. God, she’s so blissfully unaware that you’re oh so obviously focused on her tits only; it’s endearing and sweet.

“Nothing. You’re perfect, actually.” Try as you might, you can only linger on her chest, watching them stare back, inviting you to come closer. Her nipples are taut and rigid, ripe for the taking.

The comment makes her face blush brighter. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, your pants already halfway down, shedding them along with your boxers. You’re imagining how they would feel sandwiched between your cock; you can’t help it. You’re stroking yourself to hardness, made substantially easier thanks to the image before you. “Has anyone told you you have perfect tits, Karina?”

“I’ve heard it here and there,” she says, delivered so casually, like it’s something she hears everyday—as she rightfully should. “I guess people sometimes notice through my baggy clothing.”

Pumping your shaft till you’re fully erect, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Button up shirt and coat thrown away carelessly and readily forgotten. Karina takes the hint and slips off her panties, putting you both on equal footing. Creeping toward her, you press your finger on her chin, nuzzling your forehead against hers, setting the mood with a quick peck of her lips. There’s so much you want to do, visualizing all the possibilities with a body like hers.

“I want to touch you,” you tell her, tone low, sultry. Your hand traces down her collarbones, pointing out where they want to be: on her chest. 

“Go. Anything you want, but promise me one thing,” she replies, mimicking your inflection. Any request sounds so much hotter in her voice.

There’s zero hesitation. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll pour all that cum deep inside me. I’ve been in relationships before. Just—give me a good fucking.”

“I will,” you say, kissing her passionately on the lips, your hands firmly pressed on her tits, watching Karina’s eyes close and open in slow motion. Going down, you leave kisses on her neck, collarbones, before reaching your intended destination: her chest. Burying yourself between her breasts, clamping down on her rigid nipple, forcing a sharp cry out of Karina’s saccharine lips. “I love these fucking tits, Karina. I love them so—so—much.”

“Please.” She coos up to the ceiling, grabbing you by the hair, pressing you further into them, intending to suffocate you—which is a demise you’ll happily go out on. Gasping, panting, struggling to keep herself steady, you both collapse onto the bed, allowing you to fully drink in her breasts. Darting your tongue, sucking on her stiff tits, sloppily leaving wet marks on her otherwise porcelain skin. “So—fucking—needy—”

Karina’s right. You’ve got her pinned down on the sheets like she’s prey, devouring her like a hungry animal. Giving her tits equal attention, going back and forth til you’re satisfied—which will never happen. Not with breasts as delicious as hers. Muffled by her bosom, you can only grunt and groan in appreciation, forgoing your ability to speak to keep satiating your unquenchable need. You love how her skin folds, how they crush in your hands. Squeezing them like your personalized stress balls, making her squeamish and erratic underneath you.

Meanwhile, she can only stick her head out, keening and mewling helplessly as you drown yourself in the heat of her breasts, without care for her personal comfort or yours. 

It’s always been part of you—greed. It’s what you were raised on. How you selfishly desire something and will stop at nothing until it’s in your grasp, no matter how little it has in value or how many resources are wasted. Not Karina. She’s one in a million—a diamond in the rough. A treasure worth cherishing over everything else, and you’d give up everything for her without a second thought.

Kissing down her rather tiny figure, her tummy, until you reach the depths of her aching core, already in heat. Looking up at her, so wrecked, so utterly incapacitated, you sink further—and she cries out in pain and in pleasure.

Propping her thighs up in the air, spreading her legs that extra inch wider, Karina cries, cries, and cries. Your tongue sucks away at her sticky nectar, her quivering core, putting immense pressure on her most sensitive spots. Soaking up just how wet she becomes with each passing second, you’ll happily drown in her skin. You love how she clenches, how she throbs and moans a pitch higher with every pass, every lap of your tip against her pussy brings her ever closer to her end.

Had it been anyone else, you would have finished right there. Make them unwind and cum all over your face as you indulge yourself with their juices, then leave them out to dry right after. Instead, you muster up the willpower to restrain yourself, reemerging from the depths of her cunt, before kissing up the path you’ve marked along. You can never grow tired of admiring and worshipping Karina’s breasts. 

Brushing loose strands of hair aside to get a look at her pretty face, glowing brilliantly even under duress. Whispering against her ear, you tell her, “Gonna fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” she says, breathless, gasping—and heaving—for air. “Please give it all to me.”

“Always.”

Slowly dragging your cock between her folds, your usually stiff expression gradually disintegrates upon vicious entry, unable to endure how tight she feels. The pulse and flex of her walls pulls you apart in every direction, her cunt threatening to snap you with one wrong move. Every little bit of resolve counts. Your fingers intertwine with hers, holding her down in place, even though she’s nowhere close to fighting back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; she wants to be taken and used.

The cry of your name escapes from Karina’s lips, delivered like a call for help. A plea. It bounces around the room, echoing repeatedly in your head, the imagery instantly seared into your brain. 

“You fill me so fucking well,” she says, breath hot and heavy, her jaw agape as you hover atop her head. Her eyes snap wide open, on the verge of tears, “Does my pussy feel good? Does it feel so tight around you?”

You’re struggling to keep yourself together, showing signs of falling apart. You’re breathing heavily, only nodding back in agreement. The inability to move your body, desiring to stay inside her warmth out of fear it’ll prematurely ruin the moment speaks volumes. It’s a clearer response than any word can ever answer. 

Karina lightly rolls her hips forward, the friction far too great to remain still. You can only draw back in painstakingly slow motion, as if pulling a piece out of a collapsible tower. Even so, the feeling leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, the suffocating sensation quickly overwhelming the rest of your functional senses.

This little push is more than enough to set you snowballing further down. Thrusting back inside her heat, her fresh wetness allows you an easier passage in and out of her quivering pussy. Between calculated, deep breaths, you watch Karina take every inch of your cock without any resistance, letting these profanities and praises slip from her lips instinctively, punctuated by the growing echo of your skin slapping skin.

It becomes effortless rather quickly. The slide in and out of her heat. The pace more than enough to let all the ecstasy sink in. How she immediately relinquishes any semblance of control to you. Karina’s glued to the bed by your hands, her body rocking with every stroke, her tits jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that captures your eyes. So perfect. So right. 

Unknowingly, she’s driving you mad. A little bounce isn’t gonna satiate you at this point. One poorly timed blink and you’ll be punishing yourself for it. There’s no going back. You needed more of her. 

As the bed violently creaks below, so does Karina’s tiny figure. As quickly as you’ve found the perfect rhythm to pound her, you just as quickly abandon it. Something about her brings out the best and worst in you, and you clearly see why. It’s the bounce—that damned ripple of her breasts, swinging up and down forcing your hips harder against her, threatening to break her. Her words turn to loud cries—of pleasure, of pain, and everything else in between. 

“More—oh, baby, please—” she keens, her eyes still completely shut, her lips twisting and contorting, struggling to find her words. Freely offering herself to you no strings attached, she takes it—and takes it all. “Harder—I’m so fucking close—please—”

It’s a request you’re more than eager to oblige.

Taking purchase of her back with one hand, lifting her slightly, and grabbing her breast with the other, you’re hammering away at her hot cunt, gasping. Squeezing her flesh, hearing her whine, turning her usually pale flesh red while her arms find solace on your shoulder—anything to keep your rapidly dwindling resolve from dissolving entirely. The end is imminent; you can only delay it by mere moments, minutes at best. 

Karina is so dangerously close, as she said—and as much as you hate to admit, so are you. 

It’s a race that you don’t want to win. As much as you want to keep it together for longer, your body says otherwise. You can’t stop fucking her, no matter how hard you wish to try—and even if you did, why would you even contemplate the idea; your thoughts mostly comprise of how incredibly good she feels around your cock, how they pulsate and grip you with every thrust. Moving inside her is second nature at this point. You eventually lay her back down, only so she takes every inch of you when it eventually happens.

“Don’t stop—don’t ever stop—” she pleads, as if your own mind wasn’t enough to invalidate the idea. Her nails cling to your scalp and neck, barely hanging on for dear life. She’s trembling, uncontrollably jerking beneath. Even she herself doesn’t want it to end. “So good—oh God—”

A handful of thrusts later, Karina cums, with your cock buried in the crevice of her cunt. 

Once again, her voice shoots up to the sky upon impact, screaming your name, her head tilted far back as the sheets allow her to. Jaw widely slack, her neck and collarbone exposed, she can’t stop trembling through her climax. Writhing in your grasp, she lets out a prolonged moan till her vocal cords flame out, her chest heaving for much needed oxygen. 

It doesn’t stop you from pounding into her pussy, even as it overflows with her slickness. If anything, it only accelerates your own demise. The wetness overload coating your cock proves to be overbearing for what little spunk you have left. 

“Me too, Karina—” you blurt out, hammering into her, gasping, bracing for impact as well. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

Your own peak overtakes you, rendering you speechless. Everything comes to a standstill. All you can do is bury yourself inside the absolute depths of her pussy, make her take every load, every drop. 

Filling the air with a harmonious moan as it hits you, your cock throbbing achingly, full of all that repressed need, and then—release. 

Spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum you pour into her womb, not wasting a single drop. Karina cries and moans with every shot, while you can only groan a deep groan from your lungs. She takes it up, milking you of all your worth till you can’t anymore. Even as she drains you empty, you can’t stop pounding into her cunt, slowing your movements back to a grinded out pace till your orgasm dies, and so does your strength.

“That’s it—that’s all I needed—so, so good—”

Karina sighs, her fingers digging deep into your neck, dragging them across your shoulders, then sliding down your arms right after. She can barely open her eyes, only to find you slowly crashing into her, leaning your head to the side so you can rest beside her. Even your hips stop moving. You only have enough energy to wrap an arm around her tiny frame before you finally collapse under your own weight.

“You still have to take me home,” she whispers, mindful of your ear directly next to her, delivered in that oh so saccharine tone. 

“I know,” you mutter through the sheets, eliciting a gentle chuckle from her. Karina’s the one coming out of this in a better state. 

“Can you do something for me? Please?” 

She didn’t need to say the word, but it certainly helps her case tenfold.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need you to drive me home.” Karina dips her head at an angle to face you. “Not your bodyguards. You.”

Tilting upward to get a good look at her, you lift a curious eyebrow. “I don’t mind—but why?”

“I just—” she faces away, pausing, breathing heavily. She’s about to say something she’ll regret. “Think it would be safer, yeah? Besides, I wouldn’t wanna be caught by my parents just being dropped off by people in suits.”

“Oh right.” 

“I mean this is nice and all but—” Karina stops again, lightly brushing your arm away. A reminder that wealth does not equate to relationship. “I think we’d be better off if we kept things strictly professional. You didn’t have to do all this. You were kind to me and that’s more than enough.”

You roll onto your back, staring up directly at the ceiling. You can only hope Karina is doing the same. She shouldn’t see how deflated you look—after you fucked her, no less.

“Karina, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You don’t know exactly what to say. You’re only thinking about the what ifs and the what could, expecting the worst. So you look away, unable to face her a second longer.

Moments later, you feel the sudden tug of her embrace, a leg wrapped around yours. The softest kisses on your shoulder. You can feel her soft smile pressed against your neck. She’s cuddled up on you, intent on never letting go.

“Just keep being kind.”

—————

In the days ahead, it was about saving face. 

Karina’s wish has seemingly been lost in translation and disregarded, as you’ve been putting distance from her. Any little sign that she’s around is your signal to leave. It helps when you have two extra pairs of eyes keeping watch and alerting you at once.

All this to reinforce the same statement you’ve heard from her friends: that you’re no good whatsoever. 

Cautiously eavesdropping on their conversation through your unassuming bodyguards, you hear Karina’s distress over your earpiece, lamenting to her sisters about your absence in her life.

“I seriously don’t understand you. Are you deaf? Are you stupid?” says Ningning, vindicated about her stance. “He ghosted you. They always do that! Not just him! Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Please trust us. Rina, we’re worried about you,” adds Giselle, her tone showing more empathy and concern. “There’s no use in worrying about a man after you did—that.”

“No no. I want to believe,” Karina replies, insistent on you, ignoring all the red flags being waved around. “He really appreciates the affection I gave him. I have to. He seems like a good person in heart—”

“Ugh—here we go again with that good guy shit,” interjects Ningning, frustrated at her friend’s stubbornness. You hear a powerful thud, presumably from a table getting slammed in anger. “He isn’t a good guy! God, Karina, this is why you get bullied—”

“Hey, Ning. Let’s not go that far,” Giselle interrupts, her tone low. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Dead silence follows, seemingly lasting an eternity. And then—

“Good job, Ning. She left and you made us look bad in front of everyone else,” Giselle adds, breaking the vast stillness, huffing before the audio goes quiet again.

“All the girls have left the cafeteria,” says your first bodyguard, the one you’ve assigned to Karina the first time.

“That’ll be all. Great work,” you tell them over the earpiece before disconnecting. 

You’re not hiding anywhere inside campus. In fact, you’ve been resting in the comfort of your own home the entire time. On your phone’s screen is Karina’s number, having been registered in your contacts since last week. Not once have you bothered messaging her, let alone call—yet you constantly return to it. With each passing day, the temptation to press that button grows stronger and stronger. 

You place your phone down on the desk, as if that’s gonna change anything. Seconds later, it’s in your hand, still on those 10 digits. Calling to you, as if her very voice is somehow playing through those tiny speakers. It’s all in your head, yet it feels vivid through your senses.

It all but confirms your own feelings: you can’t move on, and neither can she.

You’re looking around, even though not a soul’s in sight, convincing yourself to turn back before you fall further down. Seeing as there’s not a form of opposition, whatsoever, you pull the trigger, consequences be damned.

In the few seconds between calling the number and her imminent responding, you’re hoping she doesn’t answer. That she sees her friends’ points, to prove that you’re in the right by leaving her to dry.

All it takes is a few key words.

“Hey. I missed you.”

—————

There’s a lot to take in, but first—you swallow your own pride. This is your own doing, after all.

Looking out the window from your couch, it’s already night. Last time you checked, the sun had only begun setting; that was four hours ago, apparently. Meanwhile, Karina lies flat on the bed, every part of her mindlessly used, mindlessly fucked. Her skin gleaming, blemished in a sea of fiery red and sticky white. Her clothes scattered all over the house, their purpose rendered obsolete the moment she walked back in. You were standing there—waiting, expecting. Along with her body, came a simple request, in her words:

“Take me like you fucking missed me.”

Delivered straight to the point, Karina is something else. She’s twisted and cruel in her own way. To make such a demand in the sweetest voice possible—you can only chalk it up to witchcraft. And to think she was the one who wanted to keep things professional.

Any intentions to study and help with projects and research was a complete lie—it was more of a roundabout way for you to get inside her, over and over again. If anything, her body was the primary object of interest. 

All the ways you can fuck her, how she wants it—anything to get you to cum in her pussy. And that’s exactly what you did.

Spearing your hips against her frame, you find that Karina is so flexible, malleable to your every whim. How she complies without complaint or moment of hesitation, propping herself in whatever position your mind thought of in the moment, and there’s a few you were dying to try. On her fours, with her legs spread wide, on her knees, making an example out of her. So utterly shameless.

And God, she takes it all quite effortlessly, like it’s second nature to her. Milking you dry with her cunt, with her mouth, making you cum with some friction from her tits—everything is a little too easy. Taking just one look at her perfectly sculpted figure, it makes a lot of sense. Yet, Karina has to explain to everyone else why she can’t walk properly in the morning.

A week’s worth of repressed desires and wanton needs, completely gone in a few short hours. It may as well have been a year, maybe two, since you last met. 

You can only watch from a distance, from your couch, as everything falls apart. Even a single second that you’re at arm’s length and she’d be burying your grave deeper. As if it’s gonna change tonight’s outcome.

Like a reanimated corpse coming back to life, Karina rises from the bed, assessing the damage. It’s quite a lot. She’s an absolute wreck.

“I think I may have gone too far in some places,” you remark, observing her take your cum into her mouth with her finger. 

“I don’t believe that,” she says, taking another scoop and savoring the taste, flashing her pasty white tongue. You instinctively avert your gaze, much to her amusement.

“Christ—Karina, what happened to setting boundaries?” you ask, genuinely concerned. Even if it’s for one night, that’s all it takes for everything to snowball out of control. “I don’t think we can do this on the regular, even if I wanted to.”

“True,” she tells you, matter-of-factly, before stepping on the ground and pacing towards you, limping, barely recovering, “But I got nothing else except you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve genuinely changed my life,” she says, propping her hands to her knees to lean forward. “No one bullies me anymore. Because they think I’m your girl. I’m your possession.”

The way Karina calls herself yours gives you goosebumps. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” she continues, tracing a finger down her drenched core, splayed and ruined—your handiwork—before rubbing her slick against your arm, eventually pushing it between your lips. You allow her. Her voice turns a pitch lower with each sentence. “I can’t express how much I need you right now.”

Sinking further back into your seat, you slowly tilt your face towards her, greatly alarmed. “You’re scaring me a little, Rina. We really should—”

She places that same finger between your lips, now to shut you up. Pressing herself forward, straddling on your lap, she makes sure her cum-soaked tits are directly in view of your face, threatening to smother you between them. Her smile is the cherry on top, inviting you to relax the senses and let yourself go in that familiar lust once again. “We can talk about this—on the other side.”

And before you know it, Karina’s riding you hard, with your face buried deep between her chest, worshiping her. You had no chance.

The next time you gain awareness, you’re back in bed, cuddled beside her. With her back against yours, she’s soundly asleep, despite the repeated calls from her phone and your supposed agreement to have her home by ten. 

It’s already half past midnight.

“Goddammit, Rina,” you mutter, eliciting a light shudder as your hot breath tickles her skin. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Karina tells you, as if you aren’t gonna be doing this again tomorrow—and the next night, and the one after. “My parents aren’t home,” she adds, clearly lying through her teeth.

“We seriously need to talk about this,” you tell her, rolling out of bed, scrambling for a fresh pair of clothes from the nearby closet. Meanwhile, Karina remains lying on your bed. She has no intention to leave. You have to reiterate again, “What happened to setting boundaries?”

Even the simple act of propping herself up draws your attention, more so in the nude, especially when she’s glistening in your sheen. The question amuses her; look at her teasing expression, ready to fire back. “You’re the one who called me here. So—”

“Jesus, Karina,” you sigh, working around the clock to get everything in order. Car’s ready, her clothes are in the wash. God willing, she’s actually telling the truth. “Why are you like this—”

She laughs—heartily.

—————

The next day on campus, you make it official. Sort of.

Karina’s friends are seated across the hall, their wary, foreboding gazes singling you out of the whole room. Intentions aside, you have no fight with any of them; it’s nothing personal. After all, it’s her choice. You’ll let them judge. You’re on your own for this one; you’ve told your bodyguards to leave you alone so as to make yourself look approachable in their eyes—even if there’s a negative chance they’ll ever buy it.

Then she enters the room, giving each one a kiss and a hug, as if they’re about to part ways for a long, long time. They’re overreacting; it’s not as though you’ll whisk her away and isolate her in some lonesome high castle.

You get a good look at her when she finally walks over. She’s wearing the new clothes you gave her last night. She makes your heart race with delight.

When she takes her seat directly opposite yours, you can’t help but silently remark, “They really don’t like me.”

She lightly chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking them to like me,” you tell her, smiling from ear to ear, reaching out your hand, which she accepts. “I’m just—hoping they’ll see me one day as you do.”

“Sure they will. I believe deep down, you’re really a sweet guy.” 

You lower your head, unable to face her, but your face tells it all.

“Just to be clear, you’re not gonna make me actually sign a contract?” Karina asks, puzzled about the need to meet up on campus specifically to set your boundaries. The truth is, anywhere else that wasn’t school would be a distraction.

“Of course not,” you say, baffled at the idea yourself. “Dad usually did the paperwork, and that seems really weird.”

“So is having sex shortly after saving the damsel in distress,” she says, smirking through each word, mentally patting herself on the back for that remark.

Shaking your head in disgust, she laughs at your annoyed expression. That never gets old.

“Right—so what are we then?” Karina leans forward, grabbing your stretched out hand, her eyes widening. She’s looking to kiss you—at least that’s what her face is doing.

Ruminating through your next words carefully, occasionally giving the corner behind her a glance, her friends running through your mind, you reply, “Let’s just say I’m your benefactor for now. I don’t really want anyone to get surprised, and let’s just say, I’m not ready to handle everything just yet. But I want to stay close with you.”

“So we’re friends?”

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Then there’s no need for this. Aren’t we already close?”

“Well I’m giving you money and clothes, in addition to letting you come over to my place once a week, so—”

Karina tugs your hand forward, interrupting you. “I don’t really need any of this. I just want you to treat me like anyone else. Like a friend. Just do that.”

You end up choking on your own words. Even when she’s admonishing you, Karina remains gentle in tone. And she knows how to bring the conversation around gracefully.

“So, what do you say we go out and have a snack later? After class?” 

With a lovely face and smile like hers, you’d be foolish to refuse her offer.

As the bell rings, you’re nodding in agreement when everyone stands up in unison, heading off to their next class. Karina leaves to regroup with her friends, but not without giving you a kiss goodbye as she walks through the door. You can only stare back—smiling.

Then you get a notification on your phone. A text from an anonymous number, seemingly demanding something urgently in all caps. Something about delayed shipments, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

Paying no heed to the message, you’re cancelling your plans for today to make room for your first date with Karina.

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Was supposed to drop around Christmas, but then the holidays got busy, and then literally the day after Christmas, my dumbass just had to get food poisoned and hospitalized. Oof. Just poor timing all around, damn.

Fun little prompt, I was feeling a little edgy writing this, not gonna lie. Definitely left some clues for when I wanna revisit it. Karina is unfathomably hot, and I'm starting to like aespa a lot lately. They've probably had the best year of any girl group, and it's well deserved. Thank you for reading!)

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could I request a Carlos one where he tries to get his daughter to talk but she doesn't want to. And when another Charles, her favourite uncle, passes by, she calls for him leaving everyone shocked cause it's her first time talking.

Thank youuuuuu 🥰

First words

The golden afternoon sun bathed the garden of Carlos’ hotel suite in a soft, warm glow. The gentle hum of laughter and idle conversation filled the air, mingling with the occasional chirp of birds overhead. It was a rare moment of calm during a busy race weekend, and Carlos had chosen to spend it exactly how he wanted—with his daughter.

Sixteen-month-old Yn was nestled safely between her father's legs on a soft blanket spread across the freshly cut grass. Carlos knelt behind her, his strong arms gently holding her around her tummy and her tiny hands wrapped around his fingers. He was humming softly in Spanish, a soothing melody only a doting father would sing. She stood wobbly but proud, her chubby legs doing their best to hold her weight. Her deep brown eyes—so much like her father’s—scanned the garden with quiet curiosity.

Carlos’ eyes rarely left her. He was attentive to every little shift, every blink, every sound. Yn was the center of his universe, and he treated her like the delicate miracle she was. His voice was soft, like a whisper of the breeze. “Mira mi corazón… you're doing so good standing, eh? Who's the strongest girl in the world? You are.”

“Still not talking, huh?” Lando teased gently, sitting cross-legged nearby and playing with a colorful stacking toy he'd brought out just for her. “You’re gonna keep all those words locked away until college?”

Carlos chuckled. “She’ll talk when she’s ready. Right, princesa?”

Yn blinked up at him and gave him one of her slow, thoughtful smiles. That smile always melted Carlos into a puddle of absolute mush.

Max stretched out lazily on his back, hands behind his head. “Bet the first thing she says is ‘paddock’. Or ‘DRS’.”

“Or ‘engine mode’,” George added from his spot by the garden chair, balancing a toy car on his knee.

Alex leaned forward from where he was sitting on the edge of the blanket. “No way. Her first word’s gonna be something totally normal. Like ‘banana’ or ‘dog’. Or maybe ‘tío Alex’.”

Fernando, seated with his sunglasses on and a juice box in hand, smirked. “You're all wrong. She's clearly waiting for the right moment to say something wise. She’s a Sainz baby. She knows better than to waste words on fools.”

“Oi,” Lando said, tossing a plush toy at him. “Are you calling me a fool?”

Fernando raised a brow. “If the shoe fits.”

Carlos shook his head fondly, shifting slightly to adjust Yn’s balance. “Alright, mi amor. We’ve got all your uncles here. Don’t you want to say something? Just one little word? Come on…” He leaned down to nuzzle her cheek gently, his scruffy stubble making her squeal and wiggle in delight.

“Papá,” he whispered, coaxing. “Can you say that? Pa-pá?”

“Or ‘Lando’?” Lando said, scooting closer and waving a plush duck. “I’m your favorite, right? Say ‘Lando’. Lan-do. Laaaaan-dooo.”

Yn looked at him like he had three heads.

“Maybe she just doesn’t like your face,” Max offered dryly.

“You’re not helping,” Carlos muttered, hiding a smile.

George clapped his hands gently. “What about ‘car’? Yn, can you say ‘car’? You love cars, don’t you?”

Alex tried next. “Or ‘treat’? You like treats, huh? Say ‘treat’ and I’ll give you a little biscuit.”

Yn blinked slowly and then turned to look up at her father again, resting her head against his chest. The boys let out a collective groan.

“Why is she so uninterested in all of us?” Lando asked dramatically, flopping onto the grass beside Max.

“She’s just not ready,” Carlos said, running a hand down Yn’s back. “She’ll do it when she wants to.”

Just then, the sliding glass door to the hotel room opened, and out stepped Charles, towel draped around his neck, his curls a little messy from the shower. He glanced around the yard with a lopsided grin and made his way over to the drink cart.

“ Sorry for being late. You know how much i hate feeling sweaty. Just grabbing some water,” Charles called casually, waving a hand. “Don’t let me interrupt..... whatever this is.”

He wasn’t even looking at her. But Yn’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him. Her whole little body stiffened in Carlos’ arms, and her head turned, following him.

Carlos felt it before he heard it—the tiny intake of breath, the slight shift of her weight forward.

And then—clear as a bell, soft but unmistakable:

“Chalie!”

The garden froze. Carlos went perfectly still. Max sat bolt upright. Lando gasped. Alex’s jaw dropped. Fernando spilled some of his juice.

George blinked. “Did she just—?”

“Chalie!” Yn said again, a little louder this time, one hand reaching out clumsily toward the man at the water cart.

Charles turned around, stunned. “Wait… was that…?”

Carlos was still kneeling behind her, arms securely around her, eyes wide with disbelief. “Did you just…?” He looked at her, completely speechless, then up at Charles. “She just said your name.”

Charles crossed the garden in four strides, crouching down beside Yn and Carlos. “Did you say my name, petite étoile?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

Yn gave him a wide, toothy grin and reached for him again. “Chalie!”

Carlos let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a choked sob of joy. “Oh my god. That’s her first word. That’s her first word.”

The uncles erupted into a frenzy.

“No way!” Lando shrieked.

“I cannot believe it,” Max groaned. “She ignored all of us and picked him?”

“She’s got taste,” Alex mumbled.

“Maybe she is wise,” Fernando admitted.

Carlos pulled Yn gently into his arms, pressing a kiss to her soft curls, his voice full of awe. “You’ve been holding out on us, pequeña. Just waiting for your favorite to show up, huh?”

Charles, clearly touched, rubbed the back of his neck, smiling softly. “I… I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t do anything!”

“She loves you,” Carlos said simply, hugging Yn close. “And she waited for you.”

Charles reached out and took Yn’s tiny hand in his. “Well, now I feel like I’ve won the championship.”

Yn giggled, gripping his finger with surprising strength.

Lando groaned. “We’re never gonna hear the end of this.”

Carlos laughed, tears of joy shining in his eyes as he looked at his little girl. “I don’t even care. My baby just spoke. And she said Chalie.”

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden halos around them. And for a moment, time paused. Yn babbled softly in Charles' direction, her tiny voice full of joy, while Carlos held her like the treasure she was—safe, warm, and surrounded by love.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

Guys, what's going on with Tumblr! Why is it saying my stories need content labels? It's just sweet stories! Why is tumblr making this weird?

-🩷🎀

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you received the pictures in the mail, while the payment was forwarded almost immediately. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m not a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

“No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunned by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Oikawa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ I’ll spend forever convincing you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men planning a special date after not seeing you for a long time

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The hum of the engine is the only sound filling the quiet night air as Sylus straddles his motorcycle. You’re still rubbing sleep from your eyes, standing on the pavement in mismatched shoes, your pajama shorts and his oversized hoodie, blinking at him in confusion.

"Get on," he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

You cross your arms, raising a skeptical brow. "Are you kidnapping me?"

Sylus chuckles, reaching out to tug you closer by your wrist. His grip is warm, calloused, familiar. "Haven't had much time together lately, so I figured we'd fix that. Midnight road trip. Just you, me, and the open road."

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip. He always had a way of making things sound effortlessly exciting. Still, you narrow your eyes at him. "And where exactly are we going?"

He pulls a folded map from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. "Wherever you want."

You glance between him and the map, before dramatically closing your eyes and jabbing your finger onto a random spot. Peeking at the location, you snort. "We're gonna end up in the middle of nowhere, you know."

"Even better," he says, already revving the engine. "Now get on before I throw you over my shoulder."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you slip onto the bike behind him, arms automatically wrapping around his torso. The scent of his leather jacket and that faint mix of sandalwood and something unmistakably him fills your senses as he accelerates down the empty road. The world around you blurs, the streetlights turning into streaks of gold, the wind whipping through your hair.

At first, you rest your cheek against his back, just feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body beneath your hands. Then, as the city fades behind you, you lift your head, taking in the vast, open road stretching endlessly before you.

"Feeling alive yet?" Sylus shouts over the wind.

You grin, squeezing him tighter. "You wish. Try harder."

He laughs, deep and rich, before suddenly accelerating. You yelp, but it's drowned in laughter as the bike surges forward, the thrill of speed sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

As you ride through the night, he occasionally glances back at you, ruby eyes flickering with something softer, more content. And in those moments, you know—he’s not just enjoying the ride, he’s enjoying you, your presence, your laughter, the way you lean into him like you belong there.

After miles of roads and stolen kisses at red lights, you finally arrive at your random, nowhere destination—a quiet stretch of land with an open sky scattered with stars. Sylus kills the engine, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, breathing in the stillness of the night.

You slide off the bike, stretching your legs. "Well, this is... remote."

Sylus only smirks and pulls you into his chest. "Wasn't about the destination anyway," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You scoff but let yourself sink into his warmth. "So what now?"

He tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk. "Now? We enjoy the night. And maybe—just maybe—you admit this was a great idea."

You huff, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. "Fine. But next time, I'm driving."

His laugh echoes under the starlit sky, deep and full of love. 

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The front door clicks open softly, and you barely stir under the warm blankets. You know it’s Zayne before you even open your eyes—the faint scent of antiseptic and the quiet, measured footsteps are enough to tell you he’s finally home.

He’s late again. Too many shifts, too little time together.

You hear him sigh as he kicks off his shoes, but before he can crawl into bed beside you, you turn over, blinking sleepily at him. “You look exhausted.”

Zayne freezes, caught in the act of peeling off his jacket. His sharp green eyes soften when they meet yours, and for a moment, he just stares. Then, he exhales a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always catch me.”

You smirk, stretching lazily. “Maybe because you’re terrible at sneaking in.”

He grins, but instead of climbing into bed, he tugs at your hand, coaxing you up. “Come on.”

You groan dramatically. “Zayne, it’s past midnight. Where are we going?”

“To the kitchen.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’re having breakfast.”

You blink at him. “Now?”

“Now.” He tugs you up more insistently. “We haven’t had time together lately. Let’s change that.”

Your lips part in surprise, but the way he’s looking at you—so hopeful, so needing you—makes it impossible to refuse. With a resigned sigh, you let him pull you out of bed, following him to the kitchen.

The kitchen is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the dim overhead lights. Zayne rolls up his sleeves and grabs ingredients while you sit on the counter, watching him with an amused smile.

“So, Doctor, what’s on the menu?” you tease.

He shoots you a playful glare as he sets down a carton of eggs. “You’re the one who wanted waffles the other day.”

“I didn’t say I wanted them at midnight.”

“Too late. You’re getting waffles.” He tosses you a whisk, and you barely catch it in time. “And pancakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but start mixing the batter anyway. Zayne may be tired, but right now, he looks more at peace than he has in days. His usual aloofness melts away as he works beside you, measuring, stirring, stealing kisses and little glances your way.

When the first pancake is ready, you grab a plate and start decorating it just for him. You drizzle syrup in the shape of a heart and add fresh berries around the edges. With a proud smirk, you slide the plate toward him. “For you. A masterpiece.”

Zayne leans on the counter, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Hmm… artistic. A bit crooked, though.”

“Oh, shut up. Yours better be good.”

He smirks before taking his time plating your waffle. When he finally slides it over to you, you nearly choke on laughter. He’s drizzled chocolate sauce in what’s supposed to be a smiley face, but it looks more like a deformed ghost.

“What—what is that?” you wheeze.

“It’s you,” he deadpans. “Beautiful.”

When everything is ready, you two sit down at the kitchen table. As you take your first bite, you hum in approval. “Okay, maybe midnight breakfast was a good idea.”

“Told you.”

You glance at him, finding him already looking at you. The tired lines around his eyes don’t look so heavy anymore. Instead, there’s something else—something warm, content.

You nudge his foot under the table. “You should sleep after this.”

Zayne sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches over, his fingers brushing against yours. “I will.” Then, quieter, “Thank you for staying up with me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

And in the quiet of your little kitchen, under the glow of soft lights and the scent of fresh waffles, you both finally breathe.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

The salty ocean breeze kisses your skin as you step onto the warm sand, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore is soothing, but your mind is fixated on something else—the note in your hands.

"If you want to find me, follow the clues. I promise the treasure at the end is worth it."

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. Rafayel—always the dramatic romantic. It had been a while since you two had spent proper time together, both of you caught up in your own worlds. But instead of simply asking for a date, your ridiculous, artistic boyfriend had decided to set up a full treasure hunt.

Shaking your head in amusement, you glance down at the sand near your feet, where a small arrow is drawn, pointing toward the rocky cove in the distance.

“Alright, Captain Rafayel,” you murmur to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You follow the arrow, the soft grains of sand shifting beneath your feet, until you reach a cluster of large rocks. Nestled between them, half-buried in the sand, is a small glass bottle with another note inside.

Unrolling it, you read:

"Remember where we watched the stars that night? I left something for you there."

Your heart stutters at the memory—the two of you lying on a blanket under the night sky, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm as he murmured about stars.

With a renewed sense of excitement, you make your way to that very spot, just beyond the dunes. And waiting there, tucked beneath a seashell, is a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny charm—a crescent moon. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as you pick it up, your fingers brushing over the cool metal.

Another note sits beneath it:

"A small piece of the night sky for my star. Keep going."

You swallow against the warmth blooming in your chest, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before continuing.

The next clue leads you to a weathered wooden pier, where you find a small box of your favorite chocolates wrapped in twine. Then, to the tide pools, where another note is hidden inside a sketchbook, filled with unfinished doodles of you—your laughter, your scowls, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

By the time you reach the final clue, your heart is racing.

The last note simply says:

"Turn around."

You spin on your heel, and there he is. Rafayel, standing a few feet away, watching you with that familiar smirk—but there's something softer beneath it, something tender. The setting sun catches in his eyes, making them glow like embers, and his hair is tousled slightly by the wind.

“Well?” he drawls, spreading his arms lazily. “Did I impress you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you march straight toward him and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens in surprise for only a second before he melts into you, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“You absolute idiot,” you murmur against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I wanted to.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. “We haven’t had enough time together lately. Thought I’d remind you how much I love you.”

Your breath catches at the quiet sincerity in his voice. For all his teasing and confidence, Rafayel loves deeply—intensely.

You lift your wrist, showing off the bracelet with a small smirk. “You’re just trying to bribe me with gifts.”

He huffs a laugh but tugs you even closer. “Maybe.” Then, lowering his voice, “Did it work?”

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I need a little more convincing.”

His lips twitch before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, the taste of the ocean and him stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“I’ll spend forever convincing you.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

The scent of summer grass and candle wax lingers in the air as you lie back on the soft blanket, gazing up at the endless stretch of stars above you. The night is quiet, except for the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. And beside you—so close that his warmth seeps into your skin—is Caleb.

Lately, your time together had been slipping through your fingers, stolen away by busy schedules and fleeting moments. But tonight, Caleb had shown up at your door, eyes burning with quiet determination, holding a basket in one hand and a thick blanket in the other.

"No excuses," he had said before you could even ask what was going on. "I’m taking you somewhere."

You had rolled your eyes, but your heart had betrayed you, skipping a beat at the sheer intensity in his gaze. And now, here you were—miles away from the city, surrounded by nothing but open fields and a sky so vast it made you feel weightless.

"You’re quiet," Caleb murmurs beside you, his deep voice laced with something softer than usual. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you instead of the stars.

You let out a small hum. "Just enjoying the view."

He smirks. "I hope you mean the sky and not me."

You turn your head to meet his gaze, the glow of the lantern casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. His purple eyes, always so intense, hold an unreadable expression.

"Who says I wasn’t talking about you?" you tease.

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second before he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep saying things like that, and I might just have to keep you here forever."

"Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing slow circles against your wrist. His possessiveness—the way he always needs to be touching you, keeping you close—would have annoyed you if it didn’t feel so achingly sincere.

"You work too hard," he murmurs against your skin. "I wanted to steal you away for a little while."

You sigh, letting your fingers tangle in his hair, feeling the way his body relaxes slightly under your touch. "You make it sound like I’m the only one who’s been busy."

He hums, conceding the point. "Maybe. But I miss you."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. You shift onto your side, reaching up to brush your fingers against his jaw. "I’m right here, Caleb."

His gaze darkens slightly, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours—slow and deep, like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve been apart. When he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your cheek.

"You taste like strawberries," he mutters, and you laugh softly, nudging the fruit bowl between you two. "Would’ve been weird if I didn’t."

Caleb rolls his eyes but tugs you closer, your body fitting against his like you belong there. With one arm draped around your waist, he tilts his head back toward the sky. "Alright, since we’re technically stargazing, tell me—what’s your favourite constellation?"

You smile, pointing at a cluster of stars. "That one. Because it looks like a cat."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not a real constellation."

"Sure it is. I just discovered it."

Caleb huffs a laugh, shaking his head before tightening his grip around you. "Fine, then from now on that one is my favourite constellation too.”

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The soft hum of whispered conversations and the scent of old books fills the air as you step into the library, your fingers laced with Xavier’s. The warm lighting casts a golden glow over the endless rows of bookshelves, making everything feel timeless—quiet, intimate.

You glance up at him, finding his gaze already on you. His big blue eyes are unreadable, but you catch the slight quirk of his lips—the rare kind, the one that means he’s up to something.

“You’re staring,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re worth staring at,” he says simply, like it’s a fact, like it’s as natural as breathing.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach still flutters. Even after all this time, he gets to you so easily.

“So,” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, “why a library date?”

Xavier’s grip on your hand tightens slightly as he tugs you further inside, leading you between the towering bookshelves. “We haven’t spent much time together lately,” he says, voice calm but certain. “I figured this would be quiet. Just us.”

You soften at his words. He’s always like this—aloof on the surface, but his love sneaks up on you in quiet, thoughtful ways.

“Alright,” you hum, stopping in an aisle filled with well-worn classics. “How are we doing this?”

He tilts his head slightly, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “We pick books for each other,” he says, reaching for a worn, leather-bound book. “One that reminds us of the other.”

You raise a brow. “That’s dangerous territory, Xavier. What if I give you something ridiculous?”

His lips twitch. “Then I’ll read it. No complaints.”

Your smirk widens. “Even if it’s a trashy romance?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Especially then.”

You hum in approval before slipping away to find his book, scanning the shelves as he does the same. When you return, you place your choice in his hands: a poetry book filled with love letters written in secret.

Xavier glances at the title, then at you. “Subtle.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “I just think you’d like it.”

His gaze lingers for a second too long before he hands you his choice: a novel about a sharp-tongued heroine who drives the stoic hero absolutely insane.

You snort, flipping through the pages. “Oh, this is on purpose.”

His smirk is barely there, but you see it. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Shaking your head, you both settle into a cozy corner of the library, sinking into the soft cushions. It’s comfortable—him next to you, the quiet rustling of pages, the occasional shared glance when one of you reads something interesting.

Then, after a few minutes, Xavier pulls something from his pocket—a small stack of sticky notes.

You raise a brow. “Planning to vandalize the library?”

“Not vandalizing,” he corrects smoothly, peeling one off and scribbling something down. “Leaving something behind.”

He sticks the note inside a random book before handing you the pad. “Your turn.”

You open the book he left his note in, curiosity getting the best of you.

“If you’re reading this, I hope you find what you’re looking for. -X”

You press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Typical Xavier—cool, distant, but just poetic enough to make your heart ache.

Shaking your head, you write your own note and tuck it into another book.

“Love is like a good book—you never know how much it’ll change you until you’re deep in it. -X’s annoyed girlfriend”

Xavier peeks at it, then exhales a quiet chuckle. “Annoyed?”

You smirk. “Obviously.”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the sticky notes from your hand, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Then, in a single fluid movement, he leans in, lips ghosting against your ear.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, just for you.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly to meet his eyes. Even in the silence of the library, Xavier always finds a way to make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

You glance at the books surrounding you, the little notes left behind for strangers to find, the weight of his arm resting against yours.

“I think,” you say softly, “this might be my new favorite kind of date.”

Xavier just smiles, turning back to his book. But his fingers never let go of yours.