#and when I responded back he replied almost immediately

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[userautumn]

He knows he shouldn't, but Buck texts Tommy anyway. Once Jee is covered in chocolate and cookie crumbs, once she's drifting off to sleep against his arm with Moana playing softly in the background, he pulls up their text thread with his unoccupied hand and clicks on the message bar. He ignores the grey and blue messages that sit above, messages—warm, kind, and loving—that speak to a happier time and instead chooses to type out a quick message.

Jee misses you.

He sends off the text and then pockets his phone. Slips out of Jee's sticky grasp so he can start cleaning the kitchen before it's time to put her to bed. He's so deep in thought that he almost misses the way his phone vibrates in his pocket.

What did she say?

"Uncle Tommy come play?"

Tommy doesn't respond for a while, long enough that Buck gets to imagine his face, pinched and in pain, with tears in his eyes. Or maybe Tommy's just fine. Maybe Buck is the one pinched and in pain, emotional and so damn sick of crying all the time.

I'm sorry.

Sorry to her or sorry to me?

It's not fair. Buck knows it's not as soon as he sends it, but Tommy replies seconds later anyway.

Sorry to both of you.

Buck stares at the text until his screen goes blank, trying to decide which of the emotions he's currently drowning in that he wants to feel. He settles on anger.

If you were that sorry, you wouldn't have dumped me three days after our six month anniversary.

Never mind.

This was dumb.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Bye.

Goodbye, Evan.

Buck's heart lurches into his throat at the sight of his name on screen, his eyes widening and his breath quickening. An embarrassing rush of hope stirs deep in his chest before he can clamp down on it and it feels like breathing for the first time in weeks. Another text comes through immediately after.

Sorry. It's a habit. I'm so sorry. Goodnight, Buck. Please tell Jee-Yun that I hope to see her soon.

Buck stares for a long moment, then lets out a laugh, thin and mirthless, as humiliation—so much fucking humiliation—crawls up his gut, filling his mouth with bile and shame. Right. He should have known. Did know, probably, somewhere deep down in his gut. But Evan Buckley has always been a dreamer, a believer in the impossible. Even and especially when it costs him.

I'm not going to lie to her.

Tommy doesn't answer, and this time, Buck knows he won't. He slides his phone back into his pocket and stares down at the countertop. His hands are braced on the flat, smooth surface, the fingers of one hand slick with soapy water. He doesn't cry, but it's a damn near close thing. Hell, with the pain currently slicing and carving its way through his chest, he could probably scream with it, but he won't. He won't scare Jee and he won't wake the neighbors, he'll just... deal with it. Like he has been dealing with it, like he always deals with it.

Buck takes a deep breath. Then he grabs the dishcloth he'd thrown aside and walks back over to the sink. Dips the rag in hot, soapy water and wrings it out before returning to wipe down the counters once more. Whatever. All of this is just... whatever. Tommy breaks his heart—he lets Tommy break his heart—for the second time in a row and it's just fucking whatever. Right now, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and Jee-Yun needs to be woken up so she can brush her teeth before he tucks her in, and life does what it does best: it goes on.

He can cry about Tommy Kinard later. It's not like he gets much sleep these nights anyway.

[casdeans-pie]

AU where Dean is the Michael Sword but meaning that he’s actually genuinely an angelic weapon given human form

--------

"Am I even human?" Dean wants to sound angry - he wants to sound furious - but his words come out as broken as he feels inside.

Cas says nothing for such a long time that Dean nearly tells him to just go, but before he can spit the words out, Cas stiffly climbs up next to him and joins him on Baby's hood.

All the fight deflates out of Dean in an instant.

A Fallen Angel and an Angel's Sword sit side by side on a car in the middle of the night. It sounds like the worst set up to an even worse punchline.

"Guess I've got more in common with you than I have with either of them..." Dean says bitterly, gesturing back at Bobby's house.

Cas clasps his hands neatly over his knees and sighs. "Dean, do you know why the Michael Sword is so powerful?"

"I dunno, 'cause I'm awesome?"

Cas throws him such a flat look that Dean can't help the tiny smile it brings out him. It fades quickly.

Cas jabs him in the shoulder - the same shoulder the handprint is on - and it lances a jolt of something electric down his spine.

"Wh- hey!" Dean swats Cas's finger away and rubs at his shoulder, hoping Cas won't notice the red blooming on his face in the dark.

"Listen to me, Dean. The Michael Sword is so strong because it's powered by a human soul - it's own human soul - yours. You have flesh and blood. You have thoughts and feelings. You are human."

Dean feels the full intensity of Cas's gaze as it's directed at him, and he is powerless to turn away. He's caught by blue eyes and an earnestness he's never seen in Cas's expression before.

"You're stubborn, you're defensive, impulsive, brave, selfless- you're the most human person I know," Cas adds, something catching in his usually stoic voice.

Dean huffs out a startled laugh. "The most human person you know..." he repeats, amusement and affection spreading like warmth through his whole body. He clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas."

"Besides," Cas rumbles, a note of pride slipping in, "I rebuilt your entire body myself, so I know for a fact that it is chemically and biologically identical to a regular human body."

Dean loudly snorts another laugh. "See, now you've just made it weird."

Cas reaches over and gently holds Dean's hand, palm up, in his own. The move is so unexpected that Dean's brain appears to go immediately offline and all he can do is suck in a quiet breath.

Cas moves his fingers gently, one by one, and presses onto the pads of his fingertips, while Dean can hear his own heartbeat between his ears.

"Uh-" Dean finally manages. Great. Nice. Useful.

"It may be difficult to understand, but you are as much this man of flesh and blood as you are Angelic steel," Cas says gently. His fingers continue to press across Dean's hand, as if now he's started he can't stop. "I've noticed that you are a very tactile person, and you respond well to touch. I'm attempting to ground you in this moment. Is it working?"

Dean wants to immediately deny it and snatch his hand back, but he pushes down the reflex and watches Cas trace the lines across his calloused palm. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

Cas doesn't let go and Dean doesn't pull away.

When the experience starts to feel too much Dean weaves their fingers together and looks up at the stars, knowing Cas will be able to feel how sweaty his palm is, and can probably hear the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage.

"Am I at least cool looking, as a sword?" Dean eventually asks, breaking the silence. He turns back to Cas and throws him a small grin.

Cas's eyes roam across his face, almost seeming to bore into him like he can see beneath his flesh. Maybe he can.

"Yes, Dean," Cas replies, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "you always look 'cool'."

[papaya-twinks]

get over it! - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mental breakdown, breaking glass.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - sorry this took so long, I was doing all Lando’s birthday ones x

parts 🧡

Time Skip - Formula One Baku Grand Prix Pre-Race

Baku had always been a city of contrasts—historical yet modern, chaotic yet beautiful. And today, it felt like the perfect reflection of Lando's mood as he walked down the paddock, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, jaw clenched tight.

Since your little ‘incident’ with Lando at Qualifying, you’d made sure to steer well out of his way. You would rather not be blamed for his driving by Zak or Andrea anyhow. It did slightly piss off the mechanics on Lando’s side of the garage, however.

Your energy was something that helped a lot of them to keep going, and now you were steering clear of Lando’s while side of the garage. You hadn’t even noticed him sliding into Oscar’s garage, as you handed around drinks.

“Y/N,” he said, tapping you on the shoulder, your shoulders immediately raising defensively, your head turning away from, signalling your dislike in speaking to him. “Y/N," he pressed, this time with more urgency. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, still not looking at him. "I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” you said simply, handing some of Oscar’s mechanics some drinks. "You’re avoiding me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can’t just walk away, not after what happened,” he said firmly.

“Yes I can, besides, why do you even care? It’s not like you to do so,” you said, placing your tray down, taking some new cups from the stack. “Some of my mechanics are pissed about you not being in the garage and stuff,” he mumbled, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, and they made you drag your ass here to ask?” you asked, a scoff on your lips as Lando rolled his eyes. “Sorry for asking you to do your own damn job,” he snapped, his voice filling with the frustration and bite from earlier.

“Let me do my fucking job, and stop talking to me, then,” you said, your voice with equally as much spite as you glared at him, his jaw set firm, eyes narrowed. You rolled your eyes, walking past him, your chin held high - so what if he was a driver? He didn’t own you!

You’d had many fights with Lando, countless, some of them about such minor things, you almost laughed when you looked back at them. Of course, there was a time, even after the Sochi incident, where maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could have forgiven you.

But then again, it was Lando Norris. He’d do anything just to fuck shit up.

Flashback - 2021 Mexican Grand Prix

It had started innocently enough - a late-night discussion about his diet. He had asked you to double-check his hydration formula before heading to the gym. You’d pointed out that it didn’t seem balanced, that he'd been skipping meals. He’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But that was just the start. 

“Why do you always act like you know better?” he had snapped, voice low but cutting. “I’m the one racing out there. You’re just a helper,”. His words stung. You didn’t respond immediately, too shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. But when you did, your voice was tight with restraint.

“Just a helper?” you’d repeated, incredulous. “I’ve been working with you for years, Lando. Don’t act like I don’t know how to do my job,” you had said, your voice edged with a hint of shock and hurt. “You don’t work with me, Y/N, you’re not on my level, you won’t ever be on my level. You work for the team, at least get it right,”.

“You can’t just skip meals and expect your hydration to be perfect,” you had replied, a little more firmly. “Your body needs food to process all the fluids properly. If you’re running on empty, no amount of water is going to make a difference.”

“I’m fine,” Lando shot back immediately, his tone defensive. “I told you, I’m good. I just didn’t feel like eating. It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice becoming more and more frustrated. Why couldn’t he understand what you were saying? And why did all your arguments have to be centred around water?

For a moment, it seemed like Lando was going to say something else, but instead, he crossed his arms, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Y/N. I’m not a child. I know how to do my job,” he had said, his eyes narrowed once more.

The words hit harder than they should have. You’d been working with him for quite a while, supporting him in every way you could, and this was the first time you felt like he didn’t appreciate it. “I never said you were,” you had said, your voice cold now, your patience worn thin.

“But when you start acting like a diva and skipping meals while I’m the one having to pick up the pieces, then yeah, maybe I do need to step in,” you said, your jaw set firmly and your eyes narrowed. Lando opened his mouth to retort, but you turned away before he could, your back to him as you grabbed your tablet from the table.

Your hands had been shaking with frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I don’t have time for this right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I’ve got a hundred other things to do,” you moved to his door, only stopped by his voice.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you. After a long, charged silence, he finally spoke. “You think I’m just acting like a diva, huh?” he asked, his voice colder than you would have thought, sharp and almost like a snarl.

“Im not the one who fucking acts like I run the whole team off my own back - all you do is give water to people, Y/N, you’re useless!” he snapped, his voice raising as you flinched. “Useless? I’m not-,” you started, your own voice becoming louder.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You think, just coz a few people like you, that you’re the one managing this whole team? You don’t do shit, Y/N, you’re not important! People would be sad you left your day or two and forget about it, okay? You’d be replaced in an instant, you have no skill!”.

All of this. Over a water plan. “I…fuck you, Lando,” you said, your eyes brimming with tears, voice cracking as you stepped out the door, not even sparing him a glance as you rushed away from him,”

Present Time - Formula One Baku Grand Prix

Sure, you were pissed at Lando, but it really wasn’t fair to take it out on the whole team, do, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself to Lando’s side of the garage to hand out refreshments, much to the relief of the mechanics and engineers.

Just imagining if Sochi had never happened in 2021, or you’d never said the comment that you’d said, it would’ve been some different, and you would’ve been cheering and going crazy with the team, watching Lando climb higher and higher from his low position.

You could practically feel the tension radiating off of Lando’s car, the stress of a potential championship fight that could be washed away due to one bad qualifying session, or the struggles of getting through to at least a points playing position, everyone was on edge.

Lando had a lot of positions to make up if he wanted to salvage his weekend, or at least begin to try and gain some points. And boy, did he make up positions. One after another, he passed car after car, refusing to let the mistake of qualifying 16th define his race. He was determined to prove himself.

As the race wore on, Lando's mood lifted. Every overtake, every clean pass, brought him closer to his goal. He had no idea what position he was in now—he was just racing, just pushing harder than he ever had. When the final laps came, he found himself fighting for 4th. And when he crossed the line, there it was: 4th place.

But all you could do was bury it deep inside of you and push Lando out of your mind - sometimes there were times when you wished you could have screamed and cheered with the team, like in Miami. But you had Oscar’s current winning margin to distract you from the hurt in the pit of your belly.

Time Skip - Post Race - Baku

The mechanics jostled round the garage, all talking, but slowly leaving, exiting the garage as the sky darkened, a pale shade of greyish-blue, a colour you found quite beautiful actually. Like a reflection of the ocean, in some ways.

“Why are you still here?” a voice snapped you from your train of thought, ruining what was otherwise quite a peaceful movement, your gaze forced sway from the clouds. “None of your business,” you scoffed, picking up your drinks tray from the side as Lando stared.

“I mean, kinda is,” he replied, his nose scrunched distastefully, like you were something or someone lower than him, which was how he perceived you anyways. “Everyone else has gone home,” he pointed out.

“Cheers Captain Obvious,” you said sarcastically, the glasses tinkling on your tray, some with lines of red wine at the bottom, beams of white from the lights above reflecting off the glass. “Whatever,” Lando said, his voice nearly a mumble as he dug he is hands into his pockets.

“Look, I’d appreciate if you stayed the fuck out of my way,” Lando said sarcastically, “I can’t stand your stupid presence,” he snapped, “there’s nothing to fucking be so happy about, I can’t have you annoyingly positive energy around all the time,”.

“Excuse me?” you said, not quite sure what to say after that little outburst of his came from. “You heard me, you’re stupidly positive and all you do is frolic around with that stupid little tray of yours,” Lando snapped, pushing the tray out of your hand, the plate clattering onto the floor, the glasses shattering at your feet.

“Lando, what the fuck is your issue?!” you half-screamed, scrambling away from the shards of glass scattered on the floor, cutting at the soles of your sneakers. “Just….fuck off, okay?!” he said, his curls a messy heap on his head, his eyes wild.

He looked on the verge of a full breakdown as you stared, in shock at the whole thing. He’d been fine a few seconds ago, what the hell had happened? “Lando, I didn’t-,” you started, raising your hands almost in surrender.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, Y/N!” he covered his ears, “Just fuck off!”. You said nothing, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stumbled back, away from the glassy heap on the floor, and rushing away from the garage. You’d never seen Lando break down before.

Was he…Was he okay?

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship-coded. part 2 of a sort to this meet-ugly. reader is a doctor and knows nami from her past.

“So what you mean to tell me right now is that you’re calling me when the medicine floor is full to bursting to admit a… reindeer to the hospital?”

You keep your voice neutral and professional as you talk through the transponder snail, who has picked up the characteristic protruding ears of one of your closest friends and coworkers.

“It’s complicated.”

You grimace.

“I’m not a vet, bestie, and neither are you.”

Your friend pauses on the phone for a moment, and you can tell the full force of the ridiculousness of the situation has finally hit him, but there was desperation in his voice, so you bite your lip, waiting for his response before you agree to go see his patient. Hopefully, it won’t take too long, you think, given that you’re alone managing the unit for the rest of the day.

Out of kindness, you sent your intern home early about an hour ago, thinking that today would shape up to be a quiet Sunday, possibly a piss poor decision. Things are still relaxed however, and as you gather up your things to leave the workroom, you listen intently to the rest of your friend’s report before you formally take a look at the purported animal patient. 

“Its friends say that it apparently has a more human form, even if it looks the way it does today?”

Human form? “You think it’s Zoan Devil Fruit maybe?”

You’re marching down the stairs, almost tripping on the last two, when he replies, “Typically they revert to their human forms when they’re sick though, this looks like the opposite.”

“Humans are animals, too, I guess,” you muse. He doesn’t answer immediately, and you hear a sudden commotion in the background. 

“Shit, gotta go,” he offers and he’s immediately off, and you watch the Transponder Snail stop responding. Setting it down at a nurse’s station in the emergency department, you locate the bay you were told to check in and find a bunch of people huddled, but not resuscitating, a few nurses clearly idling and chatting. 

Pushing through gently until you can introduce yourself, you give your name, 

“Hi, I’m Dr. ___”-

And before you can even pull back the curtain, the first person you see is not the reindeer that is sprawled out, eyes closed but still breathing with a steady, stable rhythm, but one of the most memorable people from your childhood’s striking tangerine hair, and you lose your breath temporarily. 

“No fucking way,” she says, rising, and you, also shocked, in her all the memories of the past you try so hard to erase in your day to day, rushing back, until she throws her arms around you, and you throw your arms back around her. 

She’s supposed to be in disguise, and later she’ll admit to you that it’s because she has a terribly large bounty on her head, but you don’t forget a face, especially around the eyes. 

Even if it’s been years and years.

Sniffling, you pull away and thank her, before turning your attention to the bonafide reindeer - admittedly the cutest one you’ve ever seen - with a high fever sitting in front of you.

“Hey, Nami… tell me everything you know about him,” you say, your voice warm and thankful. “And let’s catch up later.”

—

“You know, part of me always wondered what became of you.” Nami states, once the three of you have been situated in a proper hospital room, an IV drip started by a somewhat reluctant nurse while other floor nurses and staff peer curiously through the window. You smooth the wrinkles in your scrubs and smile at her again, taking in the fact that the last time you saw each other you were just on the verge of turning 14, and you’d been trying to help her store a load of jewels she’d swiped from a jewelry store.

It was the second to last time you ever used your Devil Fruit powers for wrongdoing, and you try not to think about the true last time. 

“I didn’t really imagine you’d become a doctor after all that,” Nami teases.

“It’s in my blood apparently,” is your simple response, one that warrants elaboration in the future. You tap the tubing of the IV and take another look at the young deer-man before you, who Nami says is named Chopper, pressing a finger to his calf to check for leg swelling briefly, then look back at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a pirate now.”

You blink.

“I thought you hated pirates.” Your voice has softened into a whisper.

Nami smiles, the kind that seems to hold back a story that is far too grand to share all at once.

“And I thought you were a drug smuggler,” she says, with a wink. Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, and you say nothing else. Now is not the time really to explain how you got out of that situation, the least of all reasons because there could be prying eyes. 

Changing the subject quickly, and also due to curiosity, you sit down ahead of her and ask for her to share to avoid having to spill your own dirty laundry, and your scheme works, as Nami recounts her years since the two of you parted ways and the pirate crew she’s grown to know and love.

And you hear one name more frequently than all the rest.

—

You take care of Chopper for three days and match a few more names to faces - Sanji, who somehow manages to toe the line of sexual harassment with all the nurses but never actually tips over it and Usopp who you wish would talk less and listen more. You have to admit that there’s a charm to the two of them that complements Nami well, even if she seems to be yelling at them half the time, and your talks with Chopper during rounding are fascinating as soon as he gets better. After the initial shock of a talking animal, you find that he is highly intelligent (probably more so than you), very susceptible to praise and also very kind. 

Linking the four together is that same quality, kindness.

—

“Don’t you think maybe you’re trusting me a bit too much?” you muse, your thumb running the rim of a cocktail while Nami sips on her own drink, and Chopper a glass of freshly squeezed juice. “You do have insane bounties on your heads and I might not be the same person you met years ago.”

“I doubt you’ve changed,” Nami says somewhat confidently. She looks around at the tavern, and with the lack of wanted posters on the walls anywhere and the relative reclusiveness of this town, her guard is down. She leans in. “Unless you’ve set us up already, and in that case perhaps I’d have to kill you.”

There’s a short pause, and the two of you burst into laughter, even if Chopper for a moment looks between the two of you with a mild concern.

“I’m glad you came with me today though, because I haven’t been here in a week since there’s a weird guy I’ve been trying to avoid here and I was starting to miss the food.”

Nami’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh, what does he look like?” 

“Like average height, dressed like it’s summertime, and-” you pause and duck.

Speak of the devil.

“Ugh, he’s here,” you whisper from practically under the table. Nami takes a look back, and to your horror she waves.

And her illustrious captain and your meet ugly collide into one person with a big wide smile.

“Great to see you again!”

It finally occurs to you that the names were the same - Luffy.

[avnche]

WHAT ONCE WAS

Changin x Afab reader {angst-fluff}

PART FOUR

8 MONTHS LATER

Everyday after you became Changbin's girlfriend you have been really happy. There are times where Changbin becomes really busy with work so he can't come over to your place but he does make sure to send flowers and small gifts in his absence.

Now it has been 2 weeks and he hasn't even replied to your text or sent you his regular "Good Morning" texts. You are aware that he has an upcoming comeback and his schedule gets really crazy so you didn't want to push things even if you were worried. You decide just to text him how he was before putting your phone down and focusing on the customers that just came in.

You quickly became busy with barely any break in between and like always your so-called friends weren't much help. It's always like this. Tae is always in the back on his phone, Jiho and Momo either doing the bare minimum or doing something that doesn't need to be done right now. Momo stood a few feet behind you cleaning off the counter where you placed your phone.

As you continued running the shop making sure every customer was attended too Momo noticed your phone was unlocked once she saw you had a text come through from Changbin with a heart at the end of his name. Momo being the nosy person she is picked up your phone and looked at your texts you shared with Changbin. She wanted to know if it was true...if you were actually texting who she thought. Momo looked back to check if you noticed her but you didn't. You were too busy ringing up customers. So Momo called the number. It only rang once and Changbin's voice could be heard on the other side. "Hey Baby, What's up?" Is all Changbin said before Momo quickly hung up the phone.

Is she really dating Changbin? HER!? Momo thought. She finally put the phone back and continued cleaning.

After a long busy day the work was finally done. Jiho, Tae and Momo were just heading out. You waved goodbye to finish the last couple of hours before grabbing your belongings and closing up shop.

When you got home you were so tired you didn't even bother checking your phone. You would have noticed the multiple text and missed calls for Changbin but you were just so tired that you passed out immediately after you laid down.

It was now the morning after. The sound of your phone constantly ringing wakes you up earlier than usual. You grabbed it from your night stand and answered it in a groggy tone. "Hello?"

"I have been calling and texting and you don't respond!?" Changin yelled. His never yelled at you before like this so you were completely caught off guard and almost speechless. "I was tired from work." You said calmly hoping to help the already heated Changbin. "Have you ever looked all over the Internet!!?" He shouted louder. You began to panic as you weren't used to him mad at you and from PTSD from childhood trauma. Changin knows these things about you which is why he never raises his voice at you.

"Look at your texts!! This is bad!" Changin yelled again. You removed the phone from your ear so you can look at Changbin's texts. There were multiple links. Your hands were shaking from the complete panic you were in but you managed to click on one of them.

It took you to an article titled. "Changin's secret lover; a lowly bakery worker!"

This article somehow found out your name and even some pictures of the texts you shared with Changbin. Not only that, they also said some nasty things about you and toxic fans upset at the whole situation, demanding Changbin get kicked out of the group.

"I.....I didn't say a...anything." You stuttered. "Then how do they know!? How would they get pictures of our texts!?" Changin was roaring. "I DON'T KNOW!" You shouted back getting fed up with Changbin yelling at you like a child. "I knew it was a bad idea, ever letting you back into my life!" Changin shouted again.

You immediately froze and were shocked at his words.

"Changbin!?" You could hear someone in the background telling Changbin's last words were out of line.

You immediately hung up after that. Your chest was tight and your breathing was rapid. You felt like you were going to pass out.

You knew you had to call someone before you do something rash so you decided to call your mom.

"Hello?"

"Mom, it's happening again...I need you" You managed to say even though you were having a panic attack.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes...just remember your breathing exercises." Your mom said before quickly hanging up the phone so she can be there for you.

Minutes felt like hours but your mother finally made it. Rushing into your apartment and into your room where you were. You were more calm due to your breathing exercises but you were in tears.

"Honey what happened?" Your mother asked as she rushed to your side immediately putting you in her arms so you could cry in her arms. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." You cried sorry feeling bad to call your mom, pulling her away from whatever she was doing just because you allowed some childhood trauma to get the best of you again.

Your father was a drunk who used to physically and mentally abused you. Not a day went by that your father wasn't yelling at you for the smallest thing. Your mother often protects you the best she could. She finally got enough money to leave him. You never saw him again. You were happy but you didn't know the trauma you went through you would have to carry for the rest of your life.

Changin yelling at you like that brought you back to that scared little girl hiding in your closet to escape his wrath.

You told your mom everything that happened. She knew about your relationship through the articles but she didn't want to say anything. She just knew that she had to be there on speed dial for you when the time came.

"Changbin is just angry right now...give it some time he'll come around."

That time became 4 months without a word from him. Eventually you have given up. What the media was saying about you brought you to a dark place. You stop showing up to work as you started to get those same remarks from your friends and the constant media trying to interview you was bad for business.

You quit and eventually had to move back in with your mother. You even had to change your number after it was leaked.

Surely Changbin was going through a lot worse but it wasn't your fault but at the same time you thought maybe he was right that you were a mistake to come back into his life.

[aebinspa]

tell me somethin' i don't know

PAIRING: gunwook x y/n reader

GENRES: fluff, gunwook is your brother's best friend (of course gyuvin is your brother), reader is a bit shy, they are the same age, reader is bad at math and gunwook is actually the solution to her problems!

WORD COUNT: 0.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! i wrote this very short part about gunwook on the train and it will be the last thing i post for a while! i have already started to use my time to write a medium-length fic about karina that i hope will be better than the others i have written :) have a nice day!

The room of Gunwook, your brother's best friend, was strangely clean. Even after looking for several minutes in every corner, to then accuse him of something, you couldn’t find anything. The room was small but welcoming and on one side there was the enormous desk, with the books you would need for revision.

Sure, you didn’t hate Gunwook, but finding yourself suddenly, from one day to the next, at the house of one of Gyuvin’s most popular friends wasn’t exactly relaxing. Your brother Gyuvin certainly had everything a woman or a man could be interested in, but once you got to know him you couldn’t help but notice that he was missing something: a bit of tact.

“Y/n, you’re already here, ah” Gunwook, surprised, entered the room and closed the door behind him. Gunwook was popular, too popular for your tastes. You were the same age, you attended the same school but not the same section. The desperate sighs and screams you heard when you passed in front of his classroom, always surrounded by fans, made you turn on your heels every time.

If you had to describe your relationship with him, perhaps you would have reduced it to those greetings you sometimes exchanged when your eyes met. Nothing more. Except for one small detail: you too, like many others, found him extremely attractive and, on several occasions, he had shown you that he was kinder than Gyuvin’s other friends.

“Mathematics doesn't really get into your head, does it?” a bright smile almost made you regret not being very good with numbers. “Yeah. And Gyuvin decided to make my problem your problem, too,” you said, emphasizing the “your,” and the young man laughed. “We’ll show Gyuvin that the two of us are better than two Gyuvins.” This time it was you who laughed. “We are, without a doubt.”

Gunwook spent the next three hours explaining to you in detail everything you didn’t understand and, when necessary, he stopped to let you take a break. Sometimes your hands would touch and your breathing would synchronize; you tried desperately not to make it obvious that you weren’t indifferent to that closeness. Once you finished reviewing all the notes you had brought with you, you thanked Gunwook with a weak “thank you” to which he responded with a huge smile full of warmth.

“Well, Gyuvin didn't do anything wrong in calling me to help you.” “Sometimes he knows how to make himself useful!” you replied a little too enthusiastically, immediately ending up embarrassed by your own words. “Y/n, whenever you want, I’m always willing to give you a hand” “You don’t have to” You accidentally met your gaze in the nearby mirror and noticed the redness on your cheeks. What an idiot I am.

“Let me put it this way.” Gunwook settled back in his chair and took your hands in his, causing you to yelp a little, to which the boy responded by tilting his head and laughing, whispering “How stupid you are.” “Um, tell me.” “Next time, let’s go to a nice coffee shop to study or the library. Anywhere you like. I have an overwhelming urge to take you out on a date.” Your head was spinning a little, so you held his hands tighter as if seeking support.

“Maybe you got the wrong girl” That toothy smile didn't seem to leave Gunwook's face. “I don’t think that’s possible. I, well,” Gunwook ran his hand through his hair, “I need to get to know you better. Every time I talk to you or simply look at you my heart does flips. I don't know how I got through today's lesson without kissing or touching you."

"Oh, okay" “Is it a yes, Y/n?” Gunwook was now closer than expected. “Yes, I feel the same so how could I say no to you?” You were the same color as a tomato. Gunwook came closer and closed the distance between you by giving you a chaste and sweet kiss. You responded with a huff.

“You’re good with women” “Tell me something I don’t know, Y/n”

[icouldbeyourprettygirl]

He texted me back!! (Like four hours ago, lol) I was being a little bit petty because he waited like 16 hours to text me back, so I waited longer to respond than I usually would've. I was expecting the worst, but he was so kind and understanding. He reassured me that everything was okay, and he was, indeed, happy to help. I was so relieved because I had started thinking that I crossed a line, but he actually couldn't have given me a better response. (I'm so in love)

[ghostlywhiskey]

pen pal simon - original post

every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as ‘ghost’. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.

the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.

but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you weren’t positive he would reply this time around, but you figured you’d still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no ‘treats’ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.

and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldn’t deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.

then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didn’t even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands. 

..it’s been quite hectic over where i’m currently at, so sorry for the lack of my responding…

...i’m a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.

the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friends’ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.

you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didn’t just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didn’t even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasn’t wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.

again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesn’t stop you from writing back. don’t always have the time, but promise i’ll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i can’t do the same, but i’ll find a way to make up for that. ‘til the next letter, ghost.

and while you didn’t get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.

[wysteria-bloom]

↪" you amaze me "

Bg3 x reader

Giving them a surprise kiss

Warnings : suggestive on Halsin's part... Spoilers for bg3 (duh).

Genre : fluff

A/n : I have 367 hours in this game so I believe that I am worthy enough to write for these characters I love so very much. I am extremely open to requests for bg3 please send me all the stuff you want to see! I'm not gonna include minsc and jaehira for obvious reasons.

Characters : halsin, astarion, wyll, gale, gortash, rolan, raphael

▢ astarion

Leans into the kiss almost immediately. Its usually how he responds to any affection coming from you. Rests a gentle hand on your arm as he deepens the kiss with a pleased little smile on his lips.

When you break from the kiss, still has the smile on his lips, his eyes looking down at you softly, " can't get enough of me, darling?" He cooed out teasingly, a giddiness to him that wasn't there a few minutes ago.

You nip his jaw," stop getting cocky. I caught you off-gaurd, admit it."

He gasped in offence," and here I thought my beautiful partner was merely expressing how much they loved me." Shaking his head at you with an exagerrated pout," shame on you."

"... That's a 'yes'." You smirked.

"Oh shut up," pulls you into another kiss full of laughter.

▢ gale

Blinks for a good 5 seconds before finally responding to the kiss in full, hand curling through your hair to cup the back of your head. A wistful sigh blows through his nose as he leans into the kiss more.

When you pull away, he still holds your head. You smile happily at him," Hello, love." You greet cutely.

Sends you a bashful little smile, pressing his forehead to yours," Well... hello to you too."

"Were you surprised?"

"Oh-hoh?" He grinned with amusement," there was a goal behind all this?"

You tilt your head from side to side," eh... I did have one. But I also just wanted to kiss my handsome husband."

Clears his throat, cheeks warming," Oh, well consider me th..thoroughly surprised, then."

▢ wyll

It only takes him a second to respond to your kiss, cupping both sides of your face so gently and rubbing a thumb across your jawline. A small happy hum falls from his lips as he's kissing you.

When pulling away, his lips chase after yours, giving you a final little peck," You amaze me. Everytime." He breathed out, always has something cheesy to say after every kiss but it never fails to make your heart stutter.

You huff," You're impossible to surprise, yknow? You're too smooth."

He laughs," will it make you feel better if I said you gave me butterflies?"

A hum and then a smile you nodded to him," I believe that's substantial. However, you need to pay for your indiscretions with a kiss."

"Whatever will I do?" Wyll leans down, nose pressing against yours," I have no choice but to give in, hm?"

"No choice." You agreed, hands moving to his waist as he cups your face.

He presses his lips to yours excitedly.

▢ gortash

He's doing some paperwork when you give him a little kiss on the cheek. Not reacting at first, he finished his signature before looking up at you, a softness to his eyes," Can I help you?"

You merely give him an innocent smile," just reminding you that I love you."

He blinks for a moment before he hums, a slow grin reaching his lips," I see.." He places a hand to your hip, rubbing it slowly with a thumb," Well, I fear I need another reminder then, my dear."

"Greedy," You cooed out before pressing a proper kiss to his lips.

▢ raphael

Is certainly shocked for a split second. He was only telling you about a recent poem he had read and enjoyed.

He cups the back of your neck with his clawed hand, deepening the kiss with huff of amusement. Before breaking the kiss he nips at your bottom lip with his sharp teeth," It's rude to interrupt."

You hum, pressing another kiss to his jaw," You're too endearing when you talk about your poems." You reply honestly.

"Oh good, I was afraid I was boring you." No, he wasn't. He knew how engaged you got in his little speils. That was endearing.

"You could never." He drags you into another kiss with a lot more flames stoked beneath it.

▢ halsin

A low hum of surprise and then a slow smile reaches his lips. His large hands rest on your waist as he deepens this kiss, feeling heat build between the two of you the more passionate it grows.

When you pull away from eachother there's a trail of saliva left between your lips. His eyes are a lot darker now, a yellow shine to them," is there something you need, my heart?" He questioned with that low tone of his.

"Just you."

Pins you to a nearby tree and kisses your neck," that I'll give you in abundance."

▢ rolan

Was in the middle of complaining to you about how you put a book in the wrong place. He had that cute little frown on his face, the grouchy furrow to his brows and the agitated swish of his tail.

You just couldn't help yourself. Leaning forwards, you caught his lips with yours, making him shut up completely. He stared down at you with wide eyes before he moans a little and leans into the kiss.

His tail curls around your leg, dragging you closer to him as he leaned back against the bookcase behind him.

When you pulled away for a breath, he still had his eyes closed for a good five seconds.

Looks into your eyes for a moment before he cups your jaw," you can't kiss your way through an argument." He huffs out.

"I just did."

"Did you? What if I'm still mad at you?"

You grinned at him," Your tail says otherwise, love."

He scoffed and tried to frown but his lips kept twitching," You're impossible." Pulls you into a more heated kiss, arms wrapping around you protectively.

[chosok-amo]

warning. fem! reader, daddy kink! toji, fingering, degrading, you give him viagra.

toji fushiguro has never felt this way before in his life. he’s always been a sexually charged man— always had a high libido, but this? this is becoming ridiculous. he’s not sure what the cause of it is, but he’s sitting at his desk at work. his fingers mindlessly type away at the keyboard, hand fiddling with the mouse, but his thoughts are only on one thing.

why on earth is he feeling so hot? fuck, and why is his cock so hard? why are beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead? he glances at the clock feverishly, muttering a curse to himself as he realises he’s only two hours into an eight hour shift. fuck, what does he do? what does he do?

the first thing he can think of is you, grabbing his phone with slightly shaky hands as he opens up your contact and presses on the call button. he glances around, making sure nobody in the office is close enough to hear, and listens to it ring. the moment you pick up, you hardly get a greeting out before he’s hissing into the receiver.

“alright, ya’ fuckin’ brat, what’d ya do?”

your response on the other end is a stifled giggle and a denial of responsibility on your part. he curls his upper lip, knowing immediately that that laugh means you do have something to do with this.

“don’t fuck around with me, girl, i know it’s your doin’. now tell me, what did you do, why is my cock so damn hard right now?”

you let out another small giggle, shaking your head even though he can't see you through the phone. you lean back against your pillows, stretching out comfortably as you reply in a light, teasing tone. “aw, poor baby. having some... trouble down there?” you ask innocently, drawing out the last word for emphasis. you can practically picture the scowl on his face, which only makes you grin wider.

“maybe if you're a good boy and beg nicely, i'll tell youuu..” you trail off suggestively, enjoying the power you seem to have over him in this moment. a thrill runs through you at the thought of reducing such a strong, confident man to pleading for relie— and all from the comfort of your own bed, no less.

he grunts, rolling his eyes at your innocent act. how you think you can fool him, he doesn't know. maybe because you're so fucking young? whatever the reason, it's working. he feels his cock throbbing in agreement with your suggestion, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“beg, huh? alright then, princess,” his voice drops to a low purr, “on your knees for me, sugar. show me just how much you want to help your big bad toji.” he chuckles, shifting in his seat as he waits for your response. he knows you won't disappoint— not when there's fun to be had.

you smirk to yourself, quite pleased with how easily you've gotten under his skin. you sit up straighter, crossing your legs primly as you respond in a sweet, sing-song voice.

“ohhhh toji, you know i'd love to! but...” you draw out the word dramatically, “...i don't think i will. after all, i'm comfy right where i ammm.”

you giggle again, delighting in the frustrated noise he makes on the other end of the line. you can almost feel the heat of his glare through the phone, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“besides, didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to make demands? if you wanna play, you gotta learn some manners first,” you punctuate your words with a wink, even though he can't see it.

his eyes narrow, the annoyance clear in his gaze as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “well isn't that just fucking rich? demanding manners from someone who clearly hasn't learned them yet themselves.”

he lets out a huff, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. but despite himself, he can't help but smile at your antics. “fine then, brat. how ’bout this? how ‘bout i give you a little taste of what you're denying me?”

there's a pause as he takes a moment to adjust himself, the sound of rustling fabric filling the silence between you both. he clears his throat, his voice dropping lower still. “how ‘bout i take matters into my own hands instead?”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress the excited flutter in your stomach at his words. you can practically imagine the sight of those large, capable hands wrapping around his thick length, and it sends a wave of warmth pooling between your thighs.

“that sounds... tempting,” you admit, your voice dropping to match his sultry tone. “but i'm still comfortable here. and besides, i'm not sure how well you handle rejection...”

you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well how much it would irk him. you can already picture the look of stubborn determination on his face— the same look he gets whenever he sets his mind to something.

he snorts, a hint of amusement lacing his voice despite the growing irritation. “rejection? from you? well, ain't that just a fucking shame. please, kid, you don't know the first thing about turning me down.”

his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the tension in his body palpable. “look, i'm giving you a choice here. either you get off that damn bed and come play with me, or i'll just have to find my own release. and trust me, it won't be pretty.”

there's a dangerous edge to his words, a promise of things to come if you continue to deny him. he's not used to being teased like this, and it's starting to grate on his nerves. but goddamn if it's not also turning him on more than he cares to admit.

you shiver at the threat in his voice, a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of fear. you know exactly what kind of'release' he's referring to—and the thought of it has your core clenching with need.

“ohhh, I'm shaking in my boots,” you tease, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache building inside you. “but you know what they say, baby... pride comes before a fall.”

you pause, letting the weight of your words sink in. “and honestly? i'm not sure i'd want to be around for the aftermath of your tantrum. seems like it might get messy...” you trail off, leaving the invitation open-ended. you're playing with fire, you know— but the thought of seeing him lose control, of witnessing the raw desire etched across his features, is too enticing to resist.

his patience snaps like a twig underfoot. “fuck it,” he growls, standing abruptly and pacing the room in agitation. “i‘ve had enough of your games, brat.”

he stops in front of the window, gazing out at the cityscape below as he tries to regain his composure. “listen up, kiddo. i’m coming over. and when i do, we’re gonna forget all about these silly little teases and get down to business.”

there's a finality to his tone, an unspoken command that brooks no argument. he's made up his mind, and now it's time for you to comply. “be ready,” he adds, his voice low and warning. “or else.”

your heart pounds in your chest at his declaration, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling within you. you quickly scramble off the bed, your feet hitting the floor with a soft thud as you rush to prepare yourself.

“or else what?” you challenge lightly, attempting to mask the tremble in your voice. “you gonna spank me like a naughty child? or maybe you'll just have to punish me some other way...” you let your words hang in the air, suggesting all manner of punishments that send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. you know you're pushing him, testing his limits—but part of you craves the chaos that follows such reckless behavior.

he laughs, but there's no humor in it. “don't tempt me, girl,” he warns, each syllable dripping with barely restrained lust. “because believe me, when i get my hands on you, you won't be sitting down for a week.”

he hangs up without another word, leaving you staring at the phone in disbelief. seconds later, there's a sharp knock at the door, followed by the jangle of keys. he must have kept a spare set, you realize, your heart leaping into your throat as the door swings open and he fills the frame.

he looks pissed. and turned on. and maybe a little bit crazy. “hello, sweetheart,” he drawls, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him with a resounding click. “ready to pay for all that attitude?’

he stalks towards you, a predatory glint in his eye.

your breath catches in your throat as he approaches, the air charged with tension and expectation. you stand frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from the fierce intensity in his eyes.

“i... i don't know,” you reply coyly, tilting your head to the side as you feign innocence. “attitude's kinda my thing. what makes you think i'd want to change?” you take a step back, retreating until your back presses against the wall. the cool surface provides a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your flushed skin.

he closes the distance between you in two long strides, one hand slamming against the wall beside your head as he looms over you. his free hand finds your hip, gripping it possessively as he leans in close.

“oh, i‘ll make you want to change,” he promises darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “i‘ll make you beg for it, princess. i‘ll make you scream so loud the whole damn neighborhood will hear you.”

he punctuates his words with a rough grind of his hips against yours, the hard bulge of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. “sooo, what's it gonna be, sugar? you gonna be a good girl for daddy? or do i need to teach you a lesson?” his hand slides higher, skimming along your ribcage until his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

a gasp escapes your lips at the contact, your nipples hardening instantly beneath the thin fabric of your top. you squirm against him, feeling the throbbing pulse of his arousal against your belly.

“i... i...“ you stutter, caught between defiance and desire. “daddy? who said anything about daddies.” your protest falls flat, though, lost amidst the haze of arousal clouding your senses. you arch into his touch, seeking more friction against your sensitive flesh.

“teach me then,” you whisper, a daring gleam in your eyes. “show me how a real man handles a naughty girl.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. “with pleasure,” he purrs, his grip tightening on your hip as he pulls you closer. his other hand moves lower, slipping beneath your skirt to find your panties damp with anticipation. “seems like someone's eager for their lesson,” he taunts, circling his fingertips around your swollen clit.

he pinches the sensitive nub firmly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. but when none comes, he smirks. “good girl,” he murmurs approvingly, his fingers continuing their torturous dance.

“now why don't you show daddy how much you want this?” he coos, leaning in to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. “bend over and spread those legs nice and wide.” a whimper escapes you as his fingers work their magic, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. you're already so wet, so desperate for more of his touch.

“please,” you breathe, the word falling from your lips unbidden. “i need... i need...” you trail off, unable to articulate the overwhelming hunger consuming you. instead, you obey his command, turning and bracing your hands against the wall. you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes hazy with lust.

“like this, daddy?” you ask feigned innocent, slowly bending at the waist and arching your back. you reach back with one hand to lift your skirt, revealing the soaked patch of fabric clinging to your ass. “is this what you wanted?” you purr, spreading your thighs wider in blatant invitation.

a guttural groan spills from his throat at the sight before him. “fuck yes,” he growls, stalking forward to press himself against your exposed rear.

his large hands cup your ass cheeks, kneading the supple flesh roughly as he grinds his rock-hard erection against your panty-covered cleft. “such a pretty little slut for me,“ he praises, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

without warning, he yanks your panties aside and plunges two thick fingers into your dripping channel. “god, you're so fucking tight,” he grits out, pumping his digits in and out of you at a brutal pace.

he curls them slightly, stroking that spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “come on, baby,” he urges, his voice low and commanding. “ride my fingers like a good girl.”

a high-pitched moan tears from your throat as he penetrates you, your inner muscles spasming around his invading digits. the combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiraling into a frenzy of desire. “yes, yes, please!” you chant, pushing back against his hand shamelessly.

your pussy clenches greedily around his fingers, soaking them in your juices as he fucks you relentlessly. the sounds of your own arousal fill the room—moans, whimpers, the obscene squelch of his fingers moving in and out of your cunt.

“‘m going to cum,” you warn, your voice strained and breathless. “if you keep doing that, i'm going to cum all over your hand.”

a wicked grin spreads across his face at your confession, his thrusts becoming even more insistent. “then let go, sugar,” he encourages, adding a third finger to stretch and fill you further.

he quickens the pace, driving into you with a relentless rhythm designed to push you over the edge. “let me see how much you love being fucked by daddy,” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own growing arousal.

the sensation of his teeth on your skin only heightens the pleasure coursing through you, making your orgasm that much more imminent. “that's it, just like that, gooddd, ” he coaches, feeling your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

a keening cry splits the air as your climax crashes over you, waves of intense pleasure ripping through your body. your pussy convulses around his fingers, milking them for every drop of satisfaction they can provide.

“toji!” you scream his name, the single syllable carrying the weight of your surrender. your entire world narrows down to the feeling of his hand inside you, coaxing every last tremor of bliss from your quivering frame.

gradually, the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and panting against the wall. “fuck,” you curse weakly, trying to catch your breath. “what did you do to me?”

a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come undone under his touch. “just warming you up for the main event,” he teases, pulling his slickened fingers free from your spent pussy with a lewd pop.

he brings his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean with a lascivious grin. “but we're not done yet, brat,” he says, his voice laced with promise. “it's time for daddy to get some attention.”

he steps back momentarily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. his shirt follows suit, revealing the chiseled expanse of his chest and abdomen. he unbuckles his belt with deliberate slowness, letting you take in the full extent of his arousal. “spread those legs wider,” he commands, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants.

a shiver runs through you at the sight of his bare form, his muscles rippling as he moves. there's something undeniably primal about seeing him like this, stripped bare and ready for you. a shaky laugh bubbles from your lips, still tingling from the aftermath of your orgasm. you glance back at him over your shoulder, taking in the sight of his naked lower half.

“like this?” you ask, parting your thighs even further, exposing yourself fully to his hungry gaze. “is this enough for you, daddy?”

you watch as he discards the rest of his clothes, his muscular physique on full display. the throbbing bulge in his groin draws your attention like a magnet, its size promising pleasures untold.

“are you going to fuck me now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving him a coy smile. “because i really hope so,” you added, your voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “after all, ‘m just a naughty girl looking to satisfy her daddy.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening with raw lust. “naughty girl indeed,” he agrees, prowling forward until he's standing directly behind you.

his hands roam over your hips, gripping your flesh possessively as he positions himself at your entrance. “but daddy has other plans for you,” he whispers, pressing the head of his cock against your drenched folds.

he gives a slow, measured thrust, sinking into you inch by delicious inch. “feel that, sugar?” he asks, pausing to allow you to adjust to his size. "that's just the tip."

a gasp tears from your throat as he finally fills you completely, stretching you in ways you never knew possible. the sensation of being so utterly claimed by him leaves you breathless, your mind spinning with pleasure.

“oh god,” you moan, clutching at the wall for support. “you're so big... always so big,” you trail off, lost in the exquisite agony of having him buried inside you. he doesn't move for several long moments, allowing you to acclimate to his presence. the tension coiling within you is almost unbearable, each beat of your heart echoing the throbbing pulse of his cock pulsating inside your clenching walls.

“move,” you beg, finally finding your voice, “please, fuck me already.”

a smirk tugs at his lips at your plea, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. with a fluid motion, he begins to withdraw, only to slam back into you with bruising force.

each thrust hits deeper than the last, driving you further onto the edge of sanity. “like that?” he asks, punctuating his words with another punishing thrust. “does daddy feel good inside you?”

he sets a ruthless pace, fucking you with a precision that borders on cruel. every stroke sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your body, lighting up your nerves like fireworks on the fourth of july.

“you're so tight around me,“ he growls, leaning over your back to whisper in your ear. “so wet, soooo perfect.”

a strangled whimper escapes your lips as he hammers into you, the sheer intensity of his movements threatening to reduce you to a quivering mess. the sound of your bodies colliding echoes throughout the room, a symphony of carnal desires.

“mhm, oh god yes,” you moan, bracing yourself against the wall as he continues to ravage you. “so bigggg, daddy.” you reach back to grab hold of his ass, urging him to pound into you harder, faster. the sensation of his thick length splitting you open is overwhelming, sending jolts of ecstasy shooting through your veins with every brutal thrust.

“i can't...” you pant, struggling to find the words amidst the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. “i can't hold on much longer...“

a surge of possessive pride courses through him at your admission, fueling his desire to claim you entirely. “hold on, sugar,” he grates out, his voice rough with lust. “daddy's not done with you yet.”

he pulls back slightly, only to ram into you with renewed vigor. the angle of his thrusts hits that sweet spot inside you, triggering an avalanche of pleasure that threatens to engulf you whole.

“come for me again,” he demands, biting down on your shoulder to mark you as his once more. “show daddy how much you want it.” he quickens his pace, his hips snapping forward with abandon. the slap of flesh against flesh grows louder, the sound mixing with your cries to create a lewd chorus of carnality.

a keening wail tears from your throat as he strikes that perfect chord within you, sending you spiraling toward obliviation once more. the coil of pleasure inside you tightens, ready to snap at any moment.

“toji!” you scream his name, your voice cracking with need. “i'm gonna—”

your sentence cuts off abruptly as your orgasm washes over you, tearing through you with the force of a tidal wave. your inner walls clamp down hard on his cock, milking him for everything he's worth.

“fuck! fuck!“ you sob, riding out the waves of your climax, “’m cumming, ’m cumming!”

a guttural groan rips from his throat as your velvety walls spasm around him, the rhythmic squeezing pushing him closer to the brink. “that's it, baby,” he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “milk daddy's cock.”

he continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until it borders on pain. “such a good little slut,” he growls, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your spine as he pounds into you mercilessly.

with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. a hoarse shout tears from his lips as he finds his own completion, his seed spurting forth to paint your insides white.

the sensation of him filling you up, marking you as his, is indescribable. your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your legs growing weak beneath you.

“oh goddd,” you pant, collapsing against the wall for support. “you're so deep... so full, daddy.”

the warmth of his cum flooding your womb sends another ripple of pleasure coursing through you, extending your high well past its natural end. you can't help but push back against him, desperate for every last drop of his essence.

you lean back against him, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, coupled with the lingering throbs of pleasure coursing through your veins, is simply heavenly.

a satisfied sigh escapes him as he slowly eases out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. he turns you gently in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“feeling better now, brat?“ he teases, his voice still laced with the remnants of his satisfaction. “or do you need some more of daddy's special attention?” he nuzzles into your neck, planting a series of gentle kisses along your sensitive skin. despite the harshness of their lovemaking, there's a tenderness in his touch that speaks volumes about his affection for you.

“you're amazing when you come undone like that,” he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves with reverence. “always so responsive.”

a contented hum vibrates in your throat as he holds you close, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. the tender kisses he plants on your neck send pleasant shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the intense passion of mere moments ago.

“i think i might need a little more,” you admit, tilting your head to grant him better access. “just to make sure all that pent-up energy is drained away properly.”

you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding his lips to the crook of your neck where you know he loves to suck and bite. “and maybe some cuddles afterwards,” you add, a playful glint in your eye. you press yourself even closer to him, savoring the solid warmth of his body against yours. your fingers finding his nipple, pinch the hardened bud in between.

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “cuddles, huh? you're really milking this ‘needy’ thing for all it's worth, aren't you?”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as his tongue delves into your mouth. the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip has you whimpering into the embrace, your fingers tangling deeper in his hair.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, pausing to suck a dark bruise into your skin before moving lower. “as for that pent-up energy,” he murmurs, his hot breath washing over your collarbone, “daddy's got just the thing.”

he drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes them apart. “spread those pretty legs again for me, sugar.”

[moralesluvr]

oooo can you write something where miguel meets yn’s family for the first time and your mom or aunt or some family member pulls you to the side and tells you “that man….is gonna get your pregnant.”

PROMISES IN THE DARK | m. o’hara.

when miguel was about to meet your parents, he was calm, composed as always, his hand resting on the small of your back—a touch that was as protective as it was possessive. his eyes, dark and intense, scanned the room, taking in every minuscule detail, from your baby photos plastered on the wall to the little intricate details of wall trim and tablecloths. there was an air of quiet confidence about him, the kind that made your heart race a little faster as you squeeze his hand tightly.

“ready for this?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but miguel could already sense your anxious aura.

his gaze flicked to you, and he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, perhaps usual. “always,” he replied, his voice low and controlled, sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “don’t worry, mi amor. i’ll behave. for now.”

your cheeks flushed at the underlying promise in his words, but before you could respond, your mother appeared, arms open wide in welcome.

the evening unfolded with ease—or so it seemed. miguel was nothing but polite, attentive, and everything your family could have hoped for. but you knew better. beneath his facade of a calm exterior was a storm waiting to be unleashed, a storm adjacent to a tension that crackled between you every time his fingers brushed yours or when his eyes locked onto yours from across the room.

at some point during your little reunion, your aunt pulled you aside, her eyes wide with that all-too-familiar twinkle. she was always so sweet, face as plump as a berry as her reddened lips parted into a smile as she learned to whisper in your ear.

“y’know, y/n, he’s something else,” she murmured, glancing over at your fiancé, who was deep in conversation with your uncle.

“but honey, I gotta tell you—” she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that man... he’s gonna get you pregnant.”

you immediately choked on your drink, nearly spilling it in the process. “auntie!”

she just grinned, completely unfazed by your surprise. she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and leans into you attentively, “darling, i’m completely serious. you see the way he looks at you? it’s like he’s ready to devour you whole! trust me, it’s only a matter of time.”

your face heated up as you quickly excused yourself, from your spot on the couch, feeling flustered and more than a little embarrassed. you walked back to the kitchen where your family was gathered, trying to shake off her words, but they clung to you like a second skin.

miguel’s eyes found yours as you re-entered the room, and his lips curved into that maddeningly subtle smile. he didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he could read you better than anyone else could. the way your eyebrows furrowed and the way your body language began to appear more reserved, he knew something had happened while you two were apart.

you took a deep breath and crossed the room to where he was standing, feeling the pull of his presence strongly.

“what did she say to you?” he asked quietly, his voice so low that only you could hear it. his fingers brushed against your waist, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken as you gulped, succumbing to his warm touch.

you bit at your lip, debating whether to tell him, but you knew there was no point in hiding it, so you pushed your nervousness aside and sighed, “she said... that you’re going to get me pregnant.”

miguel’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his expression still stoic, but you caught the flicker of something darker in his eyes. he almost looked like he wanted to laugh. he stepped closer to you, his hand sliding around to rest on the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer to him.

“is that so?” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that made your knees weak.

you swallowed, “i mean…well..she seems pretty convinced.”

miguel’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked his teeth, “she’s a smart woman.”

he, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “and she’s right, doll. it’s only a matter of time.”

your breath hitched as his words sank in, ringing throughout your brain as the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression calm, controlled, but his eyes were dark with intent, filled with promises you weren’t sure you were ready to unravel in a house full of family.

but there was no mistaking the message he had spoken to you, because when miguel made a promise, he kept it. and judging by the way his hand tightened slightly on your waist, his thumb brushing just below the curve of your ribcage, that promise was as good as kept.

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 1

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade‘s world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven’t written in A WHILE so bear with me

Masterlist

Wade met you in 2016, while he was staying at the X-Men mansion. You didn’t look up from your spot behind the counter when he came into the kitchen, your eyes were observing how the colorful cereal chunks were floating in the brownish milk. It didn’t take long for him to ultimately recognize you. “You’re Y/N!”, he exclaimed loudly, as if he made the discovery of a lifetime:” Cat Claw, was it, right?” You didn’t respond, instead, your y/e/colored eyes solely looked up. At the sight of his face, you slightly tilted your head. He immediately began ranting about how he truly believed that you could have had your own franchise if Sony cared enough about women before he made a shiver run down your spine.

“You’re Logan’s girl, right?”, he asked innocently, however, the next thing Wade knew, was how the bowl of cereal slammed against the wall right next to his face. He didn’t flinch, instead, he merely ran his finger down the milk stains before putting them into his mouth:” Oat milk, how responsible of you. We should all take better care of Mother-Earth, con-.” But before he had the chance to end his sentence, you made a few long steps toward him until your faces were only a couple of centimeters apart from one another. “That is so hot.”, Wade whispered while you studied his burned features.

“Don’t you ever take his name into your mouth again, or I’ll cut your tongue out!”

“That’s even hotter!”

Wade very quickly learned that despite your powers, your inability to die, and your unbelievably harsh persona you carried a lot of heartbreak inside. Things between you and Logan didn’t end well. You heard about his death through Charles Xavier, a couple of months after he mysteriously disappeared. And never getting any actual explanation or closure had turned you into a person no one could recognize anymore. You were always angry, short-tempered, and mean like a nervous dog. Because let’s call it by its name: you were beyond hurt. There was no term in the dictionary that could fully define how you felt about the whole situation.

So when Wade came across the other Logan, he eventually brought you up. “You’re a hero in my world, you know. Everyone idolizes you.”, Wade explained, looking down at the canned food and taking it into his hands:” No wait, scratch that- almost everyone loves you.”

Logan, who was sitting with his back turned to Wade only scoffed:” Whoever that person is, they’re probably smarter than the rest.” “Yeah, maybe.”, he simply replied, looking out of the window:” I mean, she doesn’t talk about it. Except for this one time where she was really, really drunk and we sang karaoke together…it was terrific.”

“She?”

Wade turned his head:” Yeah, Y/N.” He observed how Logan abruptly tensed up, almost as if the name alone switched on something inside of him:” Say it again.” And for one short second one could've argued that Logan was begging. The sound of his voice was almost vulnerable.

The man in the red outfit blinked a couple of times before he gazed into the open air:” We are about to find out something significant for the plot, guys!”, he whispered excitedly before clearing his throat and turning back to Logan: “Y/N, you know- the X-Man. Wasted potential if you ask me, Sony could’ve made so much money off of her. She’s really popular with women and girls above the age of 14, I-.”

“Cut the bullshit!”, he turned in his chair, eyebrows furrowed:” You are telling me that in your world, she is still alive?”

“What a plot twist!”

Turns out, Logan lost his version of you years ago on a mission. “It was supposed to be an easy one.”, Logan explained, while the two men wandered through the desert-looking realm:” Get into the lab, eliminate the mutant killing weapons, and then leave again-.” He took a deep breath, while his eyes roamed over the uninhabited land. His angry eyes suddenly much softer and sadder:” We thought we killed every guard. The bullet came out of nowhere, and hit her right in the chest.”

Only the sound of the wind cut through the stillness. „ We were supposed to get married. Charles had already promised that we would be able to build a home in the woods next to the School. So she could become a teacher… she always adored the mutant children that lived there. Said she wanted some of her own one day, with me…”

Wade stared at the ground:” I am sorry.” But Logan shook his head in comeback:” It’s all good. That’s how life is.“

“That’s what she always says as well.”, Wade muttered under his breath, as the two continued walking:” But I know she's always lying to me.”

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[nadvs]

cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.5k

cw: established relationship, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), rough sex, blow job, cunnilingus, bondage, blindfold, use of safe word, slight degradation (use of the word slut), explicit language, safe word, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, honey), aftercare 

Summary: You send your husband an eggplant emoji as a joke, but he doesn't find it amusing one bit.

Author’s Notes: Barely proofread, hardly edited, all horny. Just my little contribution to the plethora of delicious fics that came out after this latest episode. Tagging @lovekento because this was inspired by your recent ask about the safeword audio we love so much. Also tagging @darkstarlight82 because of your recent ask to be tagged in JJK fics! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading! MDNI and support dividers credit to @/cafekitsune (as always).

Nanami does not take kindly to jokes. Years of being together and he’s uptight as always. That doesn’t mean you stop trying, especially when you love how mad he gets at you.

It’s innocent, silly, completely unserious. I’m really craving something tonight, followed by suggestive emojis, including the winky face and a particularly phallic vegetable. You grin at your screen when you notice the three dots blinking, indicating that he’s read it and is currently typing a reply. Probably growing hard in his pants just thinking about it, knowing him. Before he can say anything, you send him a selfie of you at the grocery store, holding up two large eggplants, smiling wide at the camera. Eggplant parmesan! The dots flash once more, then disappear immediately, and you crack up in the middle of the produce section when he ends up not responding at all. 

Back home, it’s eerily dark inside with all the lights off. You carefully set your groceries on the counter, clicking the switch to illuminate the kitchen. You’re startled when you notice Nanami’s burly silhouette in the living room, back turned towards you, sitting upright on the couch, motionless. He does nothing to acknowledge your presence, worrying you even further. “Honey?” you call out, slowly making your way towards him. His arms are crossed over his chest, bulging out of his sleeves, staring straight ahead with a menacing look on his face. He remains silent, ignoring you. 

“Kento,” you say, swallowing hard, nervous at this unusually sinister behavior.   

“Thought you were craving something.” His voice is low and husky in his throat. Almost threatening.  

You kneel in front of him, leaning on his thighs. “It was a joke, honey.”

Finally, he looks at you, gaze intense from behind his glasses, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale through his nose, exhale out his mouth. “So, you riled me up for no fucking reason then?”

You gulp loudly again, taken aback by his sudden vulgarity, simultaneously aroused. “I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Do you think I’m going to let you get away with this?” He grips your chin, focusing your attention on his lap. “Look how hard I am. Look at what your stupid joke did to me.” His massive erection is strained in his pants. Your pussy throbs, mouth salivating at the sight of it.

He unbuckles his belt and splits his zipper open. “You know what you have to do, don’t you sweetheart?” He shrugs his pants down enough to free his cock, veins protruding on the thick shaft. You nod silently, peering up at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, hungry for him. 

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, stroking himself in his fist, precum oozing from the tip. “Stick out your tongue.” You do, letting it hang from your bottom lip, mouth open.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “So obedient for me.” He swipes his thumb over his cockhead, collecting the precum to smear it onto your tongue. “Swallow. Get a taste of it before you take me.”

You obey, relishing the salty, luscious flavor down your throat, your eyes never leaving his. He smirks, tracing your lips with his thumb, the first hint of softness since you this all started. “I’m going to ruin this mouth. Understand?” 

You nod again, panties wet with your arousal. Hoping he doesn’t notice, you reach between your legs, desperate to touch yourself. He catches you, using his foot to swat your arm away. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ll have your turn later.” He loosens the spotted tie on his neck to cover your eyes with it, knotting it tight. “There. Nothing except my cock to occupy this little head of yours.” He guides his cock into your mouth, sliding it along your tongue until he bottoms out. “Now, suck,” he demands, your face pressed to his groin, bottom lip grazing his heavy balls. You bob your head back and forth on him, drool leaking from the sides of your lips, teasing your gag reflex with every solid thrust, swallowing it down every time he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whispers, cradling your face. “Such a good fucking slut for me.”

After several more strokes, he pulls out of you, cock wet with your saliva, squelching between his fist as he continues to jerk himself off. “On my lap. Come on.” He lends his hand, helping you up while the blindfold remains. You bend over his thighs, in position for a spanking, just as he expects. 

He chuckles. “Good girl. You already know that you need to be punished, huh? Always playing these ridiculous pranks on me. I hope you learn your lesson after this.” He slides the belt off his waist, binding your wrists behind your back, shoulders in an uncomfortable stretch as the leather digs into your skin. The need to be touched by him overwhelms you, body tingling with anticipation, pussy aching to be filled. 

He pulls your pants down, leaving you only in your panties from the waist down. The first spank sends shivers down your spine, the loud smack bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, flesh prickling from the contact. The second comes almost immediately, surprising you. You whimper, shutting your eyes, clenching your legs together. “Kento.”

A third is delivered, your ass throbbing and swelling against his calloused hand. “What?” he growls, palm ready for a fourth. 

“Fuck me,” you whine, jittering on his lap. You can’t take it anymore. You want him. You need him. 

“Oh, so you’re giving orders now?” He rolls you on your back, tugging your panties off, exposing your glistening cunt. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You know that. I can’t just give you what you want after what you did to me.” He spreads your legs apart, teasing your slit with his fingers, spreading your slick across your swollen clit. “Look how fucking juicy you are. All that because I fucked your throat. Nasty slut.”

You hear him spit, then feel the trickle of his saliva coat your aching bud. He repeats, soaking you in his spittle. He readjusts himself on the couch so that he’s between your legs, licking and slurping your cunt until his chin and nose are glossy. You squirm, knees shaky, already pushed to your limits. His lips surround your clit, sucking on it until it’s puffy in his mouth, tongue flicking it aggressively, pussy fluttering with arousal. You’re overstimulated, core incredibly tight, ready to fucking burst. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he muffles, still slobbering. “Come on my face. Squirt all over this couch. I’m going to fucking embarrass you like you did me, you stupid slut.” You whine his name, gushing for him, rutting your hips against his face, writhing on the cushions damp with your juices. 

He rolls you over again, dragging your body until you’re up on your knees, ass up. “I’m going to wreck this pussy. Pound it until you learn your lesson. Got it?”

You nod erratically, ready to be fucked hard and fast. He enters you smoothly, stretching you out until you’re completely full of him, everything so wet and messy between you. He pumps his cock in and out of you, pace increasing the more and more your body yields to him. He fucks you like an animal in heat, railing your cunt like it’s his own personal cock sleeve for him to use and tear apart. 

Blindfolded and still bound by the wrists, you begin to grow scared of his carnal behavior. His nails imprint your skin, grip so strong it hurts with every brutal thrust. The guttural growls he emits sound nothing like the Nanami you know. The way he bullies his cock into your tight pussy, so deep and so rough that a cramp develops in your abdomen makes you think that the person fucking you is a complete stranger now. You want your husband back. It takes you a few tries to get it out, but eventually, you do, whimpering, “Makgeolli.”

He doesn’t hear you, so you say it once more, louder this time. “Makgeolli.”

Immediately, it’s as if a switched is flipped. He pulls out, quickly removing the belt and blindfold off you, his tie saturated in tears and sweat. “Hey, hey, hey. Sweetie, I’m here. I’m right here. You’re okay.” He pulls you up on his lap, cradling you in his arms, kissing your sticky forehead, brushing away any of the remaining tears from your eyes. 

You relax into his hold, nestling your face into his shoulder, steadying your breathing. He massages your back, pressing soft kisses on your cheek. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m so sorry. I got carried away, I admit it.” His voice is soothing now, familiar and comforting in your ear. 

Sniffling, you ask, “Are you mad at me?”

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I was never mad to begin with. I just wanted to tease you, but I took it too far. I’m sorry.” He kisses you on the lips, cupping your check in his palm. “Your joke was actually quite funny.”

You giggle softly, running your fingers through his hair, damp with his own perspiration. “At least I got you to finally admit it.”

He gives you another smooch on the forehead, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’ll run us a bath, okay? And then after, we can order pizza and watch a movie. Sound good?”

“Yes. And I’ll help you with this while we’re soaking in the tub. Does that sound good?” You palm his cock, still stiff and wet against his abs. 

“Whatever you want, princess.”