#also the only thing i was told about it was the word banana but the bakery is so good i trusted her

[tiberius-kirks]

DAMN you ever try a new food on a whim and it slaps so hard

[trickphotography2]

Two Lines

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!reader

The last thing Jake expected to see first thing in the morning was a pregnancy test in the trash can. And he definitely didn’t expect a debate with his wife about what those two lines meant. 

Word count: 1.5K

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It took a lot to shock Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Not only had he made it through a military academy, he was a combat pilot who’d seen action in two war zones and had medals to back up his claim that he was one of the Navy’s best.

But the sight of the pink-capped test in the bathroom trashcan had him choking on his toothbrush.

Adrenaline shot through him, waking him up from the half-stupor he’d been in. It was still early before your alarm went off. But you’d been restless all night, tossing and turning and grumbling about what a stupid idea it was to get your work-mandated flu shot at the same time as your COVID booster.

“Not sure why you did it,” he’d teased, brushing the hair from your eyes. “You always feel like crap after.”

“I know,” you whined, curling closer to him even as your body ached and your stomach clenched. “I just needed to get it out of the way, and since I don’t have any clients tomorrow, I figured I could call out sick if I needed to.”

But that didn’t explain the pregnancy test in the trash.

After just under a year of marriage, you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but neither were you trying to prevent it. Both of you were in agreement that you’d be happy to have kids if it happened, but you were also satisfied with it being just the two of you for a while, or even forever.

Your period being late wasn’t uncommon, especially when you were stressed. And with the clinic officially understaffed and you taking on a larger client panel while trying to balance groups and to promote to a leadership spot, Jake knew you were stressed. For the first time, he’d seen you working on the weekend to catch up on session notes and submit consults, making sure your clients were getting connected to the services they needed.

The test was probably just for peace of mind, he reasoned, forcing himself to finish brushing his teeth while keeping his eyes on the trashcan. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken one, but it was the first time you hadn’t told him about it… that he knew of. And if you’d thrown it away, it had to be negative. You’d stumbled back to bed just an hour ago after using the bathroom, waking him as you collapsed back onto the mattress and declaring that you were calling in sick. When he’d pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead, he’d felt your low-grade fever.

Just like he’d expected. It was why he’d stopped at the Commissary on the way home from work, grabbing bananas, applesauce, and bread to make sure you had something to eat while wallowing on the couch between naps.

Besides, he knew he’d be joining you on Saturday - he had his appointment to stop at the base hospital and get his mandatory annual flu shot, too. While it didn’t take him out like it did with you, he’d never pass up an excuse to have a lazy weekend.

With a forced nonchalance that he didn’t feel, Jake put away his toothbrush before reaching for the pregnancy test. Turning it, he saw two lines.

Two lines.

Jake stared, mouth dropping open. His eyes darted from the lines to the diagram on the side of the window, explaining how to interpret the results, feeling a strange sensation of excitement and terror at the confirmation.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

Confusion tempered his joy as he set the test on the counter and took a step back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to scrub away any lingering sleep. But when his vision cleared, there was no denying it.

Two dark lines.

Grabbing the door handle, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom. You’d dozed off again, breathing even and face half-hidden by your sleep mask. He’d bought you the first one as a joke when you’d moved in after a week of grumbling when he turned on the lights to get ready for work. While you both left the house at the same time - him to head to the base, and you to the hospital - he enjoyed taking his time with his morning routine, while you preferred hitting the snooze button as many times as possible before sprinting to get ready and out of the house on time.

You groaned when he sat at your hip, planting one hand on the mattress and reaching up to nudge the mask to your forehead. Refusing to open your eyes, you slapped at his hand, “Lea’me alone,” you grumbled.

“You got something to tell me, sweetheart?” he asked, forcing his voice to be even. While he was excited about the pregnancy, if you’d thrown the test away, you might not be.

“‘M not goin’ to work,” you sighed, rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow tightly.

“I know. Anything else?”

“Love you, have a goo’day.” Your words slurred as you started to drift again. When he said your name, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, you sighed and rolled onto your back. Kissing the tips of your fingers, you held them up for him. “I feel gross and don’t wanna kiss you in case it’s not the shot.”

“Is that why you took the pregnancy test?” One eye cracked open, and you saw your husband smiling down at you, a slightly manic gleam in his sea-green eyes.

Shrugging, you yawned, “Kinda. But it was negative.” Jake was silent for a long moment, and you felt him place a hand on your stomach.

“Darlin’… the test wasn’t negative.”

“It was.”

Jake barked a laugh. “There are two lines!”

“I know.”

“Two lines is pregnant!”

“Two lines is negative.”

“No, it’s not,” Jake argued. Huffing, you opened both eyes to glare at him.

“I read UAs twice a week at work, Jacob. I know what a negative result looks like.” As the person in charge of the Contingency Management program in your clinic, you administered and read urine drug screens, knowing with a quick glance if there were prescription or illicit substances in your client’s sample. If the two lines popped up for a negative result for their targeted substance - meaning they’d been abstinent - they earned the opportunity to draw for a prize. A single line meant that they had traces of the substance in their system, providing a positive result.

“Maybe for drug tests, but obviously not for a pregnancy test.”

“Move,” you grumbled, bumping your legs against him to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“To prove you wrong.” Chuckling, he stood and smirked when you threw your sleep mask onto your pillow and brushed away the hand he offered to help you out of bed. The bathroom light was still on, and he followed behind you as you picked up the test he’d left on the sink, holding it in front of his face. “See? Two lines. Negative.”

Taking the test, Jake put his thumb over the Not Pregnant example and held it in front of your eyes. “See? Two lines. Pregnant.” He could only smile as your gaze shifted from glaring at him to squinting down at the test - you hadn’t put your glasses on yet. He watched your eyes widen with shock, darting from the instructions to the result window. Your lips parted, but no words escaped as your eyes rose to meet his again. “Say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Why the FUCK are my POC cups the only damn thing that has a single line as positive?” you demanded.

That startled a laugh out of him, and Jake tossed the test back onto the counter and tugged you into his arms. Your fingers dug into his back, and he could feel you shaking. “You alright, darlin’?”

You were silent for a long moment before sighing, “Just realizin’ that I’m gonna be triple-checking results for a while. It’s gonna make my appointments run so much longer.”

Chuckling, Jake pulled away just far enough to meet your watery gaze. “What about this one? You gonna triple-check it?”

“I mean, you’ve pretty much done it.” An embarrassed smile flit across your mouth. “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’?”

“Pretty sure this is where I say I love you,” Jake replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. Carefully, he backed you up until your ass hit the counter and lifted you onto it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms draped across his shoulders as his hands slid under your shirt to wrap around your waist.

“Love you too. You ready to be a daddy?”

“Hell yeah. You ready to be a mama?” The question made you pause, but the steady confidence your husband exuded made you smile. Even if you weren’t quite ready, he would be there to help you get there.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment.

It would take you a couple of weeks to feel confident interpreting the UA results with a glance again, but you even chuckled when you started telling people about the pregnancy, and Jake boasted that he was the one telling you that you were pregnant.

After all, how many fathers got the chance to do that?

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Author's Note: This little fic has been on my mind since yesterday when I had to fill in last minute for our CM clinic when a clinician called out sick, and had to administer and interpret 2 UAs in 30 minutes, then do brief counseling with the gentlemen before going. I've laughed with my friends before about how our POC cups (the same ones in the graphic above) are one of the only tests where two lines is negative.

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[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist

[bunnys-kisses]

hiyaa!! may i order a banana bread and tres leches with a side of mocha coffee,a vodka shot and root beer for Charles Leclerc please 🤍

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items on there for your liking! i also accept prompts outside of formula one, so hit me with it! i'd love to hear from you! as for this sender, thank you for the lovely series of prompts! i really like what you ordered and i hope you like what i've cooked up! enjoy!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + tres leches ("i wonder if your brother know i cum in you.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + vodka shot (rough sex) + root beer (filming/recording) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mean!charles, sainz!reader, filming/recording, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy, dirty talk

charles had pretty boy privilege. he was charming and funny. green doe-like eyes, a pretty smile and the kind of features that made anyone with a working set of eyes go crazy.

he had fans. he could honestly have anyone he chose, regardless of gender. charles leclerc had the world at his fingertips, and yet he always seemed to find you under him.

you knew the camera was on you as charles kissed up your body. you tried to hold back moans as you felt the throb between your legs. charles leclerc only yearned for two things; a win at monaco and the sister of his teammate, carlos sainz jr.

carlos should've been a little more worried about his younger sister going off for a night. he had trusted charles to look after you while he was busy, after all they were quite close after being on the same team.

but as you waved your brother goodbye before you got into charles' car to "pick up your friends", you could feel the hungry gaze of charles on your back side. it was like he was mentally undressing you. once in the car, drove like he was headed in the direction of your friend's apartment but when he was far enough from carlos' home, he took a sharp turn down a side road and ended up at his own home.

charles' hand was on your thigh the entire drive, even though his eyes were on the road. his fingers inched up your skirt. "i was always curious. i wonder if your brother knows i cum in you." he said it so casually.

you froze for a moment and said, "who i see isn't carlos' concern. i'm an adult." it was true, your brother didn't have to meddle in what you did from a day to day basis.

charles nodded, "i'm just curious. i wonder if he knew what we did, the little lies you told him over this time." he patted your thigh and pulled the skirt of your dress down to where it was, "that you're a whore."

you swallowed at his words and shifted in your seat. his words were tainted with venom as if their contents were degrading. you only ever really slept with charles. mostly because your older brother would scare off anyone who tried to romantically close to you. but charles slipped right into your life under the guise of wanting to protect his friend's sister.

"i said, he doesn't need to know about it."

charles pulled into the driveway, "one day he will have to, no? our luck is going to run out."

you knew charles was filming you, when he got you undressed. you could feel the lens of his phone on your heated skin as you laid out on the bed.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "i think leclerc is a little nicer than sainz." he teased as he ran his finger across your front. the sight of you was beautiful.

"i'd like to keep my last name thank you very much."

he laughed and took you by the face, "not forever, ma petite salope." then pressed a kiss right beside your mouth. you whimpered and felt the heat pool in your gut at his attention on you.

the relationship with had with charles was past purely sexual. there was something that lingered. it almost felt like a possessive curl of charles' hand into your soul. a promise that no matter how far you ran, he would find you.

when he pulled away. you admired his naked form. the sight of his moles across his body, the tanned skin and toned muscles. he licked the pad of his thumb slowly before he rubbed it up against your clit. you moaned an arched your back, your hands clutching on the pillow under your head.

"femme... mère... pute." he said softly.

you tensed at the words and gave him a look, which only made him laugh. he pressed a little harder on your clit and gave you a look that read 'don't worry'.

wife.

mother.

whore.

you were the thump in charles' chest. maybe that was why he needed you so deeply. it was like being separated from his heart. and even though it was all bathed in a sexual ecstasy you both craved. charles wanted to make sure that he stood out in your mind, and that you didn't go running off.

he eyed your expression as he sank his cock into your sweet pussy. he made a soft noise and felt the thrill of pleasure down his spine as he got himself inside of you.

his pace was heavy with, giving you little room to breathe as he kept his cock inside of you. you were less of a participating lover and more of a toy around his cock.

but don't worry, charles wasn't known to break his toys. after all, who else was going to be the mother of his children? you silly little thing, charles was worried about you getting away. so he had to make sure that he left you with something a little more permanent.

"tu es à moi." he said, his hands dug into the meat of your hips. he had to admit that your entire family was very beautiful. carlos wasn't smooth operator for nothing. so charles wasn't worried that the child you and him had wouldn't be beautiful like their mother.

the thought of it excited him. the knowledge that you'd be having dinner with your brother tomorrow. laughing over a homemade meal, but your biology was doing the heavy work to make sure that charles' seed took.

even when you were apart, you'd have a part of charles with you.

he continued to move against you, egged on by your moans as he felt the sea of lust in his gut. he panted heavily as continued to move. not letting his cock out of you for a moment. he could feel the heat down to his feet as he hit your insides just right with his cock.

"you are mine. no? you know what you are to me. my dirty little slut. i wonder how your brother would feel if he saw you right now. pinned under me, face in the pillows and your hips in the air. letting me breed you like the good girl you are." his words were filthy and burned into your mind. it made you need it more. every inch of him stuffed in your poor cunt.

over the last two years of sneaking around with charles, you had to become pretty resilient to deal with the barrage of fucking from the man on top of you.

you nodded and replied, "of course, only for you."

charles loved the sound of that. he pressed into you further and shifted your hips so he could get in deeper, really feel you inside and out. it was hot, it made him feel a little red in the face as he fucked you.

you held onto the pillow under you as he got his chest up against yours. you were squished against him, but the way he was bullying your cunt left you out of breath. you could feel the heat radiating through your body.

"such a pretty little thing." he chuckled as he pressed kisses along your jaw, "so soft, perfect for me." he dragged his tongue a little bit. which made you shudder. your core dripped with heightened pleasure.

"charles."

he smirked a little bit, "don't worry, my love. you just look nice under me. let me take it all." his words were softer than before and it made the pleasure more intense.

he continued to fuck you, rutting against you with a feverish demeanor. you soon came around his cock and held onto his tanned shoulders tightly for some semblance of support. you manicured nails were rug into the skin, you could feel the shifts in his muscles as he thrusted into you. you groaned loudly and clenched around his cock. a rush of euphoria hit you.

"that's it, that's a good girl." he groaned as he battered his cock up against your womb. letting the blunt tip leave your insides bruised and creamy. he finished inside of you with a promise.

he was going to get you pregnant and make it very well known to your brother that you were with charles. enough of this sneaking around.

-

carlos did find out. maybe not the whole truth of how you and charles 'got together'. you omitted the months of sneaking around and sex. when you got pregnant, charles only became more liked by your entire family.

he was already pretty integrated into the sainz family. so this little union between you and him felt almost natural. how he doted on his pregnant girlfriend, even going as far as to tell your mother that he was expecting to propose after the season and after your son was born.

"he's going to be a good husband." your brother said as he picked at his dinner, "good father too. but you'll let me know if starts causing problems, right?" always the protective one.

you nodded with a smile, the necklace charles had gifted you gleamed in the faint light of the restaurant. in all fairness the necklace was less of a dangly chain and more close to the neck. like a choker. like a collar. you rested your hand on your cheek and stared at your brother. you nodded, "of course."

"and don't move too fast! you have to finish school!" he added, "you've only been with charles for less than a year."

the timeline for carlos was skewed, but it was for his sake. you didn't want to give the driver a heart attack. it was bad enough that you came home pregnant without a ring (for now). you just chuckled and said, "don't worry!"

you didn't want him to worry, especially if he looked too closely and found the faint appearance of love bits across your neck that had been carefully covered with make up. what carlos didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. <3

[inawickedlittletown]

From Loaves to Love -BuckTommy (one-shot)

Summary: Set during 8x07, Eddie sends Tommy a picture of Buck's baked good filled fridge. Fix-it fic. A continuation for the snippet I posted this morning. Words: 2.9k Read on Ao3

-

Tommy receives a picture of a fridge full of baked goods. Mostly, from what he can tell, loaves. The picture comes from Eddie without a caption. It takes a while for him to realize that the fridge is familiar because it belongs to Evan.

Eddie texts him a few minutes later:

Every time he thinks about calling you, he bakes something instead.

Tommy has a little bit of a breakdown about that because maybe in his mind he'd thought that Evan would already be over it, over them. He'd been not hoping for it, but expecting it, even while he knew that he would probably have a few more cries about it and that any reminder of Evan was enough to make his heart hurt.

The thing is that Evan isn’t really a baker. Or at least, he hadn’t been in the six months that they were dating. He’d been busy from the looks of it. He’s still looking at the picture when Lucy plops down next to him. 

“What’s happening there?” 

Baked every time he thought about calling Tommy. He doesn’t even fight when Lucy grabs the phone out of his hand and scrolls back on his texts with Eddie. 

It’s been the only form of communication he’s had with anyone from the 118. He was thankful for Eddie and for the way that he’d reached out the day after the break up not to demand anything of Tommy, but to ask how he was doing. 

Tommy had texted him back after some consideration. In all their back and forth, they hadn’t discussed it or Evan. Tommy hadn’t allowed himself to ask, not sure if he wanted an answer. 

“What are you going to do?” Lucy asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

Lucy fixed him with a look. “Tommy, you’ve been moping for days. Clearly he is too. Neither of you wants this.” 

“It’s for the best,” Tommy said and he didn’t even know if he believed that anymore. 

He’d believed it in the moment, had been so absolutely sure that it was the right move for both of their sakes and yet…

“You’re running,” Lucy said. “I know…I know you’ve been hurt before, but this time you’re not just hurting yourself. You’re hurting Buck too.”

“He’ll get over it. I’ll…I’ll get over it.” 

Her eyes bore into him even as she handed him his phone back. “Thomas, you’re in love with him.” 

—

Buck had bought all the baking supplies when he’d decided he’d take a stab at making Tommy a birthday cake. That had been before his heart was wrenched out of his chest and given a few stomps for good measure. That was before Buck decided to Buck things up by pushing for more too quickly and before Tommy decided that it was better if they ended things before Buck could end it in the future.

He didn’t bake a birthday cake. 

Instead, he baked a banana bread with the bananas that were going spotty. He discovered that being busy and having to pay attention to something like the recipe kept his mind off Tommy. Except that Tommy came rushing back into his head afterwards. 

Buck almost called him. Wanted to. Wished he could hear his voice and his laugh and that they could fix it. 

Fear stopped him. Fear that Tommy had blocked his number. Fear that he wouldn’t pick up. Fear that he would and that he’d tell Buck not to call. Fear that he would call him Buck again instead of Evan. Fear that Buck would be sent to voicemail and that he would say something he couldn’t take back. 

So, he didn’t call. 

Instead, Buck baked a pumpkin loaf. Then an apple loaf. Then a walnut and date loaf. That was when he realized he was out of flour and also that hand mixing was not ideal. 

He called Eddie. 

It had taken him hours before he told Eddie what happened. Eddie hadn’t said much, but he’d offered Buck the couch and then went out and got them breakfast the next morning. Eddie was the one to tell the rest of the 118 and when Buck begged for Eddie to check on Tommy, Eddie just hit his shoulder. 

“I already did,” he’d said. 

Buck didn’t talk about Tommy again. 

“What’s going on, Buck?” Eddie asked over the phone. 

“I need you to come to Costco with me.”

“Costco?” Eddie asked and after a pause. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll even drive.” 

Eddie didn’t say anything when Buck bought the twenty-five pound bag of flour or the bottle of vanilla extract, or the sugar, or the bags of nuts. He did raise his eyebrow when Buck picked up a Kitchen-Aid mixer. 

“What is all this, Buck?” 

“I just…I need to do something.” 

“So you’re starting your own bakery?” 

After they got everything up to his apartment, Buck sent Eddie home with all the bread he’d made the night before. Eddie didn’t say a word, but he did look like he wanted to say something. A few days later, Buck thought that he’d gotten quite good at making different types of loaves. He’d even branched out and found more interesting and complicated recipes. 

He did have to take a second trip to Costco to get more eggs when he got it in his head that he should attempt a baked alaska.

Buck did think he saw Eddie take a picture of the contents of his fridge the night he came over to play video games. 

Maddie and Chim both didn’t seem to get it. When she said the universe would give him someone special, did she not realize that it had already happened? That Buck had somehow still managed to blow it and that Tommy wasn’t leaving his heart anytime soon? That not calling him was Buck trying not to push where he wasn’t wanted? That not calling was Buck letting Tommy have what he wanted. 

And yeah, Buck had been thinking about what Tommy said after Buck not being his last and how he needed to explore. It was bullshit, but if that was what it took…if he could prove to Tommy he’d tried to find whatever it was he was supposed to find with other people then…

The logic was dumb. 

After they left, making him promise he’d cut back on the baking, Buck went back to baking. He made brownies and took them right into work the next day alongside a banana bread, a walnut loaf, a zucchini bread, and a pumpkin spice loaf. 

—

The knock on his door was in a quick rhythm and Tommy almost didn’t answer. He’d been wallowing a bit because they’d had plans for tonight. Plans to celebrate his birthday, no less. 

Tommy hadn’t celebrated many birthdays in his adulthood. There had never been much of a point, but Evan had wanted to plan out a date for them and now…now Tommy was all alone in his house wallowing. Moping. Rethinking his whole life. 

“Coming,” he called out when the knocking started again. 

He was not expecting Hen and Karen. No kiddos in sight to see the state of him at least. Tommy was a mess. He’d changed into sweats and a tank the moment he got home. His hair was a mess. His eyes probably looked red rimmed and exhausted. 

“Hi,” he said. “What are you—”

“Happy Birthday,” Karen said. 

“Oh? Uh, come in.” 

Tommy didn’t even realize they had a small box with them until Hen plopped it on his kitchen counter. 

“What is that?” 

“You broke it, and suddenly we’re all on the verge of becoming diabetics and it was just Halloween so we’ve all had more than enough sugar. But it’s your birthday and we figured you should get a taste of what you’re created.” 

“What?” 

Out of the box came bread loaves. Muffins. Cookies. Brownies. Hand pies. Were those meringues? No cake, though. 

“He bought a Kitchen Aid. He’s becoming some sort of baking machine,” Hen said. “All because he can’t bear to think about you.” 

That went right to his chest. Lucy wasn’t wrong. Tommy did love him. Tommy was in love with him. 

Looking at Karen and Hen, he wondered if they would understand where he was coming from. 

“I was his first boyfriend,” he said. 

“We’re aware,” Karen said. 

“So, then…then you know what that means. He’s been out for…for six months and he doesn’t have any other experience except for with me. How is that fair to him? To me? One day he’ll realize and then that’ll be that.”

“You’re a dumbass for thinking that,” Karen said. 

“My wife is usually right about things,” Hen said. 

Tommy groaned. “He put me on a pedestal. He doesn’t know it, but he sees me as his gay mentor and he’s confusing that with…with, I don’t even know. I just — I had to put a stop to it before—”

“Before you got hurt,” Hen finished for him. 

“Looks like you didn’t avoid that,” Karen offered. “Did you talk to him about any of this? You guys were together for six months, what was the point if you were always going to just leave in the end?” 

Tommy hadn’t even realized he was crying, but he was. “It’s not like I planned it. It was…it surprised me too. He asked me to move in with him and he was talking getting engaged and married and—”

“Wait…wait, he asked you to move in? How do you go from that to breaking up?” 

Tommy couldn’t explain about the Abby thing and he couldn’t explain about how he wasn’t the guy that got forever and how he wasn’t the guy that deserved someone like Evan. He couldn’t explain about how much it freaked him out to think that Evan could jump right to moving in together before they had even said that they loved each other as if Tommy were just some kind of place holder until Evan found someone else. Someone better. Explaining that would make him be seen and Tommy…he didn’t know that he wanted to be seen even if Hen and Karen could understand where he was coming from. 

“Look, talk to him. Please,” Hen said. 

“This is just a bump in the road. The two of you, you’d never looked happier than you have in the last six months,” Karen added. 

“I…I don’t know.” 

—

Buck ran out of sugar. 

Jee was partially to blame because she’d spilled some the night he had her as a helper. It was 3am and Buck supposed that there was probably somewhere open that he could get some sugar, but he was down to just his underwear and the plaid shirt Tommy had left behind that didn’t even smell like Tommy anymore and wasn’t that just unfair. Plus, his oven was on and Buck didn’t want to leave it on while he went out to get sugar. It would be just his luck that he’d be back and his apartment was one fire. 

Eddie probably had sugar. Buck didn’t want to bother him. 

Chim and Maddie would judge. 

Bobby might bring some over or he might just tell Buck to go to sleep. 

He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Tommy. Missed him. Wanted him. 

Buck grabbed his phone and he went right to messages and typed:

Ran out of sugar. Do you have any? 

Sent it to Eddie. 

No response. 

He wandered over to his couch and…Tommy had slept there just a few weeks ago because he didn’t want to leave Buck on his own. No one had ever done that for him before, cared enough to stay and cared enough to give a damn. Buck wiped at his eyes. It wasn’t fair. 

When he broke up with Natalia he had felt free. When he broke up with Taylor he’d felt like he was finally choosing himself. Ali leaving had been clouded with so much else that Buck had hardly been able to think about the break up because his leg was in a cast and his future was in question. Abby…well that had been devastating and yet this…this was worse. So much worse. 

His phone pinged. 

He fished it out of his pocket and oh no…he…the text hadn’t been sent to Eddie. He’d sent it to Tommy. 

Yes. 

Oh no. And he was typing. And not typing. Typing. Then…nothing. No message. No more typing. No call. Tommy was bubbling him again. 

Buck dropped onto the couch with a groan. At least Hen and Eddie weren’t there to try and steal his phone again. This time, Buck didn’t even want to call. 

After all the times he stopped himself from reaching out, that was what he sent? A text asking for sugar? 

When the knock came at his door, he went to open the door, reluctantly. A part of him almost didn’t even expect it to be Tommy but of course…of course it was Tommy standing there in his pajamas with just one of his flannels open over it all, in each hand a container of sugar. Brown and white. 

“You didn’t have to,” Buck began. 

“It sounded desperate,” Tommy said. “Hi, Evan.”

“Come in,” Buck said. 

Tommy stepped inside and Buck closed the door, trying to gather himself. In the light of his kitchen, he could see that Tommy looked if nothing else tired. The skin under his eyes was dark, like he hadn’t been able to sleep. Buck could relate. Tommy was taking him in too and that made him feel the tiniest bit self conscious about his lack of pants. 

“So, you’ve taken up baking.” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s not a normal response to a break up.”

Buck laughed. He laughed because he might cry if he didn’t. 

“Do you want me to be like you, then? All unbothered at the end of the best six months of my life? Is that it? Oh, wait…no, you want me to go find myself or something? Sleep around and what, go back to being the himbo that Abby dated after you left her? Except I guess now I can sleep with men and women, somehow I don’t think it will go any differently.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said and his voice was gentle and sad and there were tears in his eyes. 

“I can’t do that,” Buck said and his voice broke. “I can’t. I can’t. I miss you. I want you. I wanted to bake you a birthday cake and since I couldn’t do that I baked everything else and it still isn’t enough.”

“Oh, Evan,” Tommy said and he set down the sugar and opened his arms, giving Buck the option. 

—

Evan rushed into his arms, burying his head in Tommy’s shoulder, tears and all. His arms clutched at him and Tommy didn’t think that Evan was likely to let him go any time soon. It didn’t matter, because Tommy wanted to hold onto him too. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “I’m so sorry. I did this to us.” 

Evan nodded against him. “I didn’t help,” he muttered. 

“When you texted me tonight…the thought of you up at this hour baking, I got worried and I’ve been literally doing anything possible to stop myself from driving over since that night. I had to come. I had to see you.” He took a breath and couldn’t hold it in any more. “I love you, Evan.” 

“You love me,” Evan said back, pulling back, staring at him with that amazed look in his eyes like he couldn’t quite believe it. 

His hands reached for Tommy’s face. “I guess it’s a good thing I love you too. And I am never letting you go, again.” 

Their kiss was reminiscent of the first. It was even happening near where that kiss had happened. It was gentle, soft, full of so much wonderment and feeling. Neither of them willing to push it into more because this was what they needed. There was so much to talk about and so much to consider and work on and yet, Tommy wasn’t afraid of that as much as he was afraid of giving up on this. On them. On Evan. 

He’d lived a little over a week without Evan and even that was too much. 

“I’m still not moving in with you,” Tommy informed Evan after a few more shared kisses.

“Oh. Yeah, I jumped the shark on that a little.” 

“You also forgot to consider that I own my house and you rent,” Tommy said. 

“So, how about this, nothing changes and we communicate more. You decide when you want us to move in together because we will. One day. You may be the first dude I’ve ever dated, but I think you can be the last too.” 

He kissed Evan again and Evan moaned into the kiss. They were interrupted when the oven timer went off. 

“I thought you ran out of sugar?” Tommy asked. 

“I was going to make apple pie,” Evan said. “That’s cupcakes.” 

He let Evan go take them out of the oven and out of curiosity began to look around. Opened the fridge. He couldn’t even begin to count how much Evan had managed to bake. 

“What are you planning on doing with all of this?” 

“I have no idea,” Evan said. “Donate it?”  

Tommy just laughed. “Yeah, Evan, I’m sure someone will appreciate it. Those cupcakes are mine, though.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “Happy birthday, by the way,”

Tommy ate the first cupcake before it had cooled and without any frosting. “Hmmm. Delicious.” 

[leisureflame]

"I CANT THINK"

If you write, I assure you you have thought that.

Fear no more child, for I have found a solution.

it's called Rapid writing

something we learned when I was in 9th grade drama class and I cannot emphasize enough just how effective it is. Its actually what gave me the idea for my first book.

Stop what you are doing and do what I tell you

go grab either a pencil and paper (or open an empty document)

set a timer for 2 minutes

ask a friend to give you a random sentence. I have a few examples that I myself rapid wrote to: a) I looked around and saw b) the old lady hung from the ceiling and laughed c) purple paint dripped from her long purple fingernails d) there is a hole in my ceiling. e) when I am sad I... f) When you close the door, I... g) there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob

Now the most important thing is not to think of this sentence before you start writing. as soon as you decide which one if you are choosing from my examples (or as soon as you hear it if you are getting if from a friend), start the timer.

start writing the sentence and without hesitating just keep writing. the #1 rule here is to not stop or hesitate for a single second until the 2 minutes are over. you can write nonsense if you want and if you REALLY can't continue then write some random words for a couple of seconds then continue AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL WRITING.

another rule is that you are not allowed to delete. even if its a spelling error, just ignore it.

after the timer is done, I promise you will have something to work with. now copy the paragraph you wrote and paste it below, here you can start fixing spelling errors and adding things at your own pace because now the creative side of your brain has opened.

don't think about the way you are writing or the words you use, think about the story you are telling. the idea.

Sometimes you will get something beautiful and deep like I did here:

When I am sad I go to my blanket, not many people know about it, all they think is happening is that a child likes to cuddle in a blanket, but no. my blanket has a special thing about it, it is a magical blanket, well, not the blanket itself but the embroidery on the blanket, it simply takes my sadness away but it adds the story of my emotions to the embroidery, my blanket is a very pretty one, it is a pastel blue color and it has so much silk embroideries that you just think its patterns, but it isn't, if you look deeper you will find stories every one of those stories came from someones tears... my tears. whenever i cry, i wipe my tears with my blanket and my pain goes but my story stays.

or

there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob on the door there is a painting of you, and there are many locks on the door from top to bottom, when you open the door, there is a mirror. this door is the door to self discovery, from the outside there is a painting of how people think you look like but when you open the door, you get to see what you really are in detail and look at yourself they way you want to, you can smile or cry and the refection on the mirror will change but on the painting, it doesn't show ur emotions, just how people see you usually.

or you can get something so stupid like i did here:

there is a hole in the ceiling in my classroom. everyday a dinosaur would a pear and eat my lunch and i keep coming home hungry but my mom dsays she packed me enough food. so she didn't feed me. i told her a dinasour was eating my lunch but she said that disasours only live in Norway! so i went into the school vents looking for that idino and revenge my food, we met at last, held our weapons, i was holding a subway sandwich and the dino was holding a bana na MY BANANA  i lost it, so i attacked him one hit on the head and the whole species were extinct , people thousand of years from now said dinos got extinct because of a meteorite but i know better, also i am still alive because whoever kills a dino becomes immortal, also i killed my mom for not believing me and let her starve in her grave just like she let made me starve. and then i killed everyone who was a flat earther because i hate them and now i can kill anyone once i tap them with my super subway sandwich 

(by the way, ignore the horrible spelling, the examples i gave were from the unedited version.)

THE POINT IS ITS ACTUALLY SO HELPFUL. you can use it for a new story idea (i used the blanket one as an element in one of my WIPs and it helped the story a lot) or if you get something stupid like the dino one I wrote THATS GOOD THATS FINE because now you have your creativity going.

I challenge you to actually try this and PLEASE share it with me I LOVE reading other peoples rapid writings. have fun <3

tagging @cosmosandcapybaras24 @ajsbookshelf @gloryofdawn, @chaoticharmony93 @deception-united and anyone else who's interested to try this out and share with me!

[rileyslibrary]

Lift and learn.

Synopsis: You discover Ghost’s unique skill; estimating the weight of items just by lifting them. You decide to challenge his ability by giving him little tests and he (for once in his life) loves to show off.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,381 (approx. 5-6 minutes reading time.)

Notes:

Mindless, platonic fluff with minimal plot.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The storage room is vast and poorly lit, with rows of metal shelves stretching into the distance. The air conditioning blows cool air throughout the facility, with only the gentle hum of the units and refrigerators breaking the silence. You and Ghost stand at the entrance, surveying the endless supply of crates and boxes ahead of you.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” you remark, kicking a nearby stack of boxes.

Ghost nods. “Come on,” he says as he walks between the shelves, “the faster we start, the faster we’ll be done with it.”

You follow him, walking down the first row of shelves, scanning the labels on the boxes and crates to see what they contain.

He checks the list you made with the food you’ll need for the mission, and he points toward the direction of the canned goods.

“Go look for the soup,” he advises, “and don’t lift the crate yourself.”

You turn to face him. “Why not, sir?”

“That thing weighs about 20 kgs,” he says, “you won’t be able to lift it alone.”

“Is that so?” you raise your brows. Ghost lets out a long sigh.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, soldier—I just know the box is too heavy to be lifted from up high,” he says. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and you don’t want to clean tomato soup off the floors now, do you?”

You roll your eyes and walk over to the box in question. You turn to glance at Ghost out of the corner of your eye—he’s ticking things off the list. You decide to give it a shot. You take a deep breath and grasp the box by its handles, attempting to pull it off the shelf. Your arms strain as you put all your weight into it, but the crate doesn’t budge. You try again, but it’s in vain.

Just as you’re about to give up, Ghost appears at your side.

“Told ya; it’s a heavy box,” he says, amused.

You step back, allowing him to take your place. He grips the box and lifts it off the shelf.

“That’s over 20 kgs.” He comments as he curls the box. “Around 24 kgs, I’d say.”

You stare at the box as it moves up and down, then at him. He approaches the large food scale and places the box on it. As he predicted, the box weights precisely the amount he estimated.

“Do you do this a lot?” you ask.

“No,” he says, chuckling, “I normally curl barbells.”

“Estimating the weight of something just by lifting it?” you clarify, “I saw you do it before when we were packing stuff from the armoury.”

“Ah,” he says, flicking his wrist, “it’s nothing.”

He surely doesn’t act like “it’s nothing.” He’s trying to portray himself as humble. But he looks far too cocky about it. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his waist. His head tilts a little higher, and he squints his eyes, resulting in narrow creases at their corners. There’s also a slight stiffness in his upper body muscles. Is he flexing? Yes. Yes, he’s desperate to show off his skill once more. And, of course, you don’t waste the opportunity.

You gesture to a massive stalk of bananas. “How much does that weigh?” You ask.

He walks towards the bananas, his hands still on his hips. “Ah,” he says as he lifts the stalk, “this should weigh around 1.3 kgs.” He states and places the bananas on the scale. He waits for the scale to flash and then turns to face you when it indicates just a little over the amount he predicted.

“Wow, Lieutenant!” You yell and clap your hands together. “Do it again!”

He takes a sharp breath from his nose and gestures with his hands. “Give me something more difficult this time.” he says with pride.

You look around the storage room and spot a pile of sandbags in the corner.

“Okay, how much does one of those weigh?” you ask.

He redirects his gaze to the sandbags. He shrugs. “30 kgs.” He says.

“That doesn’t count, Lt.,” you frown, “you didn’t even lift them.”

“I don’t have to lift them, Y/N; we fill sandbags to exactly 30 kgs each.” He explains and turns to look at you with a you-should-have-knew-that expression.

You decide to step up your game.

“Okay, Lt., what about me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.

He raises his index finger at you. “I’m not lifting you.” He states.

“Why not?” You ask, and he goes on to explain how it put him in trouble on a deployment about a decade ago. “Bananas, don’t get offended when you estimate them to be a few grams heavier.” He explains. You promise him you won’t be insulted, and he brings his right hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks to stop you.

“O’ay,” you mutter through your pinched lips, and he lets you go. “See this cardboard box over there?” You ask, and he turns to look in the direction of a big, beige-coloured box on the ground. It’s taped shut and sealed with no hint or label of what it might contain.

“Can you estimate its weight without looking what’s inside the box?” you ask.

He gives a short chuckle and mutters something like “if I can, she asks” under his breath before walking to the box. He tilts his head, trying to estimate its weight by looking at it. He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles, readying himself for what he’s about to do. He gathers his cargo pants from his thighs, and lowers himself to the ground in a deadlift position, grabbing the box by the handles. He takes a deep breath and pulls the box up with all his might.

But the box turns out to be lighter than you both anticipated, making Ghost lose his balance. He stumbles backwards, his arms flapping as he tries to regain control of his body. In his panic, he forgets to let go of the box which seems to defy gravity, and it flies through the air, driven by the momentum of his fall.

“Lt.!” you yell as you hurry to him, kneeling on the floor, “are you okay, sir?”

He stares at the floor, then at you, then back at the ground. You grab his arm to pull him up, but his ego is too bruised to allow you to do that to him. He gets up on his own and dusts his trousers.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologise, “I had no idea.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest—he looks defensive. “Neither of us knew, soldier,” he says, trying to reassure you, and walks towards the box.

“Huh,” he says as he lifts its flaps. “I fell backwards by a rocket explosion before,” he recalls, “but never by a cardboard box filled with sanitary pads.”

You giggle, and he shakes his head. He picks one of the packages and shows it to you. “Will you need a couple of these during our mission?” He asks.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, lowering your eyes to the ground.

He picks up two packs and puts one of them under his arm. “No shame in that, soldier,” he comforts you and shakes the other pack, “these babies almost broke my hip about a minute ago.”

You smile in response—at least he can make a joke out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You’re impressive, Lt.,” you comment, “a walking and breathing human scale.”

“Eh,” he shrugs as he crosses the final items off the list, “it helps with missions and loading up the trucks.”

“Now,” you continue, looking at the boxes you’ve collected for the mission, “how about we fill up the truck before one of us gets hurt in this warzone of a storage unit?”

He lets out a laugh. “Yes, let’s get outta here,” he agrees, “I don’t want to get jumped by a bunch of Kleenex.”

———————————————————————

[fandoms-writings]

Little Shadow

Pairing: Halsin x Half-Elf!Reader (fem intended)

Word Count: 6.9K (oops)

Summary: You can always count on Halsin to heal the group when needed, going out of his way to make sure you're in the best care. And he's always been a flirt, but that's all it is, right?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, mentions of injuries, blood, bruises (they're adventurers they're gonna get hurt sometimes), p in v, fingering, oral (fem receiving), mentions of Halsin having the potential to shift during sexual acts (iykyk)

A/N: thank you so so much to @banana-cheese-cake for beta reading for me and letting me talk about this so much ❤️ Also Happy Easter to those who celebrate ❤️

Halsin had always been impressed with the way you fought, the way you trained. You were so meticulous in the tiny details, the things no one else in your little band of misfits would notice. But it was those details that kept you alive, kept you the least harmed of your entire camp. Most of the time. 

The way you danced with your blade was unlike anything he'd ever seen before - and he'd been around for a couple centuries, so he'd seen his fair share of sword wielders and dagger throwers and magic casters. But you - you moved with such fluidity and lethal steadiness in your swings. 

The strength he'd seen in you while traveling with you these past weeks was something he marveled at. Especially with how young you were. 

You'd never told him directly, but from what he could gather, you were a half elf, which meant you had at least another century before you started to appear "aged" as the humans called it. That also meant that you had unbounded potential to grow in your skills. Though, he wasn't sure how much more you could learn. 

There was a rustle in the woods next to the camp, pulling him from his thoughts of you as he looked up. You'd gone out this morning with Karlach, Astarion, and Shadowheart to scout and clear the roads to move your camp closer to the city, so he figured you were finally returning. But you were making so much noise. You were usually quiet on your return to not startle those who stayed behind or attract any unwanted attention. 

As you barreled through the brush, Shadowheart limply hanging between you and Astarion and Karlach protecting your backs, Halsin's heart plummeted. 

You were covered in blood and your knees were shaking as the two of you dragged Shadowheart through the camp. Halsin ran for you, coming to a stop in front of you and taking the girl from your and Astarion's arms. 

He took Shadowheart to her tent, laying her down and beginning to heal what wounds he could see. You'd followed him, though he could sense the exhaustion pulling your body down as your feet stumbled after him. He watched as you began removing her armor, tugging the pieces off of her with shaky hands. 

He'd never seen your hands shake. He'd never seen you so calmly distraught. 

"What happened?" He asked, moving to a wound in the girl's abdomen. A gnarly gouge, likely from a hook horror or a gnoll. Shadowheart's body shifted as you tugged her boots off, throwing them in the pile of armor in the corner. 

"Gnolls," Your response was clipped, as usual, eyes locked onto the several cuts and gashes along your friend's skin. "I tried to protect her, but there were too many." He tried to show his surprise at the continued explanation. You usually stuck to one or two word answers around him, no matter how hard he tried to get more. "We almost didn't make it out with her." 

He hummed in response, watching as the wound stitched itself back together, the discoloration beginning to leave her skin. Once all of Shadowheart's armor was removed, you stood, mumbling about how you'd return quickly and you left. 

You were back only seconds later with a rag and a bucket, and you began cleaning the blood from your companions skin in the areas he's already healed. 

The two of you worked in silence until you were sure he'd healed every little scratch on Shadowheart before you both walked out of her tent, allowing her to rest until she woke on her own. You sighed and rolled your neck, your shoulders drooping as if you had weights tied to your arms pulling them down. 

"Are you injured?" Halsin asked, stepping toward you, but keeping his hands to himself. Through all the blood on you, he couldn't tell if any of it was yours, and if it was, where it came from. 

"I'll be fine, go help Astarion and Karlach," You demanded, your eyes looking past him at the setting sun. 

He moved to argue that you also needed attending to when you held up your hand, pushing it into his chest and giving him a weak shove. 

"Halsin," You whispered his name and his mind froze as you looked up at him, "Please." 

He let loose a breath before dipping his chin in a nod. The corner of your lips twitched up before falling back into a hard line. 

"Thank you." He watched as you turned from him, heading for your own tent as you began undoing the buckles of your leather armor, preparing to remove it. 

He'd do as you asked - he would go check on the others, make sure they were alright. Then, he'd check on you. He'd even have Astarion hold you down so he could heal you if he needed to. 

~~~

You huffed as you dropped your bloodied leather armor on the bank of the river near camp, kneeling down with a grunt as you began rinsing the blood from your clothing. The water of the river began to darken, reddening as you held your shirt in the stream, attempting to push out the blood before it dried. You were still covered in it, but armor was never cheap, and you weren't one to parade around in bloodied clothes any longer than necessary. 

Once you were satisfied with how clean you were able to get your clothes, you hung them on a tree branch hanging over the embankment to dry before removing your undergarments. The blood had soaked through to those as well. When they were hung next to your armor, you stepped into the river, hissing as the cold water bit at your ankles. 

It was a rather deep river, the water coming up to the bottom of your ribs once you reached the middle. You tried to scrub as you went, watching as it flaked off your skin and disappeared into the stream, revealing injuries you hadn't dared to acknowledge until now. 

There were gashes on your legs and arms, bruises littering your body, more coming to light as you scrubbed the blood and mud away. 

"Will you allow me to heal you now?" Halsin's voice sounded from behind you and you fought against the embarrassment of him catching you naked in the river as you folded your arms over your breasts. 

"I'm fine," you looked over your shoulder at him, the worry evident in his eyes as he stopped right at the water's edge. 

"You're bleeding."  

"I said I'm fine." You growled out, watching as his lips pressed into a hard line and he squatted down, picking up a twig to fiddle with as he looked at you.

"Why won't you let me help?" 

"Because I didn't ask you for it." You scowled, turning away from him and lowering yourself into the stream, holding in the hiss as the water rushed by, cleaning the cuts and scrapes along your arms. Before he could respond, you dunked your head, letting the cold water run through your hair, the current pulling as much of the blood and dirt out as it could without you scrubbing it. 

When you emerged, wiping the water from your face, Halsin had moved. 

He was maybe two feet from you, standing in the river still clothed, the water up to his hips and his trousers soaking it up, clinging to his muscled thighs. That worried look still plagued his face as he looked down at you, his brows pinched together and a heavy frown on his lips. 

"Why can I not offer my help to you?" He asked, his voice a low rumble. You fought the rush of nerves that flooded your system, using the day's anger to push them back down into the pit in your chest they'd crawled out from. 

"Because I am not in need of it." You sneered. You just wanted to be left alone, left to wallow in your self hatred and frustrations. Left to tend to yourself. To suffer. "I can take care of myself," You held his gaze with a glare, "Always have." 

"But you do not need to," He muttered, taking a small step toward you, "You are allowed to lean on your friends for assistance." 

You scoffed, looking away from him. "It was that type of thinking that cost us today." 

"I believe it is what saved you today." 

"You weren't there." The sound of Shadowheart's scream as the gnolls ripped her open would not be a sound you ever forgot. Or forgave yourself for. "They relied on me, leaned on me, to lead the way, to find a way to win and I fucked up." The anger bubbled in your chest, simmering as your eyes grew blurry, "I got cocky and moved too far too fast. A small group of beasts circled around to Shadowheart. I failed them." 

You were waiting for him to agree, to shout at you, to yell. But there was only silence. Hell, you weren't even sure he was still standing there as you continued, "I failed them, and I almost failed in getting them out. They relied on me and I let them down." Your hands came up to your shoulders, grazing over the injuries that had clotted there. 

"Is that why you refuse to let me heal you?" Halsin asked, the sounds of splashing water telling you he was moving. He appeared in front of you, kneeling down and letting the river wash over him without so much a shiver.  "Because you think you deserve it? As some sort of punishment?" 

You held his stare, your vision blurring as your anger bubbled in your throat. 

"Yes, you made a mistake, everyone does," He closed the distance between the two of you, but still not touching you, "but you still all made it out. You relied on each other to escape alive. You got them out." Your brows pinched as he spoke, "I talked with Karlach and Astarion, they told me how you fought tooth and nail to get to them, to help them.They credit their survival to you." 

"They're fools to do so," You whispered and he shook his head. 

"They are not," He stated, "You saved them today. You took care of them," He reached a hand out for you, waiting for you to take it, "Now let yourself be cared for. Let's not add to your collection of scars." 

You took a deep breath, trying to will the tears in your eyes to vanish before they fell. The words wobbled as they left your lips, "You're not going to leave me alone until you heal me, are you?" 

"If you truly wish for me to leave you alone, I'll go," His hand was still held between you, open and waiting. "But I don't believe you deserve more scars marring your perfect skin, or any sort of punishment." 

You took a deep breath, blaming the shuddering in your breath on the chill of the water as you lifted your hand out of the water and rested it in his own, palm up so he could see the cut there. "Okay." 

"Your skin is like ice," His warm calloused hand wrapped around yours as it glowed, your skin stitching back together, "Should we move to a tent?" 

Before you could deny him, your body shook with a harsh shiver running through your spine and you sighed. "Yes, please." 

He looked back to your clothes hanging over the tree, still dripping pink water. "I'll go get you a towel and some dry clothes." 

~~~

You sat in Halsin's tent, your damp hair clinging to your skin, his extra shirt drowning you. He hadn't wanted to go through your things, so he'd grabbed you some of his clothes and you didn't argue as you'd  slipped them over your head at the river bank. Your legs were bare, his shirt practically a dress on you, and it took all of his will power not to stare when you shifted where you sat across from him, the fabric of the shirt riding up your thighs. Your thighs that were burnt and bruised and sliced. 

He’d decided when finding you in that river, injuries on display, the blood leaking from your skin washed away by the freezing water, that he was going to leave tonight and let the bear inside him hunt down that pack of gnolls. 

He cleared his throat before gesturing to - well to all of you. “Where would you like me to start?” 

Your eyes, heavy with exhaustion, lifted to his. Your skin had grown paler by the hour and your body had become sluggish. He’d have picked a starting point himself but he knew not to rush or push you. 

You gestured to your arms as you held them out before him, palms up showing him the clotted slashes on your forearms. 

Halsin took your arms in each of his hands, the area glowing as he healed you. The next hour went on like that, you silently giving him parts of you to heal and him healing them without hesitation. By the time he’d finished, your normal tone had mostly returned to your face, but you were mostly asleep. 

Healing was not only tiring for the healer, but exhausting for the injured. He’d noticed your grit teeth, your subtle controlled breathing as your skin closed and knitted back together. He couldn’t blame you for slipping into a deep slumber as he finished the last wound on your shoulder, gently removing his hands so as to not wake you. 

Seeing you so relaxed, so calm, it was new to him. You’d always had a stoney expression, your lips set in a thin line and your brows settled almost permanently in a subtle scowl. But the lack of anger and sorrow in your feature now - well he wasn’t sure which version he was in love with more. 

Halsin pulled a blanket over you, stepping out of the tent to let you sleep. The rest of the camp had mostly retired for the night as well, only Astarion reading in his tent with the flap open. 

The vampire looked up at him with those red eyes, nodding in acknowledgment before returning his attention to whatever text was in his hands. 

The Druid slipped into the woods, walking for a while before he deemed he was far enough away. Far enough to not wake the camp, before he shifted, letting the bear begin its hunt. 

~~~

Leaves rustling nearby woke you, your eyes opening to see the unfamiliar inside of a tent. Your brows pinched as you sat up, a groan escaping your chest at the effort. Your body was exhausted, and as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you started to remember what had happened. How you got to be in this tent, in the shirt that hung from your frame. 

You remembered who put you there. 

Glancing around the tent for Halsin, you found you were alone. You didn't want to be the reason he didn't get to sleep tonight so you stood quickly, climbing for the entrance flap, reaching to push it open, when it slipped from your fingers. 

You peered up into the shadow looming over the entrance, and your body prepared for a fight. Their features were in heavy shadow as the campfire lit them from behind and there was a familiar iron rich smell coming from them. Blood. You just hoped whoever this was hadn't gotten to anyone else in your camp yet, that they were still alive. 

Your muscles tensed and you took a breath to shout, to wake up your companions if they were alive and warn them. But the figure held up a hand, his voice a low rumble that calmed your nerves instantly. 

"It's just me," Halsin said, slowly lowering himself into the tent, "I did not mean to startle you." 

You backed up, allowing him into the tent as your eyes traveled down his shirt, the red splotches hiding in the shadows. When you looked back up, you saw he had already figured out what you were looking at, and he could read the question on your lips.  

"It's not mine," He whispered, "I'm alright." 

"Whose is it?" You demanded, watching as he rummaged around for clean clothes. He pulled out a new pair of loose trousers. 

"The gnolls." He grunted, standing to leave. Your hand shot out to his, gripping his large fingers before he could leave. 

"You went after them?" 

He looked down at you, a slight smirk on his lips before his fingers squeezed yours back and he said, "Of course I did," as if it was the only logical thing for him to have done in the first place. His hand slipped from yours and just like that, he had slipped back out of the tent. 

You tried to follow him, but when you ripped the flap open, he was gone. You would have settled back into the warmth of the tent, shut that flap against the chill that pricked at your skin. But you stood, exiting the tent, and followed him down to the river. 

If he was going to wash up, that's where he'd go, unless he really wanted to hike another 3 miles to the next lake, which judging by the exhaustion in his eyes when he'd come for clean pants, you assumed he wouldn't. You hadn't bothered with shoes, and you cursed yourself for it as you tried to step around jutting up sticks and rocks that could slice your feet. 

Soon enough, the moonlight reflecting off of the river's surface was visible through the trees and you could hear the splashing of the water. Pushing the branches of the trees away, you finally broke free of the forest line and had river rocks beneath your feet. 

Halsin was in the middle of the river, scrubbing blood from his hair, just as you had done only hours before. 

"You'll catch a cold out here like that," He called to you, turning around to face you. 

"Why did you go after the gnolls?" You asked, crossing your arms across your chest, the movement reminding you how bare your legs were when the shirt shifted across your thighs. You tried not to bring attention to it, ignoring the chills that ran up your skin.

He looked down at the water as he rinsed his hands, "Does it matter?" 

"That depends entirely on how you answer the question." 

He glanced at you for a moment before dunking his head under the water, only to come right back up to the surface only a moment later. He sighed as he walked to the embankment, his dry pants hanging up on that same tree your earlier clothes still hung from. 

"Then it does not matter," He said, climbing out of the river, the water sliding down his chest, to his stomach, to his - you averted your eyes. You should've assumed he was naked, and you weren't sure why it made your heart start racing the way it did as you suddenly found the boulder next to you very interesting. 

"It does to me," You muttered, not expecting him to have heard you, to have been trying to hear you over the sounds of the river. 

Once his trousers were on, he turned to you, walking to stand at your side. "Would it be hard for you to believe that I did it because I wanted to?" 

You turned from the boulder, glancing at his feet to make sure he was clothed before your eyes trailed up his body, landing on his face. "You wanted to go on a midnight gnoll hunting spree?" 

He grunted in agreement, his head inclining to the side. "Is that hard to believe?" 

You scoffed, "Yes, actually. Especially because you went alone." 

"I can handle a pack of gnolls." He said the words with such certainty, his voice low and rough, it had your stuttering to respond. 

"It was reckless," You meekly muttered back, "You could've been hurt." 

"But I am not." Neither one of you had moved since he came to stand beside you, both of you remaining a mere few inches from the other.

"But you could have been." 

"Is that worry I sense in you, little shadow?" The nickname wasn't new, it was something he used to recall how you seemed to slip between darkness going undetected when tracking down leads or targets, but it also wasn't commonly used. He liked to use it when teasing you, flirting with you. But you were in no mood to flirt, and the only way to get him to see that, was to be honest. 

"Yes, it is." You stated, and the slight smirk that had grown on his lips fell as his eyes widened. "Why did you think it was a good idea to go hunt down those beasts without the rest of us, in the middle of the night? Hm?" 

He blinked once, twice, before sighing and looking at the ground beneath his feet, his hands finding their way to his hips. "I went because they harmed you," he said, and your world stilled. 

"What?" You asked, willing him to look at you again. He wiped a hand down his face before looking at you, his eyes full of nerves that he kept well hidden. 

"They hurt you," he sighed, reaching for your hands, "They almost killed you, and it angered me. It angered the beast that lives in my soul. I had to do something, and taking out on them the anger they caused was the only thing to do." 

Something in your chest melted at the conviction in his words, the utter dedication. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, to tell him he didn't need to do that, to fight for you. But in your experience, people only did these sorts of things when they wanted something in return. 

Your fingers tightened around his own, squeezing them as you took a breath, pushing down the swell in your heart at the look in his eyes. 

"What do I owe you?" You asked, trying not to cringe at the confusion in his pinched brows. 

"Why would you owe me?" 

"Because that's how the world works," you muttered, "Everything has a currency, whether it's gold, silver or favors. So what do I owe you? "

"You owe me nothing," his voice rumbled through your bones to your core, "I did not do this to gain a favor from you. I did this," He stepped closer, his breath mingling with yours, "because the thought of those beasts getting away with harming you is not something I can peacefully live with." 

"Why?" You read the confusion on his face and asked again, "Why? Why am I so important?" 

His hands dropped yours as they cupped your jaw, those large thumbs stroking across your cheeks and his fingers settled on your neck. 

"Because you are magnificent," His eyes were darting around your face, taking in every little detail while you allowed him to be this close, "You are the leader of this camp, everyone here follows you more than they follow themselves. You are the heart of this adventure we are on. You are fancied by everyone here." 

"I doubt that." 

"Well," He said, "I know I do." 

"No you don't." You whispered and his face pinched. "You don't, you might think you do, but you don't."

"Why don't I?" He asked, refusing to step away from you, your face still in his hands. 

You refused to look at him, your eyes locked on the water of the river just behind him. "You can't," You whispered, "Anyone who ever has ends up dead, if they don't leave me first." 

His face crumbled at that, hearing the ache of the past years of your life in your words. 

"Why would they leave you?" He asked, his voice barely audible over the river. 

You told him. You rambled about the horrible childhood you had, the early death of your human father, and the resentment in your elven mother when you were left on her doorstep. How you raised yourself, hunted for yourself, since she refused to have any hand in the way you were raised, including feeding you. You told him how you ran away when you were just a teenager and had been on your own ever since, for nearly two decades. 

Continuing your endless babble, you told him about the times you'd been captured by strange monsters throughout your travels, trying to leave out the details of what happened when you were held captive, but you knew he could piece it together. You explained how these things happening had made you cold, and shut off from the world, damaged, when you were silenced by something soft pressing against your lips. 

Your eyes were wide when Halsin pulled away just a second later, his lips parted as he looked at you. There were a million things either of you could've said, but your mind was blank now. The lingering pressure of his lips on yours distracting you from the wetness you now felt on your face. 

When did you start crying? 

You tore your gaze from his lips up to his eyes, where they watched you with such gentleness it frightened you. The want - no, the need - to have his lips on yours again was the only thing you could focus on now that you'd had a taste, and you would jump up to take it for yourself if the intensity in his gaze didn't root you to your spot. 

"I know what I enjoy," He whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours as he spoke, his breath fanning your face as his wet hair fell around you, "and I know what I want." 

He didn't close the distance, instead letting your lips faintly brush while you tried to say something, anything. 

"And if you'll let me," He continued, "I'd like to enjoy what I want for as long as you'll allow." 

"Why don't you just take it?" You whispered. 

"I'm waiting for your permission." 

Silence settled over the two of you for a moment, the only noise between you being your mingling breaths. You took the moment to consider it, letting him have his way with you. You hadn't planned on fucking any of your traveling companions, attempting to keep it professional between all of you, but you couldn't deny that you'd at least thought about it. Not just with Halsin either, but that was something for another day. 

You'd thought about his hands on your skin, how large and safe they'd feel, how his fingers would feel in your cunt, in your mouth, wrapped around your neck. All you had to do was say yes, and he'd give it to you. 

So you swallowed your nerves, your voice barely audible as you whispered, "You have it."  

Halsin instantly closed that tiny fraction of distance, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands left your face, going down preferring to pull your hip, tugging you into him as his lips parted, his tongue brushing against yours. You swallowed his groan as his large hand pushed the edge of your shirt up so he could cup your ass, grabbing all he could and squeezing. 

His right hand left your face, reaching down to mirror his left and he tugged up, grunting what sounded like "jump" between kisses. Your hands wound around his neck as you did your best to hop, letting him catch you and pull you up his body, pinning you between his chest and the smooth boulder at your back.��

The hair on his stomach brushed against the insides of your thighs, tickling in the best way, the pressure from his stomach pushing into your cunt, only separated by the thin fabric of your panties that were already wet.  

Halsin's lips left your mouth and he trailed open kisses down your neck and what he could reach of your chest, biting and sucking as he went, lighting your nerves on fire at the same time. HIs hands easily pushed you further up the boulder, bringing your dripping core up to his view and putting your legs over his shoulders.

His eyes were hungry as he glanced between you and that soaked spot in your panties. His lips attached to your leg, working their way up your inner thigh, each bite he climbed higher earning more and more desperate whines from you. He chuckled at the noises escaping your throat as he looked up at you, his eyes glazed over with lust, but also so so clear at the same time. 

"Is this okay?" You'd never heard his voice so rough, so raw as he looked up at you. "We can always go somewhere more comfortable." 

Something in your chest melted at the concern in his words. Even when his hands were shaking and his pupils were blown, your comfort was priority. But you didn't care if he took you in his tent or a bed or against this damn boulder, you just needed to feel him. 

"It matters not to me," you were breathless as you told him, "I just want you to show me how much you say you want me." 

He smirked at that, one of his hands dragged over your skin as he slid it under your shirt, reaching to grab your breast as his other pulled your panties aside. 

He laid his tongue flat against your aching cunt and licked a languid stripe up, flicking it across your clit before going back for more. Your hands shot to his hair, still wet from the river, carding through it and gripping it at the roots. His hand on your breast pulled and played with your nipple, the sensation caused by his rough fingers shooting through you to your core, soaking his face even more. 

You watched him from up on that rock, his face buried in you, his eyes closed as if he were savoring it. A moan vibrated from him, through your cunt that left you gnawing on your lip to keep quiet. You weren't close to the campsite, but who knew what or who else was out in these woods. 

Your breath started to quicken, your grip on his hair tightening further, and his eyes opened to look at you. You could barely see the hazel in his eyes as he watched you panting and writhing above him. The pressure building was familiar and you knew it wouldn't take long for you to snap if he kept going the way he was

It seemed he knew too. 

Because suddenly, his mouth was off of you and your skin was met with the chilled air. 

"Can't have you cumming just yet," He declared, his hand leaving your chest and trailing down to your cunt, lightly dragging through the folds and slick. Your hips bucked into his hand and he chuckled, "Eager?" 

Your skin heated at his comment and how focused on your dripping entrance he was. When your breathing had somewhat evened out, two of his fingers circled your cunt, spreading your slick around and around before he finally looked up at you, and slid them in. 

Your mouth opened in a strangled moan that you had fought to not let out, the stretch just from his fingers alone enough to make you dizzy with want. They slid all the way in before they curled, stroking that perfect spot to make your back arch and your moan grew louder. 

Halsin grinned, "Oh I love that sound you make." He angled his head down again, watching his fingers get swallowed by your cunt over and over again as he pumped them in and out. "And I love watching my fingers disappear inside you." 

His head dipped lower, and his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue tracing tight circles over it in time with his fingers. That pressure from earlier began building again, quicker this time as you struggled to stay somewhat quiet. You tugged on his hair and your hips rocked, grinding into his mouth and fingers, his name a whisper on your lips. 

"Don't stop," You panted, release so close your muscles began tightening, "please don't stop." 

He groaned into you, the vibrations shooting through everyone of your nerves and your head fell back with a soft thud against the rock. The band that had tightened in your core was so close to snapping, to sending you over the edge.

But before you could go over that edge, Halsin released your clit and pulled his fingers from you, chuckling at the truly pathetic whine that left your lips, tears starting to gather in your lashes at the sudden loss. 

"Don't worry," he muttered the words into the skin of your thigh before moving both your legs off his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist, "You'll get to cum," He leaned forward, catching your lips with his, and you moaned at the taste of yourself, "I promise." 

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, telling you to wrap your arms around his neck and he picked you up from the boulder. He didn't take you far, just turned and leaned down, laying you on the river bank before sitting up, his hands going to the ties on his trousers. 

"I've dreamed of this since I met you," he declared as he untied his trousers. Your eyes traveled down his chest to the large bulge he was working to free, and your cunt clenched around nothing in anticipation. "I've been wanting to take you for weeks." 

A shiver of excitement raced down your spine, "So have I." 

His eyes darkened at that, his hands quickening their pace and he finally removed his pants. He reached for your hips, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side. He grabbed the edge of your shirt, but stopped, looking at you. 

"It's a bit cold out, do you want to leave this on?" Your heart melted at his concern, at his ability to still worry even when he was so close to getting what he wanted. 

"I want to feel all of you against me," you said, a thought taking over your mind, "but I also want to be on top. I want to ride you." 

He grinned down at you as you shifted to sit up, "You can do whatever you wish to me." 

You smiled, crawling over his legs as he sat and lay on the ground, sighing when your legs settled on either side of his hips, your core hovering over his aching cock. He slid his hands under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head, tossing it to the pile of clothes before his hands dragged down your shoulders and over your breasts before resting against your hips. 

"Gods, you're beautiful," he said, his thumbs stroking circles into your hips as your hand reached down, wrapping around his cock. He groaned at your touch, his head tipping back as you stroked it up and down. 

You angled your hips and lined him up with your cunt, swiping him through your folds a few times, relishing in how his grip tightened on your hips. You went to sink on to him, to finally have him inside you, when he startled. 

"Wait." His eyes snapped open. "I have to tell you something first."  Your brows pinched, but you let his cock go, and you settled on top of it, sliding your hips back and forth over it while you waited for whatever he had to tell you. "Fuck, you're not gonna make this easy are you?" He smirked. 

You shook your head, swallowing your moans as you waited. 

"If I get too worked up, I have a. . . a chance to shift," He said, eyes avoiding yours. You angled your head to the side, as your heart stuttered at the sudden anxiety rippling off of him. You'd never seen him so nervous, he was always so sure of himself, of what he did.

"You mean," You whispered, "You could change into a bear?" There was shame in his eyes as he nodded. 

"I understand if you change your mind about this, I won't be hurt." He still wasn't meeting your eyes as he spoke, his hands unnaturally still before they started to pull away from you. 

Your hands snapped out to grab his wrists, pulling his hands back to your skin as you lifted your hips up. His eyes finally lifted to yours in surprise when you reached down to again grip his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. 

"Are you too exhausted to heal if necessary?" You asked, your voice low and sultry as you waited for a reply. 

The corners of his lips twitched up, and the worry for him in your heart ebbed away for now, "I'm never too exhausted to heal you." 

"Then it matters not," You pushed down on to him, moaning at the stretch, "I like a challenge." 

He moaned as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes locked on to where his cock disappeared into you. When you were all the way to the base, you began slowly rocking your hips as you adjusted to his size, watching him as his eyes closed and his head tipped back again, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. 

"Gods," he sighed, "You feel so good wrapped around me like this." 

When the sting of the stretch turned into a burning need, you lifted your hips, dragging off of him about half way before sinking back down. You braced your hands on his chest, gripping the hair there as you angled your hips and drove them down, hitting that spot that had you unable to bite down your moans. 

"You're going to wake up the camp moaning like that, little shadow," He grunted below you, "Do you wish to be found out here like this?" 

Your cunt clenched around him, and he moaned a laugh. 

"Oh, you like that idea?" He asked, his breath coming in hot pants as you leaned over him. "You like the idea of one of them finding you like this? Maybe they'd want to join, hm?" 

The thought of one of your companions finding you two, and wanting to join you, the thought of another pair of hands on you tore a loud moan from your throat and he grinned, his hands helping your hips keep their rhythm. 

"You do like that," he mused, his eyes starting to glow gold, "Oh fuck - " He grit his teeth, pushing down that need to shift as you fucked yourself on his cock. But he couldn't hold in all of it. 

His body grew a bit, the muscles stretching under your hands, but you didn't stop. The rhythm of your hips faltered as your climax grew closer and you were thankful he was helping you keep it, his hands lifting and slamming your hips down for you. 

You felt the stretch before realizing what was happening - his cock grew as he tried to hold in the shift. The sudden added length and girth sending you over the edge, everyone of your muscles tightening as your vision went white and your blood roared in your ears. You were sure you screamed, but there was a hand over your mouth, one that smelled of your own arousal. 

Halsin kept slamming your hips onto him, hitting that spot over and over and over. You felt his legs shift as he planted his feet on the floor and suddenly you were tugged down. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding your face in his shoulder where you bit down to keep quiet, and his other arm wrapped around your back. 

He slammed up into you, chasing his own release but also ripping a second one from you. You bit hard into his skin, your lips vibrating against his shoulder as you shouted at your second orgasm, your cunt clenching his cock as he stilled, spilling into you. 

Halsin’s body twitched as he shouted into your neck, his hold tightening on you, squeezing the breath out of you. Your mouth released his shoulder, instead placing gentle kisses along his skin as his body began to shrink back to its normal size. 

"Are you alright?" He whispered into your cheek, dragging his lips over what he could reach of your face. You hummed and nuzzled your nose into his neck. 

"I'm alright," You mumbled, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on you. "Just. . . just tired." 

He chuckled, stroking the back of your head and tracing patterns over the expanse of your back. "Go to sleep, little shadow, I'll dress you and carry you back to camp." 

You let out a sleepy giggle, "What if I woke them?" 

"If they'd heard your scream when you came, they would've run down here already," He pulled back so he could try to look down at you. "But I think I caught it in time." 

"I guess you did," You words started to slur as sleep started to take you. 

"Maybe we should ask one of them to join next time, just to keep you quiet," He murmured, smirking at the way you moaned at the thought, your hips trying to grind down on him. "Oh yes, I think next time we'll see if one of them will join us." 

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[cherry-leclerc]

fucked-up little thrill ☆ cl16

genre: pwp but also porn with plot (the best of both worlds!), humor, she truly is a maneater in disguiseee

word count: 8.3K

There’s a difference between warning and danger - you happen to be both. Though, Charles only sees the green light, go. Well, we can all imagine how this will already go.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+...oral (m and f receiving), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, riding, slight cry, unprotected sex

inspired by this and this !

“She’ll mess with your head, man. You’re going to wish she had never looked your way.” 

“I told my mom about her. Crap, I bought her an engagement ring after a few days of knowing her.”

“Four words: Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Do you know how fucked in the head you have to be in order to willingly go after her? Fucking pathetic. Sure, I did the same, but hear me out-”

Despite the warnings, he didn’t pay them any attention. He thought he was going crazy for sure when he saw two guys on their knees, begging:  Run, just do it. And whatever you do, don’t look back.

Charles wasn’t even listening. 

-

The nights were beginning to get warmer, yet there was still a slight breeze. Spring was rolling in. What an innocent season to meet the wildest card Charles has ever dealt. 

“...then she laughed so hard that, Jesus Mary and Joseph, my heart went bananas! Y’know what I did next? I asked her, ‘You want a slice?’ I meant the tiramisu, guys! She thought I was talking about myself! T’was the most embarrassing thing. Made me look like a bloody narcissist.” Lando whined as he leaned onto the table to hide his face.

George snorts. “Ah don’t worry mate, I would gladly take a slice.” Lando groans, further rubbing his forehead onto the table. So much so, that it began to squeak.

“Alright, calm down before you shed your skin off. It wasn’t that bad.” Alex voices, as he pops a curly fry into his mouth. 

“Easy for you to say! You basically have the person you’re going to get married to! You’re safe.” The Brit pouts. He then lifts his head up and wipes away a single tear. Everyone explodes into laughter.

“Muppet, c’mon we were kidding! Weren’t we just fooling around, Charles?” Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at the Monegasque. Charles rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes, of course we were joking,” he starts. Lando looks up, seemingly feeling better as everyone began to agree. We were just playing around!

“Then again, how did you even fall for a girl like that?” Charles finishes his sentence. 

“Argh. You don’t get itttt,” Lando wails in defeat. “When you meet a girl like that, you don’t question it. You just thank God for sending her your way and then BAM! She just walks out of your life.”

Hm - Charles thinks to himself as he takes a sip of Martini - naive, naive little Lando. 

-

Charles met you that same night he was out for dinner with the boys. He was waiting for his car from the valet; shooting Joris a quick text.

"Sorry," he overhears a soft voice, but still didn’t pay much attention.

"Sorry? You’re sorry? We both know goddamn well that you’re sorry about nothing. Nada. Zeeerrrooo," a man's voice angrily shouts back, voice slurring. 

Charles turns and sees a man running his hands through his blonde hair, walking back and forth in despair. Then, his eyes move to find you.

Standing tall in the tightest, shortest, black dress he's ever seen. So, the little black dress truly does exist. Glowy skin shining through from the lights decorating the outside of the restaurant. Your legs appear miles long, feet paired with your nicest set of heels, Joli Queen Glitter. Red fucking bottoms. Christian Louboutin at its finest. Rich jewelry sits on your wrists, fingers, and neck. 

Even with all that in the way, all he notices is just how drop-dead gorgeous you are. Suddenly, his fingers get clammy. What the hell? His jaw was clenched. Literally, why? His pants were growing tight because oh God he was already har- Alright, now that’s just crazy, Charles. Get it together.

“Yes. Whether you believe me or not, I’m sorry. Maybe you just shouldn’t have set high expectations,” you spoke, looking down.

“Are you being fucking serious right now? You’re smiling? You think this is funny! Oh God, what the fuck is wrong with you, you crazyyyy bitch!” The man continues, sharply pointing his finger at you accusingly. He genuinely looks like he’s about to start crying for his mommy.

“Okay mate, I think that’s enough. Why don’t I call you a cab?” Charles speaks up from where he’s standing. You and the mysterious guy turn to look at him. 

You shoot a smile as the man's eye starts twitching.

“Oh great! Great, great, great,” the man chants. “What an idiotic thing to believe that you hadn't gotten rid of me already! How could I not see it coming?” He drops to his knees and starts rocking back and forth. “On my dead hamster's birthday!” Levi, Charles later finds out, cries out to the sky. “Couldn’t this have happened any other day?” Charles cringes. “Call me that shitty ass cab, dude.”

So, you stand close by as Charles helps plop Levi inside with the help of the cab driver. They buckle him up and off they go. 

Not before Levi pokes his out the window. “I swear I’m not being bitter when I tell you to fucking save yourself!”

Both of you are left there standing quietly. You pout your red lips as you pull out your phone to call a cab for yourself. 

“Need a lift?”

-

Glancing around silently, you sneak a look at Charles. Handsome, you ponder, just a tiny bit. Outrageous lie. You quickly scold yourself for being so untruthful. This man was the most beautiful kind you’ve seen in your entire life. 

“Take it that was your boyfriend back there?” He taps his fingers against the wheel.

“Mmm. Hardly. No, he isn’t - wasn’t - my boyfriend by any means. Some guys just instantly assume stuff over any girl that pays them any ounce of attention.” You lazily trace shapes onto your thigh. You tug your dress down a bit, licking your lips. “Thanks for helping me out back there. It was really sweet.”

He notices the way you never look up from your lap as you’re speaking. It’s kind of endearing, just how soft you can be. “Don’t mention it…it was…no problem.”

He walks you from his car to your house. It's small, pastel yellow with a mailbox that reads; No more love letters. Seriously. “Cute,” he comments. You blush.

“Oh, that. Sorry, I live with my two best friends and they wrote that as a joke,” you ramble as you click your heel shyly. “They said it would help out with my, and I quote, ‘secret admirers.’” You let out a tired laugh as you finally build up the courage to look at the man standing right in front of you.

“To be honest, that makes sense.” He tilts his head a bit, analyzing your eyes. “Beautiful girls should receive beautiful letters.”

Tongue tied, you stare back with a pleased smile. 

“This is so unlike me, but would you like to go out some time?”

Easiest question ever asked.

-

A few nights later, he finally decides it would be a good day to take you out to dinner. Testing went well and the car was finally on the right track. He took this as a good omen.

“How long have you lived in Italy now?” you quiz, as you bring your Shirley Temple closer to your lips.

“Oh, um, for quite a while now. I mean it’s really only for work. I go home any chance I get.”

“Sweet. Where are you from?”

“Monaco.”

Your eyes grow wide with excitement. “Really! Monaco is so beautiful!” Your childlike squeal makes him smile brightly.

“Have you ever been?” You sadly shake your head, hair bouncing back and forth. Soft floral fills the air.

“Nope, but I wish to one day. I just know I’ll love it so much…” You trail off. “It’s just that growing up my favorite movie was Monte Carlo. Would beg my mom to play it any chance I could.” Maroon coats your cheekbones. He furrows his dark brows in confusion.

“Monte Carlo? You know, starring Selena Gomez?” His soft features pinch together. “...Leighton Meester? Katie Cassidy?” You desperatelyspit your words, trying to assist. He continues shaking his head. Never heard of it.

Your mood grows sulky as you pout. Leaning back, you finally take a sip of your drink. Oh, well now I really want something stronger than this.

“I would love to watch it some time though!” Charles tries as his voice cracks. He winces.

“Sure!” Though, you're not looking at him anymore. Your eyes are trained behind him. He’s about to turn around and ask if you’re fine, when you finally speak up. “I think I’ll go to the bar for another drink. Be right back!” He huffs. 

You weren’t back for almost too long. Finally, deciding to go look for you, he stands and takes long strides all around the dark restaurant. When he finds you he sees you’re not alone. 

A man in an all black suit seems to be your new company. You giggle as he appears to slide some type of business card to you. Just as you're about to grab it Charles strolls over to you both.

“Is your drink finally ready?” he asks as he wraps a protective arm around your waist. You flinch. You hadn’t even seen him walk over.

“Charles!” you shriek, as you crumble the piece of paper into the palm of your hard, hurriedly. You pray that he hadn’t noticed, but he had. Something inside of him told him not to ask. “I was actually on my way back. Did you need anything? A drink?” you ask, furrowing your brows attentively. 

“No, thank you, amour,” Charles warmly replies, looking into your glossy eyes. You truly were the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“My apologies for getting in the way.” The man extends his hand out to Charles. “Aiden Quinn, pleasure to meet you.”

Charles may be upset that Aiden ruined his date, but he wasn’t keen on being rude, so begrudgingly, he shook his hand. “Charles Leclerc.” See, normally Charles isn’t the type to throw his name out like that expectantly, but he felt as if he had a point to make. He did, though. I was here first. 

The man grins ear to ear, nodding. “Yes, that’s where I know you from. I knew you looked familiar. Formula 1 driver, right? Ferrari?” He points with a knowing smile. 

“Scuderia’s number one driver, yes.” His grip around your waist stays secure. Meanwhile, your eyes are open to their fullest. Surprisingly, you had no idea. 

“Certainly. I’m one of the team's ambassadors, actually,” Aiden challenges. Charles clenches his jaw. “When you have million dollar businesses all around the world, you try to find a place to help. Ferrari really needs it at the moment.” You’re equally as shocked with Aiden as you are with Charles.

“Well then, I’ll make sure to dedicate my next podium to you I suppose." You shift uncomfortably. This reminds him you’re there. With him. Ha! Take that, Quinn! “Anyhow, I would love to chit chat with fellow fans, but I must say we have to get going.” He holds your hand firmly as he leads you out.

“Goodbye, Aiden!” you beam as you depart ways. 

-

“Formula 1 driver now, is it?” you curiously ask as you look over where he has one hand over the steering wheel and running the other calmly through his hair. 

“Thought you knew.”

“I had no clue! Zip!” you shriek as fling your arms through the air. He laughs as he pulls into an abandoned parking lot. 

“In the mood for something sweet?”

-

“Grazie mille,” the Monegasque says as he's handed cones of freshly made gelato. Smiling, he makes his way back to you. Hands you per requested raspberry, as he keeps his lemon one. 

“Molto gentile.” You inspect and nod your head in approval. Just hearing your tongue curl in Italian has him swooning. You take a lick and release a soft moan. “So sweet. Best I’ve ever had,” you declare as you continue enjoying your treat innocently.

Charles gulps, trying to cool down. “I told you it was the best.” He shoots a wink over to Luca, the owner, for keeping the shop open for a few more minutes. 

“You scared me a bit back there.”

“Pfft. With that Aiden guy…I’m sorry about that–”

“God no. Honestly, I completely forgot about that,” you mutter. “I meant with that whole, ‘In the mood for something sweet?’. Thought you were like the rest.”

The 25 year old keeps quiet for a minute. He gathers his thoughts before settling with, “I promise I’m not.”

“Keeping my fingers crossed you aren’t.” You look around with twinkling eyes. “You know, a date I once had asked me-”

You want a slice?

No.

“It shocked me how straight forward he was being. It wasn’t even our second date! I barely even knew the guy.” You frown at the memory. “Then he blamed it on the tiramisu.”

I meant the tiramisu, guys!

God no. 

“Never saw him again,” you finish as you finally focus back on him. A pale Charles is all you find.

“Woah, are you okay?” 

“Yes! I’m so good! You look lovely! Did I mention it already cause if I didn’t then call me the worst date ever!” He begins nervously laughing. His gelato dripping all over his arm.

“I think you did.” You smile as you hand him a few napkins. He returns the gesture, thanking you. “And don’t worry about it, leave that spot for Lando. Now he might take the crown.”

Charles let out a groan.

-

Charles went back and forth deciding whether he should reach out to you. He liked you. A lot. Nonetheless, he was hesitating because he just couldn’t do something like that to Lando. The Brit was as bummed out as one could get. So, it's settled. Bye bye baby.

“Of course. Tonight at 8,” your voice confirms on the other side of the line. Charles celebrates with a quick dance.

“See you then.”

-

He decides today that he wants to switch things up. Do something that would make him stand out from anyone that came before him. 

“Monaco?” Leaning on the hood of Charles' car, you feel you have to be dreaming. He nods his head lively.

“I could show you around, y’know be your personal tour guide.”

“You should have warned me! I don’t have anything ready!” you yelp as you hold your hands over your heart, frantically. He would be more worried if it weren’t for you smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“We still have time. Come on, I’ll help you pack.”

-

When you make it to Monaco you’re greeted by a young guy wearing glasses, driving a Ferrari Pista. Charles and him fit in a quick embrace before they turn their attention back to you.

“Ah yes, this is Joris. He’s one of my closest friends,” Charles states as you warmly reach for a handshake. 

Reciprocating, Joris says, “Very nice to meet you.” You smile, returning the greeting. “Must say, you are just as beautiful as Cha had mentioned, if not more.” You blush as Charles clears his throat awkwardly.

“D'accord, mec. Pas besoin de le dire au monde entier,” Charles mutters. “Thank you for picking us up.” Joris nods, carrying your luggages. You share a quick goodbye before he finally makes his way to another car. “That’s also one of my very good friends, Marta.” You smile and wave as they drive off. 

Monaco definitely met your expectations. Everything just captivated your attention so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if you started to drool. 

“Holy shit. Your home is absolutely stunning!” you gasp. He wheels your bags in as he exhales.

“Merci. Make yourself at home.”

-

Thankfully, the flight was quick so you both have plenty of energy to go out for a late night snack. He takes you to his; Favorite place in the world! You’ll see.

A little stand sits in the corner of the street. 

“Lou makes one of the best crepes. Trust me, I’ve been a loyal customer since my school days.”

A little old lady is attending to customers, but stops as soon as she spots Charles. “Charlie! Chérie, je ne savais pas que tu étais de retour!” She makes her way around to hug him.

“Des projets de dernière minute, mais j'ai juste envie de manger une de tes incroyables crêpes,” he replies, as they pull away.

“And who is this pretty girl?” she questions as she looks at you, standing there patiently.

“Oop, hello. I’m a friend of Charles.” Lou smiles teasingly.

“Charlie, tu es là pour me dire que tu vas te marier?” Lou suddenly looks over the moon.

“Non!” he quickly shouts, so suddenly, you and Lou both jump a bit. Tight lipped, he apologizes.

“Like she said, we’re just friends."

-

The next morning after breakfast he recommends you bring something you can swim with. Skipping your way to his room, which he is kindly sacrificing for you, you roam through your luggage until you find a baby blue bikini. 

“You don’t get sea sick by any means, right?” He looks over at you with scrunched brows underneath a pair of glossy black Ray Bans. You shake your head.

“Great.”

You make your way to a tiny boat before he helps you settle in. You grab his hand softly as you step into it. A single touch of electricity seems to link your fingertips. It catches you both so off guard that he lets go of you so swiftly, you don’t even notice as you plunge into the water.

You let out a quick yelp before you go underwater and his hands fly to his head in embarrassment. You resurface with wet hair covering your face.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” he apologizes before extending his arm out for you to grab. Pushing your hair out of your face, you giggle. 

“It’s okay, I got it.”

Once you independently get on the boat, he unties the rope off the deck and takes a seat himself to drive you both to the unknown destination.

“Pretty please, can I know now where we’re going?” you squeal with puppy eyes. 

Lord help me, he thinks before replying. “We’re going to a little island I love. Îles de Lérins.” You look ahead, nodding patiently. “It’s beautiful, you’ll see.”

-

When you arrive it’s easy to understand that there doesn’t seem to be that many people. You basically have the place to yourselves.

He helps you off, not dropping you this time. There’s a small trail you both begin to take. It’s something peaceful, the moment you’re in. You almost wish to fit it into a snow globe. 

“My parents would always bring my brothers and I here all the time during summer when we were younger,” Charles confesses.

“You have brothers?” 

He turns to look at you, then continues ahead. “Yes. Two.” He kicks a rock out of his way, but something you didn’t know was just how clumsy this man child could be.

“Ouch!” you groan in pain as your hand flies up to your nose.

“Jesus! What’s wrong with me today? Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” He runs to you all panicky now.

You take it back. Break the goddamn snow globe.

You try tilting your head back to ease the blood pouring out your nose before he gently grips your face to gain your attention. You scrunch your eyes, sun suddenly blinding you. Quickly, he takes off his glasses and places them over your eyes. As you open them you notice he’s shirtless. He places his shirt on your nose to clean you up. You flinch a bit.

Instantly, you’re thankful for the sunglasses because wondering eyes were all you could give him. His lean muscles were just begging to be praised. 

You shake your head before taking the Puma shirt from him. “Thanks,” you mutter as you focus on a nearby tree. “Starting to think you might hate me or something.”

“Of course not... I could never hate you!” His voice cracks in nervousness. You snicker.

After a bit more wiping, you are as good as new. You both decide to take a dip while the water feels good. You strip from your Levi shorts and t-shirt. Dipping a toe to test the temperature, you shoot him two thumbs up. 

The ocean feels so fresh and silky against your skin. You can’t seem to remember the last time you’ve enjoyed someone’s company like this, even if they almost ruled you to the ends of Earth. Two fingers press against your neck. You spring one eye open and you see Charles biting down on his thumb. He relaxes.

“Sorry, I thought you crossed the line to the afterlife.”

You tread water to stretch your legs out. “I’m fine.”

He takes this time to note things he hadn’t paid attention to before. Like how your lashes pin against your skin since they’re wet. Or how a tiny bit of freckles are sprinkled on your nose. He curses himself for not having seen it any sooner. Pretty was an understatement. You were extraordinary. 

A few hours later you guys are back at his house sharing a pizza. Pepperoni, you both loved a classic.

“There’s no bruise,” he points out almost proudly. You shoot a playful scowl. He walks over to the T.V. and clicks the remote. “Monte Carlo?”

He loved it, the way you said he would. He especially enjoyed watching how much you loved it. 

“This movie was too ahead of its time,” you confirm as you dig your feet under the blanket you had curled into. 

“Well at least Grace and Theo got their happily ever after,” he pronounces. You shoot an impressed look. “What? I was listening.” You crawl up next to him and pat his cheek. His dimples pop out from how hard he’s smiling. 

He can’t help it the moment he reaches to cradle your face to press your lips together. He can’t help but let a moan slip out when you finally kiss him back. 

Finally, he picks you up to adjust you on his lap, which you comfortably settle into. You feel him underneath you so clearly you can’t help but move your hips. He feels so good.

The heated moment continues as he wraps his hands around the curve of your ass. You pull away as your lips move down to his neck. He almost gasps the moment you lick down his throat. It doesn’t help that you’ve been keeping your hips in motion. 

He almost passes out the moment your lips move to his ear and ask, no, beg; Let me taste you, please. How could he ever deny such offer?

Making your way down to your knees, he adjusts himself on the couch. He thinks to himself that if he were standing he would’ve made a fool out of himself because just the sight of you in front of him has him choking on his own breath. You just look so pretty.

You tug his shorts down, along with his boxers, and bite down on your lip as you grab his cock, softly. He has to stop himself from jerking into your hand. Precum sprouting from his tip. You can’t wait as you take kitten licks. Fuck, he whimpers. The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Wrapping your lips around him, your hands reach to balance yourself against his thighs. You moan at the feeling of having him inside your mouth, drooling all over his lap.

This itself, is too much for Charles and thinks he’ll barely even be able to survive as his head turns against the couch' pillow with closed lids. You start bobbing your head and one hand flings down to jerk off what you can’t reach. He groans at the feeling. 

You start off slow but suddenly start picking up your pace. He opens his eyes, dazed, to catch a glimpse of you on your knees and this sight is something he won’t be able to forget even if he tried. With glassy eyes, you look up at him. You make a show of releasing your lips from his cock as you lap your tongue along it. Before going back at it, you twirl your tongue a couple of times around his tip before giving it a quick suck, then deep throat him. 

He grits his teeth as if to help deal with any of this but when you start toying with yourself he lets out the loudest whine he’s ever produced. You look up smiling, grazing your teeth lightly along him and he hisses at the feeling. Proudly, you fit him back into your mouth. 

“God, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he manages to get out before you solely start jerking him off.

“What about my hands?” you seductively tease. The sounds coming from both your hands and his cock should be considered a sin itself. He groans as he looks back to make eye contact with you.

“Your hands too, baby.”

He knows he’s close the moment you twist your wrist perfectly. So so good. You know he’s close when he begins to twitch underneath your fingertips. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” he chants as you continue your dirty movements. He makes sure to look at you, focused, eyes drawn to his cock.

“Cum for me, Charles,” you coo as he finally bucks his hips into your hands and hot cum shoots all over your face. You wickedly smile as your lips reach his cock to continue swallowing the rest that is being released. He grabs you face to pull you off him and hauls you once again onto his lap. He’s about to kiss you before you pull away and point at the mess on your face. 

You wipe two fingers along your face and bring them to your mouth to clean them off. A pop is released when you let go. He shudders. 

This is the moment, Charles realizes, he’s so screwed.

-

When you make it back to Italy you realize that all you’ll have are a few fleeting moments together. With Charles going back to racing and you continuing your online classes, you’re both bound to be booked.

Though, Charles just isn’t ready to let you go. And a fucked up man will make fucked up choices when due.

So, he strings you along with him to the Miami GP. He realizes there’s a strong chance you might bump shoulders with Lando, but to be completely honest, he was past caring. He was completely smitten with you.

-

You wear your white summer dress as you are sprawled on his hotel bed. You’re a mess.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper as Charles fingers slip in and out of you. He’s feverishly kissing down the side of your thighs, bites left in between. You groan in slight pain as you tug on his soft hair. This man has brought out the moon and stars, for you.

“C’mon baby, look at me,” he whispers as he paints you with hickeys in between your legs. Somewhere no one else will ever be able to catch a glimpse of. You nod your head as you look down to find him gripping your dress over your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. You shut your eyes as you release a few soft pants, the heels of your feet press deeper against his Ferrari polo.

“Open you’re eyes.”

You shake your head. You wish you could look at him, you really wanted to, but it’s just too much take in. You wanted to make this last.

But Charles was greedy. He wanted to taste you. He stops everything all at once. You let out a cry. Fuck him.

You bring your arms around his neck, loosely, as he kisses your shoulder. “Why’d you stop?”

“You weren’t looking at me.”

With all your strength you open your glittered eyelids. 

“That’s a good girl,” he coos as he picks you up and sits you at the edge of the bed. You look down at him confused as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“If you can’t look at me, then you’re going to have to look at yourself,” he directs as he begins to push your dress back up your waist. You lean against your elbows as you realize what other than Charles is in front of you.

A shiny glass mirror.

With a slightly open mouth you’re about to protest before Charles picks up right where he left off. He spits on your clit before rubbing it. You bite down on your bottom lip so hard, you draw blood. 

“Don’t tell me I have to get you to moan now?” Charles stares at you with furrowed brows. You shake your head no before he kisses your knee. “Good.”

He makes sure you look straight at your reflection before he curls his fingers inside of you. You mewl at the touch. Your legs beg to bring him closer.

He lets out a light chuckle before repeating his motion. With sleepy eyes, you stare at the way your legs rest against his shoulders. You had painted your nails bloody mary a few nights before, in support of him and his team. Your face all fucked up singly by Charles’ long fingers and delicate touch, red lipstick all over your mouth from how heavy your make out with Charles had been.

To him, you looked like an angel. 

You squeal as he presses his nose against your pussy. You grind against his face. He pulls away and you whine, looking at him desperately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he reassures you as he moves up to kiss your cheek and then your pouty lips. 

“Cha, please,” you beg hopelessly. He grins as he pushes your hair out of your face and runs his thumb across your lips trying to clean you up a bit.

You take a chance and wrap your lips around his finger, and you begin to suck. Expertly, you swirl your tongue. Eyes look back at him, almost challenging. He lets out a strained groan.

With all the willpower he has left, he removes his finger from your mouth. Nicely wet, he presses it back where you needed him the most.

“Thank you, baby, you shouldn’t have.” You cry out at the sudden size of his thumb now being inside of you. He switches out his thumb for his middle and ring finger. You throw your head back. All the back and forth almost has you blacking out a few times. Charles gives you a quick peck, fingers building speed, as he pulls your dress down a bit to release your plump tits.

Now he’s at a loss for words. Quickly, he regains his composure and starts sucking on your left nipple, legs squeezing around his waist as a reflex. One hand flies to the back of his head as one makes its way to cup his cheek adoringly.

He moans against you, sucking hard before moving his attention to your right nipple. The way you’re wailing against him has him painfully hard against his jeans.

“Yes, God yes right there, Charlie,” you let out as you grind against his hand. He detaches his lips from your chest as he smiles up at you. 

“I’m right here, baby. Cum for me, yeah?” You let out the most pornographic moan as you finish around his hand. Tears make their way down your cheeks. Cleans his fingers, he shuts his eyes satisfied, before he towers over your body, pressing kisses all over.

You giggle. “That tickles." The 25 year old’s heart doubles in size at the sound of your fucked out voice. 

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up before the race?”

-

The race results weren't the best Charles has had, that’s for sure. Head hung, he makes his way to his motorhome. There he finds you on the tiny little bed, curled up, watching the rest of the ongoing interviews. As soon as you notice him you jump up to your feet and walk to him.

It's almost as if you knew how down he was feeling when you wrap your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. He instantly feels better as his arms swaddle over your shoulders, chin atop your pretty hair.

“You did good,” you mumble. You press a faint kiss on his suit before looking up.

“I fucked up. I got P7.”

You frown at him before holding his face between your soft palms. “P7 is good, what do you mean?” He just shakes his head. “You’ve never heard of seven being a lucky number?”

He scoffs, but not at you, never you. More at himself. “Lucky?”

You pull away and sit back on his bed. “Oh yeah, seven bring all the luck in the world!” you squeal, as you plop on the bed. He laughs lightly as he lies beside you.

“Guess I’ll just take your word for it.” He hums with his eyes closed.

You turn on your side as you try to memorize his face. Like the small mole that sits on the left side of his face that makes him even more handsome, if anyone asks for your opinion. You scold yourself for not having noticed it before. As if to fix things, you name it one of your favorite things about him.

“You should. Things will get better, you’ll see.”

For once, he really believes it.

-

You both are walking out of the Ferrari home when you're suddenly stopped by someone calling Charles’ name. 

“Hey, Charles! Great race man!” A familiar voice rings through the air before you both have a chance to turn around. Both you and Charles, unknowingly of one another, want to make a run for it.

“Thanks, Lando,” Charles replies as he prays he might not notice you. But a girl as beautiful as you can’t go forgotten.

“Holy shit it’s you!” Lando wails as he instantly recognizes you from dinner a few months ago. You cringe. What the chances?

“Hi,” you squeak as you hide behind Charles a bit. You had no idea Lando was a Formula 1 driver too. You ought to do your research better next time.

“Mate! This is the chick I was telling you about over dinner last time!” Lando says, eyes almost popping out of his face from the shock he’s in.

“You don’t sayyyy.” Charles tries to hide it, though inside he’s freaking out as if he’s broken every FIA rule in the book.

“Hey, I want to say sorry for that night, I should have been more clear,” Lando begins to spill his apologies, as all you can do is silently stand there, accepting them all.

“Of course. Long forgotten,” you comfort the Brit. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy. 

“Charles, I’ll wait for you outside, alright?” you utter as he nods. Once you walk out, he turns to Lando frantically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was the same girl you were upset about!” he tells him. Liar. “You must be mad at me and I get it-”

“Nope.”

Charles stares back, caught off guard by Lando’s response. 

“You’re not?” 

Lando rolls his eyes. “I’m not. I just hope you realize what she’s capable of.” He leans in closer to Charles’ ear and Charles leans in too, expectantly. “I’ve heard stories, man…”

Charles immediately pulls away. “Okay, we’re done here. Bye mate!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But Charles knew you better. He saw the way you looked at him. The way you felt. You were different. Fuck your following reputation.

“Ready?” 

-

When you got back from Miami, something had shifted. He couldn’t quite name the moment it had, but he was sure of it. He didn’t care though. He would put up with just about anything as long as that meant having you around.

“And then he told me to test the car again, said it was fixed. Fixed my ass!” Charles tells you over FaceTime. You were sitting in your bedroom, painting nonsense on a canvas. You wore some old overalls with loose space buns. Strands of hair would hit the paint from how messy it was.

“No way,” you say, not looking up. Charles smiles fondly.

“You look lovely by the way.” Though, you don’t seem to catch his affirmation for you. Your eyes are focused on something out of frame, in front of you. A quick smirk appears on your face but slips so fast that he almost begins to think he’s imagined it.

“Thank you, Charles,” you reply with a much bigger smile now. “Hey, how about I meet you at your house at 9? I’ll cook you a nice meal, promise.”

Like always, he knows he shouldn’t ask and also knows he can’t say no to you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

-

That night when you step into his house he notices things he wishes weren’t there. Like how your hair was a tad bit messy or how there were light bruises on your neck. He knows those didn’t come from him. He’d always been mindful to mark you in places no one else could admire, just him. Something bugs him knowing someone has seen them already.

“I’m so sorry I’m late." You rush in with bags from the nearby market, the one just around the corner from his flat.

“No worries. So, what will we be cooking, my little chef?”

That night you seem so infatuated by him, he truly thinks this all was his imagination. Maybe the wind blew your hair on your way here; he should have offered to pick you up. Maybe he forgot he had also marked your neck; he’ll make sure to be more careful next time.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you cut pieces of basil. Giggling, you turn around to peck his lips. Craving more from you, he lifts you up onto the kitchen island. He stands in between your legs as you stare up at him, ever a vixen.

As you lock lips, he picks you up, you yelp all giddy. He makes his way over to his bedroom, your lips lingering on his neck, he almost drops you from how good it feels.

“Careful, don’t need another wack in the face,” you mumble from his neck, light spirited. He rolls his eyes at your comment, but yeah, he should probably focus. 

Finally reaching his room, he kicks the door open so hard, it flies and instantly makes a hole through the wall. You gasp as he groans.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” he murmurs as he takes you to his bed where he drops you. You giggle as your hair covers your face, he makes his way to hover over you and brush it away.

“You know I would do anything for you?” he asks, tenderness lacing his voice.

You stare back at him with bright and eager eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles as he leans down to kiss you and you instantly melt into the mattress beneath you. He kisses you so fast, so hot, that it has you feeling lightheaded. I’ve been kissed before but never, ever, like this, you think as he slips his tongue as a quick trick. You moan with pleasure. He smiles into the kiss. 

He picks his head up to get a good look at the angel the universe had ever so nicely sent his way. He caresses you gingerly. “Are you sure, chérie?”

You nod up and down eagerly, ready for more he’s willing to give. You are so desperate you would gladly take anything as long as it's from him. A flash of sadness strikes your face before it’s replaced with a warm smile. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he comforts you as he begins to take a step back. You quickly hold onto his veiny arm. 

“I want to,” you confirm. You bring him back to you as you kiss him for the millionth time that night. Even that would never be enough. 

His hands make their way to slip your dress off. Once you're left in your matching lingerie, you push him on his back and straddle him.

“Holy shit,” he nervously laughs as you started to unbutton his linen shirt. He pulls his arm out as you sloppily brush your lips down his smooth chest, fingers tracing his firm abs. Then, as you’re about to pull his pants down, he grabs your hands firmly. You glance at him, confusion written all over your face.

“Ladies first,” he teases. You roll your eyes, but still slip out a quick, okay, before settling under him once again. He kisses down your neck gently as you hum out, finding peace with his lips hovering your body. Every new kiss he places on your soft skin makes you feel thousands of butterflies. You’d never experienced something like this before, you’ve never felt so flawless. 

Clumsy fingers roam your back as he unclips your bra then strips you from your panties. Seeing you completely bare has his dumbstruck. This is something he could easily get used to. 

His hands make their way to squeeze your tits, your head digs deeper into the mattress as you release a soft whimpers. Charles grows harder by the second, already getting rid of the rest of his clothes as quickly as he can.

He tugs you closer to him by your legs. A laugh rolls past your lips. Resting both arms by either side of your head, he pushes into you. Synchronously, you both let out a moan. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he grips onto the sheets. 

You feel so tight around him that it takes all of him not to lose control. You throw your arm over your face, face scrunched.

Putting his feelings aside, Charles leans down and plants a kiss on your arm. “C’mon baby, not again. Look at me.”

“I can’t…,” you cry out weakly, “...too big.”

“You just have to adjust,” he reassures you as he begins to move in and out of you. Your arms fly up to his neck and you grab on tight, as if he’s keeping you ashore. You moan loudly.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers as he thrusts deep inside of you. Your velvety walls feel like home to him and he never wants to leave. 

You squirm when his cock hits your sweet spot. You yell into the nothingness and your grip on his hair tightens so much, he groans at the sensation. His hips pick up speed, and suddenly, he’s kissing you again. You whine into his lips, needy for more. Harder. 

As if he could read your mind, that's exactly what he does. Your lips form a silent O as you stare at him with eyebrows drawn together. He just feel so fucking good.

“Fuck baby,” he groans, voice deep. You shiver at the sound. “God, you feel so good, you’re doing so good,” he praises you as he now looks into your eyes. You wail in response, too fucked up to form any kind of sentence.

“I love you so much,” he announces so suddenly, you almost push him away. He keeps moving rapidly as he makes out with you eagerly.

As you kiss him back you realize something scary; you love Charles Leclerc. You think you’ve loved him for a while now, but having never been in love, you didn’t seem to notice the feeling. But you do now.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. When he pulls away you notice you’ve never seen him smile so big. You like being the reason behind it.

He immediately pounds into you harder, not holding back anymore and you’re both a mess. You moan so loud, you’re almost embarrassed but Charles seems to love it.

“If you love me,” he pants, “then tell me his name.”

He continues normally, but you swear you feel your heart stop. There’s no way.

“What are you talking about?” you manage to spit out, but the way he’s handling your body has you seeing stars.

“Please,” a desperate look flashes across his face, “just tell me his name.” His watch covered hand makes its way to your clit and he pushes his finger against it. God, his fingers are so-

“There’s no one.” Liar. “There’s just you.”

With that, you flip him over so now you’re on top of him. Hastily, you start to ride him, making sure to move your hips just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the bed frame as his fingers dig into your hips. You bite your swollen lips in slight pain, but also, just by looking at his current state.

Cheeks slightly pink with sweaty hair covering his face. Long disheveled hair that you pressed him not to trim quite yet. What a sight for sore eyes.

“Please,” he chokes out, “just tell me his name and I swear I’ll never bring it up again.” He opens his eyes to look up at you. His voice hitches when he sees you hopping on his dick, tits bouncing up and down. You throw your head back and circle your hips much harder.

“Fuck.” Charles gasps as he reaches up to attach his lips to your chest. He licks before softly biting down against your bud. You exhale sharply. He then lays back and holds onto your hips harder before helping you move on top of him. Wrapped around him, the motion between both of you picks up so fast you start shaking your head no.

“Yes, amour, say it. Please just tell me before I lose my fucking mind,” he grunts as he stares down at your juices as they make the filthiest sound against his own. 

“I swear Charles, I promise, that I have never loved anyone the way I do you,” you confess as you sink your nails against his chest, red marks instantly mapping themselves down.

“Beautiful fucking liar.” Charles smirks as he moves his fingers against your clit rapidly. With that, your walls clench around him as you cum so hard around him he can’t help but follow. You moan loudly as you fall against his chest as he groans lowly. 

Trying to even your breathing, you grab onto his hand. Instantly, he brings it up against his lips. Just the touch of his makes you want to ride him until you can’t no more. 

You meant what you said that night. Though you both should have known better. Being naive can’t always last forever.

-

“Then she left a note saying it’s best we just remain friends,” Charles reveals a few nights later over dinner. Everyone shares glances of empathy to the distraught Monegasque. Even Lando.

“It’s alright man, you’ll be over her before you know it,” Lando states as he shares a knowing smile. Charles bites down on his tongue knowing all this pent of anger wasn’t towards Lando. Not even for you. 

He would like to say that he learned his lesson and that he should have listened to everyone, all the warning signs that glowed above his head. But he knows damn well he would do it all over again if given the chance. He would say, do anything, to change your mind. To make you stay, but people like you never settled. 

Moping, Charles changes the topic as he begins asking how everyone’s break was. He didn’t really care, but he tried to pretend. 

Out of breath, Oscar rushes over to the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he sits down in between Lando and Charles.

“No worries, mate, Charles was just filling us in on his expired love life,” Daniel fills in, nonchalantly. Charles immediately shoots a dry frown. Daniel shares an apologetic shrug.

“Oh. That sucks man,” the young Australian replies as he gulps down some water. “Speaking of love lives, you guys won’t believe it! I just met the prettiest girl of my entire life just now outside of the restaurant!”

[gurugirl]

Owned

ceo sugar daddy!harry x reader - a check-in for The Arrangement

Summary: Based loosely on this request. Harry brings Y/n to his home and Romy returns at a very bad time.

A/n: This story takes place before Harry and Romy have split. A sort of back-in-time check-in from when Harry & Y/n are still keeping everything on the down low.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, cheating, angst, spit/saliva, being overheard having sex

Word Count: 6,220

The Arrangement Masterlist

She was still getting used to the arrangement she had with Harry. Seeing him in the office Monday through Friday and needing to keep everything on the down low was difficult.

And when Romy came into the office that afternoon, Y/n caught sight of her with Harry in his office as he’d left the door open. Their discussion was heated, or at least it appeared that way. As Romy was leaving she gave Y/n a look that felt like she knew something. It felt like somehow Romy knew the secret and the look was a warning.

But of course, Y/n was just being paranoid. The only way for Romy to know was if Harry had told her and she knew he wouldn’t have done that. Romy was aware he was seeing someone for his needs. She just had no idea it was Y/n.

That was just one example of how things were difficult. Because she was no good at lying. No good at hiding the feelings on her face.

Harry noticed the faraway look on Y/n’s when he walked past her desk. She seemed to be deep in thought about something. Normally when he walked by he was the one trying to keep a straight face and Y/n was a shy little purring kitten hoping for him to glance at her just once.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned over her desk and looked down at her.

Y/n was struck out of her thoughts when she heard Harry’s quiet voice.

“Oh! I was just thinking about something. Nothing’s wrong,” she blinked her eyes and then bit her lip to keep her mouth from grinning as wide as she wanted.

He’d done some very inappropriate things to her in private that made her insides melt and her muscles ache for days and yet she still couldn’t get over how giddy she felt when he spoke to her in the office.

“You sure?”

She nodded, “Yeah. I’m sure, sir.” She nodded.

“This is cute,” Harry spoke quietly as he let his eyes travel over her outfit before looking back up to her.

Her ears got warm and her heart pounded wildly at the compliment. Of course, she was wearing something he’d bought her. She loved the soft silk and wool fabric and the fit of the Magda Butrym dress.

“Uh… thank you, Mr. Styles.”

She watched him walk off in a confident stride as she sighed.

A text came an hour later after Harry had finished up a meeting he’d been in.

You’ll come back to my place with me tonight.

She blinked her eyes and grinned at the words for a moment before responding.

Yes, sir.

.           .           .

She’d been to his house before but not like this. Harry told her that Romy was gone for the night and he wanted company from Y/n. But he also wanted to have her in the bed he shared with Romy, though he kept that part to himself. It was kind of a sick fantasy but Romy was more and more withdrawn and Harry couldn’t stop from imagining his sweet girl spread out and dripping all over his marital bed. Felt kind of like a satisfying fuck you to his wife who he was growing sick of looking at.

Harry started dinner right away and Y/n immediately got to work helping him chop and pull ingredients from the fridge.

“What have you been eating lately? Looking a bit thin, Y/n,” Harry said as he pinched her bottom, the silk dress bunching under his forefinger and thumb.

She giggled and then shrugged with a grin, “I don’t know. Pop tarts. Turkey bacon, you know the kind that’s already cooked? Umm… those frozen Schwan’s dinners, I like the veggie lasagna one. Bananas?”

Harry sighed and put his hands on the back of Y/n’s hips, standing behind her, “I’m gonna need to start feeding you properly too aren’t I?” He kissed her temple, “First you need me to dress you and pay all your bills, then you need me to fuck you properly, and now you need me to feed you all your meals too? My poor little helpless thing. Needs Daddy for everything doesn’t she?”

Y/n closed her eyes and stopped cutting the garlic as she felt Harry’s warm lips travel down from her temple to her cheekbone, and the bottom of her chin as she nodded, “I… I mean… I guess maybe. But…”

“Shh, shh…” Harry shushed her, “Don’t overthink, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Y/n was squirmy when they sat at the dinner table to eat. Harry kept the conversation going as they ate but he could tell she was heated and starting to liquefy under his watchful gaze. He loved how pliant and open she got for him. He barely had to do a thing to get her squirming and needy for him.

When their plates were nearly emptied and Harry noticed Y/n’s blown-out pupils he chuckled lowly and got up from his seat, holding a hand out to her, “Up you get. Let’s take care of you. I can see you need me, baby.”

She didn’t know how he did it. No one had her like he did. She’d get shaky with excitement and need from nothing but a mere conversation with him. It was embarrassing. Pathetic. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. There was something about the way he looked at her. Like she was his dinner. His prey. Like he owned her. She loved it. She wanted to be owned by him.

Harry led her up to his bedroom and she went with him in silence. She wouldn’t protest about what she figured was coming once he closed the door and then began to unzip her dress from behind.

She liked the idea of doing it, there. In his bedroom. The one he shared with his wife. It made her feel powerful. Dirty, but powerful.

Harry kissed the top of her spine as he moved her hair to the side and her dress slid down her body and pooled onto the floor at her feet. She was already imagining the way his big cock would stretch her out and destroy her insides. She craved it.

“I like these too,” Harry spoke in a low seductive tone as he plucked at the lacy fabric of her panties.

She mewled at his touch and the way his lips found her neck. He was still standing behind her as he brought his hands up and cupped each breast in his palms. She’d gone sans a bra that day because the dress wouldn’t allow it. Maybe a bit risky for the office but Harry always told her not to worry about what others thought. If they were staring at her tits so hard they could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra that was on them and nothing to be ashamed of.

Suddenly he grabbed her hip and she felt the quick pop and then sting of his palm on her bottom. She gasped as he pushed her forward toward his bed, “Bend over.”

She did so quickly as she smushed her cheek into the mattress and felt the next swat to her other side. A few more spanks to each side as she bit her lip and moaned had him laughing darkly as he bent over her, “There we are. A good spanking for not feeding yourself properly.”

She was pulled up by her elbows and then turned to face him, “There’s that pretty face. Love this,” he put his thumb to the skin under her eye and wiped a tear that had broken free.

“Now, undress me.”

It was a normal part of their foreplay. Harry would have her undress him. Sometimes he’d keep most of his clothes on and just have his cock out so she could suck it or he could use it to fuck her, but most of the time he liked to be without clothes when it came down to it. Less messy that way.

Y/n began by unbuttoning his shirt and Harry watched her with a devilish smirk on his face. Once she’d gotten the last one undone he shrugged the material off himself and gestured for her to get to work on everything he had on below the waist.

Dropping to her knees she looked up at him and undid his belt then opened his pants up before pulling the nice fabric down his legs and to the floor. Harry kicked the pants off and watched as his girl pulled his briefs down slowly. He loved watching her face every time his cock was exposed to her.

She’d suck in a sharp breath and lick her lips and drag her pupils up and down his shaft and rove the deep pink tip with her gaze like he was a delicacy.

“You can kiss it if you want.”

She let out a sigh of relief and hastily ran her lips along his smooth skin and let her tongue lather him in saliva continuing to peek up at him as she went. He gently wound his fingers into her hair and began guiding her mouth downward toward his balls, “Kiss.”

With his cock hung heavy over her face and her hands politely in her lap, her lips pecked along his scrotum and she drooled over his sac as she closed her eyes. She worked her tongue on him slowly, making out with his balls as if she were kissing his lips and he groaned deeply. The girl was good. She was so good and he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. Romy could never give him what Y/n could.

Harry began to pant and Y/n grinned to herself as she kept smoothing her lips over his flesh, her pink tongue laving him with dampness.

“Fuck, little girl. That mouth is so good,” he pulled her hair to move her away from him. She wished she could stroke his cock and feel him in her hand but she knew she had to wait for his instruction to touch.

“Lie down on your back for me, ass at the edge of the bed,” Harry spoke as Y/n quickly stood and positioned herself at the edge of the bed per his instructions.

He pulled her little ruined panties down her legs and grinned at her, “A mess as always.”

Harry pushed her thighs toward her chest, knees pressing into her breasts when she felt the first flick of his tongue at the crease of her labia, just next to her pussy. Then to the other side, “Mmm… this cunt is never dry for me. Always such a treat,” the plunge of his fingers into her entrance had her moaning and grasping at the comforter tightly.

But when she felt his mouth finally slurping and kissing at her clit she whined loudly and let out a breathy wail. Harry laughed as he continued his task.

Long fingers pumping in and out and Harry’s skilled mouth pulling at her clit had her boiling and groaning. He kept her held down tight as she rocked her hips out of instinct. Her wet pussy being fingered and sucked was loud in the room.

“Daddy! Please!” She nearly shouted her words when he pulled his fingers from her and stood up with his cock in his palm.

“I’m just getting started with you sweet girl. Gonna fuck you and then we’re going clean up the kitchen, and then I’m gonna put that pretty leash on you. Maybe have your nipples clothes pinned while you wear a new gift I bought for your ass.”

“A new plug?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’ll look in it all day long,” he thumped his wide cock over her pussy, “Can’t wait to put it in you and see what you think. But right now, you ready for Daddy’s cock, angel?”

She barely even nodded before he was pinning her to the bed with his cock stuffed to the hilt inside of her.

He let out a pitiful moan when he finally felt her on him. It’d been almost a week since he’d last fucked her and he could hardly wait to be inside of her. It was why he couldn’t be bothered to clean up the kitchen before he brought her to his bedroom. He needed to take care of her and himself before cleaning up. He needed her.

Keeping her knees pressed into her chest with his hands holding the insides of her knees down he dragged himself in and out, pressing into her until she was being rocked upward from the force.

She smiled in relief and moaned at each drive of his cock, “Yes, Daddy! Yes…”

“Like it when I fuck you, baby? Like my cock slipping inside you deep?”

“Fuck yes! I love your cock, Daddy!”

She was his good girl. There was no question about that. Loved being told what to do, what to wear, what to say, when to get wet, and loved being fucked by his big cock. Loved choking on it. Loved being gagged and tied up, stuffed with toys.

Harry just wanted to get them off quickly because he’d been so hard up for her all day it hurt. Imagining just this. His cock inside of her, spreading her out, watching her pussy grip him and slather him in her arousal.

The sound of a door closing and then Romy calling out for Harry had him halting the movement of his hips, “Fuck,” he whispered his words as his chest heaved.

He had to think quickly. Obviously, Romy would know someone was there with him. The kitchen was a mess and Y/n’s nice purse was on the entryway table. Even though he wasn’t allowed to bring his “girlfriend” to their home he’d have to deal with the consequences of that with Romy. But she couldn’t know it was Y/n because that would be a whole other can of worms he didn’t want to open.

“Up. We need to get you to the guest room. I can’t have Romy seeing you.”

Y/n quickly hopped off the bed and pulled her dress from the floor to cover her naked body as Harry led her to the hallway and pointed to the door at the end, “There. Go inside and close the door.”

He pulled his pants up his legs just as Romy was walking into the bedroom, “Who’s here?”

She looked around the room and saw the panties on the floor next to his boxers and the way the bed was mussed from what they’d just been doing. It was clear what was going on.

“It’s the woman. From the service,” he lied with a shrug, “I thought you were gonna be out. I didn’t mean for you to–“

“You cooked her dinner? And brought her to our bedroom, Harry? Where is she?”

“I had her go into the other room. I don’t think you should have any contact with her. That’s part of what we agreed.”

“Your dick is even still hard, Jesus. Were you two just…” She shook her head and paced into the room, ��And yeah, that was the agreement but you’ve brought her into our home and that was something we said you wouldn’t do. She could walk off with something expensive for all you know!”

“She won’t. I’m sorry. It was just… She made a house call. It was easier this way.”

“I bet it was. Couldn’t even be bothered to clean up the kitchen.”

“I was going to get to it after. Why are you home anyway?” “I missed the train. The next one’s coming in an hour so I figured I’d come home and grab a few things I meant to bring for the trip but realized I forgot. So I’ll be home for a bit. You gonna have her leave?” Romy raised a brow at Harry.

He was a little surprised she wasn’t angrier. He couldn’t understand why she was so calm. Yes, she seemed upset but not as upset as he thought she’d be.

“No… we weren’t done.” Harry clenched his jaw. It felt strange talking to his wife about this. He kept his eyes on her as she looked down at his erection covered by his pants. He cleared his throat and continued, “Plus I don’t want her feeling embarrassed and leaving right in front of you. I’ll wait til you're gone before I send her home.”

Romy nodded and looked behind her at the door to their bedroom. “Is she in there? The guest room?”

“Yes. Will you be upset if I go in there with her while you’re here?”

She scoffed and shook her head as she walked past Harry toward their closet, “Clearly didn’t get yourself off yet. Typical that’s all you can think about in this very moment. I mean what can I say, Harry? It’s not like you listen to me anyway. You and your need to dominate every situation. Go and do whatever. You will anyway.”

And that was true. Harry wasn’t one to take no for an answer for most things.

Shrugging his shoulders he started for the door but before he passed into the hallway he turned, not wanting Romy to have the last word, “Might want to go downstairs if you’re not interested in hearing us,” he smirked and then left the room. But before he got far he heard her respond, “Oh great. Love to listen in on mediocre sex and a woman faking an orgasm for money.”

Harry swallowed as she paused. That had pissed him off. Why did she feel the need to insult whomever he was fucking? He decided to leave it and not respond, continuing down the hall and walking into the large guest room where his lover was waiting, locking the door behind him.

She’d already slid her dress back on. She was sitting at the edge of the bed with a worried look on her face.

“Hey,” he sat down next to her and pulled her into his chest, “It’s okay. She’s not gonna bother us. She’ll be gone soon. I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s not your fault. Just scared me. I’m worried if she knows it’s me she’ll do something awful. I just don’t want any trouble.”

“You won’t have any trouble, baby. I’ll make sure of that.”

Harry began to pull at her dress, indicating he wanted it off. Y/n pulled back to look up at him, “What are you doing? Right now? With her here?”

Harry was unphased. Which wasn’t a surprise but Y/n thought for sure he’d wait until his wife left.

“She’s going to be here for another thirty minutes or so and I need you, bout to burst. Will it make you feel better if we’re quiet? Or would you rather wait?” His hands were bunching the material of her dress until her thighs were exposed. The way his warm palm and rings felt on her soft skin, slowly moving upward toward where she was still wet had her heart pounding.

“I… I don’t know. I want you to feel good but I don’t want any trouble.” She was torn. One part of her didn’t want to wait. She’d been on edge and he was so good inside of her, driving into her with the yummiest drag before they were interrupted. And she’d wet her dress with how much slick arousal she had stuck between her thighs, she was still reeling from his cock being inside of her not moments prior. But she didn’t want to do something that would hurt anyone’s feelings either.

“I told you there won’t be trouble. Do you trust me, Y/n?” Harry brought his large palm up to her neck and made her look up at him, his other hand gently slipping fingers through her labia.

“I trust you. Yes,” her puffy lips were parted as she kept her eyes on Harry’s. She loved how it felt when he had a hand around her neck but he was gentle in that moment. Using the gesture as a small reminder of his dominance over her. His ownership.

“Good girl,” he brought his lips down over hers as he pushed two fingers slowly inside of her aching cunt. “You’re my good girl aren’t you, Y/n?” Harry spoke against her lips as he began to fuck his long digits into her slowly.

She nodded, “Yes. I wanna be good for you.”

“I know you do,” he whispered as he continued kissing her between his words, “Let me take care of you. Be my good girl and pretend it’s just me and you. The only girl I care about right now is you.”

That’s what she wanted. To be a good girl for him. And if this is what made her a good girl, she’d forget Romy was in the house. To have his attention on her and not on Romy.

His lips were soft and his tongue pressed into hers as he released her neck and began to pull the dress down her arms until the top part was pooling at her waist and her tits were exposed.

Pushing her to lie down on her back, he kept his fingers inside of her as he dropped his mouth to a nipple causing her to gasp.

Harry grinned. He hoped she wouldn’t stay quiet. He wanted her little noises and hoped it irritated Romy. Hoped Romy could hear everything he was doing to Y/n. Things that he would never again to do his own wife. Was he bitter? Yes, perhaps. But he felt it was warranted. He didn’t like her insulting his sweet girl.

Harry looked down at Y/n with her silk dress bunched at her waist, her pussy and tits out as he fingered her and kneaded her tits.

When he felt he’d gotten her all worked up again, small moans and needy little glances, nearly begging him for more, he pulled his fingers from her and hastily removed his pants. He pushed her further into the bed and spread her legs apart, making her bend at the knees as he shifted between her legs.

“Please,” she whispered as she looked down at his hard cock in his hand.

“This is what you want? Yeah?” He positioned his thick crown to her entrance as she nodded.

“Needed Daddy’s cock so bad today, didn’t you, baby?” Harry spoke his words in stammered breaths as he began to push back into her where he belonged. The stress began to melt away the deeper he drove his cock.

Earlier in the day, when Romy had gone to the office, Harry didn’t even know she’d be there. He spotted her walking out of Sean’s office as he happened to be standing in the hallway talking to Jessica and spotted her.

He asked her what she was doing there, mostly just surprised to see her and her response was immediately defensive so he brought her to his office so they could discuss in private. She seemed angry with him and then told him she stopped by to remind him she was going out of town that evening with her sister. Something for which he did not need an in-person reminder.

He found the whole thing odd but most of all, her attitude had him heated. Their small spat in the office was overheard and he was stressed when she did finally leave. But he did have one bright spot through it all. His Y/n.

And having her underneath him as he strained his muscles and steadied himself above her while he gently fucked into her was exactly what he needed. It was just what she needed too.

Harry watched her pretty face contort and lips part and widen with each of his thrusts, “Fuck, baby. Who do you belong to?”

Her voice bubbled out softly, each word panted into the air, “Daddy… I’m yours, Daddy…” She wanted to hold onto him. Scratch her nails down his back and claim him for her own the way he always claimed her. She would never do it unless he told her but her fingertips dragged over the blanket imagining his skin under her nails.

Harry moaned and felt saliva pool on his tongue. His mouth was watering with how luscious she felt and the remnants of her arousal still in his mouth. He brought one hand to her jaw and squeezed her cheeks, “Open up wide sweet girl.”

Her mouth was already parted as she unhinged her jaw for him and jutted her pink tongue out for him.

Harry gathered his spit at the end of his tongue and opened his mouth, keeping his hips pasted to hers as he continued deeply thrusting into her. The wet drool from his tongue drizzled down into her mouth and over her tongue, slipping downward to her throat.

She closed her eyes and moaned loudly at the way it felt. She was his. He owned her. She would drink his come and his saliva happily forever if he wanted. Would crawl on her knees to him and let him spit into all her holes with a smile.

Harry watched as she kept her tongue out. Her eyes were squeezed closed and she began to quiver under him, “You’re mine, baby. My sweet girl. So dirty and so fucking hot. Swallow my spit into your tummy now. Show me you want to be mine.”

Her lips closed around the spit and she swallowed and licked her lips before opening her eyes up to see him looking down at her in awe. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. His cock inside of her, pushing deeper than he ever had, and the act of swallowing his saliva sealed it all for her. He wanted her for his own.

“I’m yours. I need to be yours forever. Are you mine too, Daddy?” She didn’t expect those words to come out but her heart and the hot, prickling lust in her belly had her speaking before she could even think.

Harry groaned and lowered his lips to hers. It was the most erotic and soft sex he’d had with Y/n yet. It made him feel like… he was in love. Made him realize, even more than he had before, that he wanted Y/n forever. Not just for a mistress and a fuck toy. But a human woman that he connected with on all levels and who matched his needs and desires in bed.

Disconnecting their wet lips he gasped at the way she clenched around him and pushed his nose to hers, “Fuck, my love. I’m yours. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

Harry was trying to keep it down for Y/n’s sake. He knew she didn’t want Romy to hear what was happening in the bedroom. He would have preferred to have Romy hear it all. So she knew where she stood in comparison with his lover. Y/n was his girl. And he was sure he was falling in love with her.

“P…please can I touch your back? I want to feel you under my fingers…” she dared to ask because she couldn’t hold it back. She needed his skin under her hands and nails.

Harry grasped one of her hands and brought it up to his shoulder, “Fucking touch me all over baby. Go on…”

She felt his skin under her palm and brought her other hand up to feel his back. His broadness and the straining muscles in his back had her moaning loudly on accident but the moment she took the chance to dig her nails lightly into his skin and she heard him choke out a loud groan she knew that was permission for more. To leave traces of herself on his skin. A mark to show Romy who he really belonged.

And that thought had her rearranging her entire notion of having his wife overhear them. Now she wanted Romy to know. She felt possessive of him at that moment, her nails digging in harder and his groans growing louder with each inch she dragged her nails over his flesh.

“Just like that, Y/n, baby… Harder…” he was breathy and his words were tight. Harry couldn’t believe how it felt to have her nails on his skin. He hoped he bled and had deep marks left for days.

Suddenly a door slammed and Harry paused as he looked down at Y/n with a smirk, “Want you to scream my name when you come. Want her to hear the voice of one I belong to. Is that okay?” He rutted into her deeply and she moaned with a nod.

“Yes. I want her to hear now. And then she’ll see my marks on you. Because you’re mine, Daddy.”

Harry pressed his lips to hers and sucked in a breath through his nose to show his devotion and appreciation. The kiss was slow and wet as Harry kept himself stuffed into her, not moving an inch. He needed the moment to give his cock a break from the decadent feel of her pussy around him.

When he’d recovered enough that he knew he wouldn’t come immediately, he pushed himself up and looked into her eyes, “Shred my back up, Y/n. Want it to scar. Give it to me.”

She did as he said as he pulled out to his tip and slammed back into her, making the headboard pound into the wall loudly. With the feel of her nails digging into his skin, he repeated his motions, fucking into her hard but slow. Pulling out his heavy cock to his tip and driving into her with a thud.

Harry hissed at one particularly deep scratch and he sat up, feeling like that was sufficient, ready to hammer into her and make Y/n shout and yelp and come all while Romy listened.

“You ready, angel? Gonna fuck you so hard you see stars and squirt all over this bed.”

She dared to lift her fingers to his chest and scrape lightly as she nodded, “I need it so bad. I need you.”

Harry grinned and closed his eyes for a moment to feel her. To feel the emotions and the moment. Her fingers on his chest. But then he began to slip his cock back, pulling out completely. Looking down between them he placed his thumb on her clit and suddenly pummeled into her, repeated, punishing thrusts.

At first the voice was punched out of her throat with the way his hips hammered into hers. The sound in the room of his cock pushing into her pussy, his skin thudding into hers and the bed creaking wildly, the headboard smashing into the wall in time with his thrusts was the only noise.

Finally, she found her voice when they got into a rhythm, “Daddy! Yess!!” His thumb stroking her puffy clit sent her spiraling quickly. Her hips jolted and her back arched.

Harry watched her tits jiggle and her mouth and tongue move as curses and shouts of his name fell from her lungs. Her pretty voice and coos nearly had him tearing up but his cock was in heaven pounding into her pussy.

“Right there, baby? Yeah?” He gasped his words as she nodded. Her hands grasped the blankets tight as her body was being knocked upward with his devastating plunges.

“So good! Fuck! I want your come, Daddy! All inside of me. Fff….” Her neck strained as she tossed her head back. His thumb at her clit was sending her dangerously to the edge. And with the way his cock was punching into her she was going to squirt and she knew it. Only Harry could manipulate her body in this way.

“Oh shit… Fuck, baby…” Harry choked out his words as he saw her first gush and pulled his cock out so she could unleash.

Her body vibrated and she shouted loudly as she leaked and squirted. Tiny bits of spray coated his cock and his pubic hair and the bed below.

“Make it messy, baby. That’s right,” Harry continued flicking her clit as she trembled and loudly moaned unintelligible words of nonsense.

When she’d finally calmed Harry slammed back into her. He still needed to make her come. Squirting felt intense and yummy but coming was yummier, he knew.

“Squirted all over me baby. Claiming me with your scratches and your pretty pussy spraying me, huh? Gonna show my wife who I belong to?” His hips against hers were biting and he was so deep she felt him push into something new. A snap was felt inside of her and the intensity of the deepness of his cock had her spinning.

Harry was barely pulling out, only fucking into her now, holding her body to his as he rocked his hips into hers so deep.

“Yes! Only mine!” Was all she could manage to squeak out.

Even with Harry holding her close, the room was noisy with sex and the bed was unrelenting under them. And once Y/n had squirted and made a mess, the sloppy, gushy noises were even more evident. Everything was wet and slick and loud.

Harry was so close to coming. His balls tightened and Y/n’s eyes widened when her own orgasm began to finally unravel. Harry’s pelvis pushed into her clit with the constant motion of his hips rolling into hers.

“Open up again,” he could barely get his words out, “and ruin my back, baby.”

She opened her mouth and immediately ran her nails over his back. The pain of her scratching the spots she already had made Harry cough out a loud moan of praise, “Fucking good girl!”

He looked back down to her eyes with the sting on his back and the saliva dripping down into her mouth slowly.

It was perfection. The moment was bliss and euphoria as he breathed out his words, “Swallow and come.”

She had already begun to come the moment his saliva hit her tongue and her fingers dug into his skin. It felt like they were joined as one. She swallowed his saliva before moaning, “Harry! Oh my god!! I need you, Daddy!” Her words were a garbled shout, surely to be heard throughout the house.

Harry rattled off his devotion and praise to his girl as he drained his come into her, “My good fucking baby. I need you so much. Fuck! Making me come so hard. Gonna take my come like a good little girl…”

The slowing of their movements had the room going quiet until only their breaths and panting were heard. Harry dipped in to kiss Y/n slowly and softly. With meaning and heart.

She was still pulsing and he was still throbbing as they licked and kissed. One last deep thrust upward had her squealing and laughing as Harry pushed himself up to look down at his girl with delight.

A knock to the door interrupted the sweet moment. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed as he brought his hands up to cup Y/n’s face lovingly, thumbs stroking her soft skin, “What?” He shouted toward the door.

“Fucking asshole is what,” the knob rattled as if she were trying to open the door and Harry lifted up further to face the door. He had locked it but he wouldn’t put it past Romy to try and get in to make some kind of point.

“Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want you near here.” Harry barked toward the door, ready to pull the blankets up over his lover to protect her if needed.

“This is MY house, Harry! You have whore in MY house! I want her out!”

Harry scoffed and shook his head as he looked down at Y/n. His cock was still inside of her. This was his baby. His love. He smiled at her softly, reassuringly before turning toward the door again to respond to Romy, “Were you listening like a pathetic bitch? That’s what good sex sounds like. I’m not fucking sending her away because you’re jealous. Leave already!”

“Loser asshole!” Romy stomped off and down the stairs. They could both hear her leaving the house.

Harry let out a breath and grinned down at Y/n. She was already smiling up at him with a pleased look on her face. She wasn’t upset like he thought she might be.

“You okay, baby?”

“So good, Daddy. She knows your mine now.”

Harry nodded and laughed, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers, “I’m so yours baby. All yours.”

When he finally pulled himself out of her he tilted her hips upward and thumbed her entrance to watch his come drip slowly before planting his mouth over her cunt and slurping his come into his mouth.

Leaning over her body and hovering his face over hers she opened her mouth obediently and he drooled his come into her mouth.

He watched her tongue capture his seed and he smiled, “In your tummy and in your pussy. All mine. Swallow.”

She gulped him down and grinned, “All yours, Daddy.”

Harry’s grin only widened as he spoke, “Yeah? You’re all mine. And you fucking own me.”

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[uweinei-02]

how they make you feel loved (HEADCANONS) ft. tsukishima kei, sugawara koushi, and daichi sawamura

AUTHORS NOTE: felt like writing something, even through i haven't written anything other than essays since 2021. so criticism is welcomed! also i only JUST started getting back into haikyuu so mischaracterization might be apparent, my deepest apologies for that! this is lowercase intended! ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

TSUKISHIMA KEI

100% would make a playlist for you, probably would label it ask a nickname he calls you (99% chance it'd be called "1diot" cause you're the only idiot for him, would probably be his exact words when you ask why too). the playlist would include all the songs that remind him of you and also songs you like, also it's definitely over 48 hours long (what can i say he really loves you, also 80% of those songs are ones that make him think of you)!!! "a playlist?" you asked him as he opened the link he sent you earlier on in the day. he told you to wait to open it until he finished practice as he said he would stop by. you shifted on your bed, leaning your head onto his shoulder as he gave you a hum in response. "one-diot... what?" "are you stupid?" he asked and you could only roll your eyes and grumble at his words before he let out a sigh. "because you're the only idiot for me." and by god, you fell in love with him again.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

makes you lunch everyday for school, would deliver it to you and it could either be the exact same thing as he has or completely different depending on dietary restrictions. oh, he would also write a note in there to motivate you and make sure you keep going (on a banana, because he thinks it's cute. did i mention he would eat with you AND your friends?????). "[name]!!" he called out in front of your classroom door with a grin and a box full of your lunch, causing you to greet him with a wave and a smile as he makes his way to the table you're seated at. once he's seated you thank him for the food after he places both his and your lunch containers on the table. you remove the lid of your box, and as per usual, there's a banana with a note. "you're amazing love, i love you <3" you can't help but smile at the banana.

DAICHI SAWAMURA

messages you motivating things to keep giving you energy throughout the day, messages would probably be sent in every hour, not a minute late either (sometimes you end up wondering if it's actually him or if it's a robot, but you always smile at the messages, so you're not complaining)! you let out a groan, leaning further into your chair as you continue to attempt the math problem you've been struggling on for the past 30 minutes, you were falling behind and your grades were really showing it, and you seriously needed to catch up, fast. just as you were about to go back to your work, your phone dings causing you to check it. "you're not going to get anything done if you overwork yourself, make sure you take a break!" you let out a sigh and smile, thanking him as you then shut your phone off followed by you eating a snack nearby.

[neverbeurs]

Omfg just saw ur dad spiderman mark au AND ITS SOOO GOOD CLD WE PERHAPS GET ANOTHER ONE WHEN his daughter has a bf in kindergarten and mark got super jealous and protective????

EEEEE stop i love spiderdad mark so much 🥹🥹 im so sorry uts been so long anon 😭 but here u go i hope u enjoy <3

spider mark × g!n reader

warnings : fluff, just pure fluff, jealous/overprotective spiderdad mark, spiders, webs, puppy love, kindergarten sweethearts TT, kisses <33, mark is a simp for you !!!!, they’re so in love i might just kms

read pt1 of the spider-dad chronicles. (optional!)

mark wasn’t one to be jealous, he really wasn’t. so why was he glaring daggers at the little boy sitting next to his daughter on-top of the slide. now, don’t get mark wrong, he trusted his daughter with his whole heart. but knowing that everyone but him knew she had a boyfriend at the ripe age of four and a half was baffling.

“babe.. why didn’t you tell me?” mark whined for the nth time, tugging at your shirt as he kept his eyes on the way the little slightly tannedboy treated jinni. you sighed, hugging him and pecking his lips softly.

“she told me she didn’t want me to tell you, plus, i thought donghyuck would’ve told you..”

“dONGHYUCK..?!? shes dating his son?! nope. im not having it.” mark scoffs, shaking his head and standing up straight to walk over to the toddlers.

you place a hand on his chest and softly push him to sit back down on the bench, cupping his face to make him look at you. “mark, just let the kids be.. its only a puppy love, they’ll forget about it eventually when they get older.” you reassure him, leaning in to get a taste of his pouting lips.

“yeah, but… we were also a puppy love, and look at us now!” he softly whines, pouting even more as he squints his eyes at the little boy helping his daughter up the steep steps of the playground.

“babe, we were both in first grade when we met.” you playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head against your husband’s chest.

“so?” he furrows his brows, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand before playing with it.

your heart flutters, a soft blush growing on your cheeks at his random acts of affection that have you falling in love and wanting to get married again. “they’re in kindergarten.” you say, looking up at him from your place on his chest.

he looks down at you, the words in the back of his throat ready to leave when he suddenly forgets everything but the way your pretty eyes look up at him. mark slightly clears his throat, neck and face burning up. “..and? that’s basically the same thing.”

you giggle at the fact that his words don’t really make sense. “we were both either six or seven years old when we were in first grade, mark, the kids are barely four.”

“two years isn’t that much of a difference, they’re basically already in high schoo—” you cut him off by sweetly kissing him, hands cupping his face as he sighs and melts into the kiss. he leans his forehead on yours, arms wrapping around your waist.

your kisses were his favorite thing to destress with. he would go hours and hours just kissing you if he could. the canadian would constantly kiss you, be it anywhere. your husband just couldn’t keep his lips off you, but you loved it.

you loved the way he would melt into your hold when you kissed him, the way he would throw away anything for just a kiss from you, the way he always made sure to kiss you softly and sweetly, not to mention the fact that he always asks before doing so like a proper gentleman.

“so.. why didn’t you tell me about the fact that your son had been hitting on my daughter..?!” the canadian male asks the tanned male, eyes glaring at the younger male. donghyuck chuckles, having pulled off his mask to drink his cup of.. banana milk?

“listen, milk-”

“mark.”

“milk. as i was saying.. it’s not that much of a big deal, it’s just a silly lil’ puppy love.” donghyuck says, shrugging as he chugs the rest of his banana milk. his black and red deadpool suit blending in well with the night as he stands up on the side of the parking lot edge.

mark looks up at the male, softly swinging his legs back and forth as he looks at the night sky instead. “.. my little girl is growing up..” he mumbled, memories of when jinni was first born, when she took her first step, when she finally learned she could shoot webs, when she spoke his name, all flooded his mind as his eyes slightly glossed over.

“i love my family,”

“okay, we get it mister ‘friendly neighborhood spider-dad-man’.”

“oh shut up, donghyuck!”

“make me~ … wAIT. NO. NOT THE WEB- MFPH!”

“you had it coming, lee.”

the ending was slightly rushed bcz i just wanted to publish it before i end up forgetting 😥

but i hope you enjoyed <3

© vqlentinez 2024

[madlittlecriminal]

[INTRO] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: mention of robbery, mention of Miguel missing breakfast, mention of Miguel being used for homework

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

To say his day was rough, was an understatement.

He felt as though no one paid attention to him for the simple fact that every little thing had gone wrong. It was worse when he got told one of his clubs got robbed by none other than Osbron's little crew.

If Miguel was being honest, he needed a damn drink. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with his Alchemax team in about an hour, so drinking was out of the question; he'd have to wait until after to have a drink, but he didn't really mind it as much.

He stepped out of the club after reviewing the damage, relieved that no one was hurt and that his rule was followed: give them the money as a life means more than cash. Plus, they robbed him on a slow night, so he lost about three grand in total from his bartenders' tips and the money from drinks. He simply reimbursed them and told them he makes more than that in an hour, so he didn't care.

He fixed his ruby colored sunglasses as his eyes traveled to the bakery across the street from his club. He tilted his head to the side, confused as to how he's never seen it before. "Is that bakery new?"He asked one of the bartenders at his club who shook her head with a grin.

"Depends on what your definition of new is, boss. It's been there since you hired me, and I've been working here for three years." Miguel's brows furrowed as she explained it to him.

"How am I just now noticing it?"

"Easy. You come to the club at 12 am. The bakery closes at 11pm."

"Why so late?"

"Because the ovens are cold by then. We're her last customers. Remember that concha Lyla gave you?" He nods. "It's from there. She does desserts from all over the world. She's talented." With that, the bartender takes her leave. Miguel tilts his head to the side before heading across the street and into the bakery. His nose is hit with the delicious scent of baked goods, some bringing him back to his childhood when his mother would bake for him and his brother Gabriel.

"I'll be with you in a sec!" You called out from where he believed was the kitchen. He doesn't respond, too focused on the orejas and the many pan finos you had. He took note of the flan, apple pies, banana bread, muffins, macarons, and more. His stomach growled, remembering he missed breakfast.

Then you appeared, flour on your cheeks and on your burgundy apron. You gave him a kind smile and he took off his sunglasses, putting them away and getting a better look at you from the natural sunlight that broke through from the window of your bakery. Were you real?

"How can I help you, sir?" His heart raced as his breathing hitched slightly. His palms were clammy with sweat, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the rush of nerves that entered his body or the heat from the bakery. Wait, was it hot in here?

"Uh...hi. C-can I get a piece of..." Miguel didn't trust himself to finish the sentence as he resorted to pointing at the stack of conchas. The last time he remembered being this nervous around a girl was back in high school when the cheerleader asked him for his help on biology homework. Unfortunately, he also remembers that she only flirted with him to get her homework done. He was glad they didn't have science together after that as he went to AP Chemistry the following year.

You smiled and nodded. "Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"

Once again, he didn't trust his voice so only pointed at the chocolate one.

"How many?"

He held up two fingers and you nodded. "Alright. Your total is $4.25. Cash or card?" You put the conchas in a bag as you waited for a response.

"Cash." He handed you a 20-dollar bill and took the bag. "Keep the change. Don't need a receipt." He quickly rushed out of the bakery without another word.

You stood there with the 20 bucks in hand, blinking down at the register in confusion. You put the cash in the register and put the receipt down. "Well, that wasn't weird at all." You mumble to yourself before heading back to the kitchen to check on the rasgulla you had cooling down.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax

[bobohu4eva]

Ecstasy

Part 6 - Cry for Love

Genre: Soloist!Baekhyun x Reader, angst, fluff, smut 18+ audiences only MDNI

WC: 5.7k

Tag List: @nana-banana @xzyxbbh @greasywall @endzii23 @scopoliax @silent-potato23-blog @baekyeonoreo

Warnings for this chapter: smut (non explicit), alcohol consumption, drug use

Masterlist

Addiction (noun): Disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences

“You’re a dumbass, you know that right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it. I know I fucked up. I don’t even know what to say to her anymore.”

Chanyeol let out a long sigh, trying to muster up some sympathy for his friend's predicament, but finding it quite difficult. He’d seen it coming, more or less. Something terrible was bound to happen with how reckless Baekhyun was being. He took a sip of his beer before setting it back down on the bar, doing his best to at least look sorry for his friend when he glanced back at him. 

“You’ve tried calling her right?”

“No, well not since that day at least. I don’t know if I should. Her friend told me not to, and I get it. But I really do want to see her again, and apologize.” 

The whole time Baekhyun stared, seemingly into nothingness. He hated how much he missed her, even after only a few days. 

“You should at least call to apologize, you owe her that much.”

“What if she doesn’t want to hear from me at all? I don’t want to make things even worse.” 

“Just call. The worst she can do is not pick up.” 

“And if she does? What would I even say?”

“The truth.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“You don’t say.” 

Baekhyun chugged down his drink, getting the bartender's attention and ordering another round. He was already drunk, but it still wasn’t enough to erase what he felt. 

“Why did you freak out so bad? I mean she told you she didn’t mean it. I know acid is one hell of a drug but jesus. You were way too goddamn harsh.” 

“I almost said it back.” He responded, staring blankly at the counter before him. 

Chanyeol's eyes went wide. 

“I was so upset that that even crossed my mind. And if I had said it, who fucking knows what would’ve happened.”

“Well, do you?” 

Baekhyun just glared at him, refusing to say anything. 

“You clearly care about her a lot, I don’t know why you can’t just admit that. I think she could be really good for you, if you just got over your own bullshit.”

Baekhyun leaned forward until his forehead was on the bar, both hands on the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember ever resenting himself so deeply, and that was saying something. 

Chanyeol was right, and they both knew it. 

The guilt made it hard to do anything more than drink himself into numbness. He'd probably ruined any chance he had at something real with her, even if that in itself also made him uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to try and fix things, he knew deep down that he'd probably just end up hurting her again anyway. In the end though, the side of him that still wanted her was much stronger, and far less rational.

Every time he thought about that day, and how she must've felt after he kicked her out of his apartment, his chest would get tight, the dread quickly becoming more than he could handle. He’d had an awful time himself, the trip turning downright terrifying, and he’d been inside his own apartment the whole time. Outside, alone, she must’ve felt she was in a living nightmare. He was disgusted with himself, with how cruel he’d become, and all because of a few words that she didn’t even mean. 

Eventually he decided that it would be worse not to say anything. Even if she didn’t want to hear from him, he had to at least try to tell her how sorry he was, otherwise the guilt would keep chipping away at his sanity until it consumed him whole. 

It took a while for him to get to the point where he actually had the strength to pick up the phone and pull up her contact. Even then, he just sat in his apartment, staring at his phone, debating with himself. He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, the idea of talking to her after he’d fucked up so badly, or the very real possibility that she would simply decline the call all together. Losing her completely was more terrifying than he was willing to admit to himself. 

Finally, he called. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he listened to it ring, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself with little success. When she picked up, his heart nearly stopped. He tried to say something, but his voice failed him.

“Baekhyun?” 

“Hi.” He eventually managed to get out, painfully aware of how stupid he sounded. He took another deep breath, finally gathering himself a bit before continuing. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

She didn’t say anything. She could hear the lack of consistency in his voice. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just so fucking sorry. I know I fucked up.” 

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you kick me out?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He heard her sigh in disappointment. It was a lie of course, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. 

“Look, I appreciate the apology, but I really don’t want to do this over the phone. If you have anything you need to say to me, I’d rather hear it in person.” 

She hung up before he could respond, and he wasted no time getting into his car to drive to her place. 

Her pain had been unbearable. Even after several days sober his harshness stayed with her, bringing with it a constant dull ache in her chest. She barely ate or slept, but knowing that he at least seemed to feel bad about what he’d done gave her a bit of relief.

Despite Suhyun’s insistence that she cut him off completely, she’d still been waiting, hoping to hear something. She wanted an apology, an explanation, something that would help her feel a bit better, and she wanted him to look her in the eyes as he said it.

The knock on her door, not even 30 minutes after hanging up the phone, came as a shock. 

On the other side, Baekhyun worried he might actually pass out. He assumed that she would tell him how awful he was and then send him right back home, and he thought he was mentally prepared for that, but once he was actually there he realized how wrong he’d been. The ground seemed to sway beneath him, his stomach twisting, threatening to expel the lunch he'd just had. 

The door swung open and they met eyes, Baekhyun bracing himself for the worst.

She let him in, and his expression was something she’d never seen before. His eyes were glassy, the anxiety behind them clear as day. She could see the nervous tension in the way he fidgeted, hands clammy, heart racing. 

His eyes squeezed shut, and he mustered up all the courage he could, though still feeling utterly pitiful.

“I know you probably hate me and never want to see me again, but I need you to know how awful I feel about what I did. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am.” He eventually said, barely keeping it together. 

To his shock, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. 

Tears soon dampened her forehead, feeling the quiet tremors of his chest as he fell apart. He held her close, cradling her against his chest, the closeness allowing his body to fully relax for the first time in nearly a week. Somehow though, he felt even guiltier than if she’d told him off, at least he would've deserved that.

 As hurt as she might’ve been, she’d still missed him. That day, before everything went downhill, he'd shown her a kind of happiness she hadn’t even known was possible. And even before that, when she was with him, the good moments were so powerful that they easily overshadowed all the bad. Nobody else had ever made her feel that before. 

She didn’t want whatever they had to end, even though she knew logically that it would be idiotic to forgive him after he’d been so cruel. She cared about him too much, she was too attached, she still wanted him despite it all, and that was probably the worst part. Despite how terrible he'd made her feel that day, the potential for good was still there. The good times she'd had with him were some of the best of her life, and giving that up wasn't easy. For her, it was impossible. The highs were so high, that the lows were somehow still worth dealing with. 

It didn’t make sense, he'd been absolutely certain that she'd be furious. 

“How do you not hate me right now? Are you really not mad at me?” 

She looked up at him, one hand coming to cup his damp cheek, tears of her own coming to mirror his. It was strange to see him of all people cry, but oddly comforting, too. It told her just how much he regretted what he’d done, that he cared, that he hated how badly he’d hurt her. He’d never shown that sort of vulnerability before, the cool facade he usually put on, now completely shattered. It gave her the reassurance she'd been craving so badly. Maybe forgiving him wouldn't be so dumb after all, since he'd hopefully never hurt her like that again. 

“I don’t hate you. I’m just glad you’re sorry, I was so worried that you were still mad at me, since I didn’t hear from you. I thought I ruined everything.” 

He quickly shook his head. “Of course I’m not mad at you, if anyone ruined anything it was me. I never had a right to be angry with you in the first place, I was being completely awful and irrational.” 

She couldn’t help the small smile that crept its way onto her lips, finally assured that he didn’t harbor any resentment towards her for what she’d said, that he felt genuine remorse. 

“I was afraid to call after that day because I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me, or if it would be best to just leave you alone. Your friend told me not to contact you, and I can see where she’s coming from.”

“When did you talk to my friend?”

“I called you later that day. Once I snapped out of my own bullshit I realized how unsafe it was for you to be outside alone like that and I wanted to make sure you were okay, and apologize. She answered and told me not to contact you anymore, that I’ve fucked up your life enough already, and she’s probably right about that.” 

“She never even mentioned that you called.” She pouted, making a mental note to call Suhyun out next time they met up. 

“I’m glad she was there. I was so scared something happened to you, at least when she picked up I knew you were safe.” 

“You know, I might not hate you, but I am still mad at you. I wish you could at least tell me why you reacted like that.” 

As forgiving as she was, the awfulness of that day was impossible to forget. The drug caused her fear and confusion to materialize in everything she saw, victimizing her until the high eventually faded, and the horror of it stuck with her. That was something she couldn't let go so easily.

He ran one hand through his hair, and when he didn’t answer right away she pulled him along with her to sit down on the couch. 

“I wish I could explain it to you, something in me just.. snapped. There’s a reason I don’t do relationships, that kind of stuff, it fucks with my head.” 

She swallowed, painfully reminded of that hard truth. “Why?” 

He shook his head, if he tried to explain everything they’d probably be there all day, and she’d never be able to see him the same way again. He wouldn’t be able to get it all out without more tears, either. That was a can of worms he just couldn’t get into.

“You should’ve taken it as a compliment you know, you fucked me so good I thought I was in love with you.” 

He forced a smile, but even that caused something unpleasant to twist up inside him. 

“If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me and I’ll do it.” 

She shrugged. It was clear that he'd never be able to give her what she really wanted anyway. 

Still, at least he cared for her. He wouldn't have gotten so emotional if she didn't mean something to him. 

“Are you busy today?” He asked. 

“Not really, no.” 

“I could order us something to eat, or we could go somewhere, whatever you want. I just- I missed you.” 

‘I missed you.’

Even if it would be short lived, she wanted to enjoy the new sensitivity he was finally showing her, so she agreed. 

They stayed at her place, ordering in and opening up a bottle of wine. It wasn’t long at all until they both settled comfortably into the couch, still more relieved than anything. She’d missed him just as much. 

She’d grown used to the confident, wild, sexy side of him, but now, something about him felt fundamentally different. Maybe it was the fact that she’d seen him cry, but whatever it was, it felt warmer, softer, a side of him she knew very few people got to see. 

They spent hours on her couch together in comfortable silence, the show on the TV long forgotten as they kissed and held each other. She’d laid herself atop his chest, one hand landing on her waist, and the other at the nape of her neck, keeping her lips glued to his own. 

His touch was gentle, enjoying the warmth and softness of her skin after having missed her so much. The path his hands took across her back, shoulders, and neck full of adoration. He never ventured any further, because it didn't feel appropriate, he didn't want her to think that he'd only come back for sex. Just getting to kiss and touch her again already felt like a small miracle. 

However that didn't stop his body from reacting to her, now that she lay flush to his chest between his parted legs. As she deepened the kisses her body sunk into him even further, and she felt the line of hardness beneath his sweats. When she rocked her pelvis into him, he let out a groan, hands holding firmly onto her hips.

“Fuck, don't do that.” 

Their eyes met, and she pouted at him, “Why not?”

“I don't think this is a good idea, I came over here to apologize, not try to get you to sleep with me again.” 

As he spoke her lips attached themselves to his neck, leaving a path of soft kisses from his jaw down to the collar of his shirt. “And if I want to anyway?” 

She pulled his shirt down a bit and sucked on the skin of his collarbone, eliciting another moan. 

“You're sure about this?” 

“You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” 

Part of her was skeptical, too, but as always, her desire for him overpowered any trace of caution. His touch, his voice, it all drew her in beyond the bounds of reason. She just wanted to feel close to him. Laying there together innocently had been nice, but she inevitably slipped into more troublesome desires. 

Baekhyun didn't respond, instead, his hands finally slid beneath the threshold of her clothes. The warmth of her skin beneath his hands caused him to sigh. He, too, had missed this.  

The sex felt like an apology. Where he’d been hungry, even desperate, in the past, he now took his time. It wasn’t one night stand sex, or even meaningless fling sex. It was the kind of sex that happens when two people know and care about each other. She let him set the pace, and he decided to be slow and intentional, he set that tone. The praises that passed his lips lost their teasing edge, his gratitude stronger than his usual desire to frustrate her.  More than anything he wanted to savor this, to show her his devotion the only way he knew how. 

Several orgasms later, they both collapsed into a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs on her couch. Baekhyun still refused to let go, keeping her in his arms for as long as she would allow, which turned out to be a good long while, much to his delight. 

Baekhyun hadn’t intended to spend the entire day with her in such a way, he was just so relieved that she didn’t hate him. Somehow his head ended up on her lap, and when she began to play with his hair, a satisfied sigh left him. He'd always loved the feeling, and how easily it would relax him. 

Several sleepless nights had left him exhausted, and as her hands stayed in his hair, he drifted off to sleep, resting more peacefully than he had in a long time. 

His sleeping face brought a smile to her own. She didn’t move, letting him use her as a pillow and nap through the afternoon. Every once in a while she would notice a change in his expression, brows knit in what seemed like distress, and she wondered what he could be dreaming about. So much of his mind was still a mystery to her, one that she desperately wanted to solve. 

When he eventually woke back up it was already dark outside, and he figured it was time to head home. He didn't want to leave, and even thought about asking her to let him spend the night, but after everything it just didn't feel right. He didn't want to overstay his welcome. 

“Has anyone talked to you about the anniversary party yet?” He asked as he got his things together. 

She shook her head. 

“It’s a fairly big thing the company does every year, it’s mostly for artists and higher ups, and I know I’m going, so I was wondering if you wanted to come as my date?” 

‘Date’

That one word was so unexpected coming from him, she found herself momentarily frozen. 

“Uh.. sure, yeah. When is it?”

He told her the details, and she still couldn't shake the implications of that one word. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she wondered if maybe he was finally ready to at least hint at something more serious between them. 

The day of he picked her up as usual, noticing the fitted suit he wore as she got into his car. She knew it was a rather formal affair, but he looked so handsome, she still became a little nervous. 

“You look beautiful,” He murmured, looking her up and down before leaning in for a quick kiss. 

The event was held in the largest ballroom of a luxury hotel full of opulent decorations, and even had a gorgeous outdoor area lit up for the approaching holidays. She'd worn one of her favorite dresses, but even so, she felt a little silly walking in together, arm in arm with him. The guest list was full of a-list celebrities, both from their company, as well as some others, along with various executives. She felt all the familiar uncertainties from the first night she'd met him rush back. 

He must've sensed how tense she became, squeezing her hand and giving her a reassuring smile. The softness of it had her leaning further into him. 

She looked up at him, his profile outlined by the lights of the party, and she remembered just who she was there with. And not only that, but he'd said it himself, she was his date. 

It emboldened her, knowing that no matter Baekhyun's history or reputation, she was the one on his arm, and the one he’d be going home with after. 

They headed towards the bar for a drink, and she still remained quiet, too deep in thought to get anything out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” He told her, “let's just try to have a good time, yeah?” 

He pulled out a chair for her and they took a seat, each ordering their first round of the night. Baekhyun did his best to lighten the mood, complimenting her, joking around and flirting all in an attempt to see her smile. And it worked for the most part, though the constant interruptions always pulled her right back into her insecurities.

Every few minutes someone would come up to him, and he would talk to them as if she wasn't even there. By the third time, she started to wonder why she'd been invited at all. 

She'd been zoning out, staring at the array of bottles behind the bar when she heard her name. When she looked up, she saw a familiar face. 

Joohyun. The same woman he'd ditched her for at Chanyeol’s birthday. 

Baekhyun had introduced her, and Joohyun raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. 

“You're here together?” Joohyun asked, a glimpse of something sinister in her eyes. Her face, beautiful as she was, did little to hide the ugliness apparent underneath. 

She started to nod but Baekhyun spoke up first. “We're just friends.” 

Joohyun smirked, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. “Well, it's always good to see you.” 

She turned to walk away, and as Baekhyun looked back at his date, it became apparent how pissed she was. 

She chugged down the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the bar and getting up. Baekhyun rolled his eyes, following her. 

“Really _____?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I can see you're mad, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?” 

“I thought I was your date! We sure as hell aren't just friends, and for you to say that to her of all people? After what happened on Chanyeol’s birthday? Really?” 

“What else would we be if not friends, hm? As far as I'm concerned we are just friends.” 

“I know you care about me as more than a friend” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, a bitter look overtaking his face. “Do I?” 

She scoffed, “You're unbelievable.” 

With that she turned, walking away but he took hold of her wrist, pulling her back towards him. “Where do you think you're going?” 

“Home. I don't want to be here anymore.” 

“No the fuck you're not.” 

“Baekhyun, let go of me.”

He didn’t. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No. I’m sick of you being hot and cold with me. You don’t get to treat me like that.” 

His grip on her gave way, but she didn’t leave yet. His lips pressed together as his eyes squeezed shut, a heavy sigh leaving him. 

“Okay. I get it. But please, stay. You don't have to talk to me. Just let me take you home later.” 

“Take me home with you? Seriously?” 

“It doesn’t have to be with me. I can just drop you off.” 

She glared at him, almost scoffing again, but decided to just turn and walk away. When he took hold of her arm again, she glared. “If I’m staying, you could at least let me get another drink.” 

He watched her sit down by herself, ordering something that looked strong. 

As she sipped on her drink, she scanned the room, hoping she'd at least recognize someone. She'd almost given up, accepting that she'd probably end up drinking alone until Baekhyun was ready to go, but then she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

Chanyoel’s smile was a welcome sight, as he sat himself down next to her at the bar. 

“Hi! How are you? Are you here with Baekhyun?” He asked. 

“Hi, yeah. Unfortunately.” 

“Why's that unfortunate?” 

She shook her head, “You were right about him, I fear.” 

Chanyeol hummed in acknowledgment, it wasn't hard for him to imagine what could be going on. 

“He's being an ass?” 

“Yeah. I just don't get it. One day he's being really sweet, and then he turns around and acts like that was all bullshit. I'm tired of it. I wanted to go home, but for some reason he wants me to stay.” 

“So? You can still leave. Who cares what he wants.” 

She took a long sip of her drink. 

“I don't want to make him mad.” 

Chanyeol looked a bit confused, but still nodded. “Well, I'm here if you want company. It's a great party, it would be a shame to spend the whole night sulking at the bar.” 

“Thank you.” 

Soon his drink arrived, and he clinked the glass against hers. 

Baekhyun was nowhere to be seen as the two made light conversation, and she was grateful to take her mind off him for a bit. 

Chanyeol, now a bit tipsy, and knowing well that she wasn't pleased with his friend, seized the opportunity. He wasn't usually much of a flirt, but with her it came easily. 

His compliments cheered her up enough that eventually even his dumb jokes brought a smile to her face. When both drinks were gone and he asked her to dance, she gladly accepted. 

They stood, but he pulled her aside before they could make it to the dance floor. Now that they had a bit more privacy, he pulled something out of his pocket. 

Pills. The same ones from the night of his birthday. 

“Do you want one?” He asked, popping one for himself. She considered it for a moment, and with the night being fairly young, and Baekhyun still lingering in the back of her mind, she decided to go for it. His being a jerk didn't mean she couldn't still enjoy herself. 

Dancing with Chanyeol was nice. He was respectful, his hands never venturing further than her hips or waist. He was taller, and overall larger than Baekhyun, which was probably the biggest difference she felt between the two men. She liked that about him, that he made her feel distinctly different than Baekhyun did. Baekhyun was all bold words and risky touches, while Chanyeol was quieter, more cautious. Baekhyun's hands were slender, softer, when they held onto her, delicate in their teasing touches. Chanyeol’s were calloused, stronger, anchoring her without demanding anything more. 

The change of pace was well appreciated, even more so as the drug further loosened her up. She knew that Chanyeol was interested in her, sexually, romantically, or otherwise, but she didn't care. She knew he wouldn't cross any lines, especially not with Baekhyun nearby. 

Eventually the drug in tandem with the crowd of bodies on the dance floor forced the two to catch a breather, ending up outside on a large balcony overlooking the city. It was quieter there, with only a few other people tolerating the cool breeze.

As she looked out at the city, and then back at Chanyeol, she had to fight back a grin. Here she was, on a beautiful, opulent hotel balcony overlooking one of the coolest cities in the world, with a devastatingly handsome rockstar at her side. Baekhyun was the last thing on her mind at that point, she was fully enraptured by the party, the drug, and the man now stepping closer to her. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, though he could see it on her face, how happy she was. She didn’t say anything, her smile speaking for itself. 

“This is nice.” She said, “Really, really nice.” 

Chanyeol nodded in agreement, and when their eyes met this time, neither could seem to look away. They both moved closer, the distance growing smaller and smaller, and out of instinct more than anything else, she threw her arms around his neck. 

With the Seoul skyline as their backdrop, their lips met. Chanyeol took half a step back at first, surprised by her boldness, though he quickly leaned back into her. The kiss was sweet, just testing the waters, enjoying the new sensation amidst the rush of the high. 

When Baekhyun shoved his friend away from her, she initially gasped. But once the surprise wore off, the abundance of happy chemicals in her brain kept her from feeling even the slightest bit upset. 

Baekhyun wanted a reaction. He wanted her to yell, so he could yell back, so he could tell her and Chanyeol off for being such terrible friends. When she instead started to giggle, his blood began to boil. 

“Are you two fucking serious?” 

Chanyeol stayed silent, wide eyed as he watched everything unfold before him. He was relieved that his friend's attention was more focused on her. 

“Are you serious? You said so yourself, we're just friends. I can kiss whoever I want.” 

The lightness in her tone, her unbothered smile, it taunted him, mocked him.

His eyes turned to Chanyeol. “Did you give her drugs?” 

His mouth opened to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere along the way. 

“Don't worry.” She said, “It's not LSD. I’m not about to say more stupid shit I don't mean.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes dug into his friends, and Chanyeol knew that he was holding back. He knew his friend well enough to know when a line had been crossed. 

“We're leaving.” He ordered, taking tight hold of her hand and pulling her towards the doors. 

She gave Chanyeol a half-assed goodbye, frowning, but didn't resist as Baekhyun pulled them both back to his car. 

“You're being an asshole again.” She commented, her tone still far too nonchalant for Baekhyun’s taste. 

While she'd been off with Chanyeol, Baekhyun found a friend who offered him a generous hit of coke. The drug only amplified his shaky, delirious rage, his grip on the steering wheel tightening at her words.

“I'm being an asshole? Really?” 

“Yea, I was having fun. We aren't together, you've made that abundantly clear, so I don't see what the problem is.” 

“Don't play fucking innocent we both know you only did that to piss me off.” 

“And why does it piss you off? Hmm?” She really hadn't done it with any malicious intent. She’d just wanted to have a good time and one thing led to another, but in her drug induced cloud of smug confidence and brutal honesty she continued on taunting him. “Because I know you care about me. You wouldn't have shown up at my apartment in tears the other day if you didn't care about me.” 

At the next red light he looked over at her, the tension in his jaw and forehead clearly evident in his expression. “You will never be anything more to me than a friend and a good fuck. However you think I might feel won’t change that.” 

His words stung, but she wouldn’t let him know that. “Then you don’t get to freak out when I kiss another guy.” 

Baekhyun didn’t respond, but she could see the anger, he looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“This is fucked.” He eventually muttered. 

“You don’t say.” 

“No, you don’t get it. This is bad.” 

She just rolled her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the city passing by on the other side of the window. 

She assumed he would be taking her back home to her apartment, and yet as he kept driving, it became clear that he was doing nothing of the sort. 

“Baekhyun, where are we going? You said you would drop me off.” 

“‘You’re staying with me tonight.” 

“No the fuck I’m not?! I want to sleep in my own bed, far away from you. Turn around.” 

“No.” 

She stared at him, bewildered, but he refused to even look her way. His eyes remained fixed to the road, which was quickly approaching his building. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Still, he didn’t react, not until the pair were pulling into his building’s parking garage. He parked, turned off the engine, and locked the doors. 

“I need you to stay with me tonight.” His hands remained on the wheel as he said it, anchoring himself. He stared straight ahead at the concrete wall. 

“What?”

“Please, just spend the night. You can go straight to sleep. I won't bother you. But just, stay with me. Please.” 

He finally looked at her. Maybe it was the drug, but the way he looked at her made something shift. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. 

“Why should I?” 

“Maybe you’re right. I know I can’t give you what you want, but I do care.”

“That’s not fair.” 

He shook his head, wearing a pained expression as he got out of the car, opening her door and taking her hand to follow him. She did, though she still wasn’t sure why. 

“Baekhyun, why the hell can’t I just get an uber home? It's not like we're gonna fuck so I don’t see the point in coming up.” 

His hand was suddenly yanking on hers, pulling her close in an instant. He held her face in his hands, barely giving her time to take a breath before his lips were crashing into hers. 

It was messy, needy and desperate. Baekhyun quickly pushed his tongue past her lips, tasting the lingering liquor from earlier in the night, combined with the flavor he was already addicted to. Her. 

“Stop talking.” He whispered into the space between their lips when he’d finally had his fill. She pouted a little, but didn’t challenge him. 

The rest of the night was silent. They went up to his apartment together, and went to bed, without sharing another word. She was getting tired anyway, and the drug made it difficult to care all that much about whatever chaos seemed to be going on in Baekhyun’s head. 

When they laid down together, he pulled her in close, so close it was almost suffocating. His face pressed into the crown of her head, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo, feeling something inside him twist into an uncomfortable knot. Still, he didn’t let go. If anything, he held on tighter. 

His own words from earlier in the night repeated over and over in his head, until he passed out with her still wrapped firmly around him. 

This is fucked. This is bad.  

Really, really bad. 

[vidavalor]

Hello! I brought leek and potato soup this time! Hope you like something hearty 😊

Not a question but an observation: in the pub in s2, when Aziraphale admits heaven is sending someone to check on the 25 Lazarii miracle, and that he told them he made Nina & Maggie fall in love because that’s the first thing he could think of, Crowley says: “Do a little miracle, wiggle your fingers about, Nina falls for Maggie, problem solved.” And Aziraphale replies: “Ah, miracles don’t work like that.”

So. I guess this means that he tried, and found out the hard way that it doesn’t work, because heaven clearly doesn’t seem to be aware that miracles don’t work like that 😬

Who do you think he tried to cupid into being together? And also, I don’t think Crowley has such a huge knowledge gap about miracles that he wouldn’t know this already, so do you think he’s saying something else in ineffable husband speak here, too?

Allo @procrastiel 💕 Thanks for the soup! It sounds amazing. Coffee? Banana bread? *shares* It's fantastic, if I do say so myself. 😊

I think the scene you're talking about is saying something a little different if you look at two words the show is messing around with in this and other scenes-- passion and miracles-- so, let's do that for a bit...

In the pub scene, Crowley and Aziraphale actually don't have a gap in their understanding of "how miracles work" when it comes to love. They're actually just, initially, speaking of two different types of emotions: a pash versus a passion.

Because of Aziraphale's use of the word pash to describe his impression of Maggie's feelings for Nina-- and his tone when he does so-- Crowley mistakenly believes at the start of the scene that Aziraphale isn't very invested in Maggie and Nina having an actual relationship. Because of this, Crowley correctly states that doing a miracle would solve their issue. Miracles, in this case, do actually work like this. They can influence-miracle someone to replicate infatuation if they wanted to, which is what Crowley is suggesting, only because his impression from how Aziraphale has phrased Maggie's feelings versus the direness of them keeping Gabriel hidden for everyone's sake has led Crowley to think that such a miracle, while not really advisable, would solve their problem.

Crowley was not present for the scenes Aziraphale had with Maggie prior to the pub scene so he doesn't know how Maggie and Nina came to be roped into this whole 'miracle to protect Gabriel' mess. Crowley, in that moment in the pub, doesn't yet understand that Aziraphale wants to do more about this than just solve the issue when the angels show up to verify the miracle.

He doesn't know that Aziraphale has this other problem happening where he unintentionally hurt Maggie and now he is trying to fix it so he really does ship the shop lesbians now and he wants them to get real deal love.

Aziraphale isn't eager to tell Crowley the details about this at this point because, in doing so, he would have to talk more about his own emotions that led him to say the wrong thing here and he's not ready for that. Instead, he clues Crowley into the fact that he wants to see if they can help the women to fall in actual love without telling Crowley at this point the whole saga of how he messed up with Maggie by rejecting the influence miracle idea with:

"Miracles don't work like that."

By this, Aziraphale means what they both know to be true-- that love doesn't work like that.

Love isn't something they can miracle into existence. They can make someone appear infatuated with someone-- that is within their powers-- but they cannot make anyone actually fall in love. They can miracle up something of a manufactured pash but they cannot miracle up a true passion.

Once Crowley understands that Aziraphale is more invested in this relationship and how it plays out, he is then immediately into playing Cupid-- and also into using coming up with ideas as a way to seduce Aziraphale, romantically suggesting that they try to create a scenario like their own first kiss for Maggie and Nina.

To which Aziraphale, who was just not long ago listening to Maggie-- who barely knows Nina-- sob about a failed attempt at giving Nina, who already has a partner, a record, replies: "Doesn't seem likely," which he means as if to say: there is no way these mortal young ladies who barely know each other and who don't have the slightest idea about romance could ever vavoom the way we did and do and which Crowley playfully takes as Aziraphale jokingly rejecting Crowley's narrative of their romance that has them both dead set, made-for-each-other gone on each other ever since that moment. He grumbles and insists that it's true that if you get humans (them lol) wet and staring into each other's eyes, that it's vavoom, sordid/sorted, and pretends he "saw it in a Richard Curtis film" when they both know exactly what he's talking about.

There is some wordplay in "doesn't seem likely" itself. Seem is homophonic for seam-- part of seamstressing as sexual euphemism-- and likely is of the word like, which can refer to the body (as in, someone's "likeness" and, uh, the like.) Both words are in other scenes as well--("O, Flour of Ssss' Cot Land/When will we see/sea your likes again" 😂)-- but the word choice is mainly just underscoring Aziraphale's whole tone of: um, I wouldn't get your hopes up, dear, I know you love your rainstorms but I'm not sure they are capable of vavooming like us-- it might actually kill them. Please don't break my shop lesbians.

Their initial confusion over this comes from Aziraphale using pash-- British English for an infatuation, or what we in the U.S. refer to as a crush. It's first blush of attraction and not really fully developed. It's puppy love or just thinking someone is attractive without a lot of substance or developed emotion or intimacy. The word comes from passion but, bizarrely, means kind of the opposite of it in many ways, which is part of the wordplay around the word in GO.

Passion was originally a word developed as a result of high up members of Christian theocracy specifically to describe one thing and one thing only: the crucification of Jesus Christ.

It comes from the Old Latin root pati and the Old Latin passio, which mean to suffer and to endure. This word that was originally quite literally created by humans specifically and intentionally to describe the martyrdom of the pivotal figure in Christianity? It is the Grand Dame of Crowley & Aziraphale words because, as we know, it has then been further evolved by humans to also become the foremost word to describe erotic love.

Passion in the erotic, sexual love sense is also in the scene with talk of pash and miracles-- just in synonym form:

Vavoom: Alternatively, va-va-voom: Voluptuously sexy; of, or pertaining to, sensual pleasure; passionate.

It is primarily these definitions-- the erotic and the religious-- that Good Omens is contrasting but the other meaning of passion is part of the wordplay as well. For instance, as we know, there is a non-religious, non-erotic definition of passion and it is just to have a strong emotion for-- or interest in-- something.

If you are reading this post, it could be said that you are a passionate fan of Good Omens. In S2, Mr. Arnold and Mutt are both convinced by Aziraphale to come to The Meeting Ball based on their passions in life-- Mr. Arnold's love of Doctor Who and Mutt's love of the history of magic. Passion, in this definition, can refer just to things about which we are wild but that are not necessarily an erotic pursuit or that have any religious connection.

It's the erotic love definition, though, that is being most directly contrasted on Good Omens with the religious definition. It began in S1 in the 1.03 Cold Open with the Golgotha scene. Here, we had Crowley and Aziraphale in discussion as they watched the beginning of what would become called The Passion-- the suffering and death of Jesus.

As Jesus is being nailed to the cross, Crowley and Aziraphale discuss him and, in the process, the subject of Crowley's name comes up. It remains the most significant thing in the scene and on where the scene ends because the reveal of it-- something we do not fully understand until S2-- is the other definition of passion in the scene.

What we can see in S1 is that Crowley has gone by many names and Aziraphale is well-aware of the reputations associated with those personas that Crowley has been adopting. He sounds a bit jealous over Asmodeus, in particular, whom he-- and we-- know to be the Demonic Prince of Lust. While further story indicates that this is largely something that Crowley is play-acting to make everyone think that he's something that he's really not, it is a thing and Aziraphale is pretending to sound like he's not envious of the idea of Crowley's attentions being elsewhere.

It's off of that pretty terribly disguised jealousy lol that Crowley tells Aziraphale what name he's chosen for himself and it's the one we recognize that he has still in the present. We see that the name seems significant to Aziraphale in some way but we don't yet understand why. As a result, we don't fully understand this S1 scene until after 2.02, because we hadn't yet seen the Job minisode that came chronologically before Golgotha:

As a result of the Job minisode, we now more fully understand that Crowley's confession of sorts was really here, back in 33 A.D.. He changed his name to something with meaning to only himself and Aziraphale and we know now the circumstances that led to why. In doing this and telling Aziraphale, Crowley is admitting to Aziraphale that he's mad about him. The scene is visual wordplay around passion-- The Passion of the Christ and the passion of the Crowley.

So, there's the religious Passion that might become ever more important in a potentially Jesus-oriented S3; there are the passions-- the interests and hobbies of all of the characters; and there's the new pash of Maggie and Nina and its contrasting parallel-- the very old, romantic passion of Crowley and Aziraphale.

So, if Crowley and Aziraphale's language around pash got them mixed about miracles at the start of the pub scene...

...what are miracles to them, exactly?

We've already seen evidence that Aziraphale used the word basically interchangeably with "love" in his "miracles don't work like that." The two of them can perform supernatural miracles so there's always that level of it and there's the human understanding of and definition of miracles in play as well.

To us humans, a miracle may or may not be a word with a religious connotation. Either way, it is an event that is seen as supernatural or divine in its lack of a concrete explanation and its likely inability to be achieved through understood human means. It is always a welcome, positive event. It inspires a sense of joy and wonder in people. It is something magical.

Additionally, if you take apart the word a bit, as remains our strongest wordplay suggestion in the series from its opening war-in-warning shot, you have two other words of note: mir and acle.

Mir is a Russian word meaning peace and also a commune. In the West, it is most familiar to people as the name of the Russian space station in the 1980s and 1990s, which Crowley and Aziraphale probably liked. An acle is a kind of tree... which we could then add to the 'words related to the vavoomy canopy' list.

In true Good Omens form, it's actually the scene after the one in the pub that underlines the fact that the word miracle is part of their vocabulary-- and it makes not only the pub scene make more sense retrospectively but also some moments in S1 (the "real miracle" bit in 1941, Part 1, in particular.) The scene that shows them being a bit arch about the fact that they mess around with the word miracle is The Clue:

As Aziraphale explains the whole "Everyday" record thing happening with the jukebox at the pub in Edinburgh, he says to Crowley with dramatic flourish that is intentionally over-the-top-- even by Aziraphale standards-- that the mystery: "...is, as you might say, 'a miracle'" to which Crowley replies a dry: "Ooh."

Part of the wordplay is that the more usual way to say what Aziraphale says to Crowley here-- even if flirting with someone-- would be to say that the record mystery "is, as one might say, 'a miracle'". Aziraphale said "as you might say...," a joke on Crowley himself and both of them using miracle to mean more than the supernatural actions they were once assigned to perform.

The amusing thing is that we will learn that The Resurrectionist jukebox mystery actually really is a miracle, in all of Crowley and Aziraphale definitions of the word. It's a romantic action-- Gabriel's miracle for Beez-- that parallels the miracles Crowley and Aziraphale do to romance one another.

So, what's magical to the magical Crowley and Aziraphale? What's miraculous to these two who can perform literal, supernatural miracles?

Love.

Miracles are a kind of magic that inspires wonder and brings about feelings of communion, joy and peace. That definition is, arguably, what a lot of people would call the positive emotions associated with being in love.

To Crowley and Aziraphale then, miracles and the miraculous do not just refer to the supernatural but to the romantic.

If love is miraculous, then talk of miracles can also be talk of love.

If love is miraculous, then talk of performing miracles can also be talk, on one level, of making love.

You know what was a 25 Lazarii miracle? You and I the other night. We raised the damn dead, old serpent...

If love is miraculous-- and if talk of performing miracles can be talk of making love-- then performing supernatural miracles can be a form of flirtation and romance.

If love is miraculous, then expressing how precious the peace you find with your partner is to you is reiterating how much you love them-- especially poignant when spoken in the middle of a disagreement.

If love is miraculous, then to use supernatural miracles to alter your partner's space-- really: your shared space-- can be a way to tease or a way to comfort.

If love is miraculous, then performing a joint supernatural miracle together to protect each other and the contentious family that is currently staying in the guest room is basically getting engaged.

If love is miraculous, then all phrases people have that are related to miracles of any kind can also be phrases related to love.

For instance: Real miracle.

A "real miracle" in the human world is a subjective thing, based upon an individual's level of belief in magical thinking but, to humans open to it, something considered a "real miracle" is something both wondrous and true and, if love is miraculous in Ineffable Husbands Speak, a real miracle would be a way to describe true love.

Since Crowley and Aziraphale can perform literal miracles, though, and since they have a wordplay thing... there's also that real is homophonic for reel.

A reel, in this case, being the part of the fishing rod used to reel in caught fish.

A real/reel miracle (in Ineffable Husbands Speak): A supernatural miracle performed by one of them only for the purpose of romancing the other; an action the equivalent of expressing love for each other.

If love is miraculous, though? A miracle does not have to be a supernatural one. Aziraphale, in particular, is especially good at miracles-- acts of love-- performed only with human magic.

Finally, if love is miraculous, then:

"How about The Ritz? I believe a table for two has just *miraculously* come free."

[daisynik7]

Win a Date with Takada-Chan! Part I

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~4.6k

cw: reader described as having hair, reader has curves, suggestive dialogue, sexual tension, explicit language

Summary: You win a very exclusive contest to join in a group date with Takada-Chan! You’re able to bring a guest, but Sara is busy that day. Who else can you ask? None other than your fake boyfriend Aoi Todo. 

Author’s Notes: Here’s chapter five, enjoy! Thanks for the support on this so far, I really appreciate it. Divider credit to @/saradika. 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

After recounting to Sara all that was said between you and Todo, her first response is, “What the fuck?!” She grabs your two braided pigtails to twirls the ends in your face. “This was all said right in front of me and Yuji?!” You nod sheepishly to confirm. The two of you are waiting at the bus stop, heading back to your place from Club Coffee. After seeing Todo pull you forward to whisper in your ear, your best friend is naturally very curious at what was said. 

“I told you he was a perv, but I guess you are too. Naughty girl,” she teases, still tugging on one of your braids. 

You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You liked that he was checking you out! You like him!”

“I don’t like him!” you protest. “I don’t even know him!”

“But you’re attracted to him. You can’t deny that.” She stares at you with a brow raised, waiting for you to confess. God, you hate it when she’s right. She always rubs it in your face.

In a quiet voice, you mumble, “Yeah, I’m attracted to him.”

Sara snaps her fingers as if she just solved a case. “I knew it, I fucking knew it! You were in such denial the other day. Now you can drop this stupid act and just fuck already!”

“I don’t think he’s attracted to me.”

“He was staring at your ass all day. And he told you he likes it rough and wants to show you. What do you call that?”

“He was only saying those things to mess with me since I was messing with him! Also, I’m sure if someone put a mini skirt on an inflatable banana, that man would still check out its ass.” You pause to take a deep sigh. “Also, you’re forgetting the most important thing: He’s in love with Takada-Chan. I mean, the dude is already planning their wedding.”

Sara snorts, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re attracted to this guy.”

You groan loudly. “I know! What is wrong with me?!”

“Well, it’s pretty clear he’s whipped for Takada-Chan, so there’s nothing that can be done about that. We’ll have to think of something else.”

“We don’t have to think of anything else. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything. I’m just attracted to him. That’s it. I’ll just have to get over it eventually, which I probably will as soon as he opens his big dumb mouth the next time I see him.”

“Look at you, already looking forward to the next time you see him,” Sara says, smirking. 

You can’t believe your sudden feelings for him. Can you even call these feelings? It’s just physical attraction, right? Sure, his confidence is sexy, despite how annoying he can be most of the time. And you know he’s loyal, given his dedication to Takada-Chan. That is something you can respect. You remind yourself that this man hasn’t really done anything nice for you. All the interactions you’ve had together have been argumentative and combative, constantly trying to one up each other. Were there hints of sexual tension here and there? Maybe. But at the end of the day, there isn’t a reason for you to have feelings for Todo, besides your physical attraction to him. You barely know anything about him. 

Whatever this is, you decide the best way to move forward is to drop this silly back-and-forth you constantly have with him. Today, he was mature enough to apologize and call a truce, but you decided to take a little bit of revenge anyways. It was petty of you to make suggestive comments in an attempt to embarrass him. It also didn’t work since he landed the final blow. 

The next time you see him, you make a promise to yourself to be nice, as you normally would. Maybe your feelings for him will become clearer.

~~~ Todo walks beside Yuji towards the train station, hands in his pocket, reflecting. There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he recalls his rival, basically whispering sweet nothings into his ear. I’ll keep the skirt on while you show me how rough you like it.

Holy shit. His cheeks burn red just thinking about it. Todo never surrenders, but in that moment, he had to. He was so tempted to grab her by the hand and take her up on her offer. No woman has ever said anything like that to him. The few he has been with never engaged in dirty talk. Is he realizing just now how much he’s into it? Because damn, he is really into it. His imagination runs wild with thoughts of her straddling him in that fucking mini skirt, her braids bouncing with every movement, giggles and moans escaping from that cute smile of hers.

Holy shit, seriously, he needs to calm down.

“Today was fun!” Yuji’s voice snaps Todo out of his extremely inappropriate subconscious. 

Todo chuckles. “Yeah, it was.”

“You and your rival seem to be getting along better,” Yuji says, with a smirk. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

After a long pause, Yuji asks, “So…are we not going to talk about how you were totally checking her out?”

Todo scoffs. “What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know, Todo. You seem pretty smitten.” His brother tries his best to hold in his laughter. 

“I’m not smitten. Don’t be so stupid, brother. It’s not that deep.”

“I just haven’t seen you gawk at someone like that in a while. Other than Takada-Chan, of course.”

Todo whips her head towards Yuji and glares at him. “Now you’re really sounding ridiculous, brother. You know I only have eyes for sweet, precious Takada-Chan.” Yuji chuckles and doesn’t press on the matter further. Todo continues to contemplate in silence. 

It’s not like he is truly committed to Takada-Chan the rest of his life. He may be eccentric and delusional, but he’s not an idiot. He knows deep, deep down that the pop idol and him will never be together. Just as he knows that she never rejected him and that they never even went to middle school together. Deep into the abyss of his being, he knows this is all a fabrication. But he likes living in his little fantasy world of his. He needs it. It gives him something to look forward to, even if it is all pretend. It’s something hopeful. Something positive. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a dangerous job. He knows he puts his life at risk every mission. The reality of his world is harsh, what harm is it to play pretend and hope for something fun in his life? 

He's never had long term relationship. Sure, he’s hooked up with a few different women here and there. It never led to anything serious. Is that even something he wants? A serious relationship? What does that even mean to Todo? 

The biggest cause of stress for him is boredom. Maybe he values a relationship that keeps him on his toes. He likes a woman who can keep up with him. And he isn’t the type of man that is easy to keep up with. When he thinks about his “rival”, he realizes that all their interactions are never boring. He likes her fiery attitude towards him. She doesn’t back down from a fight, even if she knows she’s outmatched. Todo can be an intimidating person, though it doesn’t seem to faze her. 

He knows she’s capable of being nice. She put on the whole act of pretending to be a couple to get Takada-Chan’s attention. Because of her, Todo’s dream of meeting the idol and getting her to know his name came true. She also gave him the signed poster. He still wonders why she did all of that. Is it because she cares for him? A stranger? A stranger who has always been an ass to her? That would be crazy, right? 

Today, he’s seen her naughty side. He knows she said those things to provoke him, but holy shit. It was hot. And it wasn’t just because of the outfit she was wearing. The confidence in which she said it was enticing. The way she touched his thigh, knowing it would rile him up. It’s like she knows what gets him going. 

And what compelled him to whisper those parting words to her? We’ll just have to reschedule. He wanted to get the last say, he wanted the upper hand. But that’s not all it was. Part of him meant it, wanted it. Maybe he still wants it.

She can be naughty, and she can be nice. He’s seen a little bit of both those sides of her. It intrigues him. He likes it. He wants to see more. 

~~~

A week after Takada-Chan’s birthday, the pop idol’s official website releases details on a new contest: Win a Date with Takada-Chan! There will be five winners selected and they can bring a guest. The “date” consists of a party bus ride with Takada-Chan from a predetermined meeting spot to a studio location. At the studio, the lucky guests get a behind the scenes look at an official Takada-Chan photoshoot. After the photoshoot, Takada-Chan will treat her guests to an exclusive private dinner at her favorite sushi restaurant in Tokyo. 

It all seems too good to be true. A whole day with the Takada-Chan? Incredible.

To enter the contest, you must submit a photo of yourself showing how big of a fan you are. Then you must write a little blurb about why you would love to win the contest. You decide to submit the photo of you, Todo, and Takada-Chan doing the Taka-tan Beam in her dressing room. In your description, you write about how much you admire Takada-Chan for her talent, confidence, and overall bright persona. 

The winners are announced two weeks after. Miraculously, you are one of them. You cannot believe your luck. The pop idol gods have blessed you, indeed. 

You tremble with excitement as you speed dial Sara on your phone. 

“Hey! What’s up?” she answers.

“You’ll never believe it. I won the contest!” 

“Are you serious?! Holy shit! Congratulations!”

“And I get a guest! You’re coming with me!”

“Sounds good. When is it?”

“Next Saturday.”

“Next Saturday?”

“Yes!”

“Dude, we’re hosting a huge party at the restaurant. I won’t be able to make it, I’m serving.”

You frown to yourself. “Aw man. Okay. I guess I’ll have to find someone else.”

You hear your best friend snickering in the background, but she doesn’t say anything.

“What are you laughing about?” you ask. 

“You know exactly who you should bring.”

“No. No way.”

“He’s your fake boyfriend, don’t you think Takada-Chan will be suspicious if you don’t bring him?”

“I mean, I’ll make up some excuse. I’m not going to ask Todo.”

“Why not?! We’ve already established that you’re attracted to him. This will be another good opportunity to get to know him better! Or at least gauge how you really feel about him.”

You let out a loud sigh. “You really can’t make it?”

She laughs. “No, I can’t. Just ask Todo. Maybe you two can finally become friends and go to Takada-Chan events together instead of dragging me and Yuji to them.”

“Gasp. I’m hurt. I thought you loved going to Takada-Chan events with me!” you tease. 

“The reason I go to the events is because I love you. But Todo might be the answer to all my prayers. Who would have thought that giant mountain of a body would be my saving grace?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Fine. I’ll ask him,” you say, begrudgingly. Then you add, “And for the record, I love you too.”

You can hear your best friend smile through the phone. “Yeah, I know. Now go get your man.”

“Sara!”

~~~

Todo is in the middle of eating ramen when he looks at his phone to see a notification. It’s a text from someone named “Rival”. Why is she texting him?

He opens their message thread. Besides the new message he just received, the only thing on there is their photo with Takada-Chan. He almost forgot how cute this picture is. 

Rival: Hey, are you free next Saturday?

He drops his spoon in his soup bowl, reading the text slowly. His heart starts racing faster as he types out a response.

Todo: Yes. Why?

He sees the 3 dots. After a few more seconds, she texts back.

Rival: I won Takada-Chan’s date contest. Sara can’t make it, so I’m asking you. 

The contest! Win a Date with Takada-Chan! He entered that weeks ago and never got any response back. He assumed he wasn’t picked. She won?! He’s too excited to text. He presses the phone icon to call her. After a few rings, she picks up. “Todo?”

For some reason, hearing her say his name makes his heart skip a beat. His breath hitches for a millisecond before he responds, “Hey. Yeah, it’s me. You won the contest?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I did.”

After a few moments of silence, Todo asks, “And you want to take me?”

“Well, Sara can’t make it. So, I figured the next best option would be Takada-Chan’s #2 fan.”

Todo grumbles. “I thought we were past this.”

She giggles. “Yeah yeah, I know, I’m just teasing you. So, are you down?”

“Hell yeah, I’m down. Just text me the details.”

“For sure. I’ll see you next week.”

They hang up and Todo completely abandons his ramen. He’s too thrilled to continue eating. A date with Takada-Chan? It’s official. All his dreams are coming true, minus marrying the pop idol. But he can live with that for now.

It was all thanks to her. His rival. Or maybe he should start calling her his acquaintance? Or friend? Were they even friends? All the thoughts he’s had of her these past two weeks have not been appropriate of someone intending to be just “friends”. It’s safe to say that Todo has not forgotten any part of their interaction at the café. It’s even safer to say that the memory of her outfit that day combined with her flirtatious demeanor lives in his mind rent free. 

Whatever these feelings are, he must contain them next week. All his attention will be on Takada-Chan, and that’s it. He’s determined not to be distracted by anything, or anyone, else. 

~~~

The day of Takada-Chan’s big group date finally arrives. The outfit you decide to wear today is simple: A lilac purple sweetheart dress that ends just right above your knees and white espadrille sandals. You wear a gold necklace with two interlocking circles. Sara has the exact same kind; you bought it as a matching set to symbolize your unwavering friendship, as cheesy as that sounds. 

The meeting location for the group date is about a 20-minute bus ride from your house. You texted Todo the location last week, right after you told him the news. You’re absolutely thrilled to spend the day with Takada-Chan, but also a little apprehensive being on the date with Todo. You’ve replayed your last encounter with him many times over in your mind. You haven’t been able to go a day without thinking about him. When you talked to him on the phone, it was normal. As if you two didn’t exchange sexually charged comments with each other just the other week. What will it be like today? 

You take a deep breath as the bus approaches your stop. Are you more nervous about seeing Takada-Chan or Todo? You can’t even tell. 

From the stop, you walk about five minutes to the meeting location. It’s an empty parking lot. From your understanding of today’s agenda, a party bus with Takada-Chan will pick you up at 1:00 PM. Currently, it’s 12:40 PM. 

The 4 other winners are already there with their plus ones. All of them are men. You laugh to yourself as Sara’s voice plays in your head. “Sausage-fest” is what she would say. 

You check your phone. 12:45 PM. Should you text him to see where he is?

A few minutes later, Todo arrives. He’s wearing a dark purple t-shirt with black joggers. The shirt hugs his body tightly, accentuating every muscle and ab on his rock-hard body. 

Wow, you think to yourself. This is the first time you’ve noticed his attire. Has he always worn outfits like this? He looks good. Really good. 

You swallow the drool that is currently pooling in your mouth as he approaches you. His expression is neutral when he first greets you. You catch him scanning up and down your body, observing you. Then he smirks. “You look good.”

There’s a tingling right below your belly. You take a deep breath before saying, “Thank you. You too.” 

He continues to smirk at you as you look directly into each other’s eyes. You gulp loudly, feeling shy. But you don’t want to look away from him. 

Suddenly, someone approaches you two. It’s one of the other winners of the contest. The rest of the winners follow closely behind him. “Hey.”

“Hello,” you respond. Something about the way they look at you doesn’t seem friendly. 

“Are you the ‘couple’ that Takada-Chan brought into her dressing room?” He puts air quotes around the word “couple”.

Todo steps closer to him, intimidating. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

The guy smirks, then looks back at the other fans. “See guys, I knew it was all a fraud. Pathetic.”

You scowl at them and ask, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

The annoying guy lets out a malicious laugh before saying, “It’s pretty obvious you two aren’t a couple. You might have Takada-Chan fooled, but not us. We just think it’s pathetic that two fans would stoop so low.”

You hear Todo growling beside you. Not wanting the situation to escalate further, you say, “And what makes you think we aren’t a couple?” You link your arm around Todo’s, glaring at the asshole in front of you. 

“We’ve had reports from other fans saying they’ve seen you two at other events, just bickering and arguing with each other. Sometimes barely even speaking to each other.”

Todo snorts, snarling, “You guys are a bunch of nerds. I don’t give a shit what your ‘reports’ say. Stop harassing me and my girlfriend.” His use of the word “girlfriend” makes your heart skip a beat for some reason. Control yourself, woman! 

You tighten your grip on Todo’s arm and add, “Besides, you act like regular couples don’t fight and bicker. News flash: they do.”

“Well how come nobody has ever seen you kiss or hug like normal couples do?” Some of the guys behind him nod in agreement. 

Todo lets out an even louder snort and laughs. “Is this dude for real?”

This idiot was right on the money about you and Todo pretending to be in a relationship, but you would rather eat shit than admit it. At this point, you’ll do whatever it takes to convince these losers that you’re right and they’re wrong. If it’s a kiss they want, then so be it. 

You grip Todo by the collar and pull him down towards you. “If you perverts want to see a kiss, then fine. What do you say, baby?”

Todo seems taken aback by your sudden action. You desperately try to communicate to him telepathically. If you’re not cool with this, it’s okay, we don’t have to do it! But if you are, let’s prove these assholes wrong!

You see that familiar smirk on his lips as he says in that sexy low voice, “Yeah, let’s put on a show.” He leans down as you get on your tippy toes to close the gap. 

His lips are soft against yours. Not what you expected from a meathead like this. The kiss starts closed mouth, but then suddenly his tongue slide against your lips, begging for entrance. You part your lips just the tiniest bit to feel his tongue swirl around yours. You let out a small moan, involuntarily. 

You break the kiss immediately, Todo’s tongue still sticking out. His eyes are half-closed with a dazed look on his face. You turn away from him, face hot, and say to the crowd, “There. Are you losers happy? Now leave us alone.”

The group of men look at you, ashamed. You hear some of them grumble, “Sorry” as they turn to face away from you. The idiot who did the accusing grimaces at you, muttering, “Whatever.” What a fucking prick. 

With perfect timing, you see a black bus drive into the parking lot. Takada-Chan has arrived. 

You glance at Todo, who now has rosy cheeks. How cute. In a hushed voice, you say, “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know how else to get those bastards to leave us alone.”

He doesn’t say anything. You can tell he’s trying to find his words carefully. Not wanting to prolong this awkward silence, you say, “Let’s just enjoy this date with Takada-Chan, okay?” You grab his hand and lead him in front of the black bus, which has just parked. You fall in line behind the other fans, not wanting to see their annoying faces. Todo’s hand is still around yours. You’re basically holding hands. 

Peering up at him, you whisper, “What are you doing?”

He clears his throat and whispers back, “We have to keep acting like a couple, right? Couples hold hands.” 

You look at him with a bewildered expression, but don’t argue. He’s right. You have to keep this whole act going. For those idiot fans, for Takada-Chan. That’s all it is, right? Just an act.

You adjust your grip so that you are interlocking fingers. This is more convincing. It’s more intimate. His hold around you is firm, his hand massive compared to yours. Oh, the things he could do to you with these hands…

The door to the bus opens and a security guard pops their head out. There’s a clipboard in his hand, presumably to check the list of winners and confirm their identities. Each winner and their guest steps into the bus, one by one. You hear squeals of joy as each fan enters and Takada-Chan greets them. When it’s your turn, the guard, who you now recognize as the same one at the Handshake Event and Meet and Greet, looks at you and Todo holding hands. He smiles and says, “Go ahead.” He didn’t even check for your ID. 

As you set foot in the bus, you see purple mood lighting on the ceiling and hear Takada-Chan’s music playing through the speakers. The pop idol is seated at the far end in her own booth. Two security guards surround her. When she sees you and Todo, she jumps up with excitement and walks towards you. “You’re here! When I found out you were the one selected, I got so excited!” She gives you a warm hug, which you return with your free arm. Todo still has a steady hold of your hand. You expected him to let go as soon as he saw Takada-Chan, but surprisingly, his grip has not loosened one bit. 

“Todo! So glad to see you here with your girlfriend!” Takada-Chan gives him a one-armed hug, which he returns silently. 

You can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head right now. 

Takada-Chan leans in closer to whisper to you, “I wish you two could sit next to me, but these other fans sat there first. We’ll catch up later.” She gives you one last smile and a wink as she walks back to her seat. 

You and Todo sit in the free spot closest to the entrance of the bus. It’s a bit cramped with the two of you sitting side by side. Suddenly, Todo lets go of your hand and swings it around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to his body. Maybe he thought this would be a more comfortable position. 

He feels like a giant teddy bear, except he’s rippling with hard muscle. You’re so close that every time you breath, you inhale his scent. He smells like clean linen and ocean breeze. You turn your head slowly to face him, and to your surprise, his gaze is already on you. 

~~~

When she turns to face him, Todo can’t help but stare down at her lips, hungrily. He wants to continue where they left off. He wants to kiss her again, taste more of her on his tongue, make her moan once more against his mouth. She’s so close to him, he can smell the intoxicating scent of the shampoo in her hair. He’s about to go feral if he doesn’t try to contain himself. 

He swore to himself he wouldn’t let anybody distract him from today. But he didn’t expect to kiss his pretend girlfriend in front of all those dweebs. He also didn’t expect to like it. And boy, did he like it. 

His arm is still wrapped around her, holding her close. She looks so good today, in her little purple dress. The neckline plunges just enough to tease him, leaving the rest to his imagination. Her collarbones are titillating, he wants to plant wet kisses all over, marking them as his. She wears a dainty gold necklace, giving her a look of innocence that seems to turn him on even more.

She stares at him with wide eyes. Her mouth is moving but isn’t paying attention to what she’s saying. All he can think about is how sweet her lips are. He just has to lean down a little bit closer to get a taste. 

“Hey Todo, are you listening to me?” She raises her voice, which awakens him from his trance. 

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you’re okay. You look out of it.” There’s genuine concern in her eyes. She’s so cute. 

He smirks. “Yeah, I’m great. Are you okay?”

She smiles softly and rests her head against his chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Fuck fuck fuck, she’s so fucking cute. 

After a while, she looks back up at him and says, “Whatever we’re doing, it’s working. Looks like those idiots aren’t even paying attention to us anymore. As long as Takada-Chan still thinks we’re a couple, we should be in the clear.”

His heart sinks. He responds with a simple hum as she lays her head back against his chest. This is all just part of their elaborate scheme to get the pop idol’s attention. It’s nothing more than an act, right?

The ride to the studio is only fifteen minutes. She spends the whole trip leaning on his body. He prays that she can’t hear or feel his heart racing in his chest. Todo glances over at Takada-Chan, who is chatting away with the fans closest to her. She looks adorable as usual, but something feels different today. Not with her, but with the way he looks at her.

Takada-Chan has always been a silly little fantasy. Now he sits here with an actual reality laying on his chest. Someone interesting, someone he respects, someone tangible. 

She’s better than a dream girl like Takada-Chan. She’s real. 

Todo likes her. That’s the conclusion he comes to. He doesn’t want this to be pretend anymore. He wants to hold her, kiss her, get to know her better. He wants all the aspects of being in a relationship without it all being part of an act. 

He knows she might not feel the same way. She still thinks it’s all for show. Tonight, he’ll tell her how he feels. If she doesn’t feel the same way, then they’ll end this strange arrangement they have and he’ll leave her alone forever. Will it crush him? Maybe. But Todo is strong. He always bounces back. Plus, he’ll always have Takada-Chan. 

He really, really hopes there’s a chance she feels the same way. He doesn’t want to go back to fantasy.