#and she tells me what to think and do and say (she shows me all the clever critical readings)

[shawtuzi]

i’m currently reading the reverb series by the amazing, talented, incredible @chrollohearttags and now i can’t stop thinking about musician!eren *cries*

cw include: no plot whatsoever literally just nasty sex, reader is kinda obsessed w him, drug usage (weed), riding, reader has megan knees, pussydrunk eren, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), multiple orgasms, eren lowkey falls in love w reader shes that good man idk

the sound of skin slapping and your whiny moans could throughout eren’s tour bus—not even the rap music playing in the background from the stereo could tune you two out unfortunately.

“f-fuck m’nutting againnn!” you squealed out, your hand slapping against the blacked out window. eren took an extra long hit of the blunt perched between his fingers, his brows scrunching in pure bliss. his free hand was gripping onto the fat of your ass, whatever strength he had was being used to help move you up and down.

he couldn’t help but moan when you smushed your lips against his, inhaling the bitter smoke from his blunt. “your dick is even better than i imagined w-when i—hah! touched myself,” your words were slurred as you spoke, a tiny giggle following. all eren could do was nod and bite his lip. my mans was lost in the sauce, pussydrunk as fuck!

you drained his balls three times; once from head and the other two from riding him like a fucking madwoman. you didn’t even give him a break to catch his breath either, no no you were determined to leave this man a drooling mess! that way he’ll be more likely to give you call whenever he’s in your city again hehe

“you’re fuckin’ crazy,” his voice was low when he spoke, boarder line growling out the words. his head pathetically fell backwards with a lil thud, this gave you the perfect opportunity to start kissing and sucking at his neck. normally he’d tell you to back the hell up and not leave any evidence, but hey, with pussy that good you could do whatever you wanted with him.

you warm, gummy walls hugged his dick so nicely he was actually about to start tweaking out. “w-why *huff* why’re you fuckin’ me like that, goddamn girl,” eren grunted, swatting your ass three times. you slowed down your pace until you stopped completely, his balls now sitting snugly against your ass.

you cocked your head at him, a dopey smile making its way onto your lips. “well ain’t it obvious ren? i’m your biggest fan,” you pointed to your left breast where eren had signed his name in sharpie, it was a tad streaky now due to your current activities but it still looked hot as fuck. “and as your biggest fan i wanna see you every time you touch down in my city ‘kay?” you began to circle your hips and that had eren’s lashes fluttering.

eren damn near dropped the blunt when you reached behind you to squeeze at his swollen balls, which were already more than ready to fill you up with his cum again. oh yeah! did i mention he’s hitting it rawww? yeah you’re that good.

“yeah, yeah i’ll hit you up. on my life i will,” his sentence trailed off as you pushed your chest into his face, suffocating him in literally the best way possible. you plucked the blunt from his fingers and took a couple hits before setting it aside—you’d be damned if he forgot how to work his limbs and burn you!

“i really mean it when i say m’your biggest fan—mmph! i-i jus’ happen to fuck good too,” you adjusted your position before bouncing on his dick once more. you left out the part where you quite literally practiced this exact encounter on your favorite dildo.

eren’s nostrils flared as he looked at the mess between your bodies, it was beautiful. he never knew someone could make such a mess out of him yet here he was, drool nearly slipping past his kiss bitten lips as you brought him closer and closer to his fourth orgasm of the night.

“i just wanted to take care of you after your show, you work so hard renny ‪‪❤︎‬.” renny? you had nicknames for him already? fuck, he was so close to cumming what was even happening anymore?

eren felt like the air got punched out of his chest when you halted your movements, you looked at him with what he could’ve swore were hearts in your eyes. “did you hear me renny?”

eren’s adams apple bobbed when he swallowed, he licked his lips and nodded. “yeah i heard you, baby. so sweet for taking care of renny like that,” he couldn’t even believe what he was saying right now—this had to be his dick talking for him.

his head tilted back when you starting moving again, this time you had a little swivel in your hips that had his abs clenching. “god i’m finna—” eren bucked his hips up desperately to reach his high, it was just in his grasp. when he came it was earth shattering to say the least, and you just kept on going, milking him for everything he was worth.

thick, opaque globs of his cum dripped from your pussy and onto his thighs, creating an even bigger mess. “so good ren,” you muttered, licking up his neck until you reached his lips. “sure fuckin’ is,” eren hummed into the kiss, his tatted hand coming up to wrap around your throat.

sometime later . . . .

“what the actual fuck is taking him so long in there? he never takes this long with the other ‘fans’,” jean sighed, beyond irritated as him and the rest of eren’s security waited outside of the rocking tour bus. loud moans could be heard from inside, along with the occasional slap.

“fuck it i’m calling him,” jean growled, whipping out his phone to chew eren thee fuck out. surprisingly the call went through, unfortunately for jean eren wasn’t about to stop what he was doing in that moment to give him his full attention, hence why skin slapping could be heard on the line. “what do you want,” eren’s words were slurred as he spoke, almost as if he was actually fucking drunk!

he currently had you in backshots, both of your hands being held back by his larger one. his emerald eyes zoomed in on the way your pussy pulled him back each time he pulled out, what a pretty little sight.

“you need to hurry it the fuck up, we have a flight to catch in an hour! wrap it up er—”

“i don’t wanna hear none of that,” was all eren said before hanging up and tossing his phone to the side. no fucking way was eren about to stop now, not when his new, pretty lil fan girl was so close to cumming!

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[katsu28]

love you always

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando plans a series of surprises for you on valentine's day. (2.4k)

a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!! here's something sweet <3 believe it or not it's 3AM and i wrote this all in one go so if you see any errors no you don't ;)

The surprises start first thing in the morning. 

Lando is up and out of the house for training long before you even stir, but made sure you woke up to something nice. When you shuffle out to the kitchen in much need of coffee to get your day going, you’re pleasantly surprised by a full pot of the good coffee made with beans you’ve always saved for special occasions, and pastries from your favorite bakery. 

A little note beside the box of mouthwatering baked goods reads a message from your boyfriend. 

happy valentine’s day, my love. sorry i couldn’t be there when you woke up, but i hope these make you smile. be on the lookout for more surprises today <3 love you always - LN 

The second surprise is waiting for you when you make your way to work. You’ve barely just walked into the office when you’re approached by Cass, one of your closest work friends. 

“Girl, you are one lucky bitch. I’d die if my man got me something like that,” She gushes, eyes gleaming. You squint at her in confusion.

“Sorry, what?” You say, unsure. She just smiles knowingly, tilting her head towards your cubicle. It isn’t until you lay eyes on your desk that you see what she’s talking about. 

A giant bouquet of red roses with baby’s breath scattered amongst the bunch sits on your chair, wrapped in colorful paper and tied together with a string. Nestled in it is another note from Lando, this one with the message embossed on crisp cardstock—

told you i’d have more surprises :) if i know you (and i’m pretty sure i do), you’re too caught up with the roses to notice the other thing, so look on your desk. maybe wear it tonight? love you always - LN

Lando is right, you hadn’t noticed the small box sitting right in the middle of your desk, seemingly nothing until you open it carefully.

A necklace sparkles out at you—a pendant of your birthstone, hanging on a delicate chain. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and another beautiful necklace to add to the ever growing collection of jewelry Lando’s gifted you in your time together. 

Wear it tonight. 

There was no doubt that Lando had planned a date for tonight, but you’d been unsuccessful in weaseling any details out of him these past few days leading up to today. 

“Can you just tell me what you’ve got planned?” You whine, pouting over at Lando where he’s putting away his shirts in the wardrobe. “Like, what restaurant are we going to?”

“Um, no.” He shoots you a look that screams judgement, but you know it’s all in good nature. “That would completely ruin the surprise.” 

“But I need to figure out what I’m going to wear,” You reason, sitting up quickly. Lando pins you to the spot with another disapproving look that you ignore, digging in your metaphorical heels. “What if I show up looking like an absolute slob because you didn’t tell me it was somewhere fancy? That would be your fault, not mine.” 

Lando finishes his task, coming over to the bed where you’re sat cross-legged, and props himself up on his elbows right in front of you. “First of all, you never look like a slob. Even when you’re on the last day of your hair wash cycle and you’ve just come back from a run, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“That’s disgusting, but…oddly sweet of you.” 

“Second of all,” He says pointedly, poking you in the leg for interrupting him, “If I tell you where I’ve made reservations, you’ll spend all day thinking about it and you’ll freak yourself out like you tend to do. So no, I’m not telling you what I’ve got planned.” 

Well, no one can ever say Lando doesn’t know you. He knows you too well, really. Knows your tendencies, exactly what’ll be running through your mind.  

“I hate how perfect you are,” You sniff, wrinkling your nose at him. 

“Yeah, I love you too, baby.” 

You know Lando is probably busy with training so you don’t call him, but you do shoot him a thank you text, to which he returns with a whole slew of love related emojis. 

You’re not usually one to enjoy being showered with gifts, but the fact that he’s planned all these surprises to make sure you know he’s thinking of you has butterflies fluttering in your chest. 

Lando never ceases to make you feel so loved, all the time, even when he’s not physically there with you. 

You’re hard at work when your Cass calls your name around noon, drawing you out of your focus. 

“Hey, there’s a food delivery person asking for you at the front desk.” 

“Are you sure? I didn’t order anything,” You reply, brows creased in curiosity. 

You hadn’t ordered anything, but thinking about food makes you realize you’d completely forgotten to pack your lunch before you’d left the house this morning. Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing it in the fridge on the shelf where it usually is. 

She shrugs. “They’re asking for you.”

You thank Cass quickly, making your way to the lobby to meet the delivery person. 

“Hi!” You say politely. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I didn’t order anything. Maybe you’ve got the wrong address?”

One look at the restaurant name on the bag almost has you taking back your words, because it’s from your favorite little cafe in the city, and if you take a deep enough breath, you can almost smell the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the paper bag. 

The poor delivery driver looks as puzzled as you feel. She blinks, looking at something on her phone before tilting her head. “Uh, I don’t think so? The system said the order was placed by a Bob N? Do you know a Bob that would order takeaway to this address?” 

You have to fight the urge to laugh. Of course it was Lando who’d ordered takeaway. Another Valentine’s Day surprise for you, it seems. 

“Wow, I’m so sorry for the confusion. My boyfriend, he must’ve had it sent here without letting me know,” You explain, feeling your cheeks blaze warm. “Yes, it’s for me.” 

“Oh my god, that’s so cute! Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She gushes, passing over the bag.

“Yeah, he is,” You chuckle. “Thank you so much, have a great day! Sorry again for the mix up.” 

“You too, happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Upon opening the bag when you get back to your desk, you see something tucked in beside the takeaway container. Yet another note, not printed nor in his handwriting, so he’d probably made a special request for the restaurant to write it. 

hope you’re hungry! enjoy your lunch, baby. day’s halfway over, see you soon <3 love you always - Bob

This time, you do call Lando as you munch on your food. 

“Hi, baby!” You chirp happily. 

“Hey, you,” He greets back, sounding glad to hear your voice. He always does whenever you give him a ring. “What’s up?” 

“How’d you know I’d forgotten my lunch?” 

“What? You did? No way!” Lando sounds a little too smug to be innocent, and it isn’t hard to connect the dots now. 

You chuckle, a little disbelieved. “Did you seriously hide my lunch just so you could have takeaway delivered to my office?” 

“I did no such thing. Did I accidentally toss it out whilst I was taking out the rubbish last night? Maybe. But we’ll never know, will we?” 

“Sure we won’t. Thank you, by the way. I’ve been craving this all week.” 

“I know. Heard you muttering about it in your sleep the other night. Fuckin’ weirdo.” You can almost imagine him grinning that big toothy smile of his that you love, shaking his head at you. “Anyways, good news. I managed to convince Jon to let me off early today, so I can pick you up from work.” 

“Really? How’d you swing that?” 

“Might’ve let it slip I’ve got something special planned for us tonight and he caved. That man is such a sucker for love, it’s crazy.” 

“So you’ll tell your trainer what we’re doing tonight, but you won’t tell me? That’s messed up, Norris,” You say teasingly. He laughs. 

“Well, he’s not the one I’m trying to surprise, you muppet. You’ll find out soon enough, don’t you worry,” Lando tuts. You hear someone say something on his end of the line that Lando gives a muffled reply to, but he’s back before you know it. “M’sorry, I gotta get back to it. I’ll see you at five?” 

“I’ll be waiting. Tell Jon I say hi and thanks for giving you some freedom today. Love you always!” 

“Love you always.” 

-------

The rest of the workday goes by without any more Lando surprises, but you’re still nearly buzzing with energy because of the fact you get to see him earlier than you’d expected. After a long day of work, your wonderful boyfriend is just what you need. 

You see him through the doors before he sees you. He’s leaning against the side of his sleek Porsche, cap backwards on his head as he squints through the waning sunlight in search of you and looking unfairly handsome while doing so. You even pause to snap a sneaky photo of him because he just looks so good. 

When you finally exit the building, Lando beams, holding a hand up in greeting. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiles, leaning in for a kiss as soon as you get within arms’ length of him. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you too, Lan.” You mean it. Even though you’ve only been apart for a workday, he’s been on your mind throughout it. You don’t know how you survive race weeks without being with him all the time. 

“Ready to go home?” 

“Never been more ready. Maybe I’ll worm some information about tonight out of you on the way.” 

“Sneaky girl. Right, I’ll tell you this, it’s a nice restaurant. Somewhere we’ve been before.” 

“But not my favorite restaurant, because you already got me food from there today.” 

“Observant, aren’t you? No, not that one.” He opens the passenger side door for you to get in and you do, wracking your brain for any idea of where Lando would be taking you in a few hours. “Alright, don’t think too hard about it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself now.” 

“Rude.” 

“Look, is it alright for me to lightly suggest what I think you could wear?” He asks, pulling out of the car park and onto the road. You shoot him a look that tells him to be careful, but still nod slowly. “That dress that I like. The swishy one with the thin straps that make your boobs look—” 

“Lando.” 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little carried away,” He says sheepishly. “But yeah, that one would be perfect.” 

“That’s a nice one,” You hum, tilting your head in thought. “You’ve got good taste after all.” 

“Um, yeah, I know. I bought it.” 

-------

You’ve got on the dress that Lando suggested, but there’s one thing you always forget about this specific one. The zipper on the back is near impossible for you to get all the way up on your own. No matter how hard you try, you’ve always had to get Lando to help you that last bit. 

“Lan, could you c’mere a second?” You call down the corridor. Footsteps echo right away, and then he’s in the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his dress shirt with intense focus. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Could you zip me?” 

“Could I—oh, fuck.” 

You make eye contact in the mirror in front of you and Lando freezes right where he is, mouth ajar, blinking at you like he can’t believe you’re real and in front of him. 

“Help?” You urge, fighting an amused smile at how absolutely floored he looks. 

He gives his head a shake, rushing over to help you. Shaky fingers slide the delicate zipper up until it’s good. “Sorry, I just—every time you wear that dress I think I forget how to breathe a little bit.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

“You should be. Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” His gaze flits to your necklace, the new one you’d gotten today, and his mouth curves into a smile. “That’s a nice one. Wonder who got it for you?” 

“My boyfriend, actually. Dunno if you know him, but he’s kinda the best. Massive forehead though.” 

“Oh, you’re funny,” He huffs, nose wrinkling in overdramatic offense that makes you giggle. “Kiss?” 

“You’d have my lipstick all over your mouth.” 

“Does it look like I care? I wanna kiss you.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you let him kiss you. While you’re expecting a short kiss, Lando takes it a step further, two hands sliding behind you to dip you backwards a little bit to deepen it. To say you’re taken by surprise is a slight understatement, but you go with what he’s doing. 

You kiss him until you’re breathless, pulling back with a hand splayed over his chest. 

Lando grins goofily with lipstick smudges all over his mouth. “Totally worth it,” He says, looking absolutely giddy.

Once you’ve reapplied what had rubbed off on Lando, you’re off through the city in Lando’s favorite car. The more familiar your surroundings get, the more you realize where he’s taking you, and your suspicions are concerned when he pulls up to the valet. 

The restaurant where you’d had your first date. 

Lando always tells you how he’d known he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with you on that first date, even before your entrees came. You always tell him you’d known it then too. 

“Did I do good?” He asks hopefully, holding out his elbow for you to loop your arm through as soon as he’s helped you out of the car.

“You did perfect, Lan. I might cry, actually.” 

“No, don’t do that! You’ll mess up your mascara and then you’ll look like a raccoon for the rest of the night.” 

You scoff lightly, successfully blinking back tears. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

“We would not. Though I’d still think you were the cutest raccoon out of all the raccoons.” 

“You’re so dumb. I love you.” 

“Love you, babe. Always.” 

A nice dinner at a restaurant dear to your heart with the love of your life. It’s all you could’ve asked for, and Lando has gone beyond that to show you how much he loves you. 

On a Valentine’s Day full of wonderful surprises, this is the best one of all.

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[mercurymentality]

AHHH !!!! THIS !! THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS !!! I AM CONSTANTLY SHOUTING THIS AT THE ROOFTOPS. i find myself arguing for the natural world time and time again, even to people that ARE acquainted with it (this case in particular with things like wasps, mosquitos, common nuisance or ‘scary’ creatures).

for a long specific example, a couple months ago i had an argument with my partner’s best friend’s fiancé. she’s vegetarian/pescatarian. we were all in discord & i mentioned how i wanted to learn how to skin an animal. she was absolutely disgusted with me & we got into it & at the end of the day she believes any situation of killing & eating an animal is bad because it feels pain and there is no ethical way to do it. i brought up how bugs and fish feel pain but she doesn’t have a problem with squishing a bug or eating a fish. she disagreed with me and quoted “science”. GIRL. OUT OF US TWO WHO IS THE ONE READING THE MORE SCIENTIFIC PAPERS ABOUT NATURE & ECOLOGY???? oh is it perhaps ME??? where’s your papers? did you make an annotated bibliography on it??? are you aware that not all published papers are proof or telling you the truth? because at the end of the day the scientific world is also run on MONEY so i won’t delve into all of the issues of the scientific publishing world. what i’m getting at is show me how you’ve come to discern this. i’m willing to listen, but you can’t quote that science says so when you haven’t even done a cursory scroll through something like google scholar.

i got into it further & explained how i believe even plants have some level of consciousness & feeling of pain but how it isn’t necessarily comparable to the way we experience it. & with the vast RANGE of creatures & how they experience life, i do not find myself the arbiter of who deserves to die & get eaten. everything must eat and everything must die (((she had the audacity to argue that our teeth aren’t evolved to eat meat,, AHH))).

there is no escaping causing some amount of pain in the world, whether it be to your fellow human or some other creature. i’m sorry. i believe it is good to think about how you are causing pain & making decisions to cause less. i don’t mind that she doesn’t want to eat meat, i’m not trying to force her. we do treat livestock in utterly fucked up ways & there is so much wrong with our current food systems, but there’s also so much wrong with how we treat our fellow humans. there’s a lot of fucked up shit going on!! if you don’t want to eat meat in order to boycott that, i think that’s cool. i’m not going to stop eating meat, for various reasons (one being my difficulty with eating in general) and i don’t think that necessarily makes you better than me. i want you to stop acting that because you’re willing to eat a fish over a cow (creating this animal hierarchy of “worthiness of life”) that you are inherently more good and ethical than me. that you are the knower of truth in what is right. you’re not.

now as i was saying i would love to learn to hunt & skin an animal. i want to feel the connection it brings. i like to provide care to the dead. i like to thank them for meeting me in this moment. i don’t think that makes me bad. is anyone willing to teach me?

It's always so weird to come down from the biology heavens to see what the average person believes about animals, plants, ecosystems, just the world around them. I don't even mean things that one simply doesn't know because they've never been told or things that are confusing, I'm talking about people who genuinely do not see insects as animals. What are you saying. Every time I see a crawling or fluttering little guy I know that little guy has motivations and drive to fulfill those motivations. There are gears turning in their head! They are perceiving this world and they are drawing conclusions, they are conscious. And yet it's still a whole thing if various bugs of the world feel pain or if they are simply Instinct Machines that are Not Truly Aware of Anything At All????? Help!!!!!! How can you look at a little guy and think he is just the macroscopic animal version of a virus

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect (Part 2)

Tell me it's all wrong 'til it gets to me

Some inspo from this brainworm

Word count: 4k

Warnings: g!p reader, Agatha is even meaner, degradation kink, humiliation kink, titjob, oral, reader once again is a walking HR violation, slight praise kink, one spank, fingering, sex, think this is it?

“Everyone have a good night?” Rio asks the next morning during breakfast. 

You’re spooning vanilla yogurt into a bowl and trying not to think about how much it reminds you of your cum dripping out of Agatha’s pussy. “I had a great night,” you answer, feeling everyone’s eyes turn to you, especially Agatha, who’s standing right next to you. “Um, yeah, Agatha and I actually had sex.” 

Rio snorts, as do a few other people in the room. You’ve gotten so used to no one taking you seriously that you like to play around and see what you can get away with. Whether it’s a truth or a lie, they don’t care because you blur the lines so often.

If only they knew how true that was, though. 

“So classy,” Rio says and you can almost hear her roll her eyes before she leaves the buffet to go find a table.

“Oh, don’t worry!” you call after her. “Agatha really liked it. It was all her idea.” Rio doesn’t even look back. If you weren’t the boss’s daughter, you’re sure you would’ve been fired at least four dozen times from just this summer. 

Agatha remains unfazed as she snatches the yogurt spoon from your hand. “You fucking wish. Never in a million years,” she retorts calmly and you giggle. 

She spends the rest of the day seemingly trying to get you back for that stunt: she salaciously licks yogurt off the spoon. She wears a shirt that dips a little too low and shows off the edge of her red bra. She looks up at you through her perfect eyelashes when you ask her if you can sit next to her at the table and she laughs cruelly after she says no. 

Or she’s doing everything she usually does and you’re just reading into it because you’re obsessed with her.

But when you find her in the pool alone after breakfast, wearing a two piece black bikini, it’s hard to believe that she’s not at least teasing you a little. You stand on the edge absolutely agape, your cock making an obvious tent in your pants. She smirks and gets out and walks over to you.

Water droplets cascade down the smooth expanse of her pale stomach and your mouth runs dry. You can see her nipples through her wet top and heat flashes through your body. Your head starts to spin. 

You whisper her name before she flicks water on your shirt and reaches down to pat your cock roughly. Your hips jolt forward and a muffled groan leaves your mouth and she snickers. 

“I’m surprised that didn’t make you cum,” she says but her tone makes it clear that she's still holding out hope you’ll embarrass yourself again.

“Built up my stamina these past few nights,” you retort. 

She scoffs. “Yeah, you really showed me yesterday. How long did you last? Not even a second?” 

“Okay, maybe the first time, but can you blame me after how worked up I was? And I lasted longer the second time,” you protest and she mockingly pouts. 

“Aw, poor you,” she tuts and you hate how it goes right to your cock. Her gaze drops down again to watch you strain more against your pants and there’s a devilish glint in her eyes when she looks back up. “I was right, you know. I knew you wouldn’t be able to last, I knew you were too fucking incompetent. You’re more pathetic than a common whore.” 

You whimper and clutch onto her arm with tight fingers because it’s the only way you can resist touching herself. 

She regards you pawing at her with the utmost disgust. “You’re so fucking dirty,” she snarls and heat swirls around your head and your knees almost buckle. Your cock is pulsing, growing, swelling—she’s going to get exactly what she wants. She knows it too. 

“Fuck, Agatha, please—” Your whines are pitiful and desperate and you look at her with the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster. 

Her voice lowers even more. “God, look at you. What a fucking embarrassment.” 

Your stomach muscles tighten. 

“What would your dad think if he saw you like this?” 

You hump nothing and hiss at the feeling of the rough fabric against your erection and her smile is wicked.

“What would any of them think if they saw you drooling over a woman twice your age? If they saw you harder than a teenager just because I told you how pathetic you are? You’re nothing more than a bitch in heat, are you?”

Agatha cups your cheek with a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to her words and you buck your hips again. The sounds falling from your mouth are weak and pleading and you think she’s about to finish you off. 

“You know,” she muses, tone now sweet as honey, “I better go get changed before we have to do whatever your dad has on the schedule for today. But you…you look a little hot right now. I think you need to cool off.” 

Before you can ask what she means—or ask for her to touch you—she grabs your arms, whirls you around, and gently shoves you. 

It feels like you’re falling backwards in slow motion and you feel your jaw drop as you watch her smile. 

You hit the water and you instantly recoil, the cold doing wonders to sober you up. Your erection has practically disappeared by the time you break the surface, gasping for air. 

“What the fuck?” you splutter and she tosses her head back with a laugh. 

Agatha finally shrugs when she stops cackling and you wade to the stairs, teeth chattering. Your clothes are clinging to your shivering body but she just watches in amusement. 

“Wanda!” you shout and your personal assistant comes running out from the house. Her green eyes widen when she sees you in the pool. “Can you get me a towel?” 

Agatha rolls her eyes as Wanda nods quickly. “Of course. Anything else?” 

You shake your head and she speeds off. 

“You don’t need her to tie your shoes?” Agatha quips and you grumble at her to shut up. Your family is rich—of course you’re used to the teasing about having assistants. Even as an intern at the company, you’ve delegated far too much of your work to Wanda and she always does it with no complaints. You’re betting the six figure salary your father pays her keeps her content. 

Wanda comes back with a towel and you snatch it from her when you finally get out of the pool. Agatha walks away without giving you another glance and you can’t help but feel rejected. 

She barely even looks at you the rest of the morning and then your dad calls his executive staff into a meeting for the whole afternoon so you lay on your bed, bored out of your mind. It’s the last day of the vacation and of course he wants to spend it getting ready for the next quarter. 

It’s tempting to jack off or to use the flashlight that’s sitting in your nightstand drawer, and you do try, but neither your hand nor the toy even comes close to how Agatha’s cunt feels so you give up with a huff. 

That night, you go to her room in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You’re not willing to take the chance that she’ll come to yours because you don’t actually know what’s going on between you. She is so fucking confusing. 

You flirt with her, she always shoots you down, and then she makes you fuck a fleshlight before she takes your virginity? The point of it was to prove that you wouldn’t last inside her, and she was technically correct. So does that mean this is all over?

Not if you have anything to say about it. And there was her stunt by the pool earlier, so clearly she’s not done yet either. 

Knocking rhythmically and quietly on her door, you keep your eyes peeled down the hallway just to make sure no one sees. You joking about having sex with general counsel might be fine because no one believes you, but it would be much harder to cover this up.

Agatha opens it a few moments later in a matching purple pajama set and lets out an exasperated sigh. Her glasses are pushed up on her forehead and you can see her laptop on her bed. 

You slip past her into the room without waiting for her approval and make a beeline for the scotch, pouring yourself two fingers of it. 

“Come back for more humiliation?” she taunts and you feel your stomach twist. “Think you’re a big girl because you managed to stick your cock into one person one time?” 

“You know,” you say, draining a glass without even wincing at the burn of the alcohol and turning around to point at her, “that was all your idea. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me just as much as I want you.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and her gaze drops to the tent in your boxers. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she retorts dryly. 

You put the glass down and start to advance as she stands her ground firmly. “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t even have to come to my room the first night. But you did. And I know how affected you were last night, you were fucking enjoying yourself.” 

She laughs cynically and rolls her eyes. “Please, honey, I’ve had better sex with my vibrator.” Ignoring the way that causes more blood to rush south—because now you’re thinking about her moaning loudly while falling apart holding a toy against her clit—you smirk. 

“Then why did you fuck me?” 

Her face twitches and she jerks her head to the side. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.” 

You’d ask again if there was anything on your mind other than your throbbing cock and her hot cunt so you tear off your shirt, shove off your boxers, and jump on top of the covers. Your cock is standing straight up, oozing precum onto your stomach and twitching against nothing. 

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” Agatha hisses and you hump the air, a strangled whimper leaving your mouth. “All it takes is a few words and you’re leaking for me.” 

She unbuttons her blouse again and you don’t think you’ll ever get bored of the sight of her tits, perky and supple and rose-colored nipples that you need in your mouth. She slides down her shorts and your breathing quickens, feeling heat flush through your neck and upper chest. 

“Agatha, please,” you whine. Agatha scoffs and climbs on the bed next to you on her knees and slips a hand between her legs. You stare, open-mouthed, panting, as she works at her clit. “Wait…can I?” 

Her hips jolt and you think you can hear her groan through her clamped lips. “You want to—what? Fumble around incompetently? Think you can even find my clit?” 

You nod urgently while your cock pulses and another spurt of precum dribbles out. “I want to, please,” you gasp, “I want to taste you.” 

“Fine. Try not to cum immediately again,” she snaps without any of her usual bite and moves so she’s laying next to you, her legs spread open. 

Situating yourself, you feel the air get kicked out of you when you get your first good look at her pussy. 

Agatha is fucking soaked. Her cunt glistens, lips swollen and pink and almost fused together, and you can see her clit peeking out at the top. Your mouth is watering and your cock gets harder if possible. You can’t resist lowering your hips to the bed so you can get some pressure on it. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe in awe. “You’re so wet.” 

“Are you actually going to do anything or just stare?” she says, tone laced with venom. “Maybe you should call your assistant, I know she does everything else for you cause you’re too incompetent.” 

You whimper and grind onto the bed, cock throbbing, shaking your head with wide eyes. You can do this.  

She purses her lips. “That’s too bad. She could probably actually get me to cum.” 

Heat tears through you and you surge forward with a vengeance, licking roughly up her cunt and she hisses before roughly grabbing your hair. 

“Slow down,” she barks and you mumble an apology before flattening your tongue and gently dragging it through her folds. “Better.” 

You say something that’s muffled by her pussy and you hump the bed faster because she squeaks when you rub your tongue against her clit. 

She swears under her breath and you can’t even focus anymore because of the dizziness in your head and the aching in your cock. The taste of her has overwhelmed your mouth and your nose and you’re sloppily devouring her while she tries and fails to stop her hips from rolling. 

“I can’t—fuck—Agatha, I’m gonna—” You can feel your stomach tightening, can feel your cock pulsing, and you know you’re about to cum from grinding on the bed and eating her out. 

Instead of mocking you, she growls and yanks you up by the hair until you’re practically straddling her stomach. Tendrils of precum pool on her skin and you swallow roughly. 

“Since you’re going to be fucking useless until you get off,” she sighs and grips your hips to pull you up even higher. Your cock drags against her, leaving a sticky trail in your wake and you have to put a hand out on the headboard to catch yourself when you realize what she’s doing. 

Your cock rests between her tits and she lifts her head up to spit on you and your hips jerk forward. The mess of her saliva and your precum is driving you absolutely crazy and you begin rutting against her. 

Her fingers dig into your ass and help you move and your cock fits perfectly in the crook between her boobs. You hold onto the headboard, panting while you look down at her, and there’s a heat in her eyes that you only see at work—when she gets exactly what she wants. 

“God, you’re pathetic,” she says without any of her usual malice. The pink from her cheeks has spread down her chin and to her upper chest that your cock is dragging against. “Can’t do anything for yourself so you need me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you choke out, your thrusts becoming shorter. The stickiness is making you throb and your grunts get louder.

Agatha spanks you and you shudder, your cock pumping out a spurt of precum, and then she lets go of your ass to push her breasts together so her soft, supple tits are wrapped around your hard cock and you sharply inhale. 

But then she leans down and flicks her tongue out against the tip of your cock and you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck—I can’t—fuck,” you babble before your cock explodes, drenching the bottom of her face and the top of her chest in white. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of your seed on her skin and the sight of her covered in you makes one last strand of cum squirt out. 

You slouch back while your cock twitches and Agatha drags two fingers through the mess on her clavicle before stuffing them in your mouth. She looks delighted when you make a surprised sound before grabbing your hair and pulling you down and making you clean up your cum. 

“Good girl,” she purrs when you’re all done and then nudges you back down between her legs. The praise makes your stomach grow warm—apparently you like that just as much as the degradation. “Think you can focus now?” 

Nodding eagerly, you look at her pussy and your mouth falls open. She’s dripping onto the bed, folds spread open, and you can see her throbbing. 

This time, there’s no hesitation in putting your mouth on her and you moan lasciviously at her taste. Your eyes dart up to watch her face as you dip your tongue inside her and curl it and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. 

But then you lick back up and suck on her clit and she can’t help the audible groan that escapes her. The sound makes your cock pulse and you can already feel yourself starting to grow hard again. 

“Keep doing that,” she orders and you double your efforts, lashing your tongue against her clit and then sucking and her head falls back. “Two fingers inside me, now.” 

Her walls instantly bear down around you and you whimper, the vibrations making her hips roll. She is so warm and so hot and you never want to leave her cunt. 

“Fuck me harder, god, you’re useless,” she hisses but it quickly turns into another moan when you thrust in deeply and curl them until you find the spot that makes her clench. Your slurping noises, along with her sounds of pleasure, are going straight to your cock and you start to grind against the bed gently for some stimulation. 

“You like this,” you say into her cunt and she violently shakes her head while beginning to ride your face and fingers. Her walls are gripping you, trying to drag you in as deep as you can go, and you can feel every ridge and groove when you fuck her. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me.” 

She yanks on your hair and you moan. “Stop fucking talking,” she seethes and you chuckle, the vibrations reverbrating against her pussy and making her whimper. You think she might actually be getting somewhere. “Good thing I brought my vibrator because I’m going to be needing it after you—fuck—”

You suck on her clit roughly and her voice breaks off. She’s grinding harder on you, drenching your face and fingers, and she’s fucking panting. So are you, right against her pussy and your stomach flexes to keep your steady rhythm of humping the bed going strong. Your jaw and wrist are burning but from the way she’s clenching furiously around your fingers, she’s getting close. 

And you know that if you stop right now, Agatha would never let it go. 

So you keep doing exactly what you’re doing and her hips start to falter and her breathing gets heavier. 

“God, you’re such a slut, whoring yourself out to a woman twice your age,” she groans. “You’re so pathetic, fuck—”

Her hands scramble and tug on your hair and you’re about to make a snarky comment on how she’s just so desperate for your cum when she grabs onto your hard and leaking cock and angles it at her entrance. 

You barely have time to breathe before her legs hook around your waist. “Don’t you dare cum,” she warns and you huff out a laugh before pushing into her wet cunt. 

Agatha’s walls grip your cock and you freeze, your head dropping down to rest on her tits and you pant open-mouthed against her skin before sucking on her nipple. Her hips arch up to get you deeper inside and you let out a lewd moan. She feels so good and you can feel her throb around you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your cock twitching. It’s such a different angle from her being on top of you and you love it. You start to move slowly, just to hold off your impending orgasm. 

You can see everything—the way her tits bounce with each thrust, the way her hair is sprawled out underneath her, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest, the bulge your cock makes in her stomach. 

“Agatha, Agatha, fuck, please, I’m gonna—fuck, please, I can’t,” you cry, your cock pulsing rapidly inside her. She clenches around you with each thrust and she bites her bottom lip roughly to control her sounds. 

“Wait, just wait, don’t cum yet,” she groans, strangled and needy, and you know you’re about to cum but you’re desperate to make her cum before you do. 

So you reach between your bodies and find her clit and furiously start to rub at it and she moans. “Tell me,” you order, “tell me that I’m making you feel good.” 

She laughs breathlessly. “You think because you’re on top, you’re in charge? Honey, you can’t do anything without me. You’re so pathetic that you only get this hard for me, right? Tell me that.” Her words are getting tighter and you duck back down to swirl your tongue around her nipple. 

“Just you, Agatha,” you murmur and she shivers from your hot breath. Tension is building in your cock and your stomach and your back and you thrust harder because you need her to cum. “I only want you, fuck, it’s always been you.” 

And then she keens, eyes rolling back in her head, and her cunt spasms around you. You feel a gush of wetness and you groan weakly before pumping her full of thick, hot cum. She gasps when she feels your seed paint her walls white and you collapse on top of her while your cock spurts out a few more loads into her. 

“You finally did one thing right,” she quips after a few moments and you laugh before nipping at the curvature of her breasts. 

“That’s the best performance review I’ve ever gotten,” you say, and once you’re fully soft, you pull out of her and sit up on your knees to spread her folds open. 

Your cum oozes out and your cock twitches at the sight and she gasps and squirms. She reaches down and swipes through the mess leaking out of her and then shoves her fingers into your mouth. 

The taste of both of you makes you whimper and she swallows roughly. You move back down of your own accord and slowly drag your tongue through her folds, getting your mixture all over your mouth. You steadily clean your cum out of her while holding eye contact and her struggle to remain composed would make you hard again if you hadn’t already cum twice in the span of about fifteen minutes. 

You make sure to lick her clit a few times and she writhes underneath you, stifling her sighs. Her cunt is a mess by the time you’re done, swollen and pink and still wet and she tugs you away because the stimulation has finally gotten to be too much. 

Flopping onto the bed next to her, you lick your lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss Agatha. You turn to look at her to find her eyes already on you. 

“What happens tomorrow?” you whisper and her gaze flickers down to your mouth. “When we go back.” 

Agatha sighs and gets out of bed, finding her pajamas on the floor and putting them back on. “We never speak of this again. And that means no more little jokes.”

It stings but you smirk to deflect. “Afraid someone will think the great Agatha Harkness deigned to fuck the boss’s daughter? That’s like, reverse sleeping up the corporate ladder. They’d probably applaud your charity. Or—you know what? I bet they’d be jealous. Everyone wants a piece of me, you know. Too bad general counsel already tamed this tiger.” You bite at her playfully and she snorts before fixing you with a serious stare. 

“This never happened,” she says solemnly and you nod. But before you can ask if you should leave, she lays back down next to you and her hand brushes against yours. You stiffen, but don’t pull away and her touch lingers.  

You lay so still, trying to breathe as quietly as you possibly can, so maybe she’ll let you stay. 

Her hand doesn’t move from yours the entire night. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[traveler-at-heart]

Run, baby, run

Summary: Natasha is very competitive, and that includes your daughter.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Based on some real life events lol

Natasha was a lot of different things for many people. Depending on who you ask -friends, foes, family- she could be stubborn, deadly, relentless. To you she was kind, loving and supportive, in a way that no one else knew.

You would all agree on one thing, though.

Natasha was too competitive.

Being married for three years, you’d grown used to it. As a matter of fact, it could be entertaining especially if she was playing pool or darts against the boys.

But this morning, when she shows you the flyer, you actually have to look twice, sure that Natasha lost her mind.

“Baby crawl race?”

“Yeah, only for babies under one year. You know, they set a track and time them…”

“I mean, I figured. I just… why would we want Anya to do that?”

Your daughter perks up when she hears her name being called and you both smile.

Anya is ten months old, but she’s way advanced for her age. It must be Natasha’s genes, because you’re sure that before she turns one, she will be walking or even running after her other mother.

“It sounds fun”

“And winning has nothing to do with it?” you press, reading about the prizes. “Everything listed here are things we already have. A stroller, a crib… ooh, a formula machine, fancy”

“We can still register if we leave now” Natasha picks up Anya from her playpen, and the sight of their matching red hair melts your heart as usual.

“Fine. We better get going”

—

To your surprise, there are over a dozen babies registered to compete. Natasha takes care of everything as you walk around the store where they’re hosting the event.

She comes back with a smile and a little paper with the number 17 on it.

“Your lucky number” she smiles at you, taking Anya in her arms.

You both watch as other kinds play and stumble around the mat. Most of them seem younger than your daughter, and only a few look close to being one year.

“That one’s gonna be easy to beat” Natasha muses, looking at a small kid that can barely sit.

“Natalia” you slap her arm. “He’s a baby”

“No. They are all competition. And we have no mercy, right, detka?” Natasha insists, bouncing your daughter in her arms.

“Alright, I’m changing her diaper before everything gets crazier” you decide, noticing how there’s a crowd forming around the place where the kids will crawl.

You make small talk with some of the clerks, who seem excited at the prospect of a silly race that will entertain them in the middle of their shift.

By the time you return, Natasha’s quiet, looking at the parents and their children.

“Everything ok?”

“Perfect” she nods, taking Anya in her arms. “Now, kiddo, listen to me, we are Romanoffs. We are fighters and more importantly, winners. So go and make us proud”

Anya responds by giggling and pulling a strand of her mother’s hair. Natasha smiles, saying something in Russian and kissing Anya’s cheek.

The mat is split in half so only two kids can compete at the same time, a screen with a timer behind them.

As expected, some of the kids get distracted by their race mate or crawl around instead of going in a straight line.

“What did I tell you? We’re gonna crush the opponents” Natasha whispers and you slap her arm.

She’s taking this way too seriously.

As you stand next to some parents, Natasha sniffs around, speaking into Anya’s back.

“Baby, did you go potty?”

“I don’t think so” you know Anya frowns and makes a little grunt when she does number two and she’s been pretty quiet this whole time.

“Oh, never mind” she turns to the parents standing next to you. “Not ours, detka”

The parents hurry to the bathroom. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind when you notice how quiet Natasha is. It increases when the parents miss the race because they were stuck chaning a diaper.

Your wife tries to hide her smile, but there’s no way she planned this. Just a coincidence.

Right?

“Babies 10 and 11” the organizer calls. You noticed the girl is older than the other kids, standing out because she can close the distance faster.

“Best time has been 55 seconds. This should be interesting” Natasha comments.

Sure enough, the kid is about to finish when a bright blue ball crosses her path, getting her distracted and making her return to the start line.

The parents try to guide her back but it doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, well”

“Try not to look so happy about it” you whisper, but Natasha just chuckles and places a kiss in your temple.

After a few more minutes, it’s Anya’s turn. You carry her to the start line and Natasha kneels at the end of the mat, keeping her eyes focused on your daughter.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

All Natasha has to do is place her open palm on the mat. Anya’s seen her do it so many times and knows it means one thing: as soon as she touches her mama’s hand, she’ll throw her in the air the way she loves to.

It takes Anya 15 seconds to get to Natasha. Your wife rewards her with her favorite thing, and if it were anyone less graceful and quick, you’d be unnerved by the sight of your daughter kicking her feet while being lifted off the ground.

“Nicely done, pumpkin” you join them, smiling as Anya jumps to your arms.

“A worthy adversary, at last” a man comments as he takes his son to the race. “Let’s see if we can do it better than you”

“Doubt it” Natasha glares but you elbow her, smiling at the man.

“She meant to say, good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart” you smile at his son, who waves back at you with wide eyes. He’s incredibly cute.

“Fraternizing with the enemy” Natasha tsks.

“He’s a baby, Nat”

“I didn’t like the way the father was looking at you either” Natasha grumbles, leaning forward to kiss you.

Definitely not complaining about her competitive streak now.

As your declared enemy gets ready to race, the father frantically looks around for something lost on their backpack.

“Did you bring it?” his wife insists.

“Yes! The purple elephant! We were playing with it a second ago!”

Apparently, that was their only resource, because the timer starts and their kid is focusing on everything but them.

They manage to finish after two minutes.

“Better luck next time” Natasha comments as they leave, her hand going around your waist.

She’s being so ridiculous but somehow you love it.

The winners are announced, and you cheer when the first place goes to none other than Anya Romanoff.

“Yes, baby. We are the champions” Natasha sings, bouncing her around. Anya has no idea what’s happening, but she’s enjoying the moment.

“Very nice” you comment when the organizers hand you the prize. “Good work, Anya. Keep it up and maybe we won’t have to pay for college”

“Of course she’ll get a scholarship. Or become a professional athlete. Or become president” Natasha says, walking back to the car.

“Oh, those are a lot of things. Maybe she’ll want to focus on just one”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’ll do it all” Natasha kisses Anya’s head and you can’t help but melt.

“Best thing you ever won?” you ask Natasha as you drive back home.

“No, that would be you” she says. “Of course, I mean the bet I made with Tony that I’d get you to date me over him”

“Ugh, you’re so ridiculous” you roll your eyes.

—

The excitement of the race exhausts your daughter, and she’s fast asleep by the time you get home.

You know this won’t last long, so you prepare her clothes to run a bath once she’s up.

As you’re going through her bag, you pull out a toy that’s definitely not Anya’s.

A purple elephant.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!” you shout, looking for her.

“Oh-oh” Natasha mutters and clears her throat. “Yes, dear?”

“You took that baby’s toy!”

“I did not! Ok, I did. But look, I timed him when they were practising and Anya’s time was still better. I just really didn’t like the way he was staring at your boobs”

“Mhm, right. Winning was just a plus”

“See? You get me”

“That ball that distracted the other kid was not a mistake either, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling”

“And the parents that missed the race for changing the diaper?”

“Now, that was just a happy coincidence. The rest, yeah. Totally me”

“Evil! Stealing a toy from a toddler” you wave the purple elephant in her face. Natasha takes it and throws it over her shoulder, wrapping your legs around her waist in a swift motion. “What are you doing?”

“I got you that fancy formula machine, didn’t I? Where’s my prize?”

You laugh against her lips, but it soon turns into a moan, as you feel Natasha’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass.

“Anya's gonna wake up in thirty minutes or less. Can you handle that?”

“I do enjoy a good challenge” Natasha says against your lips, showing you how much she loves to win.

And honestly? After a mind blowing orgasm, you love it too.

[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty CUTE thoughts - seungcheol •

the valentine’s day one with clumsy cheol

seungcheol has big plans for valentine’s day, but everything seems to be going wrong - he just wants to make it the best valentine’s day you’ve ever had, no matter what

seungcheol had plans for your valentine’s day evening - he planned the food, the jewelry, the flowers, literally everything PLANNED

but now he’s lying on his back in a hospital bed because he tripped in the bathroom - he wasn’t even showering - he just slipped and whacked his head on the tile and maybe got woozy when he saw some blood

it was so embarrassing, literally everything about tonight was supposed to be sexy

but when you come into the hospital room, worried and squishing his cheeks, asking if he’s ’okay’ and ‘what can you do’ - all he can think is how you’re so cute when you’re worried about him, cooing over him and petting him, calling him ‘baby’ and kissing his forehead - he certainly doesn’t hate it

plus, he’s usually the one who’s protective, but you’re kind of scary when the nurses can’t answer basic questions, like whether it’s a serious head injury or a mild concussion

he’s annoyed when the doctor says he needs to stay the night because he can literally imagine everything he planned sitting at home and going to waste, but at least they say you can stay the night too

you had planned for that, of course, and already brought some extra clothes for yourself and for him, plus a tablet full of downloaded shows and movies and the pillow he likes and an extra blanket

it’s funny to him how a few things from home and having you curled against him make a hospital room seem almost homey

he’s almost okay with things, but also he isn’t at all - tonight was important - he had been waiting to tell you something and this wasn’t the romantic evening he had planned

but when you lean up to kiss him, your warm lips pressing to his, he immediately feels all the warm, quivering feelings you always make him feel - he loves those feelings dearly

you lean back slowly, smoothing his hair and staring at him quietly for a few moments, he returns your gaze, adoring the gentle way you look at him, like he’s someone truly special to you

you lean down again, kissing his cheek softly, “you’re so sweet for planning everything,” you whisper

he flushes slightly, “you weren’t supposed to see that,” he whines

you just smile, “but i did and it was so perfect” —

he stops you, “i know, but then i fell and ruined everything”

you shake your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, cheol,” you assures him, “it’s just a special story we can tell everyone one day,” she smiles, “the day i realized i was completely in love with you,” you kiss him again, lingering for a moment before pulling back

his eyes were large, “i was supposed to confess today!” he whined again

you laugh softly, “so go ahead then - it’s not like we can’t realize it the same day”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve known - i just wanted to tell you today so it’s romantic…special,” he pouted

you nod, “ah, so you wanted it to be memorable when you told me?” you giggle, “there’s nothing memorable about today, i guess”

he knew you were joking, but he still sulked, and you press closer, “cheol,” you stroke his cheek, “really, i mean it, i love you,” you whisper, “just you,” you press another kiss to his cheek

“maybe i’ll pick another romantic day,” he exaggerated his pouting, making you laugh softly

you nuzzle close, “at least i told you as soon as i knew how i felt”

he sighs, “i knew at christmas when you picked the matching necklaces and refused anything else they had”

she laughed, “that? can it be something else?”

“no - it’s just when i knew you were really the person i love,” he strokes your cheek

you smile, “i guess it’s okay then”

he rolls his eyes, “i love you too,” he finally confesses

you nuzzle closer, enjoying his warmth, “i love you more”

he swats your arm gently, “i’m injured, let me win,” he pouts

you grin, “of course you win, my perfect cheol”

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

a/n: i just wanted something cute for cheollie

♡ kat

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

grumpy!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.

a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞

joel miller masterlist

Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.

Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.

“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.

I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”

He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”

There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”

“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.

“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.

Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.

We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.

But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.

“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.

“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”

He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”

I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”

Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.

One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.

“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.

“Exactly.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”

As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.

“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”

Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.

I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.

“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.

I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.

I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.

“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.

I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”

“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.

“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”

He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.

His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.

“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.

When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.

“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.

Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.

Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.

I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.

When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.

“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.

“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.

“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.

I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”

My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.

That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.

“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.

And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.

I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.

“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.

His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.

This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.

His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.

When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.

In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.

He loved me.

[muhlsworld]

HARD LAUNCH

pairing: caitlin clark x fem!reader

synopsis: caitlin finally reveals her relationship with you

WARNINGS: none i think

you can find the request here and here!

caitlin and you had been together since your freshman year at iowa. however you guys kept a secret from pretty much everyone except your teammates and family. you were ready to tell the world you were in love with caitlin clark. but she wasn’t ready yet and you were okay with it.

as caitlin’s skill and popularity grew dating speculations started to come to the surface. but they weren’t about you. they were about her and one of the men’s basketball players. connor.

you knew caitlin would never ever try anything with him. but he was always so persistent. he was always seen with caitlin. like he planted the pictures of them. caitlin always reassured you that there was nothing going on with him despiste the pictures being put out by the media.

as time went on connor had graduated from iowa and the speculation came to a halt. however there were still some diehard fans of caitlin and connor. but you never let it get to you.

cut to present time, which was valentine’s day during the offseason after caitlin’s rookie year. you guys had planned to hangout at home that day. but caitlin’s had gone out quickly for some groceries since she was making dinner for you two.

while you were at your shared apartment a new photo came out of caitlin. but it wasn’t just caitlin. it was a picture of connor giving caitlin a rose. and boy did the fans eat that up. the speculation immediately started up again.

you thought the worst of it. was caitlin ashamed of you? no that couldn’t be right? you were just going to wait for her to get home. and once she got home you started asking questions.

“caitlin what is this?” you say showing her the photo that was captured. she sighed as she took your phone from your hands. “he just came up to me and bombarded me with rose and i didn’t know what to do.” she said in a rush. you just stared at the floor.

“look i’ll fix this.” she said as she pulled out her phone.

you stared at her in confusion. not knowing what she was doing, you were about to peak and look at her phone when you got a notification on yours drawing the attention away from caitlin’s. the notification read ‘caitlinclark22 tagged you in a story’.

“cait what did you do?” you asked as you opened up the notification and saw her story.

it was picture that you had taken the day before. you were kissing caitlin’s cheek while she had a cheesy grin on her face. she had captioned the photo with ‘thankful to spend another valentine’s day with my love’.

your eyes welled up with tears and you finally loin up from your phone to see caitlin smiling at you. “are you sure you’re okay with that?” you asked immediately. “it’s about time the world knows how lucky i am.” she said as she pulled you into a kiss.

you and caitlin had put your phones on dnd for the rest of the night not wanting to be interrupted.

but little did you two know the uproar that caitlin just caused. the whole internet was going insane at the hard launch that caitlin’s just did. there were so many people making edits and tagging you in all of them.

people started reposting old pictures and saying how obvious it was but no one noticed because of connor. the whole basketball community was going crazy.

but you two paid no mind to it.

just being happy in each other’s presence.

that was the best valentines gift you could ever ask for.

A/N: i hope i did this request justice!! send in more cc requests pls

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 3

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 3- The Rescue Mission

••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a slow, uneventful day—exactly what you’d wanted. You had spent the morning running errands, picking up a few things from town before finally making it home. Now, curled up on the couch, half-watching a show while scrolling on your phone, you were perfectly content to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Then your phone buzzed.

Rafe: You busy?

You frowned, already suspicious.

You: I might be. Why?

Rafe: Because I need saving.

You snorted, shaking your head.

You: Let me guess… Amelia?

Rafe: What do you think?

You sighed, debating for a moment. Maybe it would be good for him to deal with her himself for once. But you also knew how persistent Amelia could be.

You: Sounds like a you problem, Cameron.

Rafe: Come on. Be a team player.

You: …How bad is it?

Rafe: Bad enough to text you :(

Before you could dwell on it too much, your mom walked into the room, grabbing her purse. “I’m heading out for a bit. Need a ride anywhere?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said, already slipping on your shoes.

——

When you arrived at the country club, you expected to find Rafe surrounded by Topper, Kelce, and maybe a few other guys, with Amelia clinging to him like always.

But instead, he was standing outside, alone.

You narrowed your eyes as you approached. “If you made me come all this way for nothing, you’re dead.”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you unless I had no other option.”

“That bad?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Worse.”

You crossed your arms, waiting.

“I was having lunch with my family,” he started, “and Amelia just invited herself over, telling my dad, Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie that she and I have been getting to know each other.” He grimaced. “She’s acting like we’ve been seeing each other, and I told them we weren’t, but—”

“But Ward told you not to be rude and let her stay,” you finished, already knowing how this went.

Rafe pointed at you. “Exactly.”

You groaned. “So now what?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” he said. “And now I need you to help me get rid of her. And make sure my family knows I’m not with her.”

You hesitated. “Rafe, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend in front of your dad.”

“Come on,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed how desperate he looked. “My dad likes you, okay? If you say we’re together, he’ll believe it, and Amelia will finally back off.”

You still weren’t convinced. “And what happens when he finds out it’s a lie?”

Rafe just shrugged. “That’s a future problem.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the entrance. “I swear to God, Cameron…”

Rafe smirked, sensing your hesitation cracking. “So you’ll do it?”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “No, you don’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without hesitation, Rafe took your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den.

——

The Cameron family sat at a round table on the patio, the perfect picture of wealth and power. Ward sat at the head, Rose beside him, while Sarah and Wheezie chatted quietly. And, of course, Amelia stood close to Rafe’s empty chair, her hand way too close to where his arm would’ve been.

The moment you walked in, Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted.

Amelia turned—and her expression darkened instantly.

Ward raised an eyebrow. “Rafe?”

Rafe barely hesitated. “I wasn’t being rude earlier,” he said, looking directly at his father. “I was just trying to make it clear—I’m not with Amelia. Because I’m with someone else.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and you took that as your cue. “Hey, Mr. Cameron,” you said with an easy smile, leaning slightly into Rafe’s side. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing family lunch.”

Ward looked between you and Rafe, brow furrowed. “You two are together?”

“Yep,” Rafe said smoothly. “Have been for a little while now.”

Sarah still looked shocked, and Wheezie looked downright delighted, but the best reaction came from Amelia, whose face was rapidly turning red.

“You have to be joking,” she snapped.

“Why?” Rafe tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Jealous?”

Amelia scoffed. “Please. I just didn’t realize you’d lowered your standards so much.”

Your smile tightened. “You know, for someone who’s so sure I’m not a threat, you seem really upset about this.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Wheezie barely contained her laughter.

Rose just sipped her wine, watching you both closely. “Well,” she said, “this is… interesting.”

Ward nodded slowly, clearly still processing. “Hmm.”

Before they could say anything else, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got plans.”

“We do?” you muttered.

Rafe ignored you. “See you guys later.”

And with that, he pulled you away from the table, out of the club, and toward his truck.

As soon as you were outside, you smacked his arm. “You are so dead for that.”

Rafe just grinned, opening the truck door for you. “Relax. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You owe me.”

He just smirked. “That’s why I’m making it up to you right now.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you climbed into the truck. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the bed of his truck, legs crossed beneath you, a cup of ice cream in hand, on a hill overlooking the beach. Almost a little secret hideout you’ve never been to before.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “this is a pretty good spot. Romantic, even.”

Rafe scoffed. “If I was trying to be romantic, you’d know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does romantic Rafe Cameron look like?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

You took a slow bite of your ice cream, then glanced at Rafe. “So… this isn’t where you bring all your girls?”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I waste gas on just anyone?”

You hummed. “Mm. Seems like a solid move, though, so I must be very special.”

Rafe just smirks not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back, voice softer. “You know… I never thought Alex was good enough for you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you always deserved better than that asshole.”

You shook your head. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

Rafe smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, licking your spoon. “No promises.”

—————————————

Let me know what you think? Could be some drama in the coming parts???

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee

@drewwhor @wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@my-name-is-baby @rafecameronsslut1234

[matsuyorific]

From what I understand from the show, Anarka and Jagged got together around the start of their career, and were a couple act. Sometimes around when the twins were born, Jagged's career started taking off. Anarka felt like Jagged cared more about his music than his family, so she took the kids and left without telling him.

It's not really clear if they were every married or not. Most likely Jagged continued working while Anarka was taking it easy through her pregnancy. Especially if they were already signed with Bob Roth, whom we can easily imagine wanting to promote the more manageable Jagged, and not the hard headed Anarka. This is all speculation, but it's possible that Bob also pushed Anarka out of the group, thinking no one would want to see a pregnant woman on stage.

Jagged doesn't strike me as someone who hates his family. Nothing he does or says in the show hints at this at all. From what he's said in the show, he makes it sound like he didn't want Anarka to leave with the twins. That he wanted to be their dad, but was also trying to make it as a musician. Sure, he didn't balance well and put more focus on his music, but he genuinely seemed to care about his kids.

When he's confronted by Truth, he doesn't even make excuses like "I was too busy" or "your mom wouldn't let me." He says "I was too lame to be a parent." This is still an excuse, but it's one made out of the belief that he can't be the parent he knows his kids to be. His decision was made based on what he felt was best for his kids.

However, Anarka also thought it best he not be around. She kept his identity from the twins, and wouldn't let Jagged come by. So it's not even completely Jagged's fault he wasn't there. This is actually pretty common irl, where divorced parents will try to make their kids take sides. In Anarka's case, she refused to tell her kids about their father, so that they wouldn't even have a choice. Then when Jagged finally reunites with them, she still insists he has nothing to do with them. Even with Jagged there, trying to be in his kid's life, she's still so insistent that he leave.

This isn't to say it's 100% Anarka's fault. She still has a lot of hurt feelings she needs to let go of, but those hurt feelings don't come from nowhere. While her logic was flawed, she still tried to do her best for her kids. She was so desperate to keep her kids from feeling the same hurt she'd felt, that she'd ended up hurting everyone else in the process. Including herself.

Young Anarka

I dunno… Like

Her past intrigued me the most out of all the adult characters, and I can't understand her mix with Jagged. Like, he cheated on her and she got pregnant? They had an open relationship? Or did they only share intimacy? Why did she never tell her kids about their father? And why didn't their father pay child support lmao…

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Valentine's Day Surprise (Casey Novak x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Liv organises a blind date for you on Valentine's Day. Casey is less than pleased about it.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, implied smut, hints of possessiveness, hair pulling, swearing

“Valentine’s Day is a bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

Casey glanced up, her heart thudding in her chest. You were standing to the side with Liv, your arms crossed over your chest, lips quirking up into a half smile, almost ironic as you looked at her. You’d thrown your hair up into a messy ponytail, your jeans clinging to the shape of your ass perfectly, the afternoon light softening your expression. You were a thing of beauty, one that stole her breath.

And you weren’t even looking at her.

“It’s the only night she’s free this week,” Liv said, “but if you’re not game…”

“No no, I’ll go. But just know that it’s starting out with some serious judgement,” you said.

“Well that’s an auspicious start,” she said.

You laughed, shaking your head in that way that Casey found so endearing.

“I’m just saying, if this works out, it’ll be some story to tell,” you said.

“If what works out?” Casey couldn’t help herself from asking.

Your eyes met hers and she felt her breath still in her chest. You were still smiling, lips curling up, softening as you looked at her. The half step closer you took towards her made her fingertips tingle.

“Liv has set me up on a blind date,” you said. Her heart stopped, “on Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s a bit intense for a first date, isn’t it?” she faintly heard herself ask.

“That’s what I said,” you laughed.

“If you’re so against it I can cancel on her,” Liv said.

“Oh I’ll go,” you said, turning back to her.

Casey turned away, grateful to not be under your watchful gaze anymore. Her face had frozen in the imitation of a smile, trying not to show how her blood had run cold. You laughed again and her heart squeezed painfully.

She glanced over out of the corner of her eye. You were still laughing, mostly to yourself as you moved on to the reports on your desk. Liv gave her a knowing look. She turned away, burning up from the inside out.

The trouble was, she’d been half in love with you for over a year now and hadn’t made a move. It was manageable when she only heard the disastrous results of your dates, but before, when there was still hope in you, when you were looking forward to it, when it was still possible it would go well, she felt something toxic running through her veins. She’d continually told herself it was for the best. You worked together. If you didn’t feel the same or it didn’t work out it would be intolerable.

The way she was feeling now was intolerable.

“Get me something I can use,” she said after listening to Stabler’s excuses.

You bumped your shoulder against her as she passed by you, grinning up at her. Her heart tripped over itself, your warmth blooming over her. She swept out of the precinct, doing her best not to focus on the tumult of emotions you’d awoken in her.

It ate away at her. For days she stewed over the image of you on a date with a faceless woman. The way you’d reach out to her, flirting over drinks, kissing her when you decided she was worth bringing home. The way you would look as someone else lowered themselves between your legs. The burn of not being the one you were with.

She stayed late at work that day. It wasn’t as if she was the one with a hot date on Valentine’s Day. Sinking into work should have helped her forget about whatever it was you were getting up to. It should have chased away the images of you all dressed up and glowing under the attention of another woman. She shouldn’t have dwelled on exactly what you were getting up to in the company of your date.

She slammed her file closed, not able to stop thinking about it. She was failing at ignoring you and was failing at working. All she could focus on was the way you would smile at your date as you led her into your apartment, the slow seduction of peeling off your clothes, the way you’d touch her in your bed.

Just sitting there thinking about it, she could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin.

She shoved her files into her bag, collecting up anything she thought she might need over the weekend. Slamming the door behind her, she strode down onto the darkened street, raising her hand to hail a cab. There was only one way she was going to stop the feeling in her stomach churning until she felt like she would explode.

Your door stared back at her. She’d had the entire cab ride to calm down. It hadn’t worked.

Days of stewing in the image of you with someone else, someone claiming you, you wanting someone who wasn’t her. She was done. She wanted it to be her hands on you, her lips on yours, her body in your bed.

She wanted you.

Hammering her fist against your door, she knew the likelihood of you being in was low. You could still be on your date, or at her place. But on the off chance you were in there with her, this unknown woman who had finagled a date with you on Valentine’s Day in a childish attempt to seduce you, she was going to stop it before it got too far. She wasn’t going to let anyone else have you.

She almost fell forward when you pulled the door open, not truly believing you would be inside. You laughed, catching her around your elbows to keep her upright.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” you said.

“You’re home.”

Your lips kept ticking up into a wider smile.

“And lucky I was or else you would have bashed my door down,” you said, “what’s up?”

“I…”

She’d been so fired up on the way over that to be presented with you at home was something she hadn’t expected. You weren’t even dressed up in your date clothes. Your sweats and tank top suggested being curled up on the couch with ice cream, not getting hot and heavy with some unseen woman. Without your date, there was no reason for her to be there. She wasn’t interrupting anything.

“How about we start with if you’re here for work or pleasure?” you asked when no proper answer was forthcoming.

“Aren’t you meant to be on a date right now?” she managed to ask.

“Careful, counsellor. You keep on like this and I’ll start to think you wish I hadn’t been here to meet you,” you said, “come on. No point standing in the hall.”

With the hands still holding onto her, you tugged her into your apartment. The door shutting felt like a gunshot, loud to her ears, even as your touch burned through her. It looked as if she’d been right. A tub of ice cream sat abandoned on your coffee table, your tv paused on some romcom. You didn’t bother hiding any of it, seemingly unembarrassed for how she’d found you.

“Did you even go on your date?” she asked, taking in the entire scene.

“Sure,” you replied, “but twenty minutes in we both agreed Liv was way off the money.”

“Liv?” she asked, turning to look at you. This felt more familiar. Gathering the facts to build a case was her bread and butter.

“She set up the date. Didn’t you know that? Some friend from one of the local papers. But she must have been on something when she came up with that idea because there was no chemistry and we certainly had nothing in common,” you replied.

“You weren’t attracted to her?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. She was gorgeous. Just not my type.” You shrugged.

“Oh?” Her heart did something funny in her chest, “what is?”

“Someone smart. Someone with a strong sense of justice. Someone passionate,” you said, “someone who makes me smile.”

Her stomach swooped.

“But I doubt you came here to have a fun girly chat about my failed date,” you said.

You were still smiling at her and there was a twinkle in your eye. Her breath caught at the way you were looking at her, with such fondness. She shook her head, looking away.

“Your ice cream is melting,” she said.

You snorted. She watched you bend to snatch it up, the curve of your ass stretching the fabric of your sweats. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, having to tear her eyes away from you. No need to be caught staring.

“Case, c’mon, why are you really here?” you asked once you’d shoved the carton of ice cream back into your freezer.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing up your breasts. Her eyes slipped down, tongue dragging along your lower lip as she stared. What she wouldn’t do to get her mouth on those tits.

“Casey.”

Her eyes snapped back up to yours. There was no mistaking the amusement on your face, nor the way your eyes were twinkling as they looked at her. She felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.

“Come on. You can tell me,” you said, “I promise not to make fun of you.”

“Why would you make fun of me?” she asked.

“Dunno. But whatever you came here for it must be pretty serious if you won’t even say it out loud,” you said.

She took a deep breath, turning away from you. Sinking down onto your couch, she finally released the death grip she had on her briefcase, letting it drop to the ground. The cushions beside her dipped, your body closer than she would have liked while trying to figure out how to move past this.

She’d had a plan. She’d worked it all out in her head on the way over. She should have expected you to send it all to hell the moment you’d opened the door.

“I’m guessing you showing up at my door like this means you didn’t have your own hot date,” you said, your shoulder nudging hers.

She turned her head towards you. You were close enough that her nose brushed yours, breath ghosting over her lips. She couldn’t help her eyes dipping down to your lips. They were so pretty, just begging to be kissed. The thought of someone else claiming them that night had driven her here.

The fire of her anger might have been doused, but the fire of her desire had only flared higher.

She surged forward, lips pressing to yours.Your hands cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer. She might have been all fire, but you were soft, like the petal of a flower, kissing her thoroughly. Any control she’d had slipped away under your touch.

When you lifted yourself, depositing yourself in her lap, straddling her, all she could do was groan. Her hands found your hips, gripping tightly, chin tipped up, so close to begging for more. Your tongue tasted of sugar, strawberry ice cream lingering despite the heat between you. She moaned, clutching you tighter.

Your fingers slipped into her hair, tugging on it in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. Her fingertips dipped below the waistband of your sweats, feeling your soft skin beneath her touch. You moaned into her mouth, hips rocking forward, fingers tightening in her hair. There was something irresistible about you being a moaning mess in her lap.

“Case,” you mumbled against her mouth, “fuck, Casey.”

“Shhh, baby,” she murmured, kissing you again.

You let her, melting against her. You made such a pretty noise, a small whimper crossed with a whine. She let her hands push further into your sweats, grasping your ass over your panties, groaning when she felt the lace against her skin. Your teeth sunk into her lower lip, tugging on it before you pulled back.

Your lips were kiss swollen, eyes blown wide, chest heaving for breath. You were a picture of wanton desire, a painting that should be hung on the wall of the Louvre. Except Casey didn’t want anyone seeing you like this except her.

“Gonna tell me why you were trying to bash down my door now?” you asked.

“I think you know,” she managed to say, surprised she was still capable of forming sentences.

“I want to hear you say it,” you said, “or maybe I should stay on my side of the couch.”

You went to swing one leg off her. The grip she still had on your ass tugged you back, holding you in place, refusing to let you move. Looking down at her, your lips pulled up into a smirk. You tilted her chin up, your other hand burying itself back in her hair, right at the nape of her neck, pulling deliciously.

“Tell me,” you said, a good natured command.

“I don’t like the thought of someone else touching you like this.” She squeezed the globes of your ass.

“You were jealous,” you said.

“I was jealous,” she repeated, jaw clenching.

“And your plan when you showed up here was what exactly?” you asked.

“I was going to interrupt before she could fuck you,” she growled.

“What if we had gone back to her place?” you asked.

“I don’t know.”

You lent forward, breath ghosting over her lips, but your hold kept her from surging up to claim your lips in another bruising kiss.

“And how were you going to convince me to kick a gorgeous woman out of my bed?” you asked.

She growled again, not liking your line of questioning. She certainly didn’t like the images they left in her head.

“By offering you a replacement of higher value,” she replied.

“You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?” you chuckled.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Using the hands on your ass, she dragged you closer, able to feel the heat emanating from you.

“In fact, you seem pretty fucking pleased right now,” she said.

You lent forward, your nose running along her jaw. She let her head fall to the side, offering herself to you. Even as she argued, she knew you had the upper hand.

“I’m just glad you finally made a move.” Your lips brushed her skin, “took you long enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Any arguments she might have had were scattered to the wind as you kissed a long line to her ear.

“I’ve been dropping hints for months. Did you not notice?” you asked before your teeth closed over her earlobe.

“Why didn’t you make a move then?” she managed to get out despite the moan.

“And miss the chance to see you get all jealous? No chance,” you said, drawing back, “it’s very sexy.”

Your teeth sunk into your own lower lip as you gazed down at her. She could see the smile threatening to break over your face and even as your amusement was at her expense, she found you breathtaking. Her hands slipped from under your sweats, curling around your waist to hold you close.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she said, “we could have been doing this for months.”

“We’re here now,” you said, forehead falling forward against hers.

“But we could be moving to your bed,” she said.

“Oh no. It’s Valentine’s Day and you kept me waiting. You’re going to romance me before I give up the goods,” you said.

“I have to woo you?” she asked.

“You’re the one who came here all self righteous, hoping to do the whole big confession thing,” you laughed.

You clambered off her lap, despite her protests, settling beside her. Resting your head on her shoulder, you curled up against her, reaching for the remote you’d left abandoned when you’d answered the door. She sighed, curling her arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“Alright,” she said, “but just know I was prepared to leave you very satisfied tonight.”

“We have plenty of time for that,” you said.

But when your hand slipped to her inner thigh as you watched the movie, she knew you’d be giving her everything she wanted that night, and every night after.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader.

she shows up at your door… (inspired by season three episode 2 babyyyyyy I wrote this at 4 fucking in the morning earlier bc I couldn’t sleep enjoy please read to compensate my suffering)

“So,” you start, unsure of how to begin. “How was it?”

Lottie blinks. “The mental institution?”

You were better off not asking.

“It was fine,” she answers in a dull tone. She sits across from where you stand as she occupies your armchair — in your living room, which she has infiltrated and made herself at home in. “It’s been worse.”

She’s told you before, stories of all she has endured. You sit very straight, unsure exactly of how to proceed — it hasn’t been long since you last saw her, but there is a gap between the two of you already, and even in such a short amount of time the two of you have changed. She no longer has her wellness center to lead, you no longer follow her in it. You have been thrusted back into the real world — real dangers accompany it.

“You have a nice place here,” Lottie gestures around your living room. “I’m surprised you could get a hold of it so quickly.”

Your old house you had lived in before moving into the wellness center. You’ve had it on the market for a while, but no one has put in an offer. You don’t tell her that, though — part of you wants her to bear the guilt, think you found some new place in a pinch.

“I had to find somewhere to go,” you say defensively. “While you were detained.”

Her expression sours, she doesn’t like your wording. Neither do you. You don’t enjoy being angry with her, especially after being apart. All you want to do is rush to her, pull her into your arms and let it all bleed away between you, but it was Lottie herself who always showed those who followed her to feel their anger.

Lottie sinks further into her seat, sensing your discontent, crosses one leg over the other and pretends she’s blind to the world. “I missed you.”

You hum in response. Silence lies heavily between you.

“Are you upset with me?”

You don’t respond.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Then what?”

“You hunted Shauna through the woods. You got shot.”

Lottie stands and makes her way to you. She looks tired above all, but you can’t help but notice a fidgety manner about her — dark eyes always flitting to avert your gaze, hands spinning her rings around and around her fingers. There is a general restlessness to her that you aren’t used to — it’s worrying.

“I understand that you’re frustrated—”

“What if it had been me?” You cross your arms. “Would you have hunted me?”

Lottie scoffs.

“Answer me. Would you have?”

She hesitates. She waits a beat too long before answering. You see the same flightiness. “No.”

You let it drop for now. You don’t want to press her and end up with a different answer. “Did it hurt?”

She’s becoming quite done with this. Her tone is laced with sarcasm, sharp with it. “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you got shot.”

“Yes, it fucking hurt.”

“I want to see.”

Again she sighs, more dramatically this time — but after a moment’s hesitation Lottie pulls off her black jacket. Your eyes find it immediately, though the wound is tiny. It’s already beginning to scar: the small mark of the bullet you remember all too clearly embedded in her skin.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks.

“Are you?”

She offers you a soft smile — it’s not really an answer, more mournful than anything, but momentarily you have been persuaded to put your anger aside when her hands take yours and again you are home.

“If you ever get shot again, I’m leaving you,” you threaten. It sounded much less surreal to say in your head.

“I don’t plan on it,” Lottie assures you. “Though I didn’t plan on getting shot the first time.”

You beg to differ. It doesn’t matter in any case, what’s done is done. Now you need her in your arms, anger and all, and she needs it too — gently, almost so as not to scare you away into a fit of rage, she kisses you.

You had been silent when she’d told you she missed you, but you had missed her just as desperately. You missed the warmth and security of her beside you as you laid in an empty bed, you missed the novelty of being able to pull her into your arms whenever you wanted and decide it’s where you both would stay for a while. You missed her, in every way, and you were still pissed at her for all she had done to lose you.

Lottie glances around the house when you pull back, trying to determine in her surroundings where the bedroom is. You can see the disapproval etched into her features — this is not her home, this is not the life you have built together.

You can’t, not yet. Too mournful still.

When you pull her back over to the couch, it is a domestic gesture. When you lean against her so that you’re nearly on top of her and gently run a hand through her hair. When her arms wrap around you and you find your gaze trained on the bullet wound and you can’t help but reach out to trace it and know that someday, when the world is less dark and mournful and all of your wounds have scarred, you will kiss it clean of the past.

sexy sexy taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun

reblogs/comments always appreciated! :)

[flippinpancakes64]

How would the cullens (separately) react to a really flirtatious reader. Like where reader makes flirtatious jokes and comments about them all the time and how they would react to the reader doing that in front of other people?

The Cullens with a flirty! Reader

Am I back in my Twilight phase? Who knows. Only time will tell.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He can hear them before you speak

And if he could blush, he would

He’s one of the more traditional people, probably the most stuck in his ways out of all of them

All that to say he goes crazy over an ankle showing

Any comments you make about him have him (mentally) blushing and telling you to stop

Now don’t get me wrong, he can dish it out too

But only in private

The moment he hears you formulating a flirty thought in your brain, his hand is covering your mouth

You rarely ever get the jump on him

He might let you speak your mind in private

But you can already forget about saying anything with others around

Alice:

She would beat you to it every single time

She’s the flirty type

Y’all match each other’s freaks

You two have had compliment wars where you guys just go back and forth flirting

She loves it though

Every compliment, every innuendo, makes her fall deeper in love with you

And if you go out of your way to flirt with her in public, she goes feral

She loves being loved and you are more than happy to do that for her

Also you can’t embarrass her

You’re talking about how sexy she looks in that dress in front of a group of classmates?

She doesn’t care

She’ll retort back about how she can’t wait to get you back home later

When they go low I go lower type beat

Jasper:

Bro is a Casanova

Absolute sweet talker

But only in private

The moment you try to flirt with him outside of the confines of your or his rooms, he’s out of his element

Again, if vampires could blush, his face would be bright red

He always gets mildly annoyed when you say insinuating stuff in public

Not actually annoyed but more of like a

“Come on, really? Now? Here?”

The truth is that he loves the attention

Just maybe not outside of the bedroom

Rosalie:

She can def take it and dish it out

If you two are together, she is your ride or die

And she wants everyone to know

She’s not shy about flirting with you in public

And she never says no to you flirting with her

She welcomes it, actually

She loves the idea of fully being someone’s

Of her partner not being afraid to show her off and publicly admit how much they love her

Some would call it vanity

Or ego

But she calls it love

Emmett:

Oh sweet Emmett

He loves it

No ifs ands or buts

He feels like he’s on cloud nine when you flirt with him

And trust me, whatever you’ve got to say, he has much worse

I think he has a dirty mind

Definitely similar to Alice in the if you go low I go lower department

You’re out with friends and you make a flirty comment?

He’s going to go on a whole rant about how much he loves *insert specific body part of yours*

So yeah he basically has no shame

Say what you want

Just be prepared to be outdone

Esme:

I feel like she’s similar to Edward in this department

She loves the flirty compliments in private

But she gets all flustered in public

Cause wdym you’re at the store with her and now you’re talking about melons??

She’s gonna leave you behind to find your own way back

She gets embarrassed in private too

But it’s not as bad as in public

At least in private yall are left to yourselves

(Save for Edward unwillingly eavesdropping)

Definitely the type to smack you playfully

“Babe are you from tennessee? Cause I’m tryin-to-see them titti-“

*Smack* “Not another word.”

Carlisle:

He thinks it’s funny

He doesn’t really take it too seriously

You like his man boobs?

That’s nice sweetie

Very pacifistic about it

Doesn’t care if you’re in public or private

He loves you and your antics either way

The only time I could really see him caring would be if you came to visit him at work

As long as he’s wearing his coat, he needs to be professional

So that’s where he draws the line

Vampire! Bella:

I get mixed feelings about her

I can’t decide if she would love it or absolutely hate it

On the one hand, she would definitely love the silly jokes and all the attention

She has lower self esteem, and being able to know for sure that your partner finds you desirable is a great thing

On the other hand

Whenever you flirt with her in public she feels like she’s gonna die

She knows it doesn’t really matter

She’s a Cullen now

But she’ll be damned if that little anxious voice in the back of her head isn’t still there

[covenofagatha]

Hexed Hearts (Part 1)

Pilot

Agatha Harkness is the ruthless executive producer for the reality dating show Hexed Hearts, where you've been a PA for two years, but you want more

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: none yet

“Alright, people, thirty minutes to showtime! Season thirteen! I need our suitress out front, makeup on, and a smile on her face. I need the limos—where the fuck is limo three?—I need Billy out there, and who the fuck changed the lights in the pool to be green? Do we want it to look like an algae breeding ground? Come on, everyone, this isn’t amateur hour!” Agatha Harkness barks at the production team, sending them scrambling in different directions like a flock of chickens. 

“Um, Agatha,” one of the producers says timidly, visibly wincing when Agatha turns to her, annoyance radiating, “Limo three ran out of gas. I just got off the phone with the driver.” 

Agatha scoffs and you see the vein in her forehead bulge. “Why the fuck are you telling me that? Do you want me to fucking walk to them with a can of gas? Figure it out, Carol!” 

Carol just stares blankly at her and you silently will her to do anything but stand there. Even you could tell her that she should take a company van to go get all the contestants from the limo. Problem solved. 

“Look, Carol,” Agatha sighs and moves her black glasses from her face to resting on the top of her head. You want to look away, knowing what’s coming, but you can’t. “This isn’t going to work if I have to hold your hand. You’ve been here for what? Three years now? I need you to be a producer, not a child who needs a babysitter. Get out. You’re fired.” 

Carol splutters out something in disbelief, but Agatha is already walking away and waving her hand to get your attention. As if you aren’t always watching her.

“Get me a coffee,” she says, tone still laced with some exasperation and you purse your lips before running to get her one. 

Agatha Harkness, the executive producer for the reality dating show, Hexed Hearts, is known for her ruthless and no-nonsense style of leadership. She practically wrote the book on manipulation and knows exactly how to get anyone to do whatever she wants. 

You heard that once on the show, seven of the contestants got into a literal fist fight all because Agatha suggested that the suitor liked women who weren’t afraid to go for what they wanted. 

It’s honestly inspiring. 

You’ve been a personal assistant for the show for two years, going into your third now.

The first season you worked here, it was a total bust. Agatha had thought it would be a good idea to do a Winter Wonderland, except have it set in Greenland where it was actually freezing. It was the first time a season had ever taken place not at the mansion in California, where it would’ve been practical and budget-friendly and fake snow definitely would’ve been better than real snow. 

You still have calluses from all the shoveling you had to do and three of the contestants got hypothermia because Agatha insisted that they take off their parkas and film in bikinis in the below zero temperature. 

“It’s just for like two seconds,” she had said. “Think of the ratings for the hard nipples. People will go wild.” 

Luckily she had the foresight to put in their contracts that they couldn’t sue due to weather-sustained injuries, and the girls were completely fine. The network told her that the show could never be filmed anywhere but the mansion ever again. 

So the next season, Agatha had to get creative—and she did. Season Twelve: Double Trouble.

One suitress. Sixteen sets of twins. 

No one could tell anyone apart. The suitress called her date by his brother’s name more often than not. Brothers got into fights with each other. Some of them leaned more into it than others; you remember one of the producers asking you to go get Frank and finding him fucking the suitress, Lilith, while she gave his twin brother a blowjob. 

Twitter had a field day after that was revealed—once again, a well placed tip to the rest of the men courtesy of Agatha led to a huge blow up on set, and even better, on camera. 

As the season went on, it became clear that Lilith had a favorite, Adam. And no one was more upset about this than Adam’s twin brother, who decided that he would lock Adam in the bedroom closet and impersonate him. 

It took about a week before anyone noticed and that week’s episode had the highest rating in seven years. 

Growing up, you never cared for reality television, always finding it trashy and immature, but behind the scenes, there is so much more to what meets the eye. You were never able to tell how much of it was real or scripted. 

Almost none of it is scripted. But most, if not all, is orchestrated. 

Producers stir the pot, use clips that paint the contestants a certain way, exploit and mold however they want—whatever it takes to get the best ratings for the network. Your end goal is to become one, and you might have the perfect opportunity right now, with Carol fired.

This year, Agatha decided that she wanted to have the first season of reality television that was all queer women. The network had been incredibly reluctant to greenlight the idea, but when Agatha revealed that she had gotten Rio Vidal to sign on to be the suitress, they couldn’t say no. 

Rio Vidal, the heiress to the Vidal Oil Company, is known for her bad-boy reputation and the trail of broken hearts she leaves in her path. She desperately needs to work on her public image before taking over the company, so her parents paid a fortune to get her on the show. Even you had to admit she was easy on the eyes so you figured there would be no problem getting thirty-two women to fall in love with her. 

The problem would be getting her to pick one. You have no doubt that this season is going to be filled with scandal after scandal, which brings in the best ratings. 

Your phone starts to buzz and you swear, setting down the full cup of coffee to pull it out of your pocket. You roll your eyes—it’s your mom. 

“Hey, mom, I can’t really talk right now,” you say, raising it to your ear quickly. “Is something wrong?” 

She sighs heavily. “Just wanted to check in on my only daughter, I didn’t realize that was a crime.” 

Of course she’s pulling that card. “It’s not, mom, it’s just not really a great time, we’re about to start shooting.” 

“Still on that show?” She makes a disapproving sound, even though she knows full-well that you are indeed still working for Hexed Hearts. “When are you going to get a real job? I mean, a personal assistant? Sweetie, you are so much better than that, and so much better than reality TV in general. Why don’t I give my friend at the school a call, see if she can—” 

“Got to go, mom, talk to you later,” you interrupt abruptly before furiously pressing the disconnect button and shoving your phone back into your pocket after putting it on silent. Taking a deep breath, you unclench your fists and pick up the cup of coffee. 

It always goes that way with your mom. It feels like no matter what you do, she’s never satisfied with anything. 

“Has someone rescued limo three yet?” Agatha yells from inside her office and your hand holding her cup jolts, spilling burning liquid on your skin. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing some napkins and wincing. 

One of the producers, Marie, jogs to Agatha's door to open it slightly. “Hey, yeah, Alice went to go get them. They should be here in about ten minutes. We’ve got Rio outside by the gates with Billy, the other vans are outside, we’re thinking we just go in order of one, two, four, and then hopefully three should be here by then.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, we just need to get all the introductions done by midnight so we can get about six hours of B-roll and interviews before the sun rises,” Agatha says dismissively and you awkwardly hover behind Marie, who’s still blocking the entrance to her office. “Is there something else?” 

Marie shifts and looks down at her feet. “Um, who do you want to take over Carol’s girls? I’m not sure Alice, Lilia, and I can take anymore. I can call Carol though, I don’t even think she’s left—” 

“Oh, fuck that,” Agatha snaps. Each producer gets eight contestants to handle, but usually by the end of the first night, they only have four to six left, given how well they produce their people. “Do not call Carol. I’ll figure it out. Where is my coffee?”

“I have it,” you say, finally pushing past Marie and walking to set it down on her desk. Agatha is dressed in a maroon pantsuit, her hair in a bun held together by two pens. She’s scribbling on a piece of paper while glancing between her open laptop screen and the television on the wall. You pause to look at what she’s watching. 

Agatha’s own TV inside her office are directly connected to the cameras that show Rio getting some last minute touch ups on hair and makeup. She’s wearing an earthy green dress that pairs nicely with her flawless pale skin and dark hair that falls a little past her shoulders. Her lipstick is a muted pink and she has on minimal eyeliner that accentuates her hazel eyes. 

“What do you think?” Agatha asks, watching you carefully. 

You look at her, surprised. It’s not often she asks you for your opinion. “I think she’s good, yeah. Everyone will be all over her.”

Agatha nods, musing on it. “I think you’re right. I’m going to need you to do a bit more around here tonight, with Carol gone. I’m going to have to step in and take over her eight so I need you near me at all times, ready to do whatever I need.” 

“Well, I mean…” you trail off. Are you really about to do this? Agatha raises an eyebrow at you, urging you on, and you swallow roughly. “I could produce.” 

She laughs like she’s actually taken aback. “Honey, are you asking me for a promotion right now? The body isn’t even cold yet—Carol hasn’t even left the building!” She leans back in her chair and her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek while she regards you with something akin to amusement. “Well, let’s hear your pitch.” 

You take a deep breath. “This is my third year on this show now, and I’ve really learned a lot about what goes on behind the scenes and I have ideas for this season. I’ve watched the way you manipulate and create situations and get results, and I know I can do it too. I’m a hard worker, I’m responsible, I know how to work with these people—I know people. I understand what they want, how they think, how to get them to think that they want something. I really want this job, Agatha, and I know I can do it.” 

“Bravo, honey,” she says with a hint of sarcasm and slowly claps. Your stomach squirms under her scrutinizing gaze. “How long have you been practicing that little speech?” 

You shrug and take a sudden interest in your shoes. 

“How badly do you want this?” 

Brows furrowing, you meet her blue eyes again. Is she asking what you would do for it? “I want it really badly, I mean, I’ll get on my knees and—”

“Sleeping your way to the top?” she coos condescendingly and your cheeks heat up, maybe at the implication that she’d think you would do that, but also at the thought of sleeping with her. “That’s so ten years ago of you.”

“—beg. I’d get on my knees and beg,” you finish and wipe your palms on your jeans. This is not going the way you wanted, and now you’re probably going to be fired. You can only imagine what your mom is going to say. 

But Agatha jerks her head to the bulletin boards with thirty-three headshots on it: Rio and the contestants. There’s a few bullet points written under each picture with the most important information about them. You made flashcards out of them once the roster was released so you could memorize them all. 

“You said you have ideas?” Agatha prompts. 

You could go through this in your sleep so you walk over to the boards and point at Rio. “Our suitress is a player, there’s no way around that. So we get her to play. She keeps five, six people on her line at all times, head over heels, but Rio’s telling them all the same thing: ‘Oh, baby, can’t wait to take you home to share my fortune with; whatever you want? It’s yours. You’re so perfect.’ Audiences can’t decide if they love or hate her, because she’s so charming.” 

Agatha doesn’t look impressed. “That’s the whole point of the show.”

It doesn’t even falter you. “Yes, but while Rio is off doing that, we introduce another lead. Someone much more real, someone who isn’t just looking at everyone as toys. Helen Troywick.” You point at the picture of the blonde with warm brown eyes and a crooked smile. “Pretty in an unsuspecting way, works with animals, donates to charity. Only been in one relationship her whole life.” 

“A foil to our bad boy,” Agatha says, nodding like she sees the vision. “You want Helen to—what? Steal the other contestants?” 

“I think a main part of this season could be the rivalry between Rio and Helen. Rio sees how authentic Helen is, and how easily she can win over everyone, so Rio has to change. Or, they get into a big fight. Either way, it’s a win for America.” 

“And what happens if Rio just eliminates her?” 

You shake your head. “She won’t. Because Helen is the one who’s going to win. Think about it. Helen is the perfect girl to help rehash your image, the perfect girl to bring home to mommy and daddy to get their approval. Rio won’t cut her because she knows that she needs her. And if she doesn’t see that, then we just have to make sure we do.” 

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “You know, I’m almost impressed, honey. And villains?” 

Every good season of reality television needs someone to root against. “I’ve picked out a few, but I think Wanda Maximoff could be a good one, or Cassandra Infidelis. Wanda is the token milf with twins, control freak, perfectionist but I sense some anger under all that. Start to take away her control? I bet she goes crazy. And Cassandra has had a lot of issues in her past so I don’t think it would be too hard to get her to the point where she snaps.” 

She chews on her bottom lip and then stands up out of her chair and walks over until she’s a foot in front of you. You’re completely frozen to the ground and you can feel her hot breath on your lips. 

It takes everything in you not to look at her mouth. 

“I can do it,” you whisper. “I know I don’t have any experience, but I want to learn. I want you to teach me—produce me.”

Agatha smirks knowingly and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Well done, honey. Looks like you just got yourself a promotion. Now get out there and do everything I say, exactly how I say.” 

“I will, I promise.” Tension crackles between you and electricity pulses under your skin. It feels like you just got everything you wanted while simultaneously selling your soul to the devil. 

Her voice lowers and her eyes rake over your body with a heat in them. “I’ll make something out of you, don’t worry.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[nakylvr]

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.