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jamminvroomvroom · 8 months ago

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hi babe i’m here from the dms but. speaking of brain rot, thinking abt fwb lando again where u stay the night after and wake up in the morning expecting him to be gone already for smth work related or what not but he’s still in bed absolutely clinging to u. and then more soft sleepy morning sex 🫠🫠

play pretend.

ln x fem!reader

in which it’s time to stop pretending…

just a little blurb to say…. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lavenderlando !! sorry i made you wait like 6 months for this lmfao i love u girl, u mean the world to me and i hope this hits the spot 💖💖 lemme know what y’all think, more 4k requests will be worked on asap (it’s exam szn ew)

songs to set the mood: denial by james marriott, real love baby by father john misty, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls

warnings: 18+!! minors go away! smut, morning sex, friends to lovers, best friend!reader, friends with benefits type relationship, fluff, unprotected sex (don’t be silly…)

1k words

cool air casts goosebumps over your bare skin, the open window letting in the morning breeze. you tug at the grey bedsheets, dragging them higher over your frame where you lay. you eyes are cracked open, hazily taking in the sight before you.

he’s still here.

you often expect lando to be gone when you wake up. sometimes it’s because of work, sometimes it’s because you’d promised not to do this again but alcohol had then rendered the both of you irresistible to the other, and it was too awkward to have yet another jarring conversation about how you’re such good friends.

but he’s there. and he’s looking at you.

“hi.” he croaks, soft and low. you revel in his morning voice on the rare occasions you get to hear it.

“hey.” you mumble, leaning in closer to him.

he pushes the duvet up and away, inviting you into his arms, and you wriggle towards him. he’s a human heater, and you’re cold, that’s the only reason you snuggle up, tucked between his arms.

“you’re still here.” you whisper into his chest, purposefully quiet, almost as if you don’t actually want him to hear you.

“couldn’t leave you.” he mutters quietly.

you crane your head to look up at him, eyes blown wide at the admission.

“why?”

“i hate leaving after.”

the ‘after’ hangs heavy in the air between you for a second. he’s eyeing up your lips and you’re returning the gesture, sleepy eyes flitting between his and his plush lips.

this never happens. usually, the night starts with too many drinks too quickly, progresses to his hands dropping dangerously low on your waist, leads to the pair of you mentally scarring an innocent taxi driver, and ends with you underneath him. or, on top of him. and then, he’s gone.

“for the record, i hate it when you go.” you reply, and the space between you dissipates. there are so many unsaid words being traded between you, an intense charge of energy. you’re anxiously sliding your hands up his sides, itching to feel impossibly closer.

“maybe i should stop going then, hm?” two of lando’s fingers grasp your chin, tilting it up to bump his.

“yeah.” you breathe.

it’s like he’s tugged an invisible string, and you’re melting into him, his lips slotting immaculately over yours, as if they were sculpted by god to rest against yours. he tastes familiar, it’s rare you get to kiss him sober and in the light of day. you bask in it, finding the messy, loose curls tickling the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the thick, brown strands. he groans, parting his mouth just enough for you to slide your tongue over his.

“want you. now.” you gasp urgently into the space where your lips part, your body rolling hungrily against his.

“i always want you, drives me crazy.” lando grunts, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you even closer.

lando slots his thigh between your legs, and you search for friction, rutting against him. you’re both naked from the blurry night before so you can feel everything, each part of him so ready for you. you’re slick for him already, can feel the way it’s painting your inner thighs. you hate how easy it is to lose yourself in him.

“take me then.” you whine, your forehead collapsing against his shoulder.

lando smirks, flipping you over so that your back is to his chest, like you’re nothing. he hooks your top leg over his, sliding himself closer to where you’re aching for him.

“can’t keep pretending.” lando whispers against the shell of your ear.

he slides deep, then, filling you to the hilt. it knocks the air out of you, your back arching at the sensation of him hitting every single spot that mattered.

“then let’s not pretend anymore.” you choke out, your head rolling back against his shoulder.

“yeah, baby? wanna be all mine?” he teases, thrusting deep and slow, the slide of him shooting pleasure over your body like the slow, satisfying drip of warm honey.

“already am, all yours.” you sigh, totally and utterly content as your nerve endings pulsed with pleasure.

“good girl.” lando praises, his voice fucked out and lovestruck.

as if he’s rewarding you for your admission, the pad of his finger slips down your navel, finding your clit. you’re soaked for him, wet and warm, and he traces circles into the bundle of nerves, each touch sending you keening back into him.

“so close.” you sound like you’re begging, pleading for him to let you finish all over him.

“gotta say please.” he nips the skin of your shoulder and you squirm, toes curling.

“please, lando.” you writhe, canting your hips back against him.

“sound so pretty for me.” he coos, peppering kisses down your neck.

his fingers speed up against your folds, working you perfectly to a sweet release. everything is still blurred by sleep, your body overly sensitive from the cool air pouring in through the window and the slumber still lodged in your bones.

“cum with me.” you slur, your eyes squeezing shut. you almost turn into him, convulsing in his arms to the point where you’d be staring into his stormy eyes if you could manage to pry yours open.

“let me see those eyes.” he commands, your entire body shuddering. you blink, staring up at him, and you both fold, meeting your ends. he looks fierce, starved, completely enamoured with every single way your face moves.

your jaw hangs agape, a choked cry stifled in the back of your throat. it’s all too much, and just about enough, huge, calloused hands roaming your body as your shake, spilling all over him.

“god.” you breathe, flopping limply against him. he stays buried inside of you, his face lost to the damp skin of the crook of your neck.

“i never would of left all those mornings if i knew this is the good morning i’d get.” lando laughs, the sound deep and wholesome. you cosy yourself up even closer to him.

“not letting you leave from now on.” you murmur, smiling to yourself when you feel his lips press against the back of your head.

“you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

sorry this is soooo bad lmao i felt the urge to write something short n sweet xoxo

taglist

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#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris blurb #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 fic #f1 blurb #f1 smut #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut #formula 1 driver x you #lando norris oneshot #f1 oneshot

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kisses4reid · 8 days ago

Text

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic

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propertyofwicked · 7 months ago

Text

YOUR NECKLACE - LN

no warnings just fluff + some SMAU <3 (one mention of sick, no specific detail)

-> lemme know ur thoughts! my inbox is open!! <3

masterlist the playlist

after successfully keeping their relationship secret for 9 months, lando truly believed it was time for him to properly introduce his girlfriend to the world of motorsport. she’d attended races before but always under general admission, usually alone, but sometimes accompanied by the likes of max and p. and it wasn’t as if the fans didn’t know who she was, they just knew her as ‘y/n who works with quadrant’, ‘y/n that reset the cones in the driving video’, ‘y/n that keeps her social media private’ - never once being considered lando’s girlfriend, which worked well for the two.

the panic had set in that morning as she dressed for the day, her hands constantly running over her outfit, checking the way she looked in the mirror from every angle - she wanted to believe that no one would care, or even notice that she was there, but deep down she knew that making the jump from general admission to paddock would gain some chatter on twitter.

“you look perfect,” lando had whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he tugged her away from the mirror.

“maybe they’ll just think im helping with a quadrant project,” she said absentmindedly, more trying to convince herself than actually respond to him.

“maybe,” he nodded along with her, mulling over his next words, “we can walk in separately if you want? they might not assume anything if they don’t see us together?”

“it’s not that i dont want us to be seen together,” she told him as she moved to the floor, tying her shoelaces up, “i just hate to think what’ll be said about me if they do.”

“i know, angel,” he reassured her, offering out a hand to pull her up, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead when she returned to his level.

the journey to the track was a quiet one, the two of them engaging in light conversation, eventually deciding they’d just walk in together, keep PDA to the minimum and ‘run and hide at the first sign of trouble’ y/n had joked.

lando paced up and down his drivers room, the sleeves of his racing overalls swinging with every step, from where they sat around his hips. he was getting into the right mindset, music playing, and yet his mind raced with every fear of the looming race.

“sit in the garage,” he asked her, halting his pacing to turn and face her.

“what?” she replied, half unsure she’d misheard him.

“watch from the garage - please,” he repeated moving to take steps towards her, noticing the way her fingers twisted at the rings that adorned them.

“are you sure?” she checked, as he grabbed her wrists to stop her anxious fiddling.

“never been more sure in my life,” he told her, using her arms to pull himself closer, joining the two of them in a sweet kiss.

“ok, ill be there,” y/n responded against him, parting only for a moment before connecting their lips again. the kiss was short and sweet, cut off by oscar knocking telling him it was time to go.

she stood in the garage, smiling at a few engineers she recognised before finding herself a seat. the nerves were washing over her again, but now they were for lando. y/n always worried during races, scared on his crashing, worried he wouldn’t perform as well as everyone knew he could. her hand reached up to her chest, instinctively searching for her necklace - lando had bought it for her before they were even together, knowing from the moment she smiled at it and looked up to thank him that this was it for him, she was his future. but the necklace wasn’t there, the girl panicked slightly, fearing she had lost it or it had fallen off before concluding that in her distraction this morning she had simply forgotten to put it on.

that’s ok, you’re a grown woman who can control her nerves. you don’t need a necklace to calm yourself down - you’re not even the one racing she told herself, letting out a deep sigh as she tried to believe herself. no one else in the garage seemed to notice her, a fact she was fairly happy about, hoping that the same would be said for the hundreds of news and tv stations priming their cameras for the race.

but someone had noticed her, recognising the look on her face as the same one she had been wearing all morning. only lando could decipher what her expression meant - she was nervous, of course, scared for him, but also filled with a small buzz of excitement - he couldn’t quite understand how one person could feel so much all at the same time, and not combust on the spot. nevertheless he jogged over to her.

“lando? aren’t you supposed to be like, getting your helmet on?” she asked him, shocked slightly at his sudden appearance. he looked at her, his hand tugging at the top of his fireproofs and pulling his own necklace from where it was trapped behind the fabric.

“forgot to take this off,” he told her, hands moving behind his neck to unclasp the metal, “will you look after it for me?”

she nodded up at him, her outstretched hands halted as he stood close, hands moving the metal around her own neck and clasping it. the metal dropped against her skin, the warmth from him wearing it transferring to her.

“thanks, love you,” he told her, a rushed kiss planted on her lips before he jogged away from her again.

his face carried a smirk as he left her, knowing he hadn’t truly forgotten to take the piece of jewellery off. in actual fact, he’d noticed her missing necklace the moment they’d arrived at the track and made it his mission to have his own hung around her neck, almost as a badge of honour. the two had agreed to keep their relationship private from the public, somewhat of a secret - but now she sat in his garage, wearing his necklace. it was the bare minimum display of the love they shared, but it was enough for him, and it was enough for her.

oscar quirked his eyebrow at his teammates smirk, receiving a quick tell you later before the two pulled their balaclavas down.

the gesture was so simply and so subtle and the girl was oblivious to the moment being caught on camera. the moment a yellow flag was called, the sky tv cameras filled the wait time by zooming in on the faces of loved ones sitting in each drivers garage. however, y/n remained oblivious to the lens focusing closely on her, the camera closely capturing the way she fiddled at the necklace before dropping it as normal lap conditions resumed.

"good day then?" y/n asked him softly, her head resting on his bare chest as she listened to his heart beat - lando felt the way her cool fingers fiddled with the necklace around his neck. that godforsaken necklace, quite frankly the only necklace to ever cause so much uproar online.

"soft launched on live tv and p3? i wouldn't have it any other way," lando replied softly, chucking lightly as his hand brushed through her hair.

“that checks out, mr nowins,” she teased, tilting her head to grin at him.

"being with you is a win in itself," he replied, taking the nickname in his stride.

"gross," the girl responded, pretending to vomit at his attempt at being cute.

“i am sorry though - i should’ve known that would happen, i should’ve checked with you before hanging the “lando’s girlfriend” sign around your neck,” he replied with a sigh, his head dropping to press a kiss to her forehead, his cheek resting on her head as they spoke.

“it’s ok lan, i knew there was a possibility of something like this happening,” she replied.

“and it was fairly subtle - we could probably play it off for a little longer,” lando suggested, knowing that neither of them were quite ready to expose the extent of their relationship just yet. at least this had given them the opportunity to be a little more careless with their efforts to hide from the public. they were private, not secret, and lando couldn’t be happier to preserve this part of his personal life for a little longer.

“im just glad we no longer have the responsibility of a big announcement,” she laughed, “god knows we’re both too lazy for that.”

“who’s we?” he grumbled jokingly, “im the one with the public account. besides, im more than hard launched on your page.”

“ah the joys of an ordinary life,” y/n joked, her arms stretching out in feigned bliss, “however i feel like i should steer clear of twitter for a while.”

“that’s probably for the best,” he agreed, his tone saddening slightly at the memory of things he’d seen posted about not only his ex girlfriend, but some of the claims people had already began making about the girl lying below him.

“hey!” she started noticing his change in mood, and pushing her body weight back to look at him, “none of that. today is a good day. trust me, ill take any excuse to get my screentime down.”

“i love you,” he told her, grabbing at her body to pull her back into his embrace, “more than you could imagine.”

liked by maxfewtrell, team_quadrant and 111,230 others

landonorris soft launching on live tv wasn't enough, time to promote her to the gram

comments on this post have been limited.

maxfewtrell so glad i dont have to worry about slipping up on stream anymore

-> maxfewtrell chat aren't ready for what i have to say.

maxfewtrell 2nd photo is a violationnn - ynpng, pietra.pilao u gonna let this slide?

-> ynpng am i fuck. pietra.pilao we ride at dawn.

-> pietra.pilao omw queen.

-> maxfewtrell run landonorris whilst u still can

-> pietra.pilao you told me you deleted that photo maxfewtrell - sleep with one eye open xx

ynpng hate u with every fibre of my being rn <3

-> landonorris nuh uh

-> ynpng gonna unprivate my acc and let the world see the video of you falling down the stairs

-> landonorris might accidentally leak the video of you and the shoe incident

-> ynpng you wouldn't dare.

-> landonorris you wanna bet?

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister #lando norris smau

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simjaexy · 6 days ago

Note

HELLO BEAUTIFUL I saw the MV of boxer enha AND LEMME TELL YOU BOXER SUNGHOON 😩 so I was wondering if you can make a drabble of Boxer! Sunghoon and reader and they get in to A LOT of sexy stuff? 😚 ALSO like a mean Dom Sunghoon? <3

Have a nice day pretty

Pairing ⇀ Boxer! Park Sunghoon x (F) Reader

Synopsis ⇀ You decided to visit Sunghoon at his boxing practice. But upon seeing him practice, you couldn’t help but feel a sexual way watching him practicing so focused and determined. So what happens when you decide to tease him while he’s practicing?

Genre ⇀ Pure Smut

Warnings ⇀ MINORS DNI!!!, Cursing, Sunghoon and reader are both a tease, Making out, Mean Dom! Sunghoon x Sub! Reader, Blowjob, Eating out, Humiliation, Overstimulation (f), Receiving (m&f), Doggy style, No protection (wrap it up), Cum swallowing, Multiple orgasms, Hickeys, Crying, Biting, Semi-public sex, Rough sex, Name calling (slut, good girl, etc.), Fingering, lmk if i missed anything!

W.c ⇀ 2.1k

A/n ⇀ You don’t even ask twice for that because I’m LIVING for Boxer Sunghoon. Kind of made it longer than I anticipated but I hope it meets your standards bb. If you would like to be on the perm tag list click here! Like, Reblog, Comment, and etc! Not proofread!

You arrived at Sunghoons boxing gym, the air thick with the sounds of fists hitting punching bags and the occasional grunts of other men there. The rhythmic thudding of gloves against leather filled the room. You decided to pay Sunghoon a visit at his practice matches. It wasn’t everyday you get to see him in action.

As you stepped inside, your eyes immediately started searching for Sunghoon. And when you finally saw him, in the middle of the ring, his body glistening with sweat, muscles rippling under his tank top, focus etched deeply into his brow. He moved with precision and power. His focus was unbreakable, each punch thrown with skill and intensity. You assumed he didn’t noticed you with how focused he was.

You couldn't help but admire him, his dedication and strength evident in every movement. That’s when he finally glanced up and saw you standing there, a smile spreading across his face. He glanced back at the guy who he was practicing with, giving a him a dab before quickly making his way over to you, his eyes lighting up with happiness.

"Hey, you," He said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss, "Didn’t think you would actually make it."

You gave him a teasing smile, your heart skipping a beat at the brief but sweet gesture, “Wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, you promised you’d take me out to dinner after.”

Sunghoon gave you a little chuckle, “Of course pretty. Just give me a few more minutes.” He spoke, his voice low. You felt slickness between your legs and mentally cursed yourself for feeling sexual i a public area.

But then again, you couldn’t help yourself with the way he stares at you, as if he wanted the other men know that he owns you. Sunghoon gave one last look at you, sending a wink before heading back to the ring, his focus shifting back to his training.

You watched him, mesmerized by the way he moved, each punch and dodge executed with perfect form. You didn’t notice the gym started to empty out, the sounds of practice gradually fading as people left for the day.

With the gym now almost empty, you decided to have a little fun. You walked over to the edge of the ring, leaning against the ropes as you called out to him, "Hey, champ, need a break?"

Sunghoon looked over at you, a playful smirk on his face, he knew exactly what you were trying to do, “Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe," you replied, your tone teasing, "Or maybe I just want to see if you can handle a little distraction."

He chuckled, stepping out of the ring and walking over to you, "Oh, I can handle it. The question is, can you?"

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across your face, "Why don't you come find out?"

Sunghoon closed the distance between you, his eyes locked on yours. You leaned in, feeling hit hot breath fanning your lips. But just as your lips were about to touch, he smirked and gently pushed you back.

"Not so fast," He teased, his voice low, "I've still got some training to do."

You stood there, stunned. What the fuck? As he turned and walked back to the ring. He glanced over his shoulder with a wink, his eyes twinkling with amusement. You hated when he did that, "Patience, love," He said, before resuming his practice, leaving you both flustered and confused.

You watched him with a pout on your unkissed lips. But you couldn’t help but feel like getting him back. Besides, he deserves it right. You knew Sunghoon like the back of your hand, it’ll be easy getting him all hot and bothered.

After a few minutes, you decided to turn up the heat. You slowly took off your jacket, letting it drop to the floor, "Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?" You asked, your voice carrying a hint of innocence.

Sunghoon didn't look at you, but he nodded, his focus still on his training, “Yeah, it's pretty warm. The guys don’t really like the cold here."

You frowned not seeing him look at you. That’s when you suddenly got an idea and grinned, deciding to take it a step further. You tucked your shirt up a bit, revealing your stomach, just enough to catch his attention, "Hey, Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

This time, he stopped mid-punch and turned to look at you. His eyes widened seeing the sight of you. Jacket on the floor with you leaning backwards with your stomach peaking out. One more tuck up then your bra would be in view. A pink dust spread across his cheeks as he took in the thought of you like that. It was quiet for a few seconds before he snapped and made eye contact with you.

"What... what is it?" He stammered, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him, "Oh, nothing important. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

Sunghoon shook his head, a huff coming out, as if he was controlling himself. As if he doesn’t wanna fall for your tricks, “You definitely have my attention now," He admits.

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of pride, “Well I don’t think I need it anymore. You can go back to practicing.” You mumbled, but Sunghoon heard you. He nodded, knowing that if he spoke his voice would definitely sound needy. So, he continued practicing once again.

You decided to unclip your bra and take it off, also dropping that on the floor. Your perky nipples in clear view. You felt the room thicken within seconds. You slowly led your hand towards your cloth core, rubbing your wet folds, letting out a soft moan.

Sunghoon let out a pained groan and rubbed his neck, probably because he dodged so many punches from the other guy earlier. That's when he looked over at you and saw you rubbing your folds and fiddling with your perky nipples, letting out pitiful moans. Your eyes were closed, clearly not noticing him stopping and staring right at you.

The sight in front of him definitely made him rock hard. Fuck. Finally, without warning, Sunghoon ripped off his gloves and tossed them to the ground. His sudden movement startled you, and before you could react, he was striding towards you with a lustful hard look in his eyes. Your heart raced as he closed the distance between you in a matter of seconds.

His hands found your waist, and he pulled you against him with a roughness that took your breath away. Before you could utter a word, his lips crashed into yours, demanding and intense. The kiss was fierce, filled with all the pent-up frustration and desire he'd been holding back.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, melting into him. His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, while your fingers tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss. You let out a whimper feeling one of his legs push in between yours.

You immediately began grinding down, feeling your core brush against your underwear. It felt so good. Sunghoon gripped one of your breasts, squeezing them harshly. You broke the kiss and let out a loud moan.

You didn’t have time to react when Sunghoon dragged you to a mat that was laying down not far from you guys. He pushed you down on the mat, your back hitting it roughly. You let out a pained whimper before feeling Sunghoon get on top you.

“You wanna fucking act like a slut? Bothering me while I’m practicing for a big match.” He snapped. You gave him an innocent smile, your eyes fluttering. Fuck, you really like pissing him off. He didn’t waste any time sucking on your neck, hickeys forming. You squirmed and let out a mewl when he bit down.

“H-Hoonie- hic!- hurts!” You cried out. Sunghoon paid no mind to you. This is what you wanted right? He licked the bite mark gently before lifting his head up again. You felt intimidated by his intense gaze, looking away in humiliation, but Sunghoon was having any of that. He forcefully grabbed your jaw and made you look at him.

“If you wanna get fucked good then you’re gonna suck my dick.” He growled. You bit your lip and with teary eyes, you nodded. You didn’t waste a second, pulling down his sweats to see his cloth dick. You slowly pulled his boxers down, his dick springing free, slapping his stomach.

You softly wrapped your hands around it, stroking it lazily. Sunghoon watched you with an unreadable expression, almost as if he was bored. So, you opened your mouth, granting him full access to your mouth and putting his dick in. You let in a moan feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your face close to his pubic hair.

Sunghoon didn’t give a warning when he suddenly gripped your hair and took his dick out and pushed back in making you gag. Although you were slapping his thigh, he continued to thrust inside your mouth at a rough pace. You felt tears gather in your eyes again. Sunghoon loved it.

You heard his groans and curses and felt his dick twitch inside your mouth, indicating he was close. He gave out three more thrust before cumming deep in your throat. Sunghoon let out a hiss, taking his dick out of your mouth.

“Open.” He demanded. You opened your mouth, showing him you swallowed everything. He gave you a soft smile and rubbed your head, “Good girl.”

You couldn’t speak when he suddenly pushed you back down making you yelp. He slid off your shorts and underwear revealing your wet pussy. He licked his lips, his eyes gazing with lust. Before he could do anything, you held his head, “Shit, wait Sunghoon. W-We’re in public.” You whispered. Sunghoon paused and stared at you.

“You now noticed that after you sucked me off?” He said. You whined and Sunghoon sighed. He can’t say no to you, “I’ll make it fast.” He added. Besides, he really wanted to taste your sweet pussy.

He didn’t wanna hear you say anymore and flicked his tongue against your bud. You covered your mouth, but your moan was still heard. Sunghoon let out an ‘hmm’ tasting your sweet pussy. He noticed you covering your mouth and gave you a slap on your thigh. You stared at him dazed, “I wanna hear you.” He said.

You nodded and uncovered your mouth, feeling too drunk off of pleasure to say no. He then continued to lick your pussy. He sucked on your bud before licking your hole. You let out sighs and pants when he all of a sudden stuck a finger inside you while he was suckling on your bud.

“Oh god! s’good!” You moaned. You felt saliva dripping down your lips, but didn’t care to wipe it off. Sunghoon hums vibrated against your pussy and that’s when you felt your orgasm coming.

“Gonna cum! Cumming-“ You let out one last time before coming undone on Sunghoon tongue. He licked your juices, taking his finger out. You panted shaky and weak.

Sunghoon flipped you over, aligning his dick at your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making you both moan in unison. You squirmed under him, feeling overstimulated. Sunghoon chuckled, “Looks like my good girl can’t take it.”

You shook your head, “No! I-I can. Please Sunghoon- fuck me!” You begged. Sunghoon's eyes turned dark. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening when you felt him push deep inside you, knocking the air out of you.

The sound of loud skin slapping echoed in the gym. Someone had to have heard you guys. You let out loud moans and whimpers, feeling him so deep in you. Both of your bodies sticky with sweat. God the smell of sex was unbearable.

Sunghoon gripped your waist hard. He knows they’ll be bruised later on, and he fucking loves it. You arch your back more, giving Sunghoon even deeper access if it was even possible. His dick felt too good in you. It’s like your pussy was made for him.

You felt your orgasm coming, “H-Hoonie m’gonna cum again- ah!” You screamed, your orgasm crashing. Sunghoon threw his head back and came seconds later, his cum spurting inside. You felt so full.

He took his now soft dick out and pulled up his sweatpants and boxers. He helped you up and gave you a towel so you can fix yourself up. After you were done you noticed Sunghoon already having his bag in his hand. You smiled at him softly. Sunghoon smiled back, feeling his heart race. He loved your afterglow.

You both walked out the gym, hand in hand. You didn’t know gym sex was something you wanna plan on doing again, but when Sunghoon kisses your hand gently and gives you a loving look, who are you to complain?

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @yoongisbaguetteshoes @enhypenlovre @melancholy-z @minghaosimp @dudewhoism @honeychocos @hearts4hee @tlnyjoong @1013club @yagsoobin @mrsjohnnysuh @heekilrvs @enhasrii @prettygurlnikittie @jakeswifez @yunhoswrldddd @seokseokjinkim @whateverhoon @noturmommasstuff @love4hee @ddeonuu4me @selleprotection @jenn-ieverse @babyy-bambii @nikiswifiee @rjssierjrie @sweetshinypuppy @moonpri @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @jayjw16enxp @aanniikkaa @prkhoonlvr @devi1d0ppi0 @enhygene @talyaxia

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jinkiezzsstuff · 9 months ago

Text

Wing Grooming

lucifer x gn reader

warnings: i’ve written before but i don’t do it often so be aware, written on mobile, no mention of skin colour/bodytype/gender/hair type, no use of Y/N, slightly sexual but no real smut, cursing.

i love lucifer and i love the wings shtick <3 also i’ve worked with birds so im applying my knowledge of them here teehee

lemme know whatcha think this is only the second time homegirls written an xreader. also writing on tumblr sucks it deleted my shii so many times and i had to keep rewriting paragraphs

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔴𝔬 :)

—

Lucifer anxiously paced around his room in the hotel, unable to relax due to his wings, they were itchy. Normally he used various different objects to break the casting of new feathers, and remove those pesty pin feathers. He’s been so busy at the hotel recently, he completely neglected his feathers causing some unfortunate issues with his malt. After all he didn’t have only two he had a whole six, and it wasn’t easy to take care of all at once. In all honesty, Lucifer would rather cut them off before asking for assistance with preening them. Tossing his hat to the side his wings popped out unwillingly loose feathers flying around him. Curling the first set in front of him, he picked through to find the cause of the itch and discomfort. Chills ran up his back as his fingers gently searched through, they were sensitive from lack of care not to mention preening never failed to give him goose bumps. A knock sounded from his door making him jump, his wings puffing out around him. “Uh, ah, one moment.” He shouted in a sing songy voice, jumping to his feet from where he sat he hurried over eager to get back to preening.

Swining the door open you stood on the other side smiling with papers in your grasp. Keeping his wings hidden slightly behind him and the door he greeted you with a charming smile. "Hi luce, Charlie said these belonged to you something to do with the different rings?" Quirking your head to the side you observed the king with curiosity. He was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and shifting from side to side. "Are you alright?" He blew air out in a pft sound at you and stood a little straighter. "Just a little feather issues, you know how it can be..." Lucifer trailed looking off to the side trying hard to ignore the stinging itch that shot through one wing.

“Oh can I help in any way, if that’s not strange?” You ask innocently but Lucifer’s mind went immediately to the gutter with the thought of you tracing your hands down his back and his combing through feathers, it made him shiver with delight. Although his blush was evident and his demeanour dropped to a slightly more shy one, you remained waiting patiently for his answer. “It’s- uh, normally, i don’t let anybody touch them. Um, but you can! Of course..” He trailed switching between stretching himself up with confidence and shrinking down again with doubt, regardless of his apprehension he still stood aside opening the door wider for you to enter. “It’s just the preening process is all. Difficult to reach.” Lucifer muttered as you welcome yourself into his room. With a bright smile you reassured him that you would do as he asked and you’d rather help than have him be stuck with that icky discomfort.

Setting the paperwork down on a table, Lucifer closed the door and lingered next to a bench sofa whistling as his wings flapped him at random behind him. Turning to him he looked a little shy still not fully meeting your gaze. Unsure of what exactly to do but you gave him an assuring smile. “I don’t have to do this, I can get Charlie to?”

Lucifer laughed quickly shaking his head. “Ha ha, no that would make things worse actually, you’re much preferred! Just y’know it’s a lot to work on.” Plopping down on the bench he outstretched his wings behind him on full display for you, his heart pounding against his ribs. You felt a zap of emotion shoot through you at the admission that you were wanted by him for this job.

It wasn't a secret Charlie's dad woo'd you the moment he waltzed in the door, but your loyalty was with Charlie and you didn't want to disrespect her by eye fucking her divorced father while he's here to help. Although Charlie seemed pretty enthralled that her father was making an effort to spend time with her friends, even elbowing you and whispering that he seemed to particularly enjoy conversation with you.

After that it was harder to ignore the way you felt for the King, Charlie would constantly drop not so subtle hints that her dad took a liking to you and that caused your mind to wander and fantasize. From there on you got more confidence putting yourself in situations to catch him alone in conversation or help him with different tasks he had to complete. Beginning your work on his wings, you hummed quietly to yourself easily spotting several pin feathers coming in that needed to have the keratin shell taken off. Carefully you split the feathers away and massaged off the shells one by one listening to Lucifers pleasant hms, groans and sighs. He visibly slumped, and his body rested just barely against your thigh as you worked on the very top wing. “These look pretty cluttered hun, have you been struggling to care for them?” You didn’t even notice the pet name slip as you called everyone off handed pet names, but Lucifer did notice and it brought him a warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Sweetly talking to him about his wings without judgement, combing them comfortingly, humming like an angel just to him. It felt as good as when his ex wife was still around caring for his wings. It’d been so long since someone was by his side caring for him like this.

Lucifer never responded properly to your question about upkeep only humming in a trance like state as you worked your way through the top set of wings "You're so good at this, sheesh, I wish you'd do this all the time." You blushed faltering slightly which Lucifer panicked about, tensing and opening his eyes. "Of course i'm only spit balling, heh, it's just so relaxing like a sauna!" Shaking your head you moved down to the last set of feathers not missing the way he shuddered with your touch. "It's alright i don't mind that you say that. It feels nice actually, to help you." Lucifer didn't say anything feeling suddenly heated as ever as if hell wasn't hot enough. The feathers closest to his hips were unsurprisingly the most sensitive and the touches although innocent felt suggestive to him. The King felt dirty for feeling a euphoric sense of pleasure ripple through his bodv and straight to his junk while you unknowly worked through his feathers. “You okay? Did I hurt you?" You asked noticing his breath picking up and his body stiffening. Lucifer grinned and turned to look at you you meeting his gaze and seeing just how dazed he truly was. "I'm just... well,"

It was like his throat closed as he looked back at you crouched down to get at the last row of feathers that were draped along the floor. The king swallowed snapping his head forward again. “Ahem, I’m sensitive, good, sensitive.” He had hoped you understood his insinuations. Which you had. Breathing in deeply you flattened your hand out spreading your fingers and combing through the feathers more methodically from the base of his wings and outward. That cause him to jump up standing straight, you followed in persuit, panicking that you crossed a big line. His wings twitched but he stayed staring forward rigid, you quickly walked around the bench calling to him softly. “Lucifer i am so sorry if i crossed the line, that, that was unacceptable i’m so sorry.” To which Lucifer spun to you, face red, grabbing your shoulders he smiled a somewhat embarrassed smile. “No no, that was completely fine, i just,” Lucifer pulled away tucking his hands away from you, again which was kind of upset you.

“I think if we continue that, type of grooming, I won’t be able to control myself.” Although still shy about his admission his eyes were half lidded and his smile sly. You felt fire explode in your stomach all innocence out the window as your mind settled on one thought. You were gonna bang your friends divorced dad.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel

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s-4pphics · 1 year ago

Text

click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.”

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”

Oh God. “What?”

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.

Why are people… so odd?

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”

“The wettest. Go.”

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“Alright.”

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.

“What’d I say!”

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah what.”

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.

… Cute.

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.

“Hey. Can we switch the time?”

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”

“Sike.”

You scoff in disbelief, “What?”

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”

“Right.”

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.

“Damn… My fault.”

“I’m chilling. I just need head.”

“Go out! Find somebody!”

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly.

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.

“To move in.”

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #black!oc #black!reader #ellie williams tlou #works 𖧧࣪#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Party Girl

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Logan Sargeant x Hunt!Reader

Summary: Logan tries to save a notorious party girl from herself (or in which going wild runs in the Hunt family)

Warnings: illicit substances and peer-pressure

The nightclub’s bass thumps through Logan’s chest as the trio approaches the entrance. Lando and Oscar turn to him with matching grins.

“You ready for this, mate?” Lando asks.

Logan eyes the mass of people spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Is this really a good idea?”

“Of course!” Oscar claps him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be brilliant. Especially with you keeping an eye on the hostess.”

“Me?” Logan’s brow furrows.

Lando nods. “You’re our designated driver tonight, so you’ll be the soberest one here. We need you to keep Y/N from going too far off the rails.”

“Why me though? I barely know her.”

“Exactly!” Oscar exclaims. “She doesn’t really know you either, so she’ll actually listen instead of brushing you off like she does with the rest of us.”

Logan frowns. “I don’t know, guys ...”

“Oh, come on!” Lando wheedles. “You’ve heard the stories about James Hunt. Partying is in her DNA. We just need to make sure she doesn’t take after her grandad too much tonight.”

With a sigh, Logan relents. “Alright, fine. I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

The two grin and clap him on the back before leading the way inside. The throbbing music and flashing lights assault Logan’s senses as they enter. He scans the crowd, quickly spotting a vaguely familiar mane of untamed waves.

You’re laughing uproariously at something one of your friends said, drink sloshing precariously in your hand. Your cheeks are already flushed, eyes bright with intoxication and mirth. A pang of concern flutters in Logan’s chest — Lando and Oscar weren’t kidding about keeping an eye on you.

Making his way through the press of bodies, Logan sidles up next to you. You glance over with a brilliant smile.

“Heyyy, you made it!”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” Logan replies, suddenly feeling awkward. “Your friends invited me to, you know, keep things under control.”

You giggle. “Under control? What fun is that?”

Taking a swig of your drink, you spin away to dance with your friends, moving your hips enticingly. Logan swallows hard, trying not to stare. This is going to be harder than he thought.

The evening blurs by in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Wherever you go, Logan follows at a respectful distance. He rebuffs anyone trying to offer you illicit substances and intervenes whenever your friends get too rowdy.

A few times you shoot him annoyed glares, but he just shrugs apologetically. He’s only doing what Lando and Oscar asked. Besides, he reasons, better to have you mad at him than in real danger.

As the hour grows later, your movements become more uncoordinated, laughter louder and words more slurred. Logan hovers closer, concern mounting.

“Ohhh, Logannnnn,” you croon, draping yourself over him. “You’re sooo stuffy. Live a little!”

He gently extracts himself from your embrace. “I think you’ve lived enough for tonight, Y/N.”

Pouting, you turn away petulantly. Logan watches as a few of your more unscrupulous friends surround you with sly grins. Alarm spikes through him when he sees one of them press something into your palm.

“Hey!” Pushing forward, he places himself between you and them. “Back off. She’s not interested.”

You blink at him owlishly while your friends sneer.

“Who’re you to decide for her, pretty boy?”

“Someone who actually cares if she’s okay.” Logan holds his ground.

With a drunken giggle, you lean against his back. “S’ok, Logieee. Lemme have some fun!”

“No, Y/N.” He spins to face you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “That stuff is bad news. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Your eyes are glazed, but you search his face like you’re trying to understand. One of your friends makes another attempt to press the little baggie into your hand. Without thinking, Logan bats it away. It goes flying across the club, spilling white powder everywhere.

“Dude!” Your friend shouts, outraged.

Logan doesn’t give them a chance to react further. Scooping you up in his arms, he starts carrying you away from the crowd. You’re tiny and warm against his chest, still giggling faintly.

“Mmm, Logan ... gonna getcha in trouble ...”

“I’ll take my chances,” he mutters.

Pushing his way through the throngs of people, Logan finally breaks free into the cool night air. He sets you on your feet, but keeps a steadying hand on your waist when you sway unsteadily.

Up close like this, he can make out the flushed skin across your nose, the flecks of light reflecting in your warm eyes. For a moment you just gaze at each other, the sounds of the party muffled behind the club’s doors.

Then your brow furrows. “Why’d ya stop me? I was jus’ havin’ fun.”

Logan shakes his head slowly. “That kind of fun isn’t good for you, Y/N. Your friends, they ... they weren’t looking out for your best interests back there.”

“You don’ even know me!” You protest, pushing away from him on unsteady feet.

Without thinking, Logan catches your hands in his. They’re so tiny, delicate, yet topped with nails sharp enough to take an eye out. Just like the rest of you — an enigmatic mix of fragile beauty and uncompromising tenacity.

“You’re right, I don’t really know you,” he admits. “But I know that you’re strong. Braver and tougher than anyone gives you credit for. And you don’t need that junk to be the life of the party.”

For a long moment, you simply stare at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, you nod. A few stray tendrils of hair fall across your face and Logan’s fingers itch to brush them back. He tamps down the urge.

“M’sorry I made a scene back there,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Hey.” Logan ducks his head to catch your eye again. “Don’t be sorry. Those people, they ...” He shakes his head in disgust. “You deserve better friends than that.”

Pink dusts your cheeks as the corners of your mouth tick upwards. “You’re sweet, Logan. A real gentleman.”

“I just call it like I see it,” he replies with a shrug.

You laugh softly then, a warm, rich sound that sends tingles down Logan’s spine. When you speak again, your voice is clearer, more sober.

“I guess tonight got a little out of hand. Sometimes I go too far trying to live up to the reputation of my last name. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Hey, we all have things we’re trying to prove.” Logan squeezes your hands reassuringly. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me, Y/N. I can already see how amazing you are.”

For a beat, you simply stare at him, eyes shining. Then, surging up on your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Logan freezes for half a second before melting into the embrace, pulling you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you back with everything he has.

When you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” is all he can think to say.

You grin impishly up at him. “Now there’s a party I wouldn’t mind getting carried away at.”

Logan can’t help but laugh. Tucking you into his side, he presses a kiss to your temple. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

***

Logan jolts awake to the sound of insistent pounding on his hotel room door. Squinting against the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and shuffles to answer it.

“About damn time!” Lando’s voice greets him as soon as the door opens. “Do you know how long we’ve been stuck outside?”

Oscar shoulders past Logan into the room. “Yeah, mate. Abandoning your friends at the club? Not cool.”

Logan’s brow furrows in confusion until the previous night’s events come trickling back. The party, the near miss with the drugs, getting you safely away ...

His gaze drifts to the rumpled bed across the room where you’re just starting to stir, sheets tangled around your legs. A soft smile tugs at Logan’s lips as he watches you blink owlishly.

“Earth to Logan?” Lando waves a hand in front of his face. “You still with us?”

“What? Yeah, sorry.” Logan drags his attention back to the two drivers. “Look, I can explain about last night ...”

“No need to explain why you ditched us,” Oscar interjects with a suggestive wink toward the bed. “We can figure that part out for ourselves.”

You sit upright then, the sheets pooling around your waist as you rub your eyes. “Whas’ goin’ on?”

“Well, well!” Lando exclaims with a salacious grin. “If it isn’t the life of the party herself! Get up to any ... extracurriculars last night?”

Heat creeps up the back of Logan’s neck as you glance between the three of them in sleepy bewilderment. A strangled laugh escapes Oscar’s lips as the realization hits both of them. You and Logan lock eyes from across the room, equally mortified.

“No, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” Logan splutters.

Lando claps a hand on his shoulder with a pitying look. “It’s alright, mate. You don’t have to be ashamed about finally getting some action.”

“But I didn’t!” Logan insists, running a flustered hand through his hair. “Y/N, tell them!”

Untangling yourself from the sheets, you slide off the bed — giving everyone an eyeful of the fact that you’re only wearing one of Logan’s hoodies. His breath catches in his throat because damn if you don’t look incredible drowning in his clothes.

Your bare feet pad across the carpet until you’re standing before him, fingers playing with the worn cotton hem. “He’s right, you two. We didn’t ... you know.”

Hurt flashes across Logan’s face before he can squelch it back down. Right, of course you wouldn’t want that after all the lines he crossed last night. You’d been drunk and vulnerable and now you were regretting everything, including the–

“We kissed! But it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he blurts out, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I got Y/N out of a bad situation and we may have, uh, gotten a little carried away in the heat of the moment. But she was drunk and it won’t happen again, I swear.”

An awkward silence falls over the room, broken only by Lando’s snort of laughter. “No rizz, this one.”

Logan’s jaw clenches. He knew they’d tease him about it, but he’s a grown man and he doesn’t need to take it from the likes of–

“Logan.”

Your voice is soft but it cuts through the embarrassment swirling in his mind. You take his face gently in your hands and he’s helpless but to meet your warm gaze.

“What if I want it to mean something?”

The air whooshes out of him in a surprised breath. His hands find your waist of their own accord like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Y-You do?”

Behind you, Oscar groans. “God, he’s so hopeless.”

“I think it’s sweet!” Lando retorts. “Innocent, you know? Like a puppy getting all flustered.”

Logan blocks them out, his whole world narrowing to the amused, almost fond smile playing across your lips. You nod, leaning further into his embrace.

“I meant what I said last night, Logan. You’re the sweetest, most caring guy I’ve ever met. And I like you.” Your nose wrinkles adorably. “A lot, actually.”

He blinks rapidly, certain his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “Y/N, I ... I like you too. So much.”

Laughing that rich, warm laugh of yours, you loop your arms around his neck and rise up on your tiptoes. Logan meets you halfway, melting into the heated press of your lips against his.

Catcalls and wolf-whistles finally penetrate the happy bubble enveloping you both. You break the kiss with a breathless giggle, burrowing your face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Oscar hollers. “Get a room!”

“Yeah, we’ve already got one!” Logan shoots back, surprising himself with the retort. He winks cheekily at you and you positively beam in response, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Alright, that’s our cue!” Lando steers Oscar toward the door. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, you crazy kids!”

The door slams behind them, leaving you and Logan alone in blissful quiet. His arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him. For a few heartbeats, you simply drink each other in, basking in the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feelings bubbling up.

Eventually you break the spell with a featherlight brush of your lips against the corner of Logan’s mouth. “So, was that too forward? I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you ...”

“No!” He rushes to reassure you. “God, no. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You poke his chest lightly, eyes dancing with mirth. “Not even racing?”

Logan chuckles, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Okay, maybe one other thing. But you’re definitely in the top two.”

Winding your arms back around his neck, you arch one brow mischievously. “Only top two? I’ll have to work on that ...”

His breath catches in his throat at the playful promise in your tone. “I, uh ... I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

As you lean in to kiss him again, Logan can’t help but silently thank Lando and Oscar for dragging him to that party. True, the night didn’t go exactly as expected. But he wound up with the greatest prize of all — you, here in his arms, carefree and happy and perfect in every way.

Like the gentleman his mama raised him to be, Logan vows silently to cherish every moment with you. After all, only a fool would look a gift horse like you in the mouth.

***

Adrenaline still thrums through Logan’s veins as he exits parc fermé, helmet tucked under his arm. His cheeks ache from the wide grin stretched across his face — a double points finish was exactly what Williams needed.

Alex falls into step beside him, equally elated after their impressive showing on the track today. They did good, really good. Logan can’t wait to celebrate with the whole team.

As they approach the Williams garage, a familiar head of hair catches Logan’s eye. You’re standing front and center, bouncing on the balls of your feet with poorly contained excitement. A large bakery box is clutched in your hands, the elaborate logo on the lid leaving little doubt as to its expensive contents.

Logan’s grin widens impossibly further. Of course you’d be here with treats in tow, always ready to turn any occasion into a party. His heart swells with affection just watching you eagerly await his and Alex’s return.

The rest of the team notice their arrival and erupt into cheers, crowding around to clap the drivers on the back with jubilant congratulations. You hang back, though your whole face is lit up with unabashed pride.

“Nice one out there, lads!” An engineer calls over the ruckus.

“About time we had a good points haul,” Another mechanic agrees.

Logan waves off the compliments with a bashful duck of his head. The team has been through so much in recent seasons — they deserve this moment more than he does.

“Alright, alright! Give the boys some space to breathe!” A familiar voice rings out.

You shove your way through the throngs of people, bounding right up to Logan with a brilliant grin. He has a split second to brace himself before you launch into his arms, nearly sending him toppling backward with the force of your enthusiasm.

“You were brilliant!” You exclaim, planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek that has him blushing furiously. “Both of you! I’m so proud!”

Alex chuckles fondly as you untangle yourself from Logan just enough to loop an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “We couldn’t have done it without the team’s hard work. You should be proud of them.”

“Oh, I am!” You turn your beaming smile on the rest of the crew. “Which is why I brought a little celebratory treat!”

Holding up the bakery box with a waggle of your brows, you peel back the lid to reveal a massively decadent-looking chocolate cake. It’s one of the most elaborate confections Logan has ever laid eyes on.

A reverent hush falls over the assembled group as they all lean in to get a better look. The air is suddenly thick with the rich scent of cocoa and buttercream frosting.

“Blimey, Y/N! That must’ve set you back a pretty penny!” Alex exclaims.

You wave him off with a casual flap of your hand. “Oh, please! You don’t even want to know how many races I’ve brought an expensive cake to just in case. I’m just glad I finally got to use this one!”

A ripple of laughter rolls through the crew at that. Logan shakes his head in fond exasperation, equal parts endeared and unsurprised by your extravagant gesture.

When your gaze lands on him again, warmth blooms in his chest at the open adoration shining in your eyes. You look at him like he’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen, not some lucky racer who simply played a tiny part in today’s success.

Liquid courage from the race still thrumming through his veins, Logan acts on impulse. Plucking the cake box deftly from your grip, he passes it off to a bewildered Alex before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you soundly.

A startled squeak quickly melts into a pleased hum as you melt against him, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Logan pours every ounce of his pride and affection for you into the heated press of his lips, uncaring of the captive audience for once.

Hoots and hollers finally break through the rosy haze fogging Logan’s mind. He breaks the kiss with a breathless chuckle, thumbs brushing over the delightfully flushed apples of your cheeks.

“Get a room, you two!” Alex hollers with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the crew quickly devolves into jokes and ribbing at your expense, but Logan couldn’t care less. With you smiling up at him like he hung the moon, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

The impish grin you shoot him in return makes his heart stutter. “Well, it wouldn’t be a proper party without dessert.”

An arm slings around Logan’s shoulders, disrupting the little bubble you’ve found yourselves cocooned in. He startles, having completely forgotten about the dozens of other people still milling about.

“Well isn’t this just precious!” Gaetan, Logan’s race engineer, gives him an affectionate shake. “Young love blossoming right here in the garage!”

Red blooms high on Logan’s cheeks even as your melodic giggles wash over him. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“We’re not that young.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Gaetan retorts with a bark of laughter. “You two have more spark than the rest of the kids around here combined.”

Your hand finds Logan’s, tangling your fingers together as you lean bodily into his side. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to bask in the happiness surrounding him. It’s like floating, secure in the knowledge that you’ll always be right here to keep him grounded.

“You know,” you begin softly, batting your lashes up at Logan. “This might just be my new favorite party.”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes him. But really, he shouldn’t be so shocked. From the moment he met you, it was clear you had an unparalleled zest for life. You see the joy and potential for a good time in every single occasion. It’s one of the many, many things Logan loves about you.

“Your favorite, huh?” He bends to press his forehead to yours, drinking in your radiant smile. “I’ll remember this one, then.”

Because no matter how many parties, races, or adventures you two share moving forward, Logan vows to cherish each and every one with you by his side. After all, every single moment is worth celebrating when you get to spend it with the person you love most.

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hannyoontify · 11 months ago

Text

new years kiss w seventeen

warnings | none

notes | ignore the fact that this was like three days late

seungcheol, hoshi, mingyu, dokyeom

he needs to be dramatic about it

it's your first kiss of the year!! ofc it's gotta be special

he'll probably take you to an event where there's fireworks and a countdown

he'll be so excited the entire time he's there

when the people around you start counting down, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and dip you for a kiss just as the clock strikes midnight

omg or or or

you guys have some space so he twirls you around like those couples in those tiktoks and tug your arm so you end up in his embrace and then he'll dip you and dramatically kiss you

UAGHJDDKLJG

and you KNOW he's been looking forward to this and planning this all year

he'll only come up for air cuz you're giggling so much

look at you afterwards with a bright, lovesick smile and press another peck to your lips before whispering "happy new years baby"

jeonghan, wonwoo, woozi, the8, vernon

rather than going out, the two of you continue your annual tradition of watching the same movie every year/reading/playing a game/(insert here)

you're just eating and talking and hanging out until the clock strikes midnight

even then, you don't look at the clock the two of you just guess based on the sudden burst of fireworks that you hear

you guys are too tired to even check if it's actually the new year

he scooches closer to you and slowly lowers his lips to touch yours

the fireworks in your stomach replicate the ones going off outside of your home

once the fireworks (outside) have quieted down a bit, he'll pull away with a shy smile

"happy new years, love"

joshua, jun, seungkwan, dino

*clears throat* lemme set the scene for y'all

you guys are at a party

some new years party that your friend of a friend's brother's cousin's girlfriend is hosting and you and your boyfriend just happened to be invited to

the two of you drift away from each other for most of the party as you guys interact and catch up with old faces

until people start counting down and he starts to frantically scour and search the room

like my boy's (gently) pushing people aside to try and look for you

is he a little drunk? maybe but he's set on finding you and kissing to you start a new year

luckily he manages to find you just as people are counting down '3... 2...'

with a sly(?) grin, he'll grab your waist with one hand, a drink in the other

and pull you in for a kiss '...1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!'

AUGHASDLKGJSL

"happy new years honey.. here's to another year of us"

bonus: hoshi, dokyeom, jeonghan(? is a 50/50)

"is it just me or does it feel like 2023 was just yesterday"

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

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asapeveryday · 7 months ago

Text

Fuck The Freshmen (1/2)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Media girl!reader

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, paige is slightly ooc

Summary: Paige seems to be paying a lot of attention to this years freshman, but what you don’t realize is she pays attention to you too.

A/n: not sure if I should do a second part to this or leave it as is..also I got a couple requests for media girl shit so I hope this is good!! I’ll prob do more involving a media girl reader in the future

“Girl… stop staring like that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.” You nudge your friend in response, not taking your eyes off of the people in front of you.

You and your best friend had both had an interest in sports throughout childhood, so when the opportunity to become media girls came up at the University of Connecticut, a school with amazing sports teams, you both took the chance.

Since freshmen year you’ve grown a lot with the D1 Women’s Basketball team. What started as an awkward beginning had blossomed into a family-like relationship with most of the girls, and you had learned a lot in the past four years. Taking pictures during games had been the best part.

You’d gotten so good at it, by senior year you were appointed “student manager” of the media team, basically meaning you ran social media’s and were able to be as hands-on as possible.

Another thing nice about being a senior was mentoring. Just like the players on the Huskies, when new additions came to the media team you enjoyed teaching all the freshies your ways. None of them were as close as you were with the girls, for the most part.

“Wow, this one actually goes hard.” Paige’s voice rings through your ears. She’s leaning into one of the freshmen students, peering at her camera.

“Wait go back to that one. Shit, that’s good. That deserves to go on the instagram.” Paige says, ruffling the girls hair and patting her back.

“Thanks! Means a lot coming from you.” The freshie replies. You watch as the girls face turns pink at Paige’s contact with her. You listen as Paige showers her with endless praises.

“Seriously (Name). Stop gawking at them.” Your friend flicks you.

You shake your head in disapproval. “When I was a freshmen i barely interacted with the team, let alone the seniors.”

Your friend raises her eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just mad that Paige is all over the kid?”

“Super-senior Paige is gross, I’ll say that. But whatever, it’s not a big deal. I was just observing.” You grumble, hating to watch those two interact but unable to tear your eyes away.

“You’re in denial.”

“Pfft, I couldn’t care less.”

Paige’s eyes turn to meet yours, and you quickly look away. You can feel her smirk radiating, even as you turn to leave the gym.

“I’m gonna go get a snack.” You mutter. Your friend just nods.

As you walk to the vending machine outside of the gym, you feel your stomach twist at the thought of the scene earlier. You wish you didn’t care, but you’re all too familiar with the feeling of jealousy.

You pick out your favourite from the machine, but as you’re about to pay you hear a familiar voice.

“Lemme get that for you.”

Paige is behind you, and she pays for your snack before you can object.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say.

“I wanted to though.” She shrugs in response. Paige looked good as always in her Huskies tracksuit, hair braided and tied back in her usual ponytail. Eyes blue and constantly searching your face for a clue to what you’re thinking. Sometimes even observing your body. “Didn’t take many pictures today, did you?” She asks.

“I don’t take pictures of random practices.” You roll your eyes, she’s supposed to know this but obviously doesn’t.

“Me and the others were brainstorming, and the freshmen got to test out action shots with the cameras.”

“You’ve got some good talent on your team with those freshmen, huh?” She smiles. You almost want to punch her. Paige is taunting you.

You decide to stay unbothered, even though your body is feeling hot with either anger or arousal. Usually it was both with her.

“Yep.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The teams gonna be in good hands when you graduate.” Paige smirks again, an awful know-it-all smirk.

“I want to get to know the freshmen better, since I’m staying another year I feel like I should be closer with them.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, Bueckers? You gonna fuck your way through the whole media team?” You quip. So much for staying unbothered..

She’s startled for a moment, but recollects herself by saying “I would if I could. You wanna go first or last?”

“Eat a dick.” You snap

“Kiss my ass.” She replies.

“I’d rather die.”

Paige scoffs.“You know you’ve thought of it.”

“You’re so fucking cocky.”

“And you can’t admit that you want me.”

You truly seethe at that.

“God, you think everyone wants you. Get a grip.”

“Well I don’t care about ‘everyone’ I’m just tryna get you.” She groans, as if it’s common knowledge.

“If you think I’m the type of girl who’s just gonna let you hit and then carry on with my life then you’re more stupid then I thought.”

“Ion’ know where you got this little idea that I just hoe around, but it needs to stop.” She finally says, no longer joking. She’s basically cornered you against the vending machine at this point. There’s nowhere to go, and if you weren’t so worked up you would’ve felt frozen by her gaze.

“Have you heard the way you talk to me, Bueckers? You don’t talk to anyone else like that.” You cross your arms.

Paige rubs her face, embarrassed. “Because you freak me the fuck out. I don’t know how to talk to you, and you’re just so cute when you’re mad. I can’t help it.”

You say nothing.

“I fucking hate seeing you talk to the others like you’re best friends. I hate the fact that you never talk to me. I don’t know why I fuck it up when you do, you’re just different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. You’re something else.”

The two of you just stare at each other now. There had always been an untouched tension between you and Paige. The others dismissed it as banter, but you were never quite sure.

“Just don’t lie and say you don’t think about me.” Paige finally says. “I know you think about me. I see the effect I have on you, ma.”

She cups your face with her hand, letting her finger graze over your lip. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime before she whispers. “Can we go?”

“And the freshmen?” You cock your head.

Paige gives you a fierce look. “Fuck the freshmen.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #paige bueckers

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 days ago

Text

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately.

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress.

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me?

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter.

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?"

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely.

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold.

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision.

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more.

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you.

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light.

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said.

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine.

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?"

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table.

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her.

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike."

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #let the light in au

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brighttearss · 2 months ago

Text

When the party starts -

You had gotten a joint from someone you didn’t know, probably someone from your school. You came to this party just to try and "fit in" with all these people since you were the new girl. It was your first joint and your first party of this kind, but everything felt so boring... It wasn’t what you expected. Honestly, you didn’t even want to smoke, you just wanted to forget your problems for a while. So, you stepped away from the noisy crowd and headed to the mansion’s terrace—not that you knew whose house it was. You’d been invited by one of the organizers, probably his parents. Nothing surprising.

You sat down, staring at the sky, before trying to light the joint to make things a little more interesting. You searched your pockets for a lighter, but realized you had left it downstairs.

“Great...” you muttered, disappointed, setting the cigarette aside for a few seconds. A shadow approached, and you noticed a girl’s presence. She had long blue braids, tattooed arms, and wore knee-length shorts and a neon blue top that was incredibly bold, yet striking. She was pretty attractive. You admired her for a moment before she sat down next to you, offering a lighter.

“Thanks” you replied, a bit shy,opening a small smile.

“You come here often?” she asked, curious, more as a way to start a conversation as she crossed her legs.

“No... it’s my first time,” you replied, lighting the joint, then handing the lighter back with a friendly smile.

“Ah...”

The girl didn’t react much, just raised an eyebrow. It was a typical event, after all. She took the lighter and pocketed it.

As expected, you choked on the smoke.

“It’s just a matter of time, you’ll get used to it,” she said, taking a drag too and blowing the smoke out through her mouth. It looked kind of sexy—or was the joint already hitting you? Wait... you still didn’t know her name. Not that you hadn’t heard about the troublemaker with blue hair who supposedly sold drugs and had some mental issues, but who cares? You sure didn’t.

“... What’s your name?” you asked as she looked at you, analyzing you for a moment before adjusting her posture.

“Jinx.”

“Oh... interesting name. Different, to be honest,” you tried to compliment her while she continued smoking her joint. You had already forgotten yours. It seemed like this Jinx girl was far more interesting than that.

She let out a light, sarcastic laugh. “Hmm... everyone says that.”

“I bet…”

“You new around here? Never seen you at school,” Jinx asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Yeah... just got here three days ago.”

“Three days? And you’ve already ended up at a party like this. Impressive,” Jinx said with a mischievous smile, twirling her braids like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Must be a talent.”

"I don’t know where I ended up, actually..."

Jinx nodded in understanding. She noticed your joint was going out and took it from your hand. “Lemme see that...” She took a drag and blew the smoke out, holding both joints before handing yours back.

“Got the hang of it yet?” Jinx gave a small smile, watching as you kept struggling, coughing over and over. It looked so easy. A tear rolled down your cheek, and Jinx, noticing, gently touched your face, leaning in to wipe the tear away softly. You didn’t even need the joint anymore—nothing felt better than that moment.

You leaned in, and surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Jinx did the same. She planted her hands on the concrete floor, keeping the intense eye contact. Her blue eyes were as deep as the ocean, or maybe like the sky. Then, finally, your lips closed the distance between you two. You were on cloud nine now, for sure. Jinx seemed just as dizzy as you, and it felt amazing as her hands slid from your cheeks to your waist, tracing every inch of your body. Your face was burning red, but thankfully, she couldn’t see it.

"If I knew the party was gonna get this good..." she whispered against your lips with a playful smile.

You give a shy smile. "Same..." Then, you lean back into Jinx's lips, fully immersing yourself in the kiss as Jinx explores your mouth with her tongue, gently nibbling on your lower lip.

And just like that, you continued, kissing and getting more and more lost in each other as the night—or maybe the early morning—wore on... This was definitely way more fun.

★★★

I could have done a bit better, but I did it in a hurry. I'll bring a better one, I promise! ♡

Wc:639

#jinx arcane #jinx × reader #lesbian #arcane #jinx #arcane jinx #jinx × fem!reader #jinx arcane fic

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anisespice · 1 year ago

Note

tokyo revengers boys when their horny but their s/o is too busy to deal with their shit? (u can add bonten-)

aye aye, anon! 🫡 needy men are my favorite flavor 🤤 thank you so much for your patience, and requesting ♡♡♡

pairing: tr x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI. cursing, vague descriptions of sex, teasing, mild nipple-play, empty threats, crack!fic coded behavior, a tiny pinch of barely-there angst in mikey’s with a hint of misogyny, and i think that’s it :D feel free to lemme know if i missed anything!

notes: something about this request screamed sano to me, and maybe even throw sanzu in the mix for a little treat ( ˘ ³˘). also may have strayed a little from the original plot of the request, but the premise is fairly the same >:)) hope you enjoy !!

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow

“Get outta there.”

Though your tone sounded stern, your demeanor remained placid as you continued typing on your laptop, making no move to actually stop the hands from creeping inside your sweater. You were well aware of their destination, and it was anything but harmless. SHINICHIRO was latched onto you the moment he arrived at your place, excited to spend his day off alone with you, and away from the prying eyes of his siblings for once. Rarely did the two of you get alone time due to your conflicting schedules, savoring the moments you did get without outward distractions in the way.

Things were going great for the most part…until your boss decided to dump busywork into your email, last minute.

“…tell ‘em to go fuck himself, so you can focus on fucking me,” Shinichiro grumbled into your shoulder, calloused hands feeling up your chest with slow, deliberate touches. You chortled, masking the small moan that nearly slipped out when he gently grazed your nipples.

“Good idea, Shin. But wait, oh shoot, fucking you won’t exactly pay my bills, now will it? So, knock it off.”

“Who says it won’t? I’ll pay your bills for the next month, hell, the next six months, if it means you’ll let me just stick it in, baby, please..”

You hissed through your teeth at the small pinch he gave your sensitive nubs, dick damn-near throbbing against your lower back as he rutted against you. Should’ve known sitting on his lap while you worked would backfire, poor thing’s so wound up, you felt a little bad. It’d been nearly three weeks since you and Shinichiro had even a second to breathe the same air, let alone touch each other.

You weren’t immune, craving a taste of him just as much, there’s nothing you wanted more than to succumb to his persuasion. But, having been on bad terms with your tyrant boss one too many times, you couldn’t afford to procrastinate.

“Shini,” you spoke, breathless as he suckled on your neck, growing more bold with his touch, “a-as much as I’d love for you to do that for me… you don’t exactly have the funds to make such an offer.”

He huffed, nipping playfully at your pulse. “I’ll get another job. Good? Good, problem solved, can you take your clothes off now?”

“Tempting…but no. Appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Shinichiro whined in the crook of your neck. His hands slowed to a stop inside your sweater, slipping down to rest on your tummy instead. It sent a tiny shiver up your spine, but was ignored all the same as you attempted to resume typing, seeming to have put a damper on his resolve. Or, so you thought.

Not even a minute passed when you felt his fingers searching for something else to play with. Something that has been calling his name since he waltzed through your front door. “Shin…”

Your warning fell upon deaf ears. Shinichiro merely shrugged, feigning innocence while his hands breached the waistband of your sleep-shorts, stopping right at your pelvic bone. Leaning back in the chair, the ravenette spread his legs further apart, forcing yours to do the same, giving him even more access to your already accessible center. Despite his lanky stature, homie had grip—Try and close your legs all you want, you’ll pull a muscle before pulling out of it. Your heart was borderline going Macarena, focus jumbled up to the point there were more typos than words in the report you tried completing.

You huffed, though your tone sounded less stern compared to the first time. “Shinichiro. If you don’t let me finish my work…I’ll ban your dick from ever entering me or this house for a whole month.”

On any other given day, that empty threat would’ve done the trick, hands flying off you so fast you’d think he got electrocuted. But, this wasn’t any other given day. This was already a two-week long hiatus of his most favorite place to be, in between your legs, and the only thing keeping him from it was your lack of underwear beneath thin-cotten shorts. Threaten him if you must, but it won’t work.

You weren’t fooling anyone.

Playing hard to get could take you so far, but he knew you were mere moments from crumbling to your desires you tried so hard to suppress, no shot you’d last another day, let alone a month. He was determined, and you were being stubborn—An immovable object verses an unstoppable force. Eventually, someone had to give. And it wasn’t about to be you.

It went on like that for another few minutes, him feeling you up and you batting him away. It only worsened the second he went further in your shorts, teasing your sex until you soaked through the fabric. You could feel his smug grin against your shoulder, no doubt thinking he was winning this battle. However, Shinichiro wasn’t aware of your trump card, your Charizard, if you will.

It’s a dirty trick. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

By slamming your fists atop of the table, startling him right out of your shorts, you turned to look him dead in the face, and said, “Don’t make me call Mikey.”

The mechanic widely blinked. But, his shock was short lived as he fixed you a sarcastic look, bringing his slick-coated fingers up to the light and right into his mouth to be even more obnoxious. After pulling them out with a wet pop!, Shinichiro called your bluff.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And would. Emma’s probably dying to catch up with me anyway, since I haven’t been around as much lately. And we both know Mikey would come just to spite you.”

As you continued to hold his stare, not backing down or giving any indication that you were joking, the sardonicism began to melt off his demeanor, and soon realization took its place. Shortly after that, betrayal. How could you be so cruel? He was already competing with an inanimate object, he’ll be damned if his siblings get added to the list. Taking a moment to weight his options, or lack there of, his face soon resembled a kicked puppy with his bottom lip stuck out and everything; you could’ve sworn his eyes started to water. “t’s not fair…been waiting all damn day…”

“I know, baby. But I need you to hang on for just a little longer f’me, okay? And once I’m done, then I’m all yours.” You cooed, placing a small peck on his nose as an olive branch. It seemed to do the trick, his frown softening as he pointed at his lips, puckering them. You snorted, but happily obliged, even placing a few more across his face until you got a smile. Shinichiro soaked up whatever he could as he leaned into you for more.

When it seemed he was satisfied, you turned back to continue working…only for the ravenette to try his luck one more time. “Can I get one here, too?”

You peered at him from over your shoulder—Give you one guess where he was pointing, wearing that all too pleased grin from before. You deadpanned.

“…I’m calling Mikey.”

“NoOO—”

—

“That’s considered sexual harassment, Mr. Sano.”

If he could time travel, MIKEY would beat the breaks off his past-self for ever encouraging you to fill the role of secretary at his work. At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea—Standing at his side, his pretty little assistant, wearing a tight uniform that left nothing to the imagination. He’d bend you over his desk and fuck you anytime he pleased, you’d call him Sir, and walk around the office filled to the brim with his cum until time to go home, then he’d fill you up all over again—The perfect work-life balance.

However, the gangster didn’t account for one teensy thing—You, actually taking the job seriously, and setting professional boundaries the moment you were hired on the staff. No matter if you’d be practically all over him in the car moments prior to clocking in, the second your kitten heels touched the marbled floors of the lobby…he wasn’t your lover anymore. He was your boss.

And he hated it.

“Sexual harass—You’re my s/o, [______].”

“Not within these walls, I’m not.” You continued reading one of the files left on your desk to review for tomorrow’s meeting, only for it soon to vanish right before your eyes. After a long blink, you held out an expectant hand to the stubborn blonde. “May I have that back, please?”

“No.”

“Mr. Sano-”

“If you address me formally one more time, I’ll take you right here in the middle of this hallway. Try me.” He hissed, holding the file out of reach.

You pursed your lips, fighting a grin. Seeing him get so worked up over not being able to get his dick wet was entertaining to say the least, but you were well aware he wasn’t kidding. Clearing your throat, you attempted to tread lightly as your expression morphed back to neutral.

“Alright. Mikey,” his eye twitched, but you continued, “would you be so kind as to let me finish reading the material for your meeting tomorrow? I would hate for anything to be amiss because I didn’t do a thorough review.”

“Tch. Where’s Kakucho? I distinctly remember assigning this task for him. Not you.”

You raised a brow. “You sent him on an impromptu errand to fill up the time he was spending ‘idling at my desk’. You remember that?”

Mikey averted his gaze. “…Don’t recall.”

“‘course you don’t,” you exhaled. “Mikey, with all due respect-”

“Not that name either.” He commanded, slapping the file back on the desk before placing his hands upon it to lean forward, towering over you. You couldn’t fight the grin this time, tilting your head up at him, amusement in your gaze.

“That’s your name, is it not?”

Mikey glared. “You know that isn’t the one I’d prefer you to use.”

With a shrug, you easily replied, “It’s what most of your employees call you. And last time I checked, that included me-” Mikey was quick to grab your chin, forcing you to look deep into his dark, deranged eyes. Man’s was definitely toeing line of his limit, and you were pushing it.

“And last time I checked, you aren’t like most employees. You’re my partner who’s working on my last nerve, and should really consider dropping this whole ‘professionalism’ act before I remind them why they were hired in the first place. And no, it wasn’t for your work ethic and attention to detail, or whatever bullshit Koko told you in the interview.”

Ouch.

Not to say you didn’t figure there were ulterior motives behind getting approved for the job, especially under the circumstances that you were heavily under-qualified to work in their type of environment. But, you tried your damnedest to keep up, do your part, and not be a burden on the team. For him to call it nonsense and boldly confirm such suspicions outloud? You think he realized his mistake the second your face reverted back to its neutral state. Wiggling out of his grip, you leaned back in the chair with your arms tightly crossed to your chest.

“That so? Well then, Michael, how ‘bout I remind you why a man shouldn’t mix his business with his pleasure. Things could turn ugly for him, maybe even end up losing both a loyal employee and a lover all in one day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Out of all the names, that one made him cringe the most. A clear indicator of his grandiose fuck-up, one that if he didn’t fix immediately, he’d soon suffer the consequences. And your wrath.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. It came out wrong-”

“Oh, I’m sure it didn’t. You’re a man who speaks his mind, after all.”

Mikey, though subtly, panicked. This wasn’t at all how he expected the conversation to go. But, it’s not his fault! It was his dick doing all the driving. With you working for Bonten, his long hours became yours, and by the time you both got home, sex became scarce due to your exhaustion. He was immune to the taxation of the job, while it was kicking your ass. And to top it off, he couldn’t even cop a feel of his own s/o, in his own damn building, because of ‘power imbalances’ between a boss and secretary that was ‘socially unacceptable’, according to you…as you work for the biggest crime syndicate in all of Japan.

Flawed reasoning aside, it drove him insane.

But, no thanks to his lust-clouded brashness, if Mikey thought getting some action at work was difficult, his chances at home just got a whole lot worse. He’d be lucky if you even slept in the same bed tonight.

“[_____],” he sighed, reaching over to grab your hand, though you moved it away at the last second. “You do a fantastic job here, angel. Exceeded all my expectations, actually-”

“Well, based on the merits of why you hired me in the first place, that doesn’t sound like much.” At that point, you went back to reviewing the file he threw back on the desk, seeming disinterested. But, Mikey knew better.

He’d hurt your feelings. To be reduced to nothing but eye candy for him, when you were busting your ass off like everyone else, it stung. It was playful at first, but now the blonde had crossed a line. With determination, Mikey removed the file from your sight once more, rounding the desk before crouching down so he could level with you this time.

You allowed him to take your hands in his, still indifferent. Mikey spoke with a tenderness only reserved for you, one that never failed to melt any cold front you built to wane his efforts.

“I was being childish. I shouldn’t have diminished your role like that, and I apologize for making you feel like your work isn’t appreciated. I’m glad to have you as my loyal employee. Even if a visit in my office from my lover from time to time wouldn’t be too bad, either…”

His words trailed off, along with his gaze as he reminisced. You chortled, shaking your head. Mikey looked back at you, ghost of a grin on his face. “I’ll back off. Promise.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “You mean it?”

“Mmhm. Under one condition.”

You groaned, “Mikey-”

“Manjiro.”

“Oh, is that the condition?” He lightly pinched you for the snark, resting his head on your lap. But, before you could reprimand him for his inappropriate position, your words catch in your throat.

His stare was intense as they gazed up at you with hidden hunger, the tenderness still swimming in the inky pools, but not as present compared to moments ago. Mikey licked his lips, nuzzling against your plush thigh.

“Work less hours. Don’t want you to run yourself ragged trynna keep up with the rest of us. We’ve been doing this line of work a lot longer than you have, baby. No need to overcompensate. I’m already proud of you.”

Steadily did those words make your heart melt, until your were practically mush once they’ve set in. To hear his pride in you almost made you kick your feet, for that was all you really wanted at the end of the day—Acknowledgment. Validation. Praise. And working less hours would definitely benefit in more ways than one, more so on your mental health. You won’t lie and say this new job hasn’t been a challenge, all the talk about blood, death and drugs, one could only handle so much.

“Thank you..Manjiro.” He lit up at the sound of his name spilling sweetly from your lips. “I greatly appreciate you saying that. But, what’s the catch?”

He hummed, hands releasing yours to caress your calves all the way back up to your hips. Mikey didn’t pull nor tug, more so just holding you in place as he continued to watch you like a hawk. Eventually he shook his head, tresses fluttering with him as they curtained the sides of his face.

“No catch. Work your hours, I’ll leave you be…But once those hours are up, you better be sitting pretty on my desk with your reports in one hand and your underwear in the other, waiting for me to choose between my business and my pleasure. Deal?”

—

“Pout all you want, I’m not sitting on your face.”

When you informed your darling SANZU that your Saturdays were strictly for housework, he honestly thought you were joking—What idiot in their twenties would spend the weekend doing that?

Evidently his idiot, that’s who.

Imagine his surprise when he showed up, unannounced, ready to have you on every piece of furniture, only to be threatened with a feather duster the second he went to grab your ass. “Paws off. I already changed the sheets on my bed, cleaned the bathroom, the kitchen, and mopped the floors, so unless you’re here to help dust or wipe windows, keep it in your pants, Haruchiyo.”

Needless to say, he wasn’t the happiest houseguest.

After the long work week he’s had, Sanzu was looking forward to locking the two of you in the back all weekend, going at it like rabbits with no other purpose but keep the neighbors up—Pretty much until the room stank. But, thanks to this cleaning ritual of yours, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. Especially not with the various scented candles you were burning to hide the potent smell of bleach and pine-sol. God, he was getting such a headache from overstimulation…and not the good kind.

“This is such bullshit,” he groaned into the couch, where you banished him after he tried to bend you over the washing machine while you were loading another basket of dirty clothes. “Why’d you even invite me over if we weren’t gonna do anything…”

You paused from folding, side-eyeing him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You said you were staying in all day. That’s practically code for: I’m bored, come dick me down.”

Your laugh had snuck up on you, racking through your entire body to the point you had curled forward. The leap he took to draw such a conclusion nearly gave you whiplash as you attempted to regain composure. “Maybe for freaky-fucks like you, but the rest of us usually mean it as something mundane. Like, oh I dunno, doing chores.”

“On a Saturday?? What ‘re ya, 80??”

You shrugged, placing another item onto its respective pile. “You don’t have to stay, y’know. If you have something better to do, then by all means, don’t let me keep you.”

Sanzu abruptly sat up from his position, the clothes you had laid on his back flopping onto the floor, instantly losing their folded shape. You shot him an annoyed glance, but figured some of the blame was yours for using his skittish-ass for a table. The pinkette wore a pitiful look, wide cerulean eyes piercing right through you as he gave a defiant punch to the couch cushion, “Was ‘posed to be doing you! And you are keeping me from doing that!”

With a huff, you set aside the pile you were currently working through to gather up the clothes that he so rudely let fall to the floor. “Unfortunate. Now lay back down, and be a good table. Since you wanted to be chair so fucking badly.”

“Piss off.”

He absolutely laid back down.

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