#and i normally don't add so much that it's a drink but more like a thick paste kind of thing. anyway it's good

[jitteryfool]

Saw a post with a photo of black sesame milk and someone added a meme about how it looks like concrete which, yeah, made me chuckle a bit because fair. Only to make the mistake to go into the notes and being hit with frankly offensive and, dare i say, racist comments making fun of the drink which just immediately soured my entire view on the concrete meme. Like, before it was just a harmless joke I didn't think much about but scrolling through dozens of comments calling it disgusting and wondering how anyone could drink it, all of it then being followed by the cement comparison, really just puts me off and now, the innocuous 'it's cement!' comments don't appear in good faith for me anymore because I just associate it with those bigoted remarks.

And it's just a good case example how this shit works in general, doesn't it?

[katz-rambles]

Aphrodisiac sex with Viktor has taken over my brain. So I'm gonna write about it 🤭.

My first Arcane fic!! Wooo!! I hope I wrote his character well!

(nsfw, fem!reader, use of aphrodisiacs, alcohol mentioned, masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), dom-ish!reader, sub-dom!Viktor, Viktors a tease, friends to lovers?, I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ���₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

The night started out normal, enough. You went out with some friends for a nice girls night out filled with drinks and gossip, and it was an amazing night. You're relatively tipsy by the time everyone is ready to go home, it's about half past midnight, and the only thing you can think about is going to bed. That is until, about half way home. A sudden spark flows through your veins, creating a dull fog in your mind. Maybe you had a bit more to drink than you thought you did.

You've decided to walk a tad bit quicker to get home. A small apartment in the downtown of Piltover, it's a nice size and not too expensive, especially since you're sharing it, and the fact that there's only one bedroom inside just adds to the fact. You're just glad that Viktor doesn't mind sharing a bed.

You have to fumble with your keys for an embarrassing amount of time before you can actually unlock the door. It's silent inside the apartment, there's no sign that Viktor has already come home. Although, that wouldn't surprise you, ever since he and Jayce started to work on the Hextech, you've been seeing less and less of him in your shared apartment.

You push off a shower until the morning, it can wait a few more hours, it's too late. When you enter the bedroom, you almost scream when your eyes focus well enough to see someone sitting at the small desk in the room. So he is home, you rub your temples and sigh. He’s always staying up late. You don't want him to hurt his back, more than he already has, by being in such an awkward position all night. So you gently grab onto his shoulders to try and wake him up, his shirt has slipped and your palm rests on the bare skin, the warmth that comes from him could burn you. From such a simple touch that foggy haze fills your head once again, when Viktor is in a better position you'll get a drink of water. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and carefully shake him, a sad attempt to wake him. You would just carry him to the bed, you're strong enough, but you don't want to irritate his leg.

“Hey, Viktor.. are you awake?” You whisper, when you feel him stir. No response comes from him, but you're not going to give up any time soon. So this time you try a different method, you crouch beside him and lift up his head to try and see if he's awake, and he's not. Of course he's not. But you're determined to save his back from his hunched position. Each time you try something different and your hand makes contact with him, you can feel another spark flow through your veins and the foggy haze in your head gets stronger. Maybe this time you'll just splash him with ice cold water, but that'll probably give the poor thing a heart attack.

“Viktor, come on. You can't stay like this,” you groan and try to shake him awake, once again to no avail, and your feet are starting to ache from crouching in your heels for so long. At this point you're starting to give up, and you try to shake him one last time. Your hand rests on his waist this time, the other on his arm, you can feel the warmth of his body, along with his scent, a mix of oil, metal, and his shampoo that creates an intoxicating smell that you'll never get enough of now, from this position and, as much as you may hate to admit it, it sparks a dull throb in your core. “Vik.. please?” You shake him, trying to ignore the fire that's sparked inside of you, and this time he does wake up. A shallow gasp escapes from him as he pushes his head up and rubs the back of his neck. He lets out a low groan and looks over at you, the noise has you thinking about just how he would sound if you had your way with him.

This time it's his turn to shake you from your, not so innocent, thoughts, and he pushes himself up from the desk, now standing while you're still crouching. The position puts you at the perfect level that your thoughts start to wander again. “Just how much did you have to drink?” He chuckles as you stand yourself up, one of his hands reaches to press against your forehead, and it burns. You can't tell if it's him or you that's warmer, but the contact has a familiar pulse starting at your core. Just before he's able to say something you push his hand away from yourself. “Enough,” you reply, trying to shake the feeling away.

He scoffs and leans against the desk, and you can't deny how fucking hot he looks. His hair is messed up, his clothes have wrinkles in them, and his hands, god his hands, have traces of whatever he was using back at the lab on them.

You decide to take a shower now, maybe this way you can deal with the problem of your hormones raging like a horny teen. The warm water feels like it's been sent straight from heaven and down on your aching muscles, you can feel yourself relaxing under the water. You let your hand drift to your breasts and massage the flesh of one and then the other, feeling your nipples harden under your palm. Each touch you give yourself, you let yourself imagine that it's Viktor. You place your free hand over your mouth to silence your gasp when you push a finger inside your hole to find yourself dripping from such light touches. You curl your finger up to try and hit that one spongy spot inside you, and when you finally find it, you hope that your hand muffled the loud moan you let out. You slowly add another finger, wishing it was his instead of your own. You set a steady rhythm of your fingers, while grinding your swollen clit against your palm. You bit down on your hand in a sad attempt of silencing yourself, silently praying that the mix of your palm and the running water will be enough to not let your moans escape the bathroom. You start to speed up your fingers as you feel your orgasm get closer, desperately grinding against your palm for the friction you crave against your clit. Soon enough your orgasm crashes down on you, and you let out a loud moan. Now you're left panting from the aftershocks of your orgasm, yet even after that, the haze and pulse is still evident. Maybe you should just sleep it off.

The shower you had was relaxing and when you come out you find Viktor sitting up on the bed, with a book in hand. You crawl into bed beside him and lay your head onto the pillow, closing your eyes and relishing in the cold feeling of the fabric against your, still burning hot, skin. Even after a long shower the feeling hasn't stopped, and now being right beside Viktor, it's seemed to double. “Are you okay?” Viktor asks, when you lift your head up from the cold release of the pillow, all you can muster is a nod, if you open your mouth you're afraid you might just moan, you can feel his body heat from under the covers and his scent is evident in the bed. “I'm fine, Vik, think I just had a little too much to drink,” you laugh and rest your cheek on one of your arms, “but I'll be fine after a good sleep.”

Viktor sighs and lifts your face up, his hand holding your chin. He studies your face and you can feel your face heat up from his intense gaze. “Hmm, you don't seem fine. You're practically burning up,” he states. The way his accent sounds when he speaks has you clenching your thighs and hoping he doesn't see you doing so. He keeps your face in his hand for a few more seconds before he finally lets go, “maybe it was one of the drinks you had making you burn up.” He brushes some stray hairs out of your face and he shuffles so you're both laying down, he pulls your face closer to him and squints his eyes at you, before he can say anything else you pull him closer and kiss him, feeling his reciprocate the kiss just spurts you on more and you thread your fingers in his hair.

He rests a hand on the curve of your waist and when you feel it you pull away and feel yourself internally panic, “holy shit, I'm sorry. I have no fucking clue whats gotten into-” Before you're able to finish your scentance he pulls you back down and kisses you. His hand trails down your waist towards your thigh and he strokes the side of your thigh, occasionally giving the fat of your thigh a squeeze. “I told you. It was one of the drinks.” He mumbles against your lips and grabs your hip and pulls you closer, you take the hint and quickly climb on top of him, straddling his hips, and he groans when you grind down on his semi hard erection.

You pull away from his lips just long enough to tug his shirt off, quickly doing the same with your own, before connecting your lips again. You start to trail kisses down his jawline, towards his neck, leaving a kiss on his adams apple, and moving to the side of his neck to leave more kisses and occasional harsh sucks to form a mark, savouring the noises he lets out every time you do. Being careful to not hurt his leg, you move yourself down to trail your kisses lower and lower until you reach the hem of his pants. “May I?” You ask breathlessly and he chuckles, “you practically tore off my shirt, you think I'd say no now.” He scoffs, a teasing undertone to his words that causes the throb in your core to heighten. You pull down his pants and boxers to let him dick out, wrapping your hand around the base and giving him a few strokes before you wrap your mouth around the tip, licking up the bead of precum that's settled there. He groans and tangles his fingers in the strands of your hair, not pushing or pulling but just resting his hand there. You start to bob your head, making sure to tease the tip, relishing in the noises he's making, a mix of delicious groans and whimpers leave his lips and it spurs you on more. He thrusts his hips up and the tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag around him, his fingers gently tug on your hair and when you look up at him he lets out a loud groan. You use one of your hands to reach down and rub your clit, matching the pace of your fingers with the pace of your head. He thrusts his hips up again, this time a little rougher, and you know he's getting close. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he pulls your head off him. “No, when I cum, it'll be inside you.” He says, and you whine at the loss of friction when you pull your hand away from your aching clit. He pulls you to him and kisses you, savouring the way you taste and groaning when he tastes himself on your lips. You pull your pants off and straddle his hips again, lifting yourself up and lining his cock up. You give him a few strokes and slowly start to sink down.

The stretch is delicious and you moan when you've lowered yourself all the way. He brings one of his hands to your thigh and rubs it, you place your hands on his chest and start to lift yourself up. You whimper as you do so, adjusting to the stretch. A few seconds of just having his tip inside you, you lower yourself back down and repeat, slowly getting faster and rougher with each bounce. Soon you're riding him, one of your hands is on his chest, supporting yourself and the other rests on Viktors hand that's squeezing your thigh. You speed up a bit more and he groans when he feels you clench around him, his head falls back onto the pillow. His hand leaves your thigh and he brings it up and starts expertly rubbing your clit, for a second you find yourself jealous of his experienced fingers.

“Viktor! Fuck.. please don't stop!” You moan and clench around him, his hips start to rut up to meet your bounces. You both know that you're close and you know you aren't going to last very long. Your moans start to become more frequent and at a higher pitch, one of your hands leaves red scratches down his chest as you feel your orgasm get closer. Your nails dig into his skin and you bury your face in his neck, biting down on the sensitive skin when your orgasm hits you, your pussy pulses around his cock and with a few more thrusts up he's cumming inside you, his muscles tensing and he's moaning.

You both lay with each other for a few seconds before Viktor speaks up, “do you feel better?” He chuckles when you nod, you're still panting and you rest your forehead against his, a sheen of sweat on you both. You whimper when you push yourself up and feel his softening cock slide out of you, the globs of cum that drip out of you make you whine. He grabs your hips and pulls your pussy closer to him. “I can't have you dripping on the bed, we just changed the sheets.” He groans and pulls you so you're sitting on his face, his tongue lapping at your folds and tracing your clit. You can feel the vibrations of him laughing when you squirm on top of him, his hands have a tight grip on your hips, ensuring you don't move too much. You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging on it as you start to grind your hips on his face. He ravages you, eating you out like a starved man. The curve of his nose bumps your swollen and sensitive clit deliciously and you pull on his hair at the feeling, when you do he groans into your pussy. He doesn't slow down or even hint at stopping as you can feel your third orgasm of the night creep up on you.

“Fuck! Viktor.. ‘m so close!” You whimper and grind your hips down on his face, the obscene slurping noises that come from him just fuel your arousal. You tighten your grip on his hair and your thighs tense around his face as your orgasm hits, your squirming as he helps you ride out your orgasm. He laps up all of your juices until you're trying to push yourself off from sensitivity. “There we go,” he sighs when you move off his face, he has a sheen of your arousal around his mouth and he licks his lips and smirks at you, “now you won't drip on the clean sheets.” You laugh and he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you, you can taste yourself on his lips and it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

“How did you know it was the drink?” You ask him, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with each word that leaves your lips. “Aphrodisiac, it was easy enough to figure out when you came out of the shower. You're not as quiet as you think you are,” He smirks when you groan at him. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, one of his hands rubs your back, drawing random shapes and figures, and successfully lulling you to sleep.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Masterpost and Prologue

dead on main fic, intro + four chapters.

Summary: The Red Hood starts off his righteous campaign with a lot of nerve but no legal identification that will let him behind the wheel of a car. Public transportation really doesn't have the panache he needs to start off as a fearsome crime lord, so he needs a driver. He finds Danny Fenton, a grungly college student trying not to be noticed by any government agencies or vigilantes.

to subscribe to this post, on mobile open the notes and click the bell on the upper right hand corner of the post. on desktop, open the notes at the bottom and press the bell on the right edge of the notes.

Links will be added to chapter list as the story posts. Chapter one will go up on July 14th. Updates are approximately every other day.

LINKS/ chapter count

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

prologue

“No, Habibi,” Talia said calmly into the phone. “I will not falsify you an American non-commercial driver's license for motor vehicles. If you cannot prove yourself to Gotham without American motor vehicle operating permissions, you will never prove yourself. Rise above this challenge.” Talia covered the phone for a second but he could hear her talking to someone else about tile options.

“It's an unnecessary challenge,” Jason argued, doing his level best not to let his tone go up. It was undignified to whine. He was a man now. “The important parts of the challenge are the tactical planning and the skills.”

Talia sounded like she was filing her nails. “Tactically plan to take the bus. Or walk. Walking is free and healthy.” 

Jason made an indignant sound but she mercilessly hung up. The worst! She made the top three of his worst mother figures, easily.

“She's just doing this so I can't go drinking.” He scowled into the air. “I don't even want to!” His voice broke mid whine, which was an insult to add to all the injuries visited upon him by the cruel whims of women who weren't even his legal guardian. He was an adult in most countries!

The worst part was that Talia didn't care about underage drinking. She just didn't want to hear shit about enabling him from Bruce when he eventually figured out that Jason was alive, 19, and in Gotham. His passport claimed he was 21 because it had to for him to travel alone, but she knew damn well no one used their passport as ID in bars. 

He couldn't just go get a license. Jason sulked viciously and threw himself into fixing his plans to accommodate for this. 

He was legally dead and living under a fake name. If he tried to sign up for the driving exam, it'd be too much scrutiny on his paperwork. But he was not taking the bus around as a crime lord. It lacked panache. More importantly, it didn't go where he wanted it to go.

Fine. He didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone's help. He just needed to download Uber. 

That was how Jason wound up wiping a mob lieutenant’s blood off of his hand onto his pants so that he could use the guy's touch screen phone. Victor Woodward's account put in a request for a ride to the Gotham police headquarters. He killed time kicking ass in all the Words with Friends games that Victor had ongoing, which was really gonna surprise anyone who normally played with that boob. Victor’s last ever play was ‘cat,’ for fuck’s sake.

A few minutes later, a skinny teenager pulled up in his clanker and opened the door. Jason put on a smile and hefted his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder. 

“Hi! Victor?” The guy, Danny, waved his phone at Jason.

“That's me!” Jason lied breezily. “Can I put this in the trunk?” 

“Go for it.” Danny popped the trunk open from inside the car. He watched Jason with his big blue doe eyes.

For an instant, Jason thought that Danny might have seen something. Paranoia reared up. Was there blood visible? Was it easy to tell that the shapes in the bag were heads?”

The moment passed. Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.” 

Jason got in the car and let satisfaction wash over his body as the weirdly timid kid pulled them out into traffic at a snail’s pace. Whatever. They wouldn’t get stopped for a traffic violation when the driver was cautious.

He’d done it. His debut as the terrifying Red Hood, hunter of the wicked and bane of the Batman, was launched. And he didn’t need a license to do it.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

yeah but. pizza dates with d.ante.

[endless-ineffabilities]

casual*

a.k.a. your one-night stand with modern Aemond Targaryen

*18+ minors dnfi

main masterlist

The intimidatingly handsome-as-hell guy sitting all by his lonesome at the bar seems to be on the same wavelength as you.

His gaze has been oscillating between the rim of his pint and you. Your face, your hands, and yes—you're sure you saw it—your ass, too. You squirm in your place, several seats away, but not because his attention's unwanted. These fucking bar stools are just so damn slippery that you feel like your smooth jeans would slide right off, and you would embarrass yourself in front of blondie. Though, his hair veers closer to Santa's snowy beard than Rapunzel's gold locks. How unusual. How strangely attractive.

Silver hair coiffed neatly above his perfect, angular face, those naturally pouted lips, and those eyes—wait—that eye. One seemed to be a prosthetic, but it doesn't diminish his aura. Not even a little. The fucked up voice in your head might even think that it makes him look hotter. More dangerous.

Straight to the depths of hell it is for you.

He throws a shit-eating smirk your way when your eyes meet again, right before taking another swig of his frothy drink. But he doesn't look away this time, holding your gaze as his glass tilts in the air and inevitably finds its way back on the bar's surface.

Oh, he knows he's attractive. Worse, he knows that you know it.

Heat unfurls in your belly from all the eye-fucking, the tension, and from the very real possibility that your own fingers will not be your only source of pleasure for the night, as trusted as they are.

Too bad you just downed the contents of your drink. Or not, because it seems to signal the first switch of the night. Blondie gestures to the bartender, then to you, and before you know it, another one of your drinks materialises in front of you.

"Courtesy of that guy over there, miss."

"Oh. Thank you."

That guy over there, who is no longer over there, takes that as his cue to finally approach you.

"Hi."

"Hello." He sits on the stool next to you, inching it closer as he settles down. He's even prettier up close, damn him. His hair looks like spun threads of silk. His dark blue sweater, his snug black jeans, his lips which are tugging at the corners to form a sheepish smile. "Please don't hate me for this, but I'm about to throw you a line."

You swallow. He can throw you just about whatever he wants, and that's not just the alcohol talking. "Oh?" you half-shrug your fluster away. "I expected as much. Let's hear it."

"Hmm." He glances down, showcasing his remarkably long eyelashes, then back up at you. With his head tilted, he looks slightly menacing, but in a good way. Like he wants to eat you.

Your coworker is about to receive a luxurious gift basket for recommending this bar to you.

His line then goes, "I find it hard to believe that someone as goddamn beautiful as you would be sitting all alone in this bar tonight." His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, then released. "But maybe I should be grateful, because this would mean that you're perhaps single?"

You have to hand it to him. That line would normally be at the same level of poetry as a middle-aged dad's Facebook rant, but from him? From his lips, and with that smooth accent? A fucking Shakespearean sonnet.

Already prematurely swept off your feet, you know you have to up your game. "I'm married actually. Husband's on a business trip. Again. My three kids, bless their hearts, stress the hell out of me so I left them with the nanny and went straight here."

His mouth parts slightly, his brows furrowing. You wink at him and add, "Glad I did."

You watch as his mind whirs, as his eye darts to your obviously bare ring finger. For a smooth talker, he sure takes a moment longer than necessary to keep up with your humour, or maybe you're just that good of a performer.

"You're killing me here, beautiful."

"That's what you deserve for that line. Did you take that right out of your playboy handbook?" you say, laughing softly.

"Excuse me, miss, but I own no handbook of any sort," he responds in a stern manner, but his smirk betrays him. "And you might not believe me, but I don't do this often. I mean, I don't really do this at all."

"What, is that another line? You're on a roll, handsome."

"I mean it. I don't make a habit of approaching pretty girls at bars."

"Why, because they just flock right to you?"

He raises his palms in mock surrender. "Hey, you said it. Not me."

There is a beat of silence as you watch each other, both trying to gauge the stranger sitting close. You decide that he might be more than just a pretty face. He smells immaculate, too.

And, more importantly, he seems kind. You pride yourself in having a knack for these things. Though you hope that knack isn't deliberately fooling you because you want him to get into your pants.

He's the one to break the silence and start the flirtatious interrogation that normally happens before getting right down to business. "So, when you're not busy with your three precious kids—" he says, prompting an eye roll from you. "—what do you get up to? Are you from around here? Do you frequent this bar?"

"Woah. One question at a time."

He leans forward on the counter, until his hand brushes against your forearm. "Just one more question before you begin, and brace yourself, because this is the most important one."

You find it easy to laugh in his company, so you do. "Okay, give it to me."

"Are you sure you can handle it, babe?"

No. Not when he's calling you babe. "Try me."

"What's your favourite colour?"

You learn that his name is Aemond. He's twenty-nine years old, born and raised in London before moving to New York to become the head of the American branch of his father's company. He has two older sisters, one older brother and one younger. His favourite colour is green. He's an Aries. He likes both classic rock and classical music.

And he's a fucking phenomenal kisser.

You spent another hour chatting each other up at the bar, which didn't feel like an hour at all. You could talk to him about practically anything, and you would have, until you both decided that it was time to let your bodies do the talking.

It only took 10 minutes for him to drive you back to his fancy apartment, but that didn't stop him from groaning and mumbling fuck's sake under his breath at each encountered red light.

"Patience," you giggled lightly, but then he turned his lust-clouded gaze to you, and you immediately were on the same page, cursing at stoplights in your mind.

With your back pressed against his bedroom wall, he kisses you with a frenzied hunger that you're sure you have never experienced with any lover. He lifts you up, and you cross your ankles around his waist. Biting his lip, he slowly undoes the buttons of your blouse, marvelling at your exposed chest. You twist an arm behind to unclasp your bra and it falls to the floor.

After a sharp intake of breath, he lowers himself and sucks at your nipple, his tongue padding at your stiffened peak. Your neck cranes upward at the hot sensation, and you grip his locks, and moan, "Fuck yeah, keep going."

He nips and bites at your breasts, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in his wake. "Your tits are so fucking perfect," he praises. "You're perfect."

"Mhmm, yeah," you mewl, reaching for his face. "Come here."

His hand slides to the back of your neck to tilt your head just right, then his mouth is on yours once more. It's unfair, really, how good he is at it, every flick of his tongue intensifying your desire for him.

You let out a wanton, wanting moan when he pulls back suddenly. He smugly chuckles at the sound, and how you instinctively follow his movement, craving more.

Your legs drop from his waist, and you barely catch your balance, breathless and disoriented. "What—" you start, confused, but Aemond steps back just enough to fix you with a searing look.

"Jeans off, baby," he demands. Like he even had to ask. He tilts his head, that insolent smirk playing on his lips again. "Underwear, too. C'mon, now."

Your hands move on their own, fumbling with the button and zipper before pushing the denim down your legs and kicking them to the side. You're grateful you had opted out of wearing skinny jeans, which you would have had to unsexily wiggle out of. You hook your thumbs into your underwear and slide those down too. The air is cool against your naked body, making you shiver slightly, but Aemond's gaze—burning, all-consuming—keeps you rooted to the spot.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his tone dropping into something almost reverent. He drops to his knees in one smooth motion, and the sight alone nearly does you in—this ethereal, sharp-tongued stranger kneeling before you like he's a pilgrim who finally reached a shrine. His hands find your hips as he guides you to balance one leg over his shoulder.

You barely have time to process before his mouth is on your leaking cunt. He doesn't start slow, doesn't give you a chance to ease into the sensation. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging over your folds with a precision that has your knees buckling almost immediately.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands flying to his hair for something to hold onto. He holds you steady as he works you over like he's determined to make you unravel completely. And you don't doubt that he will.

The flat of his tongue drags up, circling your most sensitive spot before his lips close around it, sucking lightly. Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, a broken moan slipping from your lips as your free leg trembles beneath you.

You can feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, spreading outward like wildfire. His free hand slides up your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into the flesh there, holding you open for him as he works you over like it's his favourite thing to do. Like there’s nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing than ruining you right here, right now.

"Aemond", you gasp, his name falling from your lips unbidden. He groans at the sound, his tongue doubling down, faster, harder, dragging you closer to the edge. You try to fight it—try to hold onto the last scraps of control you have—but he shifts his angle, his nose brushing against your core, and the whole world tips sideways. The coil snaps, and your orgasm crashes out of you. Your body locks up, your pelvis shaking uncontrollably as you cry out, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Aemond doesn't pull away, his tongue easing you through it with slower, lazier strokes.

When you finally slump back against the wall, boneless and dazed, he leans back just enough to look up at you, his face glistening from his nose down to his chin. You're almost certain that you have never seen anything more sensual in your life. He licks his lips, and your eyes automatically follow the path of his tongue—the culprit of your sweet, little death.

"You taste as exquisite as you look," he says.

You know he deserves the sloppiest, most soul-sucking head after what he just put you through, so it's the easiest decision you have ever made to give him just that. Nothing more, nothing less. And anyway, it's for your pleasure too.

You don't relent until his warm, salty cum spills on your tongue, most of it sliding down your throat and the rest shooting out to cover the lower half of your face in milky streams.

The two of you laugh together when his leg gets caught in his trousers as he stumbles out of the rest of his clothes, making him land on his arse at the edge of his bed. The sound rings pleasantly in your ears, and you find yourself needing to hear it more often.

No. You know what this is. If all goes well, then you'll have the memory of this great night to keep.

But Aemond himself is not yours to keep.

Your face must have fallen, because he reaches an arm, coaxing you to him. "Hey. What's going on in that head of yours, love?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, closing the distance between you. He anchors his fingers at your hips and presses a kiss on your lower belly. Everything seems to pause for a moment. You both keep still as he rests his forehead against your stomach, and your fingers gently thread through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"I feel like I've known you for a long time," he murmurs, and you wish you could hate him for not making this easy.

"Is that another—"

"Not a line. I mean every word."

He rises slowly, his hands brushing the curves of your body with an aching tenderness that seems out of place for a night like this. He lays you onto the bed, then reaches in his nightstand drawer for a condom.

You nearly cry out in pleasure when his length first enters you fully, the sensation of him almost too much to bear. His face is lowered so his cheek is touching yours, and you hear every little moan that escapes him as he finds his rhythm. His thrusts are measured, not rushed or frantic. And it feels so damn good.

Aemond talks well, but he fucks even better.

"Faster," you plead.

He pauses and smiles, his lips ghosting over yours. "I'm taking my time, love. I wanna savour you."

His hips roll forward again, his cock sinking into you inch by maddening inch. "Don't wanna lose you, baby," he groans.

Oh, he is not playing fair.

Your hips soon rise instinctively, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts, the need for more of him pulsing through every inch of you. He notices, his lips curling into a smug smirk.

"Okay, then," he says smoothly. "I'm going to fuck you as hard as I can now. You ready for me, love?"

Your breath catches, your body already trembling beneath him, and all you can do is nod, eyes widening in wonder at his promise.

"Answer me. I need to hear it," he commands.

"Oh, Aemond," you breathe, "what do you think I'm here for?"

His smirk falters for just a second, replaced by something darker. He lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his fingers digging into you. "Careful, love," he warns. "You’re about to find out."

Without another word, he abandons his restraint, and he claims you with a force that leaves you gasping, your spine arching as he delivers on his word. His hips snap against your pelvis, his body practically vibrating over you. He's relentless, just as you wanted, and he has to grip you tightly so he doesn't propel you upward into the headboard.

You feel his lips graze the shell of your ear before biting down, his breath ragged as he pounds his cock into your pussy with a heightened desperation that drags a moan from your throat. "Say you're mine, baby," he actually whimpers. "Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this."

You would tell him anything he wanted. But he doesn't even have to ask for this one, because you wish so badly for it to be the truth. "I'm yours. Only you—aghhh—can fuck me as good as this—uhhhh yeah—Aemond."

He flashes you a boyish grin, and he looks so pure you have to take a mental image of the sight. Lips pulled back to reveal a perfect set of teeth, a sheen of sweat forming by his hairline as he keeps bucking his hips at a breakneck pace, hair unkempt and falling in front of his forehead.

You lose yourselves in each other, your sharp breaths falling in sync.

As before, he latches his mouth wetly over your breast, and you arch into him. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it in tight, merciless circles that make you scream, "Oh, Aemond!" into the air.

"You like that?"

"Fuck yes."

"You gonna come for me, beautiful?"

Aemond sure has a habit of asking for things that are already guaranteed for him, polite boy that he is.

It doesn't take long before he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the release. The feeling of his cock convulsing deep in your pussy sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, and you follow him, your walls clenching around him as your own climax hits hard.

He collapses next to you, the weight of the moment settling in as the room grows still. His forehead rests against yours, and there's nothing but the sound of your shared breathing, a calm after the storm.

"Fuck," he breathes, sheer satisfaction audible from his voice. "That was…"

"Yeah. It was..."

"Yeah."

Months pass before you see Aemond again. When you do, it's in another, more crowded bar—a place packed with patrons and full of noise—but his eyes find you immediately. This time, he makes sure to take your number. No disappearing act in the morning, no hasty exit on your part while he sleeps because you're running late to work. He'll be damned if he lets you slip away again.

You both fall into something deeper over time, and three years down the line, you stand in front of family and friends, exchanging vows.

Decades pass, and when your grandkids curiously ask how you two met, Aemond would smile, eyes softening with the memory.

He would say, a quiet laugh escaping him, "I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Shame it took us a few months for our forever to begin."

Vhagar taglist 1 — @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @joyismm @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @all-for-aemond @alokaaaaa @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @inesdiary96 @weirdblob21 @lonelyladyghost @tssf-imagines @nurtargaryen @paula-lkr @queenofshinigamis @breezyjin @empfm @amanda08319 @unrealwinchester @optimizche @seamaiden @spoffyos @subliiminals @believeinthefireflies95 @ex0tic-vgh @anukulee @peachysunrize (cont. ...)

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

hiiiiiii,

Can I request a Jude Bellingham imagine where you’re in the Bellingham documentary for his YouTube and it shows you behind the scenes watching his games and stuff and just being a cute couple 💓.

Thank Youuuuuu💓✨

a/n: sorry for the delay, I don't know why but it took me a while to write it. I hope you like it. Request me whatever you want!

THE ONE

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: none, just that English is not my first language.

summary: It’s her turn to step into the spotlight of Jude’s documentary, where unseen moments reveal the depth of their connection, exposing a side of their relationship and how much they mean for each other to the public.

The camera lens focuses, the soft hum of equipment fills the room, and she sits on their cozy, cream-colored couch. Her hands are folded nervously on her lap, her leg bouncing ever so slightly as she adjust her position, trying to find the perfect balance between comfort and confidence. Her hair falls softly around her face, and she tucks a strand behind her ear, looking up at the camera with a genuine smile. A nervous chuckle escapes her as she glances toward the crew and to him.

Jude stands just out of the frame, leaning against the wall, giving her a reassuring nod, his warm smile reaching his eyes. He mouths, "You got this," and she exhales deeply, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. His presence is comforting, just like it always is.

"Hi, I'm...well, Jude's girlfriend," she says. "But, more than that, I’m just me—someone who tries to support him, love him, and keep him grounded." Her voice is gentle, but there’s a quiet strength in it, one that suggests she's much more than just his partner.

The interviewer asks the first question, something light to ease her in. "How did you two meet?"

She smiles wider and looks down for a moment, as if reliving the memory. “We actually met through mutual friends. Super normal. I didn’t know much about football back then, but of course I was fully aware of who he was. In person, he was even more handsome and charming, so it wasn’t a surprise that I was attracted to him straight away.” She laughs at herself. “Because of that, I spent most of the night ignoring him since I was dying of embarrassment and it wasn’t until I spilled a drink on his shirt that I was able to look him in the eye to apologize, but Jude just laughed. From then on, we spent the whole night talking, even over text afterward. We got along pretty quickly, but we took things slow. I think that’s what made it work… just letting everything happen naturally.”

As she speaks, the screen fades into footage of the two of them, candid moments from Jude's life. There's a clip of them walking hand in hand, Jude glancing over at her, his face lighting up in a way that's impossible to fake. Another video shows them sitting on a couch, laughing at something on TV. Jude’s arm is casually draped around her shoulders, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her arm. The chemistry is effortless, easy.

Back in the interview, she’s asked about how their relationship has evolved with Jude’s career skyrocketing.

"Honestly, it’s been crazy," she admits. "His schedule is intense, and sometimes we’re apart for long stretches. But we’ve always made it a priority to stay connected. We FaceTime all the time, even if it’s just to say goodnight. And when he’s home, we make sure to enjoy the little things—going on walks, cooking together, just spending time. Those are the moments that matter most."

Suddenly, Jude’s voice breaks in from off-camera, clearly teasing her. “Yeah, well burning food doesn’t count as cooking, love.”

She laughs, shaking her head, the sound of his voice immediately softening her expression. “He’s talking about his abilities,” she replies with a grin. The off-screen laughter from the crew adds to the playful atmosphere.

The next part of the interview focuses on her relationship with Jude’s family, something that’s been a big part of his life. Clips play of her with Jude’s younger brother, Jobe, during a family dinner. They’re joking around, Jobe and her teasing Jude and him complaining about their alliance. Another clip shows her talking to Jobe who’s clearly comfortable with her, and at one point, she playfully nudges him, making everyone laugh. Then, she’s shown with Jude’s parents, Denise and Mark, during a relaxed family gathering. She’s sitting next to Denise, the two of them talking and laughing as if they’ve known each other forever. The bond is clear—she fits into the family seamlessly, not as an outsider, but as someone who belongs.

"Jobe is like a little brother to me," she says with a smile when asked about him. "He’s such a good kid, and we’re always joking around. It’s just easy with him. And Jude’s parents... they’re honestly the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Denise is like a second mom to me. She’s always checking in, making sure I’m okay, especially when Jude’s away. And Mark, well... he’s the kind of dad who always has a story to tell and advice to give, whether you ask for it or not,” she adds with a laugh. “I couldn’t be luckier.”

Cut to a heartwarming montage of family moments: Jude’s girlfriend and Jobe playing video games, both of them laughing uncontrollably as Jude looks on from the side, shaking his head. Another clip shows her helping Denise in the kitchen, the two of them sharing a peaceful, easy rapport, with Mark chiming in from the dining room, to help them.

“They are awesome.”

The screen cuts to a new video clip of Jude talking directly to the camera in a different segment of the documentary. He’s sitting outside on a patio, the sun glinting off his face as he reflects.

"My mom told me pretty early on that she thought she was the one," Jude says, nodding slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "She said she just knew. And I trust my mom’s instincts more than anyone else’s. Honestly, I think I knew too, but hearing it from her made me super sure."

The scene shifts again, showing a playful clip of Jude and her from one of their trips. They’re by the beach, Jude holding the camera as they walk barefoot in the sand. He’s joking, trying to push her toward the water while she protests, laughing and running away. They tease each other endlessly, but the affection is obvious. Every touch, every glance, speaks volumes.

Back in the interview, Jude’s voice is heard once more, this time in a more serious tone. “She’s my rock,” he says. “People always ask me how I stay grounded, how I handle everything, and it’s her. She’s the one who keeps me steady when things get overwhelming.”

Her eyes soften as she listens to the interviewer words. "He said that?” She asks, blushing a little as the one holding the camera nods. “Well, I think we’re a team. We support each other through everything. When he's having a tough day, I’m there for him. And when I'm struggling, he’s always the first to lift me up."

The interviewer gives a knowing nod, then shifts the tone to something more playful. "Now, we’ve seen some fun clips of you two together, but who’s the bigger tease in the relationship?"

Her eyes widen slightly as she chuckles. "Oh, I know he’s going to say it’s him, but i’s definitely me. I love to tease him. He gets this little furrowed brow, and I just can’t help myself."

Another video plays, this time a candid clip of them in the living room. Jude is trying to explain some football tactic using salt shakers and a pepper grinder as players, while she watches him with an amused smile. Suddenly, she moves one of the shakers, to condiment her food, completely messing up his demonstration, and bursts into laughter when he groans dramatically, head in his hands.

Back in the interview, she shrugs innocently. "He takes it well, though. He’s a good sport about it."

Jude’s voice cuts in again. "Barely."

She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. "See? Always listening in."

The documentary closes with one last video—Jude and her sitting on the couch, his arm around her once more as they scroll through pictures on his phone. They’re laughing, teasing each other about the awkward photos, and then he pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. It’s a simple, intimate moment, but it says everything.

As the video is about to finish, she’s seen asleep in his arms and Jude’s voice comes through one last time. He looks at the camera with a smirk and whispers “Yeah... she’s the one.”

[simpxxstan]

svt + nerdy y/n!!

a/n: this is absolutely self-indulgent. i'm sorry if i'm writing slower than usual, i'm trying to get back on track!

sfw content. gender neutral reader and established relationship.

very mildly suggestive (pg13 audience only!). nerd here refers to anyone with academic interests or a general high level of interest in uncommon/niche topics. i've tried to make the concept of nerd as inclusive as possible.

seungcheol

not a nerd himself but will encourage you 100% to be a nerd- buys you new pair of glasses when your eyesight worsens, new documentary CDs and even membership of a hundred foreign journals.

defo has a sapiosexuality kink- you can guess how attracted he is to your intelligence. but he's the smarter one on the streets, so he'll take care of you in every way possible while you stay in your little geeky bubble.

it's always baby let me recharge your phone bill for you; baby please eat your meals on time; baby you can't stop drinking water because of exam stress; baby if you're pulling an all-nighter, call me over, i don't want you to stay up all night alone.

jeonghan

loving jeonghan involves so much cuddling and lazy time when you both just lie under the blankets, his head is on your stomach and your fingers in his hair. it's at these moments that he encourages you to read out for him and he hums along whenever you pause to check if he's fallen asleep.

but jeonghan draws the line sometimes. he is supportive- but only when you're not trading off your time with him for the sake of peering into books.

you can sit with me and solve bivariate normal distributions or whatever you have to do, he whines into your ear. but you keep tickling me and i mess up the calculations! he laughs at this, i can't help it if you're just so ticklish, baby.

joshua

three years ago, joshua would've laughed if someone told him he would be more interested in the latest discoveries of astrophysics than in who's winning the la liga matches. but here he is- successfully converted into a nerd entirely because of your influence.

joshua was ridiculously easy to convert. all it had taken was the shiny, lovesick look in your eyes when you'd ask him if he wanted to watch a documentary on alternate universe theories with you, and he'd said yes in a heartbeat. and then it had just been a spiral into the metaphorical black hole. and he does NOT regret it, as long as he gets to spend time with you.

josh is this getting too boring? you'd quietly ask after an hour of the documentary, guilty for being too absorbed in it to even look at your boyfriend and see how he's faring. but joshua is melting at your concern, so even if it was a little bit boring, he'll reassure you sweetly, not at all baby! this is so new and interesting!!

jun

yes he may be from china, but clearly you know more about his own roots than he does! whenever you're watching news, jun loves it when you fill him up on some quirky background info that he didn't know about, but adds so much value to the context of the news.

in awe of your academic capabilities and keeps bragging about you to everyone. feels so proud when he can contribute to something you're passionate about too. he CANNOT fathom why someone as nerdy and intellectual as you should want to be with him.

junie, you're so smart! you praise him after he reports a profit he's making on a stocks investment. he shyly giggles, not like you, baby. you shake your head, i may be book smart. but you're street-smart!

soonyoung

hyper and calm partners!!!! he used to get annoyed with how you would pore into your books all day and how focused you were on your studies, but now he sees the charm in it all. it makes you happy, and in turn, he gets to wrap himself around you and be as clingy as he likes.

he really tries to follow with your nerdiness, his enthusiasm is there he swears! it's just not his fault that his attention span is so low and he ends up staring at your lips more than actually listening to you.

baby are you even listening? you ask, pouting. it drive him even more insane and he ends up giving in to his instincts and kissing you. yes baby! i heard everything!

wonwoo

WILL BE GEEKY WITH YOU! i imagine the two of you sitting next to each other at a table, him focused on his games and you're focused on your studies, your feet in his lap, and you're both sharing the same cup of coffee.

he loves collecting pretty little diaries for you, because he knows you write little poems and trivia in those diaries. whenever he's out on tour, he's bringing a locally-made diary for you, and if possible, he customises it with your name imprinted on it too.

wonwoo, there's a new adaptation of pygmalion getting shown in the theatre! do you want to go watch? i want to take notes from this adaptation and write about it on my blog... you need not even explain so much, wonwoo bought the tickets already when you began to talk about it.

jihoon

feels so giddy when he comes home from work and the first thing you do (in between his kiss attacks) is tell him a new fact you learnt today in whatever is your latest obsession.

jihoon loves his personal space, so when he's found you who's equally fond of your personal space and interests, it's literally a match made in heaven. they say it'll put distance between the two of you, but it really does quite the opposite!

jihoonie, can you help me learn this table? maybe ask me randomly and i'll try to answer. jihoon wants to tell the table to self-destruct from the entire world because you're near to tears trying to mug it up. but he doesn't. instead he says, love, how about i make a song for you which simplifies this? like a mnemonic but nicer.

seokmin

man was too desperate to get out of school to understand why you choose to be a nerd. but it's hella cute, so he doesn't need to understand. he's obsessed with your quirky habits- the way you bite your lips when you're finding a topic difficult, the way your glasses slip down your nose and you irritatedly push it up again, the way you crave the hot chocolate he makes when you're under exam stress.

admires your smartness so much! WILL brag about it to everyone he meets. WILL bring up the fact you told him yesterday, in today's conversation with his members just to show off your smartness.

posts stories about you being so cute while working hard for your exams but it's just you with oiled hair, acne breaking out like hellfire, and cramming notes at breakneck speed (you don't talk to him for an hour after this, but he doesn't get why you're so embarrassed, he only sees cuteness.)

mingyu

another one who WILL be nerdy with you. mingyu's always been a curious boy- even as a child, he would be drawn into new ideas easily. nothing is different now, and mingyu sits with you often when you're studying, his hands often wandering to your shoulders to massage them, and bringing you a regular supply of ramen and snacks.

you have a habit of repeating to yourself what you read, so mingyu steps in and asks you to talk to him and explain the topics to him as if you're teaching him. safe to say, he gets VERY turned on after such mock 'teaching' lessons and eventually loses focus on what you're saying.

gyu do you remember that paper i wrote last month? yeah, it got selected for a journal. you say it so nonchalantly that any other person would think you're showing off. but mingyu knows how much it means to you, and you're only downplaying it because you think mingyu won't think it to be a big deal, as most academic snobs tend to do. but lucky for you, mingyu knows exactly how precious an achievement it is to you, so he shows his appreciation to you instead of merely saying it (by showering you with kisses that make you tingle all over).

minghao

OH oh. will listen to your rants with the sweetest subtle smile on his face. will buy encyclopedias and reference books for your mini library. will take you to speaker sessions, workshops and other such informative events across the city, even places you've no idea about.

the most ardent supporter you could have asked for, he is in awe of your mental capabilities and your intelligence. you both have a lot of quality time where you're just sitting together and doing your things, but minghao values it like no other activity in the world.

hao? there's a new parcel at the door. you call him when a delivery arrives and he's at work. open it. he may not be around to see your reaction, but he can sure imagine the grin that's bursting out on your face when you squeal his name into the phone on seeing the hardcover special edition version of your favourite collection of essays.

seungkwan

lots of wide-eyed wondering at why you would want to stay rooted at a spot and read books over playing badminton with him. he wants to complain that you've chosen your academics over him, but that'd be a lie, so he can only half-heartedly whine about it.

comes around to your point of view as soon as you start showing him documentaries (on animals living in the Himalayas, as per your latest obsession). it begins with him finding the animals cute, to eventually finding you cute when you animatedly talk about them. and once he's totally converted, it's fairly easy for you to convince him to help you with exams.

expect eye rolls, smug smiles and hair being brushed back nonchalantly when the questions he had asked last night from your texts actually matched with the ones asked in the exam. i told you, baby, he whispers in your ear. now i want my reward, you've been drowned in books for way too long and not paying any attention to your boyfriend.

vernon

it was a surprise to him as well when he realised he's got a massive sapiosexuality kink. as someone who's run as far away from the education system as he could, he doesn't even know why he finds it so attractive when you're being nerdy. but, well, he does.

he loves hearing you talk about whatever it is that you're learning lately, and sometimes something or the other catches his attention. and then, you know he'll dive right deep into it to know all about it, until his curiosity is satisfied.

nonie, what's the video you sent me? you ask him when you return home from uni. i wondered if you've watched this one. it explains the theories of why the harappan civilization disappeared so well. you can only smile at his enthusiasm, i bet you've been looking at conspiracy theories again, nonie. the guilty grin on his face says it all.

chan

chan listens so well, but you can't really blame him if he doesn't retain the information. he's elated simply to have you wrapped in his arms as you talk about what happened in your classes today, and his nose in the crook of your neck so he can smell your lovely scent. intermittently nods his head (just wants to rub his nose on the soft skin of your neck) and hums in agreement of what you just said (suppressing moans when he can feel your heartbeat quicken when he presses kisses to your neck too).

it doesn't matter what your new niche is, but he's indulging it. he admires your ability to stay focused in a field as demanding as academia, and he's all for you to go ahead with your interests and education as long as you want to learn.

you wake up to post-its on your forehead every day when chan has had to leave early for work: get out of the house and get fresh air. shampoo hair today, interview tomorrow. practice the introduction speech again. drink water and take vitamins. STOP DRINKING COFFEE. and you giggle at each of them, because they're all things you've tried to remember for yourself and forgotten, so chan reminds you like this, but his cute handwriting and the little XOXOXOs he's drawn all over make your heart melt.

[a-hazbin-reader]

SHOWERING OR BATH TIMES WITH HUSBAND ALASTOR?!?!?!

YES

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

Bath time with Alastor is one of the most relaxing things you can do with him

It's the best because of the obvious trust he's giving you with his body, his guard down

As his wife, you're the only person who gets to see this side of him

He starts to find excuses to get you to shower or bathe with him, sometimes he's subtle about it and other times, he's not

"Alastor!!"

"My dear, you're soaking wet! Luckily, I have just the remedy for those cold bones~ A hot bath~"

🥶🙄😑😮‍💨🙂‍↔️

He likes bubble baths but won't ever admit it to anyone besides you, the bubbles just add something a little ✨️

Will literally melt into your chest the moment you start scrubbing his hair, the attention making him go lax

Not his ears going flat against his head and twitching

Sometimes he lets out a few happy growls or bleats whenever you massage somewhere particularly sore

Sometimes forgets he's in a bath and will try to snuggle into you only to get a shock of water in his face, arms wrapped loosely around your hips

There's just something so special about spending uninterrupted quality time with your husband like this

Not that he just takes baths to have you pamper him, he likes doing the same for you as well

He's used to people being wary of him or not fully trusting him, so watching you relax under his care-knowing just how dangerous he is

And trusting him with his claws and his teeth with your bare body? In your most vulnerable state?? It does things to him

Sometimes you forget how strong your husband is, but in these moments when he's maneuvering your body around to better wash you??

He could easily manhandle you if he wanted to

Takes his time washing your body but not necessarily in a sexual way, more like he's admiring fine art that he's allowed to touch

It's like the most heavenly massage, especially when his claws scrape ever so gently against your flesh

Sometimes, the two of you will just lay together and listen to music while waiting for the water to go cold

Maybe you two drink some tea

Showers with Alastor are a little bit different, not by much though

He kisses your body a lot more in the shower, no longer deterred by soap or stagnant water

You two don't normally have as much time together in the shower so the touches are a little more rushed, more rough

Still pleasurable though

It's not as much about cuddling and being close as it is about cleaning each other

Sometimes sex

If you come out with a few more love bites on you than before well...

Alastor is going to be stepping out with some of his own because we all know he started it

You two literally take up ALL the hot water when you shower together, Angel fucking HATES IT

Too bad bby boi

Your husband in all his wisdom even manages to always have the softest, warmest towels waiting for you

If you really play up the cute wife act then you're sometimes able to convince him to carry you to the bedroom

"Oh fine! Just stop using those doll eyes on me~"

As much as he wishes he could just lay in bed with you and never get dressed...you both have work to do

But he cherishes the moments he gets to bathe/shower with his beautiful wife and always looks forward to the next

This one was so adorable 🥹 I hope you liked it

[homestylehughes]

bed chem.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): fluff. mutual pinning. very slight slow burn. suggestive content. 18+.

wc: 1.5K

an: hi lovesss!!!! I present you with a new fic, finally. this song is loosely based off of "bed chem" by sabrina carpenter, and the one and only quinn hughes. this is one of my favorites, I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy, like and reblog if you did :)

as always, much much love <3

He caught your attention in a room full of people, your eyes stuck to him like glue. Your eyes followed his every movement, watching him wordlessly from across the busy club. Watching how he interacted with the people around him, how his lips broke into a smile as he laughed at something someone said to him. 

He, whoever he was, was beautiful. From his hair, eyes, smile, everything. Not to mention how his white fitted shirt looked on him. The fit was so perfect, it almost looked like it was painted on him. You felt like a creep looking at him, but you couldn't help it. There was just something about him that was almost addictive? Something bad, but yet so so good. 

“Are you done staring at him like a creep, or are you gonna go over and say something?” your friend says besides you, snapping you out of daydream

“I wasn't looking..just observing” you say, clearing your throat, before taking a drink of the watered down cocktail in front of you in hopes to avert your gaze from the Greek god of a man in front of you. 

“Well..he and his friends just looked over here and pointed.” she giggles from besides you

“Shit. Are you joking? Youve got to be joking right?” you whisper-yell to her in a state of panic 

“Nope,” she says, popping the p.

“Oh god, yn they're coming over here now.” she says frantically 

“Oh my god” you say, moving to sit up straighter in your seat. Your eyes move to follow the very attractive man and his friends make their way over to you guys. 

“Shit he is hot, and so are his friends.” your friend gushes out besides you 

“Shut it, act normal, talk to me about something.” you say quickly, your eyes flickering to the men who are moving in closer. 

Your friend starts talking to you about something random, but you can't concentrate on her words. Your mind is locked in the man approaching, that you can't gather another thought about anything else, as you watch them in the corner of your eye. Just as they are about to reach the table, another large group of men cuts in front of them. Wrapping each of the men into hugs, yelling and smiling as they interact, with what you assume are their friends. 

“Youve got to be kidding me” she says, stopping mid sentence of her empty word ramble. 

“ well..thats, that i guess” you sign out, looking as the men pull each other to the bar in the opposite direction. 

“Guy in the white shirt is looking at you, look up look up.” she says slapping your arm 

Quickly reacting, pulling your head up. Your eyes find him quickly, as he looks back at you. Sending you a quick wink and smirk before he turns around following his friends. 

“Oh my gosh. Yn he so wants you” 

“I don't even know if i'll see him again”

“Never say never.” 

You giggle at her opsitism, before throwing the rest of your drink back, hopping out of your seat, moving to grabher hands pulling her towards the dance floor. 

“Come on! We came to have fun, right?” you shout at her, as you two giggle walking hand in hand to the dance floor. 

– 

After lots of fun, maybe too much fun and a few more drinks later. You finally make your way back to your hotel. You come back solo you might add, your friend being pulled away by a hot mysterious man who caught her attention. Leading her to follow him out of the club with a wide smile on her face. 

Sighing deeply as you stare at your shoes waiting for the elevator door to open, a few moments later a loud ding signals in the opening. Heading in quickly, and hitting your floor. Leaning your exposed back against the cool elevator door, the only thing on your mind is taking off your shoes, and washing a somewhat disappointing night out away. 

Just as the elevator is about to close, you hear a man shouting to hold the door. Pushing yourself off the wall to hit the open button. The out of breath man quickly moves in, as you look up to ask him what floor he needs, you're face to face with, hot fitted white shirt man, who's staring at you with widened eyes. 

“What floor do you need?” you ask quietly, struggling to find your words.

“Um, 69 please, oh wait you've already pressed that.” The man finally speaks to you, his deep voice filling the now closed elevator. 

“You're the girl from the club tonight.” he says looking over at you from across the elevator. 

“And you're the guy” you say

“Felt you looking at me, the whole night” he says, his words causing a blush to rise to your cheeks as you look back down at your shoes. 

“Don't be embarrassed, i was looking too.” he continues 

“I saw” you spoke 

“Almost had you too” he says 

“Almost..” you repeat to him softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and eyes. 

“Well we’re here now” he replies 

“You have 9 floors to make something happen..” you trail off 

“Quinn. My names quinn” he says 

“Yn. my names yn” 

“Well yn i only need 2 floors to make this happen” quinn says, quickly making his way over to you. One of his hands meeting your hip as the other holding your face, pulling you into him, your lips connecting as one.

The motion happens so quickly you barely have time to register what your body is doing until you're kissing him back quickly. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as you pull yourself into his body.

You two are so wrapped up into each other that you don't even realize the elevator has stopped, the door opening slowly. 

Quinn pulls back, his lips swollen as he looks down at you. “How was that for something yn?” he says, dropping his gaze down to you. 

“I think i might need you to show me a bit more” you whisper

“Oh really?” he says as he slowly pulls you out of the elevator. 

“Mhm” you mumble to him

“Lead the way” he says, dropping his hand from you, waiting on your next move. 

You take a second to take him in natural light. Everything about him is intoxicating, you need more. No matter the cost, or how bad of an idea it could be. You don't care, not right now. Before you can give it a second thought, you're pulling him by his hand by your room. Your steps are quick, your body hot with need. 

Reaching your room quickly, dropping Quinn's hand, as you start searching for your key card, you feel Quinn's hot body against yours. His lips finding your neck and his hands back on your hips as he pulls you back against him. Your movements began to halter as he began to get lost in his touch. 

“Quinn..you have to get off me for 30 seconds so i can open the door” 

“Mhm. I know, but I'm getting impatient. I've wanted you all night.” he says against your neck, his warm breath sending chills down your body. 

“You wanna know what i've thought about and what i'm thinking about right now? Hm?” he asks 

“Yes, yes tell me” you gasp out, your hands trying to move quickly, still in search of the key. 

“How the dress would look on the floor, how your body would look against mine. How youd look all fucked out for me in my bed” he says, his lips tight to your ear. 

Just as he finishes his sentence, your hands grasp the key card in your purse. Pulling it out quickly, and tapping it against the door aggressively, pushing the door open as soon as it buzzes open. 

Quinn moves quickly, pushing you in slamming the door, and before you know it his lips are against yours as if they never left. You're quick to turn him around, your hands moving against the buttons on his shirt as he hits the bed, pulling you on top of him; your lips never once leaving each other. 

“You're dangerous” quinn says pulling away from your lips 

“Why's that?” you ask, your hands still working to unbutton his shirt. 

“I've barely had any of you, and i dont think ill ever get enough” he says looking at you

“Who said you ever have to stop, we’re just getting started” you say while unbuttoning the last button on his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders. 

Quinn responds with a look and a small smirk and you know what that means.

[deathbxnny]

Currently in a cfs/me flare up after losing my mind over the Arcane finale (lmao), and it’s been making me think about the characters keeping company to an exhausted & feverish reader. You can choose if you want to make it chronic illness related or more general, I’m just interested how you’d write them in a situation like that 🐁💖 Would love to see Vi, Caitlyn, and Viktor (pre-robojesus) if that’s okay :)) Both platonic and romantic are fine to me too!

Just wanted to add to the end that I loved your Timekeeper fic so much <3 Thank you for writing my request, it actually made me roll around my bed in joy :”D I hope days start getting better for you soon, stay safe 💖💖

Arcane characters with a chronically ill s/o. | Viktor, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

Hey there, Anon! Sorry that it took so long to get to your request, but I hope you're doing better now! Im so glad to hear that you liked my last post too!<3

Content: Vague chronical illness, slight angst, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic tbh, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He knows what it's like to deal with a chronical illness and, therefore, is the best prepared out of the three.

Viktor always has an eye on you and practically studied what makes your sickness get worse. He sees the patterns and tries his best to quickly get you out of situations that could provoke them.

Sometimes, he feels guilty that he isn't able to do more to help you, especially when he, too, is suffering. He appreciates your presence because of that, since you're a comfort to him and someone who understands how he feels. You spend a lot of time together, perhaps even cuddled up during darker days, just not to not feel alone.

He definitely makes your room extra comfortable whenever your flare-ups return. Viktor will get you your favorite food or drink and just sit by your bed until you feel a bit better.

Absolutely works in your room whilst you're laying sick in bed, as he's worried you may get worse in his absence. This indirectly also gets him out of the laboratory often, which does him way more good than he may realise.

All in all, he's the best person to have around when dealing with a difficult chronical illness.

》CAITLYN

She's hellbent on finding a cure one way or another. Cait is stubborn and doesn't take no for an answer. To her, even the impossible may become possible if she works hard enough. So expect the best doctors in Piltover to fuss over you at all times.

She might come off as overbearing at times, mainly because she's extremely worried about your health. Seeing you sick and exhausted all the time hurt her.

Definitely spoils you with anything and everything you want in hopes of distracting you from the pain you were in, even if it's just momentarily.

Tries taking walks with you at times, even if they are short and quick. She thinks that fresh air is good for your health and that you appreciate the time you spend together that way.

If you're feeling lonely, she'll lay in bed with you and speak with you about random topics, anything that comes to mind. She'll definitely also talk about work and the missions she went on.

She may not be able to relate to you, but she'll educate herself on everything regarding your health and illness in the hope of making life easier for you.

》VI

She feels helpless at times. She really does, and it hurts to see you hurt. Unable to really help or find a potential cure/doctor to make things easier, she becomes a little creative with the way she deals with it.

Vi is extremely overprotective and doesn't let you do much on your own. Expect her to do absolutely all the heavy lifting and some of the harder household chores, just so that you don't have to exhaust yourself even more.

Tries making your days better by thinking of fun and accessible things to do. She wants to distract you from the pain and give you a semi-normal life, as she believes you deserve at least that.

Longgg cuddle sessions in which you just talk and laugh. It's the best way to wind down during a flare-up. It also helps with any loneliness you may feel.

She tries using her connections with Cait and so on to get you some help when things get seriously bad. She's terrified of losing you and can't bear the thought of it. It keeps her up at night.

Every day may be a new challenge, but she'll never give up on you, that's for sure.

[gracieheartspedro]

No One Fucks With My Baby

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller (based on established back story from my oneshot Who We Are)

description: everyone now knows that you are joel's girl. when you're working a busy night at the bison, a newbie stirs up a bit of trouble. joel handles it the only way he knows how and you thank him the only way you know how.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, drunk old men who harass reader, joel fucks them up, mentions of blood, glass breaking (?), voyeurism, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names

author's note: this fic is dedicated to the birthday girl @ilovepedro !!! happy birthday sweet nini, I love you so much! thank you for helping me edit this, but more importantly, thank you for being a wonderful friend. you make the world a better place. love you always <3

after the amazing love I got on "Who We Are", I decided to add to the universe. let me know if y'all want more! xoxo, gracie

“Didn’t know they made jeans that low cut!”

You were used to stupid comments made towards you by drunk men. But now that Joel has made it known, you are his, a lot of the men in Jackson kept their advances to themselves. The gentleman at the end of the bar must not know that your big ole’ scary boyfriend was positioned in a booth with Tommy and your father across the room. His eyes had been locked on you for most of the night, and every time he and the guys needed more drinks, he’d be the one to grab more. 

You turn to the drunk man, who had to be your father’s age. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your ass in your favorite jeans. The summer air was not a good combination to a normally humid bar, so you had been wearing less and less clothes behind the bar. You were sporting the jeans and a tighter tank top than usual, mainly because you knew Joel would be around and you loved driving him wild when the shirt rode up on you. 

“You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t close your mouth,” You joke, pouring whiskey for another patron, “Don’t think you’d like the way that would taste.”

The man slams down his glass which causes a couple people to look down at him. You don’t even glance in his direction, knowing if he’s mad, he can take it up with every man in the Tipsy Bison. 

“I don’t take too kindly to sarcastic little sluts.”

Your heart stops. You calmly place the whiskey bottle down beside the shot glass you were pouring into and glance towards the red faced prick. You hear the conversations subside around the room while you lock eyes with the guy who’s bold enough to talk shit to you. 

You know Joel’s already standing up from his spot at his booth, but you move quicker. You position yourself in front of him, leaning over the bar, your eyes raking down the pathetic boy in front of you. 

“Pardon?”

He swallows, realizing how quiet his surroundings got. “I s-said I don’t take kindly to sarcasm.”

You click your tongue, a newfound confidence surging through your body, “I don’t think that’s all you said. Somethin’ about me being a slut?”

“Listen, girl-”

His boots are loud against the hardwood as he approaches you and the man. He stands scarily close to the barstool where the man sits. You don’t break eye contact though, wanting to handle this situation yourself. 

“It’s ma’am, to you,” You cut him off, “I think it’s best if you leave.”

“I haven’t finished my drin-”

Joel reaches around the guy and grabs the whiskey glass from in front of him and slams it on the floor. The guy immediately starts to tremble, shaking like a little leaf. You crack a smile before whispering one final thing to him. 

“Think you’re finished, buddy,” You flick your eyes up at Joel, who’s fury is written all over his face, “Mind walkin’ him out, baby?”

Joel grabs onto the guys shoulder with a bruising grip, “Would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He rips the guy from the stool, not even making sure the guy finds his footing. You ignore the shuffle outside and return to your pouring. You feel like your heart may beat out of your chest, but you’re relieved it was handled before Joel got even more handsy with him. You grab the shot glass and hand it to the fellow that was sat by the drunken fool. 

“You got Miller wrapped around your finger,” The guy, who’s name you think is Aaron, says. He was a regular and frequently stopped Joel to talk about morning patrols. You smirk before snatching a rag off your shoulder. 

“Yeah, he’s so wrapped around my finger that he’s gonna clean up all that broken glass.” You joke, wiping down the condensation ring the glasses left on the wooden table top. 

You hear some footsteps approaching and when you look up it’s Tommy. He’s shaking his head, a grin playing on his lips. 

“Where’s the broom? Joel seems busy putting that guy in his place.”

You furrow your brows as you reach for the broom, “What do you mean?”

“I just sent your Dad out there because it sounded like some rustlin’,” Tommy explains, grabbing the stick from you to begin sweeping up the shards, “I’m sure they are handlin’ it.”

Before you can get nervous, you hear the front door swing open quickly. Your Dad and Joel walk in and you can tell Joel is pissed and a bit rattled. You navigate your way around the bar and glass, reaching their booth as soon as Joel sits down. He’s cradling his right hand in his left, hissing in discomfort. 

“What did you do?” You say, reaching out for his hands. There’s two gashes that litter his knuckles, only bleeding slightly. You shake your head when he pulls away from you. 

“Nothin’ baby,” he mumbles, “Just taught the guy it’s not nice to talk to ladies like he did. He walked off with a bloody nose and busted lip when he started talkin’ shit back.”

You roll your eyes, catching your Dad’s glare. 

“Did you break it up?” You press, wanting more of an explanation. 

He shakes his head, “Nope. Joel can handle himself. I did tell the guy when he was walking away that if he talked about my daughter like that again, he’d wouldn’t be able to walk away cause he would have a bullet between his eyes.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms under your chest. “I swear to God…”

Tommy approaches the table, his task of cleaning glass finished. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“I’d be better if the men in my life weren’t insane,” You joke, nudging Joel’s arm as he inspects his knuckles.

Tommy laughs and sits back down across from your Dad and Joel. While he makes jokes with your Dad, Joel is silent and stirred. You can tell he’s bothered by something more than handling some asshole who called you a name. You decide against pestering him more, allowing him to settle back into conversation with Tommy and your Dad. 

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and return to slinging drinks. 

-

“Thanks for staying while I lock up,” You say to Joel as pushing in the last barstool, “And thanks for earlier.” 

He is propped up on one of the middle pillars, his shoulder resting on the wood while his arms and legs are crossed. He was still being quiet, not giving into conversation. You approach him, your eyes trained on his arms. He was wearing a t-shirt for the first time all summer, which made you feel some type of way. His arms were tanned beautifully and toned. His biceps were perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of the gray t-shirt. 

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

You glance up at him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Tell me what’s got you all bothered.”

“It’s nothin’,” He uncrosses his arms and reaches out for you. You know it’s not nothing, so you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him forward. He looks a bit surprised. 

“It’s somethin’, so you better tell me what happened.”

He huffs, fanning your face with his breath, “That asshole said some shit about us and it set me off.”

You squeeze him a bit, “What did he say?”

You can tell he does not want to repeat it, but you were not going to let it go. 

“How I’m an old man with a young girl. How I’m old enough to be your dad.”

You feel sick to your stomach at the idea he had to hear some asshole say that. You look down between you, shifting your weight onto your other foot. You started to feel clammy, unsure of a good response that would reassure Joel. 

“He’s just some asshole. What does he know?” You manage to sputter. 

Joel’s shoulder’s sag, “He’s not wrong, though, baby girl. I’m an old man with a younger girl.”

You push away from him, scanning him up and down. You are pissed that he’s even bringing this up again, after all this time. 

“I’m a grown ass woman, Joel. A grown ass woman with a grown ass man. Just because there’s time in between us doesn’t mean we aren’t old enough to make decisions for ourselves.”

His lip curls, “I know baby, I am just saying that sometimes we get odd looks cause of the age difference. I really don’t care anymore… Just caught me off guard, is all.”

You fold your arms, “You put him in his place, right? He’s not gonna come around here sayin’ shit again?”

“He’d be stupid to come near you again. Think I got my point across.”

You feel like you owe him something. You had a couple ways you could repay him, ensuring that he never thinks about those stupid comments again. 

You use your arms to press up your bra a bit, your cleavage more highlighted with the gesture. Joel’s eyes trail down, the scoop neck giving away your suggestive movement. You step closer again, wanting to be in his space. 

“My man…” You trail, your eyes falling to his agape mouth, “Makin’ sure everyone knows I’m his.”

He nods slowly before his hand creeps around your waist, “What are you tryin’ to do, girl?”

“Nothin’,” you click your tongue. “Just thinkin’ of how I could repay you for handlin’ that for me. You hurt yourself defending my honor. I owe you.”

“Don’t think of it that way. You don’t owe me anything,” His fingers start to creep down to the curve of your ass. “But, I would love to see what you had in mind.”

“Oh, you would,” You hum, your arms unfolding to wrap around his neck. “Let’s start by walking back to your house.”

Instead of responding, he dips his head and peppers kisses down your neck, taking his time letting his fingers wander around the skin on your lower back and hips. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every press of his lips. 

“Fuck,” You sigh as you try to bring him closer to you, but he’s not letting up on your neck. He’s suckling spots near your collarbone, groaning as you react to his every move. You knew at this point, this whole situation was in his hands and not yours. 

He lifts his head slowly, letting his bottom lip drag across your skin, “How ‘bout this… How ‘bout I take you right here over this bar? Maybe that asshole is nearby and he can hear how well I give it to ya.”

His proposition sends you into a spiral. You and Joel have had plenty of sex in different places, but the bar? And he wants others to hear? Usually he’s telling you that your moans are for his ears only, and while he wants you to be loud for him, you’re usually too timid to actually vocalize your pleasure. 

You place your hands on his expansive chest, “You want to fuck me here?”

He beams down at your question before he whispers, “I want to fuck you everywhere. Here, your bed, my couch, the shower. Hell, I’ll take you at this bar while people watch.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You huff, almost dizzy from the statement. 

He brings his hand up to tilt your head back so you look at him. When your eyes meet, he brings the hand up around your neck and to the nape, right where your spine starts. 

“God, I need you, sweet girl.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, Joel brings you in for a passionate and eager kiss. He’s feverish, his hands now wandering down to your ass. He starts to walk you backwards towards the now abandoned bar top. You knock into a couple chairs, but his arms keep you from tripping. His hands are propped on your ass, navigating you to the edge of the bar top. When your back is pressed against it, he starts to shove his thumbs under your waist band. He pulls away from your lips to push down your jeans, letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread your legs,” he grumbles, “I want to taste you.”

You do as you’re told, shaking your jeans off your ankles and spreading your legs. Joel falls to his knees like a man starved. You note his devilish smile when you do as you’re told. 

“I thought I was repaying you,” You choke out as his hands roam over your flesh. He chuckles darkly before pressing a kiss to your right inner thigh. 

“Lettin’ me get between these legs with my tongue is repaying me,” He clicks as pulls at your panties. He slides them to the side, getting a great look at how wet you are already. Your knees feel like they may give out any second just from the anticipation, so when his mouth finds your entrance, you rest your elbows on the freshly wiped down bar. 

Joel exploring you in this way was nothing new, but every time he went down on you, it was thrilling. He was simply so fuckin’ good at it. You never had a man take his time eating you out, desperately wanting you to cum straight on his tongue. 

The vibrations from his groaning sends shockwaves down your legs, causing them to shake. Joel’s hands are the only thing keeping you stable because even your elbows are slipping from the bar top. The suckling noises coming from him are obscene, especially because you’re standing over the bar at your work. You cannot help but try to balance yourself so you can grind yourself down onto his eager tongue. Before you can really get started doing that, he pulls away, his wet lips glistening under the overhead lights. 

He sticks his pointer, middle, and ring finger into his mouth, slathering them in his own saliva. You watch him carefully as he brings them up to your slit, adding to the slick that’s already there. 

“I want you to cum all over my fingers before I bend you over this bar,” He practically moans. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You can barely speak as his fingers slowly slip in and out of you, “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?” He adds another finger, curling them as he pumps in and out. Your head is spinning, watching his other hand spread over your lower stomach to hold you against the bar. You know what he wants, but you can hardly get the word ‘yes’ out, let alone the name he loves you calling him. You try to breathe in and center yourself, but the fire in your tummy burns bright. 

“Y-yes, Sir. Please m-make me cum.”

He latches his lips around your clit as he speeds the strokes of his three digits. You grab onto his dark curls to hold him there to ensure that he doesn’t stop putting all the pressure right there. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you cannot help but scream out in pleasure. 

He grabs your hips, not caring about your recovery. His dick is rock hard in his blue jeans and it makes you giggle in satisfaction. Joel has fucked you in so many different ways, but you do not remember a time he fucked you over counter.

Your upper body is laying flat against the wooden bar, your hands gripping onto the other side to steady yourself. You hear his zipper go down and then his hands are back on you. Your panties are stretched to hell already, so he practically tears the fabric off your lower body without any resistance. You chuckle at how vehement he is. He spreads your ass cheeks as he slips his cock between your closed thighs. 

“Gonna need you to spread some more for me, sweet girl,” He mutters, smacking one of your cheeks lightly, “God, you’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn, “Yes, Sir.”

You do as you’re told, spreading your legs for him. When you do that, his dick prods at your clit, before easing into your entrance. You and Joel fuck raw, so when he opens you up, you feel every vein and ridge against your walls. He’s thick and it always takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling. 

“So fuckin’ tight.”

He retracts back and inches forward again, letting you take in every inch of him. You grab onto the edge of the bar harder, your grip growing tighter with the action. He rests his grip on your hips, using them as leverage as he sets a steady pace. The moment his pace picks up, it’s like the motion pushes all the air from your lungs and you huff out louder. It only encourages him, but instead of keeping you in that position, he grabs onto your shoulders and lifts you up. You are lifted up to his chest, flush with his clothed upper body. He reaches around your arms and grabs onto your breasts through your thin v-neck. 

“J-Joel,” you nudge him with your free hands, “Let me take it o-off.”

He slows his thrusts and lets you pull your shirt over your head. Instead of unhooking your bra, Joel takes the liberty to do it himself. The straps drop off your shoulders and you peel the padding off your chest. His hands instantly cradle your breasts, kneading them as he jolts forward to continue fucking you. His thumb and pointer pinch and tug at your pert nipples. 

“Mmm,” He hums, “Only I can fuck you this good, huh?”

You whimper at his actions, “Only you, Joel.”

“That’s right.”

With that, he slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the empty feeling. He moves you around like a rag doll, turning you around to face him. 

Joel’s eyes are dilated and his hands are moving quickly to lift you off the ground and press your lower back into the bar. You place your hands on his shoulders, knowing exactly what position he wants you in. 

He picks you up so seamlessly. It’s like when he’s horny or angry, he’s super strong and practically indestructible. He will probably complain how his back hurts later. 

Your knees fold over his forearms, perfectly spread open for his taking. 

You are so wet that he slips right into you. He uses the bar a bit for leverage as he fucks up into you, the angle completely sending you into a spiral. His eyes are perfectly trained on your chest, watching your tits jiggle as he drills into you. 

“Most perfect thing I ever did see,” He remarks between strokes. Your nails are digging into his shoulder, right above a scar he got a couple years ago when he was out on patrol with your dad. You remember it was the first time you saw Joel shirtless. He was sitting next to your Dad in the infirmary, getting stitched up from getting caught on a sharp tree limb. You remember thinking how tan and beautiful he was back then. 

Now you’re gripping onto his shoulders years later, his dick ramming into you and hitting you in all the right places. 

Life is so mysterious and wonderful. 

He bites his lip, putting all his focus into making you cum before he does himself. He’s a giver and for that, you’re extremely grateful. No man has ever put in as much effort. Before Joel, you did not know you could cum more than once in a single session. A couple months ago, he could not help his insatiable taste for you and made you cum 6 times. 

His thrusts begin to falter when he feels you clenching around him, the fiery thrill building in your stomach. Your legs feel like jello, but as soon as the orgasm hits you, they stiffen in his grip. 

“F-fuck Joel,” You whimper, stuttering at how good your body feels as your come down unravels. This orgasm is way more powerful, making you practically vibrate in Joel’s arms. 

He fucks you through the feeling, his finish quickly approaching. When he’s finally finding his own release, he slips out of you before he can cum inside you. You two had an agreement that he could only cum inside you if you explicitly say he can. Since you didn't even think about it, you watch as his seed spills all over your pelvic bone.

When you two catch your breaths, he gently places you down on the ground. He steadies your wobbly legs by holding onto your naked waist. 

You realize you are smiling like an idiot, completely blissed out on how good Joel made you feel. You find your footing, picking up your pants nearby. You don’t even bother with the material that used to be your underwear. 

You hear Joel behind you fixing himself up, zipping his dick back into his jeans. You pull on your pants, leaving them unbuttoned. You grab the material on the ground and ball them up. You prance over to Joel, his eyes raking you up and down. 

“You can keep this,” You joke, pulling at one of his front pockets. You tuck the panties into his pants, smiling widely. 

“‘M just gonna add them to the collection,” He replies, gripping onto the point of your chin. 

When he tilts your eyes up to meet his, your heart flutters at the action. He’s so beautiful with his fine lines and wildly untamed peppered curls. His eyebrows are furrowed as he contemplates your expression. 

You finally say it. Those three words that you had been meaning to say for months. The words that you had never said to another man ever. There was a distinct moment about 2 months ago, after you had dinner with him and Ellie, where you almost said it while helping him with the dishes. It was that steadying of your heart, a moment you felt most at peace with someone. He made you comfortable. He made you feel safe. 

“I love you, Joel.”

He drops your chin, his eyes soften at the statement. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Your anxiety starts to creep up your throat. Maybe you should not have said that. Fuck. 

“I-I…”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He says in almost a whisper before he takes your right hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “‘M sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

Your body relaxes, reassured by his answer. You did not have any doubts about your feelings for Joel, but your mind could not help but over analyze every little thing he ever said to you, forcing you to assume he may not feel the same way. 

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a long kiss onto your knuckles. 

“Let’s get you home, sweet girl. I gotta get up for patrol tomorrow.”

[c0eu4]

LN4 | Tits

Request: inspi ration (he said tits in the blurry part)

Summary: Lando meets Y/n at a club and she asks him to sign her tits. A few days later, Lando is looking for her and they become friends. So she surprises him by coming to see him in Las Vegas.

Warning: Lando signing tits? Lando jerking off himself, needy Lando but no smut

A/N: I'm so so so so so sorry but I accidentally published the story when it wasn't finished and I had to delete and redo everything and I don't have the request!!

part one - part two - part three

MASTERLIST requests are opens

His glass in his hand, he moves to the rhythm of the music. The lights of all colors blind him slightly and the music is so loud that he can't hear people talking around him. He takes the last sip of his drink, disappointed at having to move from the dancefloor to get a drink.

He warns Max (Fewtrell) and heads towards the bar in the center of the club. He doesn't take the time to sit down and walk next to a young woman, leaning against the counter.

He signals to the bartender and asks him for another drink. As he waited for his drink, the young lady next to him patted his shoulder, ''Uhm excuse me?''

He turns around, giving her a charming smile. He can't help but let his eyes slide down to her plunging neckline, waking up her chest. ''I can help you?''

The young lady blushed slightly, ''Uhm are you Lando Norris?'' He chuckled, ''Himself'' Her eyes widen softly, ''May I ask you an autograph?''

Lando can't help but smile even more. He doesn't know why, but he's not annoyed when she asks him that. Normally, he accepts like anyone else, even if it annoys him to be disturbed.

''Of course, do you want me to sign something in particular?'' She thinks, asks the bartender for a piece of paper, who tells her he doesn't have any. Then suddenly, an idea crossed her mind.

''Can you sign my tits?'' Lando's eyes widened, his cheeks getting slightly red. He chuckled as he took the pen the bartender offered him.

She pulls down her dress a little, revealing her breasts even more. ''Should I sign both?'' He can't take his eyes off of her breasts. He feels like he's a growing teenager again, filled with uncontrollable hormones.

''Yeah please.'' He uncaps the pen, puts a hand on her shoulder for support and tries to write but can't. He sighed, dreading his questions. ''Can I touch it? It would be easier.''

She chuckled, her now hugely revealed breasts moving slightly along with her little laugh. She still wonders if he isn't trying to touch them on purpose. But hey, after all, it's not every day you catch Lando Norris's eyes.

''If you want that much.'' He can't help but laugh, his warm breath tickling her bare collarbone. ''What's your name?'' He placed his hands on her right breast, ''Y/n.'' he tried to stretch the skin to allow the pen to work better. He signs it and adds 'for y/n, with love' He reproduces the gesture on her other breast, not hesitating to let his fingers slide a little lower.

His signature is perfect. As in the photos. ''Thank you'' He winks at her and she chuckled softly, probably nervously. He takes his drink and goes back to see Max who's now a bit away from the dancefloor and talking with some people.

Lando approached them and immediately, Max whispered something in his ear, ''Mate you're hard.'' Lando's head turns red as one of his hands slowly goes in front of his bulge, hiding it.

_ _ _

A few days later, Y/n is still in Lando's mind. He can't stop thinking of her. He even tried to search her on Instagram but it wasn't conclusive. He still sees her reddened cheeks, her nervous smile, her pink lips and her breasts.. oh my god. Just thinking about it makes his pants feel tight.

He readjust himself in the bed, his hand slipping under his boxers. He couldn't help it, she was so beautiful...and good. He imagines his cock between her breasts accelerating the movements of his hand. And it doesn't take long before he's cumming in his pants, imagining Y/n touching and licking him.

What a dirty boy he can be. Seriously, jerking off while thinking about a fan's tits.

He gets up after catching his breath and clean the mess he makes. His phone buzzed and he looked at Max's message.

''Mate you're not gonna believe me''

His text was accompanied with a picture.. of y/n, drinking a coffee, alone.

''Isn't that the girl you're looking for?''

''Where is she?''

''The cafe we usually went to'' ''You want me to do something?''

Lando doesn't answer, already putting on his shoes and jacket. He went outside, walking pretty fast to his car. His mother would kill him if she knew how speedy he drives.

He enters that café, his eyes wandering all the people in. His gaze freezes on her. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and her black turtleneck hid her collarbone, at the risk of disappointing Lando. Her laptop is open in front of her, next to two empty cafes.

He doesn't know what to do. Should he go see her? Or just observe her? He can also offer her a coffee and write his number on it, like in the movies.

He gathers his courage and orders two coffees. One for her and one for him. He decides to play it cool and sits across from her, putting the coffees on the table. She looks up from her computer and smiles nervously. ''Mister Norris. How can I help you?''

Her cheeks turn slightly red probably just like his. ''Maybe by giving me your number?'' He surprised himself with his overconfidence. She giggles, writes something in her notebook and gives the piece of paper to him.

Deep down, she knew that during that evening, something had happened between them. But she never thought he would look for her.

_ _ _

Since that day, they haven't stopped talking to each other.

Lando is an extrovert. Y/n is an introvert.

Lando likes to talk. Y/n likes to listen.

Lando doesn't know how to hide his feelings. Y/n doesn’t know how to show them.

They complete each other. They are made for each other. Their discussions are natural, Lando loves talking to her, even until late at night. And he knows she will always be there to listen to him. Meeting her was the best thing that could have happened to him.

Y/n feels bad to have to lie to him. She walks back into the airport, readjusting her sunglasses. She passes through the secure gate without any hassle and barely has time to land to wait for her plane that Oscar called her and she picked up the phone.

''What did you tell him?''

''That I can't come.''

''I heard him crying in his driver's room.''

Oscar had agreed to help her to make a surprise for Lando and come see him in Las Vegas. But knowing that Lando's cried for her makes her heart breaks.

''Aw I feel so bad.''

He chuckles.

''Don't worry, he'll be so happy. I'm sure he'll kiss you.'' Oscar always thought that one day or another, they would end up together. Not that it bothers Y/n, but Lando is her best friend and she's afraid of ruining their relationship.

''Stop saying silly things.'' Oscar laughed again, but more loudly this time.

''Yeah yeah.. ahhh.. we do like we say, huh?''

''Yep, I'm going to enter the plan in a few minutes, be sure to be there when I land.''

''No I should let you at the airport.''

''Funny but you'll have to support the upset of Lando during the whole week.''

''You win on this point.''

''I let you Ozzy, see you in LA.''

''Have a nice plane.''

She thanks him and hangs up. She gets on the plane and sits in her seat. During the twelve hours of flights, Y/n finds something to occupy herself by watching a trilogy, sleeping and reading.

Once arrived, all that remains is the most complicated part. She has to collect her suitcase, leave the airport and join Oscar without being recognized. She readjusts her sunglasses and the black mask that hides the lower part of her face. With her hood on her head, she walks with her head down and hurries to collect her suitcase.

She leaves the airport in less than thirty minutes and quickly finds Oscar's car. She puts her suitcase in the trunk and gets in the passenger seat.

''Hey, nobody saw you?'' He asked her as she took off her sunglasses, mask and hood. ''Hi, I don't think so.'' He doesn't wait any longer to start the car and drive straight to the hotel.

She preferred to surprise him by waiting for him in his hotel room rather than at the track.

''I got a copy of his room card.'' He gives her the card as she quickly puts on her makeup.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive at the hotel. He helps her with her things and they hurry to the hotel room. Due to traffic jams on the road, they lost time and Lando should arrive more soon than expected.

She places her things in a corner of the room and sits down on the bed that he didn't even take the time to make.

''Tell me if he kissed you.'' Said Oscar before leaving her alone. He didn't let her have the time to respond and she just scrolled on her phone to pass the time.

She looks in the mirror, checking that her outfit is okay. She made the effort to take a twelve-hour plane with a rather uncomfortable dress, even if she was wearing one of Lando's sweaters over it.

She readjusts her hair and receives a message from Oscar telling her that he ran into Lando in the hallway.

She sits on the edge of bed and stares at the front door. She hears a noise, then a 'beep' meaning the door is open.

Lando walks into the room, not even noticing her, too busy looking at his phone. He places his bag on the ground and finally looks up from his phone.

His eyes open wide and his mouth is parted, not knowing what to say.

''Happy birthday, Lando.'' She smiles at him getting up from the bed.

Lando doesn't know what's going through his head, but he walks towards her, places his hands on her cheeks and presses his lips to hers.

Shit. Oscar was right. But it doesn't stop her from kissing him back, moving her lips along with his. She wraps her arms around his waist to pull him even closer to her.

''What the hell are you doing here!?'' He finally breaks the kiss, still in shock.

''Don't you still know that I'm a very good liar?'' He kissed her cheeks, his hand slowing on her hips.

''Fuck I missed you so much.'' He kisses her neck, already nibbing on it.

''Wow wow wow Lan', slowly.'' He stops it and his lips go back to hers.

''I hate you.'' She arranges the strands of hair that fall in front of his eyes.

''No you don't.'' He kissed her again.

''Be my girlfriend.''

''Did I have the choice?''

''No.'' He doesn't give her time to respond as he kisses her again, addicted to her lips.

Lando will no longer need to imagine his cock between her breasts. He's already planning to experience it tonight.

[mistydeyes]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Task Force 141 and a reader that they never have seen out of uniform until one day they all go to a bar but the reader is late? Next thing they know the reader walks up to them dressed like they just walked straight out of the 2000’s?

(if you end up doing this request: thank you so much! I absolutely luv your writing!!)

thank you so much for requesting! i literally am in love with 2000's fashion like you'll be seeing me walking with low-cut jeans and a baby tee fr

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summary: After a tiring mission, the 141 invites you to drink away the night at the pub. However, you get into a lively argument about fashion when they question your choice in 2000's inspired attire.

pairings: taskforce 141 x platonic!gn!reader (codename: Storm)

warnings: swearing, slight bullying (they fr just don't understand fashion)

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"Didn't we tell Storm half-past eight?" Gaz asked, looking down at his watch. The pub was nearly empty as the men continued to add glass after glass to a growing pile. Despite reminding you with a string of texts, you still haven't made an appearance. "Still don't get why they had to change," Soap continued, choking down another drink, "Lt's still wearing his goddamn mask." The group laughed as their attention was directed to Ghost, still wearing his signature face mask. "They probably wanted a shower and some fresh trousers," Price commented and the rest of the group returned to a more interesting conversation.

As the group laughed at Soap recounting Ghost's out-of-character dialogue in Las Almas, their gaze fell on the pub's door as it swung open. The group smiled at the familiar face and gestured you over. You walked to the table quickly, feeling the attention in the empty pub. At first, you thought it was due to your late entrance but when you approached, you saw all eyes focused on your attire. It was like you walked out of the 2000s or robbed a Delias before your arrival. You felt a little self-conscious at the confused looks and wondered what all the fuzz was about. "What? Do I have a stain?" you questioned as you dusted off your low-cut, denim jeans. "No, it's just-" Gaz began to say but Soap interjected. "Why do you dress like that?" he asked and you raised an eyebrow. You looked down at your jeans and Von Dutch top. "But I normally dress like this?" you said with a curious tone. You dressed like this before joining the military and held on to the lively aesthetic of the early 2000s. You were embarrassed to admit but Britney Spears and *NSYNC were your fashion icons.

"Yeah," Ghost spoke up as he eyed the interesting font of your shirt, "you look like you could be an extra in a Spice Girls video." You rolled your eyes, grabbing at one of the half-drunk glasses on the table. "You've been quiet, Captain," you edged while looking at him, "what do you think?" There was a hush over the room as you waited in anticipation. "Clothes are clothes," he simply replied and the table roared with laughter. "Such a grandad thing to say," Soap loudly exclaimed and everyone clambered with sentiments of agreement. "Sorry I don't wear Wrangler jeans and black fitness tops," you mumbled. It was a subtle jab at your colleagues but Gaz took it to heart. "I have style!" he shouted as you shook your head in disapproval.

"Gaz, you look like someone trying to emulate an Instagram model or some teenager's Pinterest board," you argued and you were met by the howling of the tipsy men. "And Captain, I'm sorry but you look like a father going on holiday to the Swiss Alps," you directed towards Price as everyone realized this was becoming an insult fueled rage. Soap was still laughing wildly, shaking his head in agreement with your every word. "Oh you shouldn't be laughing, Soap," you said as you turned to him, "a navy blue sweater and black jeans are a fashion crime." He quickly turned red and looked embarrassed as he examined the mismatched colors. Everyone held their breath as you turned to Ghost. "And Lt," you paused, thinking of what you should say next, "you dress like you've never heard of color."

[spaghettixdemon]

J Stands for more words than one PT.1

“While introducing his new girlfriend to the team, JJ is automatically confronted with her feelings for Spencer when they begin to get in the way of things"

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This was originally in my Google Doc but I seem to have lost access to it :( SO I am re-writing it! (I will definitely add more chapters bc omg this is long)

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"Alright anndd finally done!" Emily turned to JJ, clapping her hands together and beaming. Today was a paperwork day, and everyone had been working until the late hours. "These reports are killing me...I've been on the same one the majority of the day..." JJ spoke to Emily with a sigh and a slight smirk playing on her lips. Yes, JJ had been stuck on the same case most of the day, but it wasn't just the amount of work, no. That wasn't the only reason her day was moving so slowly.

Right across from her desk, in perfect view, was Spencer Reid- their little resident genius. His legs were crossed in his office chair, his curly hair fell in front of his eyes, and his long, slender fingers traced down the written report, scanning every word and spreading it within seconds effortlessly. JJ had always been close with Spencer- because of their tight-knit team, their ages, and of course, the butterflies she would get around him. They were the two closets in age at the BAU, so maybe that was part of the reasoning behind her crush, but honestly, she just thought he was very attractive.

So earlier today, when Spencer was talking on his phone nonstop, JJ was confused. Spencer was not a fan of technology, thinking back on how it took Spencer literal years to finally sign up for an email address. So, whatever was keeping Spencer on speed dial on the other line clearly didn't bother him too much. JJ would sneak glances towards her coworker hourly, taking in his body language and how he seemed to be head over heels. He would fidget and spin in his office chair as someone talked to him, he had a faint blush on his cheeks, and a smile plastered on his face. In all actuality, she'd never seen Spencer look so dopey- maybe he truly was just happy right now, but the emotions on his face surprised her.

"Hey lover-boy, what's going on over here?" JJ shot her head down, burying her face in her work. It was Derek who popped the question already on JJ's mind. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against Spencer's desk as Spencer looked up at Derek. Rolling his eyes and hanging up the phone, Spencer set the phone down on his desk. "Was that a girl on the other end of the line? I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to pick up a call at work." Both men laughed as Spencer grew a little quiet, sheepishly shrugging. "I mean- yeah, actually, you're right for once." Spencer laughed as an expression of excitement and shock plastered onto Derek's. "Wow really?" He laughed, a little in disbelief "Congrats man! That's awesome!"

JJ watched as the two guys hugged and discussed Spencer's new girlfriend. Weirdly, JJ felt a pang in her chest of embarrassment...or more like frustration. Why? She wasn't sure. JJ could read anyone within minutes, but she could never read her own emotions that well.

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Days had passed, and work was pretty much back to normal. Normal meaning JJ wasn't constantly hearing about Spencer's new girlfriend, who he adored so much. It was cute, yeah, and she did feel happy for the man and his newfound love, but it would get pretty repetitive after a while. Derek and Penelope, in particular, would not let up on the subject. It was cute when Penelope giggled and twirled her hair when asking about this girl, but the way Spencer would drop information on her so easily was frustrating.

Penelope beamed, ecstatic over all this new news. Then, looking at Derek, she gasped and clapped her hands together. "You should bring her here! We could all meet her it would be so nice..!" Spencer looked a little uneasy. The few times his relationship did start getting this serious, work would interfere and often kill the relationship. Though, Derek backed up Penelope and agreed it would be fun.

"I don't know guys...That might be a little intense..." JJ heard this and thought over the idea in her head. Meeting the girl Spencer was so enamored by might be interesting...to say the least. She looked up and smiled at the three talking. "No Spence you should totally bring her in! I want to meet this girl!" Spencer gave JJ a hesitant look, visibly thinking over the interaction in his head. He slowly smiled and rolled his eyes, looking at the three before him. "Ok Ok..I'll bring up the idea and if she's cool with it, I'll bring her here next Friday"

Penelope and Derek cheered while JJ sat there, smiling quietly. She clapped her hands together and sighed "Amazing! I can't wait".

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The week that followed that conversation wasn't a pleasant one. The team had traveled out of state to work on a pretty gruesome case- Spencer, in particular, had a rough time during the case. He should be used to the horrible feelings that came with the job, but it was never really easy dealing with death so often.

The team had thankfully made it back to base Friday, and everyone was exhausted. They spent the day quietly filling out paperwork and trying to unwind as they worked into the early hours of the night. Around 7pm, Spencer got a call. JJ noticed this in particular because of how eager he was to answer the phone. A small smile appeared on his face, and the faint blush was back. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hanging up the call with a simple goodbye.

Spencer looked around at his friends as the smile on his face grew. "My Girlfriend is apparently downstairs in the lobby! ...I was thinking of bringing her up is everyone ok with that?" The office was suddenly filled with energy again, and everyone seemed to wake up. JJ in particular, shot her head up and looked at Spencer, a little shocked. She had completely forgotten this would be happening...She made eye contact with Spencer and looked a little hesitant as she spoke up. "um...yeah that would be great..!"

"Yes, PLEASE bring her up! I need some fun to distract me from all this work." Penelope popped her head out of her office as she spoke to Spencer. Spencer looked a little confused by what JJ had said but smiled and nodded anyway. He slowly made his way towards the elevator, a bit of pep in his step.

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Everyone in the office had quickly wrapped up what they had been working on and made their way to the office cubicles to meet this girl Spencer was so into. Penelope pulled up a chair next to JJ and beamed. "Are you excited to meet her?" JJ...still felt very conflicted. Just earlier that week, when they had been solving the case, She was staying in the hotel room next to Spencer's. She thought about how she ran into him shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He apologized and made his way inside his room, but she felt so conflicted.

She wasn't upset that he was shirtless...definitely not...but something about getting caught off guard like that made her blush. She remembered the feeble nerd she used to work with. He was in his mid-twenties and looked so new to the BAU world. Now, the man she saw earlier that week and today was a bit different. He had toughened up more and was a bit more muscular- not to a Derek level, but he definitely wasn't feeble anymore.

"Something like that" JJ mumbled to Penelope, a faint blush on her face. Penelope was about to question JJ, just as an elevator 'dinging' noise saved her. Everyone's attention was on the elevator and who was inside.

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[billwidoll]

Come back to me please

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You were at Topper's party, looking bewildered for your boyfriend Rafe, you asked everyone, but no one knew where he was. Except Topper.

"Hey Topper..." You say, approaching him, getting closer as the music was loud.

"hi yn! Enjoying the party?" Topper says drinking his drink. Topper was the king of parties and Rafe was the king of Outer banks Fact.

"Not really, I'm looking for Rafe, have you seen him?"

You ask loudly, you didn't drink or like parties much, you only went because of Rafe. You were the golden girl, you didn't drink, you didn't smoke, you were perfect and everyone was surprised when you and Rafe made it official, even Topper imagined that his friend would date a bitch, But Rafe chose you because it was love at first sight.

You had already been dating for 2 years, and Rafe was making plans for your future with him, you knew Rafe's fame, but you put that aside and clung to loving him.

"I think he's smelling dust with the kelce on top"

Topper speaks normally and you immediately get angry, as Rafe had promised he would stop it. You thank him and say goodbye to Topper.

You go up and see several rooms, and you ask everyone which room Rafe was in, until they pointed to a room that was in the last one. And you go there, ready to give a scolding In Rafe, you just didn't expect what was going to happen.

You approach the room and open the door, and you see Rafe Cameron, sucking Sophia, his best friend's breasts.

"Wow!" You speak with tears welling in your eyes and impulsively end up dropping your cell phone.

Rafe quickly sees you and stands up with a pale face.

"My love....and....I can explain...." Rafe speaks stuttering and getting closer to you and holding your arm.

"friend...we can explain" Sophia adds, and you become completely mobile, without any kind of reaction, and that terrified Rafe.

"Sophia get out of here now!" Rafe shouts, thinking Sophia would ruin his explanation.

"what about us Rafe?" Sophia asks how the victim was her. Rafe takes a quick look at her and she runs away.

"Love... don't cry... don't do this to me, it hurts too much" Rafe says holding your face and you're still a statue.

You stand up and move a little away from Rafe.

"I only have one thing to tell you: I loved you and I did my part, I thought we were going to get married and have two children like you wanted"

You throw it in his face, and his heart starts beating too fast. Rafe had just had a fight with his father, and it got on his nerves, so to distract himself he went to his father's party Topper, there he saw Sophia in a tight and short dress, seducing him, he unfortunately fell for her fetish.

"Whatever you say, I love you, I'm crazy about you, you're the woman I want to have kids with and marry, I want you to be a Cameron."

Rafe speaks crying and despairing, he was very afraid of losing the only person he truly loved.

"Bye Rafe... I hope you take care, okay?" You say, approaching the door, until Rafe jumps at you.

“Don’t give up on me, please don’t give up” Rafe cries pinning you against the door.

"no Rafe, that was the last straw" you reply, and Rafe insists once again.

"I belong to you and only you, love" Rafe speaks sobbing, and perhaps it could be more emotional manipulation that he was trying to do.

But it's true that Rafe was distressed by the fact that you might disappear from his life.

"Only you, my girl, only you, love, Only you, my girl, only you, babe"

Rafe repeats several times, placing his hands on your face and kissing you forcefully, clearly you pull away.

"Rafe! You've wronged me several times, okay? And I always forgive you, but this time you really hurt me"

You explain and unfortunately it doesn't enter Rafe's head.

"No! No! And not! You won't leave me now or ever!!!"

Rafe shouts at you and this scares you, putting you back, he approaches you to try to kiss you or hug you, but you kneel on Rafe's dick, and he falls to the floor. And you run from there. After that day, Rafe never saw you again.

Five years later

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Rafe was at the Country Club, with Topper and Kelce. Rafe didn't play golf anymore, he didn't work anymore, he didn't date anymore, and he was poorly looked after, Rafe only cared about drinking and sleeping.

"Hey man! Are you aware of the gossip?" Topper says drinking his water.

"what is it huh?" Rafe asks, drinking his whiskey as always.

"The wonderful yn, being back, married and with children"

When Topper says this, Rafe chokes on the whiskey he was drinking, he never saw you again. After the breakup, you went to Los Angeles and never responded to any of Rafe's messages.

"Married? And what do you mean with children?" Rafe asks trying to compose himself.

"and man! The girl is in luxury, her husband is a millionaire back in New York." Topper speaks, and Rafe is furious with those comments.

"so what? I'm a millionaire too" Rafe says trying to think he's better than his husband.

"Ah Rafe, let's be honest, you've run out of money and practically your father's, you haven't risen to your future friend"

Topper speaks wisely, and Rafe knew he was right and that's what you were talking about and he didn't listen and he regretted it

"you know what? I'm going to go to her" Rafe says, taking his wallet and leaving the money on the counter.

"Who she?" Topper says confused.

"the woman of my life" Rafe says looking directly into Topper's eyes.

"Man, she has two kids and a husband, do you think she's still stuck in the past?" Topper speaks leaving Rafe crestfallen, but that wouldn't stop him from going after you.

"just tell me where she is Topper!!!" Rafe yells, pulling on the ring on Topper's shirt.

"they told me she was at her old house, bro" Topper speaks in despair at his friend's desperation.

Rafe immediately gets on his bike and goes out to look for you.

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Rafe arrives at his old house, and you weren't Kook, you were Pogue, and you had a simple one.

Rafe parks his motorbike, and he sees you in the garden of the house, playing with your two young children and a dog. Rafe gets emotional at that scene, and starts to cry.

It didn't take long for you to see Rafe, and when you did, you didn't know it was Rafe, you thought he was an ordinary man, watching you and your children play.

You approach the man who was watching that scene and go to him and ask.

"Can I help you?" You ask, holding one child in your arms and another in your hand.

Rafe raises his head, and you can see better that it was the former great love of your life.

"Have I changed so much that my ex-girlfriend doesn't recognize me?"

Rafe made a light humorless joke, he was very sad but wanted to appear normal in front of you.

"oh my god! Rafe! Wow! And.... you look so... different"

You say really shocked, Rafe was really different.

"Do you want to come in? Do you want anything? We can talk, don't you think?" You ask him formally, and Rafe nods his head and nods accepting his invitation.

Rafe enters your house, and everything really was the same, everything was the same when you were dating.

"Don't fix the mess, please" you say, giving Rafe a slight smile, and you put your son in the crib and your other son on the floor to play with the cars.

"no... it's perfect. It really is beautiful" Rafe says, smiling at you too and you go to the kitchen to prepare some juice.

Rafe can't help but ask, the biggest question in his celebration.

"why did you come back....?" Rafe asks creating a tension in his words.

"I'm going to renovate this house and sell it as a beach house" you say, still smiling. Rafe couldn't believe you looked like that. Were you mad at him? I was sad? Or worse, was it over? There were many questions in Rafe's head.

"Really? You came to the Outer Banks just to sell this house?" Rafe says hoping you tell him you missed him.

"No, actually I saw it, show the beaches to my children, there in New York, we were just getting used to the cold and the city." You made it by gluing the tea to the cup for you and Rafe.

"Ah... I see... your children are cute...." Rafe says, getting confused in his answers, but he was sad and depressed.

"But what about you, Rafe Cameron? How are you? Are you still the biggest playboy in town?" You say smiling and giving him the glass of tea.

"Nah...my life is...crazy as hell" Rafe says once again scratching his head and looking down "but you're okay, right? You're already married and with kids, and from what I know the guy and one hell of a Millionaire, right?”

You noticed right away that Rafe wasn't feeling well at all, and that he was suffering from anxiety, you were angry with him, you were very young when you separated.

"Yes....I evolve in life Rafe" you say a little more intensely, without knowing the relationship as Rafe was.

"that's good! I'm very happy for you..." Rafe says with tears welling up in his eyes and you realize at some point

"Rafe? Hey! Look at me, are you crying?" You ask, putting down your tea, and moving closer to Rafe.

He lowers his head trying to hide it, but he was already sobbing.

"It was supposed to be us...it was supposed to be us, my love!" Rafe says, crying a lot and putting his hand on his face.

"Rafe...what we experienced was in the past..." You try to speak in a way that doesn't hurt him.

He shakes his head no and you sigh.

"Look....I'm sure if I didn't make mistakes with you in the past, maybe we would be a perfect family!!"

Rafe says, crying with anger, he was angry with himself for doing something horrible to you. You were speechless, you didn't know what to feel, you loved your new husband, but you loved Rafe... regardless of everything.

"I love you! My life turned into hell when you left it" Rafe says, grabbing your face and getting closer to his "I fell into drugs and drinks, I never felt attracted to you again no woman , I lost my inheritance, I'm running out of YN..."

"Rafe..." Just as you were about to start talking to Rafe, someone interrupted.

"Honey, I'm here!" Her husband speaks, opening the door and finding Rafe beside her.

"Oh dear!" You speak completely unprepared, you didn't realize that it was time for your husband to arrive. Rafe's face changes to hatred and contempt

Your husband drops his suit on the chair and approaches you, giving you a peck on the lips and then holding your waist. When Rafe saw that, all he could think about was pain and suffering.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, my dear?" Your husband encourages you to talk about Rafe and you swallow hard.

"this one is Rafe Cameron, my old.... friend" you say with a heavy heart. And that hurts Rafe a lot.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Rafe" her husband raises his hand to greet Rafe, only for Rafe to leave abruptly "What did I do wrong?" Your husband asks confused.

You run after Rafe, and it was starting to rain. You keep running Rafe, who was heading towards his bike.

"Rafe! Stop! Stop! Please listen to me!" You say, grabbing his arm and trying to turn him around to make him face you.

"Stop what?! Hu?! My life is shit because of you! And you're making it worse!!"

Rafe shouts in your face, as the rain starts to get heavier.

"You betrayed me, Rafe!!! It's not my fault that your life is horrible!!!" You respond by screaming and pushing his chest

Rafe laughs without humor

"oh and? You have the husband of your dreams, a house of your dreams, you have two children and a dog, your life is wonderful!!"

Rafe says, making you so angry that you end up slapping him in the face.

"I was supposed to do this five years ago!"

When you turn to go back to your house, Rafe ends up pulling you and kissing you intensely.

The kiss had passion, anger, sadness, longing, desire, it had emotions, and that kiss was a sudden goodbye between Rafe and you.

You stop kissing and look at each other, and your look says everything Rafe wanted to know. You were married to a wonderful man and a millionaire, you had two children and a dog, you already had a life Formed. Rafe, on the other hand, had drugs and drinks. And you couldn't let go of that, for Rafe, unfortunately.

Rafe immediately understands that and he nods, understanding what you meant.

"Goodbye Rafe Cameron..."

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