#but i love it so much and i needed it here

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

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It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 

“So you’re in need of company?” 

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Cherry spritzer.” 

“Can I buy you another one?” 

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Just this.” 

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 

“Nowhere.” 

“So where have you been?” 

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 

“You okay?” a voice asks. 

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 

“I know, I’m  sorry.” 

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’ll leave soon.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 

“Just while I was waiting for you.” 

“What do you do?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Like, statistics?” 

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 

“And you’re good at it.” 

“I’m good at math, yeah.” 

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 

“Me too.” 

“And you’re okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 

For a pause, you just sit. 

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 

”Really?” 

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 

“We might have to stand very close.” 

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 

— 

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 

“You wanna share?” 

“Yes!” 

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 

“You know what shampoo I use?” 

“I deduced it.” 

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 

“You distract me, too.” 

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.” 

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 

“I like you too,” he laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Not just…” 

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 

“Should we go out, then?” 

“We do.” 

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 

“And if I don’t?” he asks. 

“Then we get married in Vegas.” 

“You could meet my mom.” 

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 

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thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 

[ellstronaut]

quick rant about the caitvi sesbian lex scene cause whatttt (amazing perfection art btw) but DO but do people not understand subtext? Expositional dialogue? Emotional vulnerability??? Like oh my word the Vi slander is annoying like generally speaking I’ve heard people literally say it’s out of character for Vi to not give a shit about jinx, miss the suicidal tendencies etc but like imagine being in Vi’s shoes. Here you are, expecting to be reprimanded by your then ex gf because once again here you are giving people you care about the benefit of doubt, because you love them that much, because you are a selfless individual that always put the needs of others above your own. You expect to be condemned for choosing wrong. (Rightfully so) But then the tables turn Caitlyn basically admits she planned the whole ordeal, knew Vi would free jinx so ultimately when we read between the lines it’s her saying she chooses Vi above anything else is willing to let go of whatever personal grudges she had in the past towards jinx/any unresolved feelings/hatred for her sister because she loves Vi that much. It’s such a heartfelt moment, Vi realising this hence the whole being-lost-in-the-moment thing god forbid Vi allows herself to be emotionally vulnerable for once to give into her NEEDS I love that scene so MUCH because it’s the first time caitvi get to be “selfish”, instead of focusing on fighting losing battles but yeah lets say vi is a heartless pos for fucking cait in a cell ig lmao

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I saw that your requests were open and I'm a big fan of your work and I was wondering if you could write something for rafe where reader is a pogue and they need to steal something from tanney hill but Rafe comes home unexpectedly and reader is supposed to distract him but they end up fucking >.< tyyy!!!

Oooh this is freaky. I love it.

My requests are still open.

smut!! -> >.<, penetrative sex, rafe gets flashed, dom! rafe, missionary, size kink, tummy bulge, rafe doesn't pull out..

In and out. That was the plan you and Sarah had agreed on. She would search through the office while you guarded the halls to make sure the coast remained clear.

Things got complicated. Plans changed when Sarah realized that Rafe had taken the liberty to add locks onto the cabinets where the files are kept. Your heartbeat drummed through your ears as you noticed the flash of headlights from Rafe's truck shine through the glass windows.

"Shit. Sarah, Rafe's back early. ETA on the files?" you panic, scurrying through the tiles halls until your feet take you into the office where the blonde crouched, picking the lock with a bobby pin. "I've almost got it. Distract Rafe, keep him as far from here as possible."

Your legs carried you as fast as they could, hoping to meet him outside the front door but he was already inside, your head bumping into his firm chest at full force, sending you tumbling to the ground. "Holy shit. What the-" He's mid-curse when he notices the face of the intruder. Your face.

"Y/n? What the hell are you doing in here?" His thoughts beat your lips to the answer as they geared the possibilities. His jaw locks as it dawns on him, "Where's Sarah, huh? Is she in here? You helping her steal from me now too?"

His steps are powerful as they begin to clear the premises but you desperately grab onto his bulging biceps. "No, Rafe! Stop." Not expecting him to obey so easily, he whips around, startling you.

Just over his shoulder, you see Sarah's head peek out of the office. She gives a wave with the needed files in hand. You had to make sure Rafe didn't turn around, at all costs.

"I thought you were different, y'know? I always thought you were too good to be hangin' with those pogues-" He's about to turn around while Sarah sneaks out the back. You do the first idiotic thing that comes to mind. Your fingers are hooking under the fabric of your top and heaving upwards to flash him your tits.

His sentences break off into chopped, undecided stutters and his hands slowly reach for your round mounds. His hands were hesitating until you gave him a slight nod. "H-holy shit. Most fuckin' perfect pair of tits I've ever seen." His mind is racing to catch up with his hands that gently massage your breasts and you let out a soft moan.

That's the last time either of your clothes were still draped across your bodies. The interaction was quickly followed by uncalculated steps and heated kisses toward the couch where he'd laid you down and fucked you dumb.

"You feel that?" Rafe relishes in the depths of your soaked cunt that sucked in his generous length. Summoning him to a state of bliss, serving a sentence he wished would last the rest of his lifetime.

His hand is placed arrogantly on your lower abdomen where the outline of his girth could be seen pushing up against your insides. Surely, the question is rhetorical as you'd been reduced to a whimpering mess under his touch.

"My dick's splittin' you open. You fuckin' like that shit?" His hips snap, and you squeal, your whole body jolting with every moment of his much bigger one. The sight of you beneath him was more than enough to get him riding along the edge of ecstasy.

"You got the best fuckin' pussy on the island, goddamnit." His lower lip is tucked between hiss teeth, doing his best to hold himself back.

Rafe wouldn't deny any allegations of previously imagining having you in this very position, but the reality puts the products of his imagination to great shame. "R-rafe!" You moan, unbelievably turned on by your 'sworn enemy'.

"Yeah-- shit. Me too." It's not long before his thrusts begin to falter with strained grunts but added force, and he cums not long after you do. He slowly pulls out, admiring the stringy white cum that kept you connected before he realizes what he's done.

"Rafe..." You slowly sit up, dreading the consequences of his actions. "Fuck--I know, shit. I jus' got so caught up- and your pussy jus' felt so good. I wasn't thinking straight." You're both scavenging to get your clothes on as he rambles on.

He reaches into his back pocket and grabs a wad of cash, "Go get a plan B, and we can both act like this never happened, okay?" With a cold gaze, you pocket the money before rushing outside where the Twinkie is waiting for you around the corner out of sight.

"Y/n! Oh my god what took you so long? We thought Rafe had done something to you." Sarah gasps once you finally pull open the doors of the van. Your head shakes, "Nothing. Just Rafe being Rafe, let's go."

[prisonhannibal]

@abdalsalam1990 is the same age as my youngest brother. Nader is only seventeen years old and living through a genocide. He has taken the responsibility of working hard every day to reach out to people online and spread his family’s story, in hopes of raising the money they need to survive with the rapidly increasing food prices in gaza, his father Ahmed’s cancer treatment, and eventually save up enough to evacuate so that Ahmed can get the treatment he needs to survive his illness. This is a huge task and difficult work that no one should ever have to do just to survive, and especially not a teenager. It’s so much responsibility on his shoulders, at an age where he should be hanging out with friends, going to school and preparing for his future, not fear for his life every day. But of course he continues to do it because he loves his family and desperately wants to bring them to safety. Nader has hopes and dreams for the future, but this genocide has taken so much from him, and this is his only chance to live the life and future he deserves. You can help give him that chance ❤️🇵🇸 any donation helps

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[lubdubology]

Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k 

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave. 

One month. 

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away. 

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist. 

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help. 

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves. 

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart. 

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features. 

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further. 

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips. 

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it. 

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway. 

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter. 

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.” 

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.  

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence. 

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver. 

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft. 

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin. 

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind. 

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you. 

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus. 

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile. 

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence. 

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into. 

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity. 

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity. 

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry. 

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing. 

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls. 

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper. 

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured. 

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say. 

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before. 

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go. 

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin. 

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense. 

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack. 

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart. 

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole. 

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.” 

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you. 

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is. 

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. 

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase. 

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock. 

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering. 

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm. 

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him. 

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release. 

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well. 

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel. 

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. 

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent. 

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture. 

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony. 

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him. 

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you. 

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you. 

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees. 

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose. 

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat. 

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet. 

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit. 

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist. 

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp. 

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you. 

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close. 

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him. 

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease. 

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his. 

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan. 

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face. 

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life. 

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter. 

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.” 

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Overworked and Underpaid - Franco Colapinto x PR! Reader

Summary: When Logan leaves Williams, you’re assigned as Franco’s PR handler. Except nobody warned you that he hadn’t been trained yet 

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you squint, Franco is sad at one point

Requested: No but the people did want Franco and PR

F1 Masterlist

The original title was going to be With A Yap Yap Here 

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williamsracing just posted

liked by alex_albon, f1 and others

williamsracing breaking news franco colapinto to race for the remainder of the season

13,893 comments

francolapinto i am very excited for this opportunity 

→ user1 he seems so polite, bless him

→ user2 don’t be fooled 

user3 praying for yn because she used to have the easiest driver to manage and now she has franco

→ user4 that’s if she gets assigned to him. she may not get to work with him

→ user3 why wouldn’t she???

→ user5 williams better not take away yn’s job and logan’s 

user6 has anyone heard from yn since the news dropped? her and logan were actual besties, not just work besties 

→ user7 she always talked about how much she loved working with him so she’s def gonna miss him

→ user8 what if she leaves with him???

→ user9 she didn’t even like the williams goodbye post. she’s pissed so it’s a real possibility 

yn_ln welcome to the team

→ user10 this was so dry for her

→ user11 i think she’s processing and doesn’t want to seem rude. give the girl a break

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williamsracing just posted

liked by liakblock, jv.f1 and others

williamsracing a day you’ll never forget. welcome to your first grand prix @/francolapinto

7,337 comments

user1 omg he’s such a cutie 

user2 his excitement all weekend has been so refreshing 

user3 chat, what’s your favourite thing about monza gp this year? and why is it yn chasing franco around the paddock with a look of exasperation the entire time? 

→ user4 she has been working overtime this weekend

→ user5 it’s the way sky sports always know to zoom in on her when franco is talking

user6 the fact that we haven’t even had the race yet and yn has had to cut two interviews short and say many times “he didn’t mean that” 

francolapinto today will definitely be going on my list of top 3 unforgettable first times

→ user7 omg can he say that?

→ user8 i wanna know what the 2nd thing is?? 

→ yn_ln @/williamsracing i need a raise

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yn_ln just posted

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant and others

yn_ln hello cota. a weekend for cowboy hats, cheerleaders and my attempt to replace williams’ photographer

5,099 comments

alex_albon you’ve never taken a good photo of me

→ francolapinto because she’s not your media manager

user9 chat, are they healing? are they becoming friends?

→ user10 i actually saw her smile at him today after weeks of her scowling at him! 

williamsracing all our cota favourites rolled into one 

user11 okay but she took the most boyfriend coded picture of him

williamsphotographer gonna put me out of a job. i don’t think i’ve ever taken a photo that good before

→ yn_ln what can i say? i excel at everything

user12 why did no one tell me franco’s pr handler was so cute?

user13 i could see her and franco together

user14 can’t believe you’re betraying logan so easily 

user15 the fact that logan liked this, which means he’s seen her so quickly forget about him 

user16 you used to pretend to be logan’s friend and now you’ve so easily run off with his replacement? 

(comments have been turned off)

yn_ln posted a new story

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yn_ln just posted

liked by lilymhe, logansargeant and others

yn_ln enjoying a break from work-mandated media and yapping drivers by posting vacation pics 

6,633 comments

francolapinto i thought you found my yapping fun 😔

→ yn_ln uh, since when?

→ francolapinto i have proof! 

→ yn_ln don’t you dare

→ user1 i have to admit, i am loving their banter more than yn glaring at him

user2 wait, she has a boyfriend? there go my franco/yn dreams

→ user3 unless, hear me out. the guy is franco

→ user4 nurse, she escaped again

williamsracing but we miss you?

→ yn_ln you’re the reason i needed a break

→ williamsracing i thought that was franco’s fault? 

→ yn_ln admin, this wouldn’t be a pr approved comment

user5 why do they hide yn behind franco because she is stunning

user6 tbf, if i had to look at yn all day, i’d forget all social filters

→ user7 somebody free my man franco. he’s being blamed for his words when it’s yn’s fault for being so stunning liked by franco_colapinto

→ user7 omg guys, franco liked my comment

francolapinto just posted

liked by williamsracing, charles_leclerc and others

francolapinto pr so good that we had to get hr involved

10,340 comments

yn_ln franco! these are not the photos we agreed upon! 

→ francolapinto it’s not my fault your ass is irresistible 

→ yn_ln now my ass is off limits. james just messaged me to say we have to sit through yet another pr/hr meeting 

user8 okay but these photos are kinda hot 

logansargeant my favourite pr nightmare couple 

→ yn_ln i’m not the nightmare! i’m the pr

→ francolapinto i’m the nightmare :)

→ user9 i hope you bitches that sent hate to yn for being franco’s friend feel bad now because logan has clearly supported this from day 1

user10 i knew boyfriend franco would provide us with good content and i was right

→ user11 these the kind of pics we need the others to post

→ user12 yes! like show some appreciation for the woman hotter than you that gave you a chance 

williamsracing we’re confused. who are we supposed to report franco to now for pr violations? 

→ alex_albon i tried to complain about him twerking in the garage yesterday and she just smiled dopily at his name

→ yn_ln i did not! i am a sensible girl

→ francolapinto haha sensible. you looooove me

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requests open. you can find who i write for on my masterlist

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[taeghi]

FAST LANE

his criminal background profile || his insta

sunghoon has a need for speed, and yn has a knack for getting under his skin— now they're playing a dangerous game, and the stakes? so much higher than they expected.

pairing : car thief!sunghoon x sarcastic!yn

genre : smut, light humour?? idk angst

wc : 12k.

part of the criminal love series

minors DO NOT interact!!!!

you swing open the backdoor of the club and it hits the brick wall behind it, but you don’t care. you just want to get the hell out of there. you huff and pull out your pack of cigarettes, putting it in your mouth and lighting it. 

when the nicotine enters your lungs, you start to feel a little less overwhelmed. 

you pull out your phone, briefly looking over all your unanswered texts that you’ve sent to your friends. they had begged you to come out with them tonight, but within the first hour all three of them had ditched you for some random guys. 

“fuck this weekend,” you mutter to yourself, exhaling the smoke frustratingly. 

the backdoor of the club leads to a practically deserted street that only has one street lamp that lights up the space around you.  you open the uber app and call one for yourself, wanting to just go home and go to bed. you can hear the slight thump of the bass from the music in the club behind you and some traffic from the nearby streets. you confirm your ride after you sigh at the price of it. 

then, a sudden movement in your peripheral vision takes your attention away from worrying about your bank account to looking across the street. you see a figure in all black hunched over a parked, black car. you can tell from his movements that he’s obviously trying to pick the lock. 

you glance both ways down the street to see if anyone else is seeing what you’re seeing, but it’s just as dead as it was when you came out. there’s no one around except for you and this apparent car thief. 

“you’re joking,” you mutter, the cigarette between your lips wobbling as you speak. 

you take a moment to consider your options. you know you should just ignore him and wait for your uber to take you to your warm bed. but the way he’s so obviously picking the lock of this car annoys you. 

you huff in frustrations before you take the first step off the club’s step and walk across the street to the thief in all black. 

“you know, breaking into cars is illegal,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you. he doesn’t let go of the car handle as he turns to look at you. 

he gives you a once-over, basically judging your appearance with not a hint of shame. a small grin spreads across his face, “oh really? thanks for the legal advice, counselor.” 

you can’t help but contort your face into one of disgust at his response. you cross your arms over your chest as you stay put. the man seems so casual and confident about breaking into this car with you standing right there. he seems almost amused by your presence. 

“well i’m just saying, if you’re gonna break into a car, maybe make sure no one else is around.” 

he doesn’t say anything but he laughs lowly as he finally pops open the car’s lock. he swings open the door and leans on it with an accomplished expression on his face. his stance allows the distant street light to gleam over his face, letting you get a better look of his face. his sharp jawline, deep brown eyes and moles make him insanely hot. 

“you should get out of here, sweetheart,” he says honestly, “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be caught up at a crime scene.” 

you scoff, not believing the criminal is telling you what to do, “i can do what i want.” 

his face only stays in his amused expression, “well of course,” he spins and bends down to sit in the driver’s seat, “but you know smoking cigarettes is bad for you.”

your lips curl in annoyance from his mocking. before you can say anything else to the criminal, he’s slamming the door shut and throwing the car into drive. he winks at you through the window before he steps on the gas, taking off down the street. 

suddenly, a honk from behind startles you and forces you to turn around. your uber is pulled over, the driver calling you over. you whip your head back around to see the car thief, but his fast car is long gone. 

you huff and walk to your uber, getting in the backseat and saying hello to the driver. you settle into the seat as your driver pulls off the curb and you notice the way your skin is pringling. the adrenaline rushing through you causes your heart to stutter in your chest. all you can think of is the thief and the way he was so nonchalant and confident throughout the entire encounter. you had never met someone like him before. 

you try to relax, wanting to shake off the adrenaline so you can crawl into bed as soon as you get home.

you didn’t even want to go out tonight in the first place. 

the next week, your friends had somehow dragged you to another club with the promise of  “this one will be better”. you’re not there for long and you’re already regretting agreeing to come. you head to the bar for another drink. 

you tell the bartender your order and he turns to start to make it. you notice a man standing beside you, and when you look at him, you instantly recognize him. it’s him. the car thief from the week before. the man you’ve been thinking about all week. 

his eyes find yours instantly, noticing your staring, and the smirk you’ve memorized spreads slowly across his face, “so… you’re stalking me now?”

you snort, “in your dreams.” 

he leans  in closer to you, to make sure that you can hear him over the music, “well i wouldn’t mind dreaming about you.” 

you choose to ignore him, “aren’t you worried i might, i don’t know… spill your little car-stealing secret?” 

“no”

“and why not?” 

you watch as his eyes scan your entire face, and then swivel down to your body. you feel your cheeks lighten because of him practically analyzing your entire being with no shame. 

“that’ll be eight bucks,” the bartender's voice beats you to saying anything. before you can reach for your wallet, the thief is dropping the money on the counter. you open your mouth to stop him, but the bartender scoops up the money and leaves to serve another customer. 

“y/n! what’s taking so long? come dance with me!” your friend’s impatient voice is clear in your ear as her hand lands on your shoulder and spins you around to face her. you turn your head back around to where the thief was standing, but of course, he’s already gone. 

your friend narrows her eyes, “who was that guy?” 

“i don’t know… but he bought me a drink.” 

your friend nudges you, wiggling her eyebrows, but you just laugh her off. you lead her back to your friend group so you can all dance again. but throughout the whole night, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, searching for a glimpse of the car thief in the crowd. he never reappears, and you’re left with a weird mix of disappointment and relief. 

after all, he is a criminal, why would you be looking for him?

“night guys!” you call out to the rest of your coworkers, who have to stay late to clean the kitchen. 

you had to stay late at work tonight since saturday nights are usually the busiest time for you. so when you step out into the cool night air and away from the sweaty kitchen, you instantly need to light up a cigarette to take the edge off. you tuck your apron into your purse as you take the first puff for your walk home. 

you don’t get far into your smoke or walk before you hear the engine of a car pull up beside you. you don’t recognize the car, but you sure enough recognize the driver. his cocky grin fills his entire face as he leans on his elbow against the open window. 

“really? you stalking me now?” you question him as he slows down the car, matching your walking pace. 

“want a ride? or are you just gonna walk all night?” 

you don’t slow down, keeping your walking pace steady as you drag on your cigarette. you’re trying your best to not look so affected by his presence. “i can walk. unlike you, i don’t need a stolen car to get places.” 

he laughs and it makes your stomach flip. “okay, but this one isn’t stolen, sweetheart.” 

your eyes narrow at the pet name, but you don’t slow down your pace, “yeah, right.” 

“seriously!” he insists, “it’s my friends! he let me borrow it!” you glance at him, and he can tell you’re not convinced. “i swear! i wouldn’t let you get in a stolen car.” 

the last part makes something shift inside of you– something similar to disappointment. but you stop walking, mid-step, like your body’s decided before your mind has even begun to process it. 

he notices, and the car comes to a smooth stop right beside you. the street is silent, and it’s just you and him looking at each other, waiting. 

“okay, let me in.” 

he doesn’t hesitate to reach over the centre console and open the door for you at your request. 

you slide into the passenger seat and settle in, the car’s leather seats are cool beneath– but it’s a lot warmer in the car than it is outside. you shut the door, and without missing a beat, the thief shifts gears and pulls away from the curb. the city lights flicker past you as the car picks up speed quickly. 

you direct him towards your apartment as he tears down the streets. you wish he wouldn't drive so fast, just so that you could stay beside him longer. 

“so, why’re you walking so late at night anyways, don’t you know it’s dangerous?” he says, questioning you. 

“i got off work late.” 

“where do you work?” 

“ronnie’s,” you say, gesturing down the street behind you, “you know, down the block.” 

he nods, he knows the exact place. 

“why are you driving around so late?” you question him now. 

he shrugs, “had stuff to do.” 

“like what? stealing cars?” 

he laughs over the steering wheel, “no, not tonight. i had to pick up a payment for one.” you roll your eyes and scoff, turning to look out the window again. “what? you were the one who asked.” 

you don’t say anything in response. you’re second guessing as to why you even got in the car with him. you know that he’s bad news– but you’ve been so intrigued by him since you first met. he talks too casually about what he does, he’s completely fearless. 

“so, why do you steal cars, anyways?” 

he doesn’t need to think about his answer, he keeps the  fast speed of the car  as he answers, “because i need the money. and it’s a lot of money, and it’s quick.” 

you glance over at him, your curiosity creeping in about him and the cars. you wonder how much money he gets. “how do you even do it?” 

he glances at you, a doubtful look on his face, “i’m not telling you.” 

“why not?” 

the criminal doesn’t shift his focus from the road as he smirks, “because you’d get caught– and you shouldn’t always be in dangerous situations.” 

you scoff, “i am not always in a dangerous situation.” 

he dryly chuckles as he rests his elbow on the window, his head falling to his arm, “are you forgetting that you i met you because you walked up to me while i was literally committing a crime?” 

your mouth gaps open but nothing comes out. you can’t find anything to say, so you instead cross your arms tighter and look back out the window. you don’t mean to be in “dangerous” situations, but you can’t help but crave something new and adventurous sometimes. 

the rest of the drive to your apartment is silent besides the low volume of the radio playing some song you don’t know. thankfully, since he’s speeding, so you get to your apartment quickly so you can get out of this awkward hell. part of you wants to run out of the car as soon as he stops, but the other part of you wants to stay with him for longer. you want to talk with the man who’s been taking up your mind for weeks now. 

but, when the car slows to a stop outside of your apartment, your hand is quick to reach the door handle. you look at him, not knowing exactly what to say besides, “thanks.” 

he smirks at you, “just, stay out of trouble, sweetheart.” 

“my name is y/n! stop calling me that.” 

the thief’s smile turns into a mischievous smile and you hate that it makes your heart skip a beat, “i’m sunghoon.” 

sunghoon. the name rings in your head. you hadn’t expected him to have such a soft name. you can’t decide if it suits him or not. you stand up out of his car and onto the sidewalk. 

“good night, y/n.” 

“night, sunghoon.” 

you turn and head to the front door of your apartment building. you don’t hear the loud screech of the car’s tires until you’re safely inside.

you’re walking home from your friends house, your lighter is almost out of fuel as you try to light your cigarette. the lit cigarette lights up your face in the dark night. you pass by the city’s old car dealership– the one who’s always trying to sell some broken down car– and you see the all too familiar figure in all black, hunched over a black sedan. 

you smirk around your cigarette, shaking your head as you cross the empty street and duck through the gate of the dealership. 

“really?” you ask, your hand on your hip as you watch him jump slightly. he glances over his shoulder in shock, but once he realizes it’s you, you can see his whole body relax. 

“why’re you here?” 

“because i saw you.” 

he rolls his eyes as he goes back to picking the sedan’s lock, “you’re not helping me jack this car, y/n.” 

you can’t hide the annoyed pout on your face, “who said i wanted to?” 

you hear sunghoon chuckle deeply, his attention on the lock as he speaks, “because i can tell you want to. and beside the fact that you’re still standing here while i commit a crime and you’re not screaming for help.” 

“well, i can scream for help if you want me to.” 

sunghoon glances over his shoulder at you, an annoyingly amused smirk on his face, “you wouldn’t dare.” 

your eyes narrow in response, you don’t like how he can seemingly always look right through you. it’s like he knows that all week, the thought of the large amount of money you could make by stealing one car has kept you up at night. how just one theft could change your financial life, just for a bit. money has always been tight for you, you’ve always lived paycheck to paycheck since you were a child. so, stealing one car with him wouldn’t hurt anyone, but it would help your wallet. 

then, a loud bang echoes through the dealership. it makes both you and sunghoon jump back as it cuts through the quiet night. 

“who’s out here? you better leave!” an angry, male voice yells out to the parked cars. 

before you could react, sunghoon is pulling  you down to the pavement with him, using the sedan to cover yourselves from the man’s view. you glance at sunghoon, who only brings his index finger to his mouth to signal for you to stay quiet. his hand is still on your wrist as you both crawl to the passenger side of the sedan. 

you can feel your heartbeat pick up it’s pace as you hide, pressed up against the sedan’s cool metal. you’re sure your eyes are blown out in fear. sunghoon looks the complete opposite of you. his eyes are steady and his hands are shaking like yours are. your heavy breaths make sunghoon look at you, quickly covering your mouth with his warm hand. 

you hear footsteps approaching your position, rocks rolling as the man’s foot kicks them with his steps. and then– a metallic click. a gun. 

if it wasn’t for sunghoon’s hand over your mouth, you think you would’ve screamed. you stay quiet, your eyes locked on sunghoon’s clam ones ass you listen to the man’s footsteps. they seem tomove farther away from the sedan. sunghoon pulls his hand away from you, “stay here.” 

before you could protest, he slips around the car, leaving you alone against the car, imagining what would happen if the man with the gun catches you. you force yourself to be quiet, waiting for anything to happen, telling yourself that sunghoon’s got it under control. 

then, the passenger door by your head clicks open. sunghoon is in the car, waving his hand for you to get in, “quick.” with no hesitation, you jump inside the car, closing the door after you as quiet as possible. you duck down, trying to hide against the seat. sunghoon is working underneath the steering wheel– until the engine comes to life, breaking any silence that was left in the dealership. 

“hey! what do you think you’re doing?” the man’s voice is louder and even more angry as sunghoon steps his foot on the pedal, causing the car to rush forward. sudden gunshots make you flinch as sunghoon drives forward, ripping through the gates and floors it onto the empty streets. you can’t count how many gunshots you heard, they kept firing after the car until finally the dealership was out of sight. your grip on the door handle beside you makes your knuckles turn white. 

the car’s speed scares you as sunghoon swerves through the city. he keeps switching his attention from the street in front of him to you beside him. 

“are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice comes out as frightened and rush, the first time you’ve seen him like this. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine! just– drive!” you force it out so he can focus on driving and getting you the hell out of there. 

sunghoon nods and steps on the gas some more, speeding through the city. you can barely see anything out the window from how fast sunghoon is driving– only flashes of the lights from the street lamps and stores. he’s quick to leave the city, driving down dirty country roads where the lights turn into tall dark trees. 

sunghoon stops the car when a break in the trees is found. he pulls the car into it and you can see the entire city below you. everything is quiet now that you’re away from the city. he cuts the engine. 

your chest is still heaving from the adrenaline when you look over at him, his eyes looking at yours at the same time. when you look at him, the mood in the car changes from panic to relief. relief that you got away, that sunghoon got away safely.

you’re the first one to let out a little chuckle, realization starting to take over. but then sunghoon cracks his own smile,  a laugh following soon after. then, the car is filled with both of you losing it, your eyes squinting from laughing so hard in realizing what had just happened. the adrenaline rush has turned from fear into excitement. 

before you can even think, your hands cup his face, pulling him into you. your lips impulsively kiss his, feeling his warm ones on your cold ones. but then, your face starts heating up in embarrassment when you’ve realized what you’ve done. you practically jump away from him, pressing yourself up against the passenger door behind you. 

“sorry, sorry! i was just—,” you stutter, trying to find an explanation, “i mean, we just got away! and i was so happy that—” 

before you could finish your ramble, sunghoon leans over the centre console and presses his lips back onto yours. this kiss is more certain and confident than yours. his eyes are closed as his lips work against yours, and yours soon follow once the shock has faded. 

sunghoon pulls away slightly, his forehead resting on yours as his dark eyes look into yours. you can tell that his breathing is heavier than usual, like his composure has finally dissipated. you can only stare back at him, your eyes shifting from his eyes to lips that you want to feel again so badly. 

“what… what’re you doing?” you ask him, not expecting his reaction. 

your breath hitches when you feel his hands move to your face, his thumb brushing over the top of your cheek. he’s so close to you, you can hardly think. he murmurs quietly, “you make me lose all control, y/n.” you can tell from his eyes that he’s being honest– and it scares him and you. “everytime i’m around you, or even look at you… i have to remind myself to focus.” 

his forehead is still resting on yours as he speaks. you’re sure he can hear how quick your poor heart is beating. “sunghoon,” you say his name but that’s all that comes out. 

he smirks at your lack of words, his thumb tracing along your jaw, “you’re way too good for me, sweetheart,” he lets his eyes close as he finishes the sentence, “but i need you so bad.” 

“are you… are you serious?” 

sunghoon chuckles softly, “of course i am,” his fingers brush back the strand of hair on your face, “i’ve wanted you since the first time i saw you— but, i shouldn’t be allowed to want you. i’m not good for you.” 

you see the way his eyes tense at his confession, his jaw tightening. “you can want me, sunghoon. i want you too, so much.” 

he lets out a slow breath, his hands sliding down your body and around your waist, “if we start this, y/n, id ont think i’ll be able to stop.” his voice is full of longing and precaution. 

“then don’t.” 

your lips meet again almost instantly— the final strand holding sunghoon back breaks. the kiss is much rougher than the last two, setting the pace for the rest of the time you have in the stolen car. 

“you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” sunghoon’s deep voice asks, his hot skin warm against yours. you want to respond, but he’s quick to gather your lips in his again. he doesn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside your mouth. he starts exploring your mouth, and you let him. wanting to taste him just as much as he wants to taste you. 

sunghoon’s hand starts to slide down your neck, making you shiver. he tugs at the bottom of your shirt before he lifts it so it pools at your neck, making your breasts exposed. his fingers hurriedly brush against your newly bare skin. you’ve wanted this for such a long time, every movement of his leaves you squirming with anticipation. you’ve thought about this man every night since you’ve met him in that empty street all those weeks ago. “so fucking pretty,” he whispers, his breath hot as it fans against your neck. you can’t help but let out a soft moan of his name as he cups your breast in his large palm. 

“it feels that good already, sweetheart?” he teases you, his voice is hoarse when he speaks. the nickname makes you whine out. it’s been repeating in your mind since the first he’s called you it. you nod, unable to form words as pleasure surges through your body. his touch is firm and rough, and you need more of him. 

sunghoon leans over your body, gathering your mouth in a hungry kiss. the intensity between you is increasing rapidly. you’re quick to kiss him back this time. your hands aren’t shy anymore— you tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. everything about him is so addicting. 

sunghoon breaks away from the kiss to get air and starts leaving a trail of wet kisses down your jawline, nipping and sucking on it, “i want to taste every inch of you— mark you everywhere.” he murmurs, his hands now on the button of your jeans, unbuttoning it. you don’t stop him from sliding the denim down your hips until your bottom half is only in your panties.

“you’re so fucking wet,” he growls out, his fingers dipping into the damp fabric, stroking your slick folds. “i can’t wait to feel you around me.” his words have you keen, your body needing him more than you had thought. 

he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your sopping pussy. he starts to tease your entrance with his fingers, circling your clit. the smallest touch from him has you gasping and writhing against the stolen car’s seat already. “please,” you beg, your voice desperate.  

“not yet, sweetheart,” his whispers to you with a tsk, “i want to make you beg for it.” with that, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. he starts to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb working your clit in circles at the same time. 

your head is thrown back against the window already. the feeling of his long, slim fingers inside of you have your knees shaking on either side of his body. you can’t stop the whimpers of his name falling from your lips. 

sunghoon starts to pound his two fingers in and out of your soaking core. the squelching sound of his fingers entering and exiting filled the stolen car. your cries increased and you started bucking your hips up and off the seat, trying to match his pace. 

he only chuckled darkly at your movements, “relax, relax.” he said, his pace slowing down as he leaned over you and pressed his lips to yours. your eyes close instantly, taking in the feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers rubbing your g spot. 

“i’m, i’m close.” you whimper out to him when he pulls back. your eyebrows furrow as his thumb starts to rub circles on your clit again. 

“hold it for a bit,” sunghoon asks, “i wanna take my time with you.” is lips start pressing kisses into your neck again, biting and sucking on the skin. he wants to leave as many marks as he can— wants you to remember him everytime you look in the mirror. his hand moving quickly in between your legs kept you in place, pressed against the passenger side door. the window cool on your warm, sweaty back. 

“i c-can’t!” you cry out, you feel your orgasm approaching so strong and quick. 

you see his eyes darken at your confession, it makes your heart pick up pace as you watch a smirk spread across his lips before he speaks, “are you not gonna be a good girl for me, y/n?” the words rush through you and straight to your core, you’re sure he can feel the way your pussy throbs around his fingers even more. “are you not gonna listen to me, sweetheart?” 

you try to answer him but his fingers are working viciously on your pussy; two fingers continuously pounding into you whilst his thumb rubs circles all over your clit, so messily. 

sunghoon doesn’t like your lack of response, and suddenly his hand is around your neck, choking you with your head pressed against the window behind you. his fingers on his other hand don’t leave your tight walls. “i think you should listen to me, y/n. because sluts don’t get to cum, do you understand?” 

“y-yes,” you try to nod, but his hands wrapped around your neck forbid you. 

a smile spreads on his lips again, “good girl.” 

sunghoon leans down and kisses your harshly. he’s all over your body, taking control of all of your senses. he’s fingers are massaging your mesh walls, his thumb is spreading your juices all over your clit. his hand is threatening the oxygen to your head and his lips are taking your breath away. he’s all that you can think about. 

“you don’t like following orders unless it gets you to cum, is that right?” his voice is deep in your ear when he pulls away from your lips again. his tongue is trailing under your jaw. 

“n-no!” 

his teeth bite down on your jaw at your answer, “oh c’mon, y/n. don’t act like you’re not a slut for me. look at you, your legs spread open for me, tits out,” he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth briefly, causing you to cry, “admit that you like being fucked like a whore.” 

sunghoon’s degrading only makes your core focus more on your orgasm, your brain becoming hazy as the pleasure continues to take over your body. 

“answer me,” 

all you could do was nod with a weak whimper leaving your mouth. your body felt like it was on overdrive as you tried to hold back your orgasm for him, so you could be his good girl. 

“say it, say that you’re my slut.” 

“i-i’m, your s-slut!” you practically yell out into the car. you could feel the sweat dripping down your forehead– the windows fogging up, just from your breath. 

“good girl,” sunghoon smiles darkly. his hand suddenly starts to pound so hard into your pussy. your body was jerking up against the seat with every thrust of his hand. “now, beg me to let you cum.” 

“p-please!” 

sunghoon only chuckles, “oh c’mon, i know you can do better than that, sweetheart.” 

you swallow harshly, “please, l-let me cum, i need it so bad, sir.” 

the name falls out of your mouth so willingly that it makes that evil, lust filled look in his eye turn even darker. “then cum, whore.” 

with his permission, the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashes over you. “oh god!” you cry out. your body starts convulsing as your orgasm tears through you. your head is thrown back against the cold, passenger window. his fingers are relentless, fucking into you until you have to pull his fingers out of you. 

you feel your tired pussy gaping around nothing as you keep your legs spread, your body still as you try to calm down from your high. in the moonlight, you can see sunghoon’s fingers glistening. 

you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off with a satisfied grin. “fuck you taste so good.” he moans around his own fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. 

once your juices are off his fingers, and before you can catch your breath, sunghoon is grabbing your waist and pulling you across the centre console and placing you right on his lap. you straddle him, feeling his hard length straining against his jeans. “i want you to ride me, sweetheart.” his voice commands, filled with authority. 

you reach down, your fingers shaking as they reach for his zipper. you so desperately want to feel his hard cock inside of you. sunghoon helps with the zipper, his neediness makes him impatient, too. 

in a second, his cock springs free from his jeans and you can see that the tip is already glistening with his precum. you can’t help but let out a quiet gasp at the sight. your pussy clenches around nothing but the thought of him stretching you open. 

sunghoon guides your hips, positioning his cock at your entrance. he goes slow, not wanting to overstimulate your pussy too much. your body slowly slides down, taking him deep inside of you. you both groan in unison as he fills you, stretching you perfectly. 

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he practically moans out, his head falling back onto the driver’s seat. you glance down at his exposed neck and you can’t help but reach down and press a deep kiss into the soft, smooth skin. his hand slinks through your hair, keeping you there, letting you leave your mark on him. “you’re so hot.”

when you’re done and you sit up again, your lips are swollen from leaving the now red mark on his neck. you’ve now adjusted to his size, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick shaft. 

“move, sweetheart.” he growls now, wanting you to set the pace for him. and you oblige. 

you lift your hips up and then sink back down, taking him in a slow, deliberate stroke. his cock glides in and out of you, rubbing against your sweet spots, sending pleasure coursing through your body. 

sunghoon leans forward, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting. “you feel so good– so much better than i even thought.” your pussy clamps down around his cock at the mention of him thinking about what your pussy would feel like. the image of his hand wrapped around his cock, late at night, moaning your name and fucking his cock into his hand, thinking about your pussy. “yeah? you like knowing that i think about your pussy? think about you?” 

you nod, your breaths quickening, “i think about you, too. i wanted to your cock inside of me for so long.” 

sunghoon smiles at your confession, and reaches up to gather your lips against his again. you quicken your pace, riding him harder, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. the car is filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, your moans and his deep whispers. 

“fuck, that’s it, take my cock, y/n. it’s all yours.” he encourages you, his hands squeezing your ass, guiding your movements. 

the pressure builds again, an intense pleasure coiling low in your belly. "i'm gonna cum," you pant, your body on the brink of another orgasm.

“fuck, okay,” sunghoon speaks breathlessly, “cum with me.” he grips your hips tightly, helping you by lifting you slightly and then slamming you back down onto his cock. he starts pounding into your from below, his cock thrusting deep, hitting all the right spots. 

you cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure becomes almost unbearable. "oh, fuck!" you cry out, your body trembling as the orgasm engulfs you. sunghoon grunts, his hips snapping up, driving his cock even deeper as he spills his hot cum inside you. 

you lean down to rest your head on his shoulder, your body weak. both of your chests are heaving against each other as you try to catch your breaths. sunghoon rubs his hands up and down your back, soothing your weak body. 

when you feel strong enough again you start to lift your hips up and sunghoon helps you. he sets you down on the passenger seat before he starts looking through the car for something to wipe the mess between your legs. he finds some tissues in the glove department and he smiles sheepishly at you before he starts gently wiping the sticky cum and juices off of your core. 

both of you fix your clothes and you’re left in silence, the windows slowly unfogging so you can see the city down below again. 

as you sit in the passenger seat, the silence feels thick, like neither of you knows what to say. you keep your hands tight together in your lap. 

“i should uh, get you home.” sunghoon finally speaks, and you notice how he can barely look at you. 

“uh sure, right.” 

when he starts to drive again, he just stares straight ahead, one hand gripping the steering wheel as he changes the channel on the radio, which is playing some retro love song you’ve never heard before. 

you shift in your seat, feeling anxiety creep up your spine. this wasn’t supposed to feel so intense. all you’d wanted was a little adventure, a bit of cash, and maybe some time to you look at the car thief who you found insanely attractive. 

you never thought sunghoon, with his impossible calm and that quiet confidence, would actually… want you back. but tonight, he let his cool, calm and collected demeanor drop— just for you. and now you’re left with wondering what it could mean. 

he pulls up to your apartment building not long after you start to see the city lights again. he taps his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at the dashboard instead of you. “so…” he says, his voice softer than usual. “i guess i’ll see you around.” 

“yeah.” you nod, gripping the door handle, feeling like you’re supposed to say something but coming up blank. “thanks for the… ride.” the words feel so lame, but what else is there to say?

he gives you a tiny smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “sure. anytime.”

a pause stretches between you, long enough that it feels like maybe one of you should say something—anything—to break the weird tension. but instead, you just close the passenger door of the stolen car and give a small wave to him as you turn and walk toward your apartment. 

tonight, he drives away before you can even enter the apartment building.

you haven’t seen the car thief, sunghoon, in two whole weeks. 

you’ve replayed that last night with him multiple times in your head, you’re sure you haven’t forgotten a single detail. still, you think about all the “what ifs” of that night. all the things you should or would have done differently. you shake your head, cringing at yourself for the hundredth time. 

it’s late now, another night where you’re practically dragging yourself home from work. you’re wondering how your life can feel so hard and boring all at once. you tug your purse over your shoulder tightly and start your walk home, telling yourself to not get stuck on the thought of sunghoon again. 

and then, like your life is some huge joke, a car pulls up beside you. you don’t even have to look to know who’s inside. 

before you can finish telling yourself to not glance over at the car, you glance over. your heart stutters when sure enough, sunghoon is sitting in the driver's seat of the car. he has that annoying smirk on his face that you’ve gone back and forth of hating and loving. 

still, the hurt of being ignored by him for two weeks after you fucked is still fresh. you scoff, rolling your eyes as he slows down beside you.

“what’s with that? aren’t you happy to me?” he says, his lips forming into an exaggerated pout. 

you tell yourself to not look at him and to keep walking home, “no.” 

“no?” he mocks, pretending to be offended, “don’t tell me it’s ‘cause i didn’t call you! i didn’t have your number, y/n!”

“it’s not that,” you mutter, not sure if you’re even telling the truth yourself.

“oh, really?” he says, tilting his head. “then why don’t you get in the car?” you shrug him off and keep walking. “what, you’re suddenly scared of getting into a stolen car?” he teases, grinning. “this one’s my friend’s.”

you glance at the car, recognizing it instantly—yeah, it’s his friend’s. he used  it once to drive you home last month. you say nothing, eyes forward, and keep walking.

“c’mon, y/n,” his voice softens, the car matching your walking pace beside you. “don’t be like. i’m sorry! just get in, and we’ll talk.” 

“you didn’t have my number, but you knew where i lived.” you raise a brow, finally looking over at him, and he falls silent. he bites his lip, knowing that you’re right and he could’ve talked to you a lot sooner than two weeks later. 

still, he doesn’t give up. “please, y/n, just get in. we can talk.” you don’t answer, the thoughts in your head are so conflicting. mentally switching between how hurt you’ve been to how addicting his touch is. “i’ll buy you food.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. at the mention of food, though, he knows he’s won. he stops the car, smiling in victory as he gestures to the passenger side. “get in.” 

with an exasperated sigh you walk over and slip into the seat, you hate how hungry you are right now.

you sit in the passenger seat as you finish your burger that sunghoon had bought you. 

when you’re both done, sunghoon leans back in his seat and glances over at you. his eyes are aching as they meet yours, “i’m sorry i didn’t come to see you sooner.” 

you just give him a skeptical “hm” in response, raising a brow as you wipe your hands on a napkin.

he sighs again. “i’ve just been… stressed. busy. work’s been a lot and i didn’t want to get you wrapped up in this mess. last time we were together, i felt like i did just that—dragged you right into the middle of all this car-theft stuff. you don’t deserve any of that, y/n. i just want you to be safe.”

 “i understand that, but i’m an adult. i can make my own decisions, you know? and so can you, by the way. you could’ve come to see me, especially after… well, after what we did last time.”

he looks away, guilt flickering across his face as he nods, biting his lip. “i know. i just… i like you, y/n. a lot. and i wish my life wasn’t such a complete shit show right now.”

“my life’s a mess, too. but i’d still make an effort to see you.”

sunghoon sighs, “i know, i know. i messed up, okay? i handled it all wrong, and i’m sorry. okay? i’m sorry.”

you don’t say anything right away, just look down at your drink, setting it carefully in the cup holder. “okay,” you finally say. there’s a mix of relief and caution settling in your chest. sunghoon is complicated, and so are your feelings for him.  “have you ever thought about, like… you know, just having a normal job? a normal life?”

sunghoon snorts, “yeah i tried that, but not many people want to hire a guy who doesn’t even have a high school diploma.” you nod in understanding, so he continues, “and why do you want to steal cars? and don’t say you don’t want to—i saw how excited you were when we drove off a few weeks ago.”

you bite your lip, debating how much to actually tell him. you don’t share much with, well anyone. his pleading eyes convince you to tell him some parts, “well i’ve been on my own since i was 16, so money’s always been tight. so i just needed some more money. i’m sick of working all day, every day, just to go home, sleep, and start all over. i wanted… something different. something exciting.”

sunghoon listens, but looks away, shaking his head with a small smile, “y/n, i get it,” he says, sighing. “but crime isn’t exactly the way, you know? it’s bad, it’s dangerous.”

you laugh, raising an eyebrow. “right. you’d know all about being bad, wouldn’t you?”

his smirk flickers, and he doesn’t deny it. instead, he just watches you quietly for a second, his expression unreadable, “okay but,” he mutters under his breath, “but it’s different now. ever since i’ve met you, you make me want to be good.” 

something in his voice makes your stomach flip. you’re both happy and scared at the same time. you’re trying not to grin, but his hand comes up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you can’t help it. it’s what you’ve wanted to hear from him. the look in his eyes is warm and knowing. 

before you can think twice, he leans in, close enough that you catch a hint of his cologne, and then he kisses you, his lips as soft as you remembered. and in that moment, you both know you’re already deeper than you meant to be. 

your lips barely part from sunghoon’s when the screech of tires slices through the air, and suddenly, the night feels way too quiet again. you both freeze, eyes snapping to the headlights of a dark car that pulls into the parking lot.

you barely have time to react as the car comes to a stop. three men step out, all of them wearing expressions that scare you as they start to approach you and sunghoon. they have nasty scowls on their faces and it makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest. 

sunghoon shifts, stepping out of the car without looking at you, without saying a word. he looks just as terrifying as the three men do. he’s tense and so are you. 

"you really thought you could mess with us and get away?" one of them sneers as they look at sunghoon like he’s already dead and it sends a chill through your body. 

“sunghoon, let’s just go! please!” you call out to him from inside the car. 

the guy who spoke first takes a step towards the car, putting his hand on the roof as he bends down to look at you through the window. his eyes are wild and a terrifying smirk spreads on his lips, “oh, you’ve got a pretty girl with you tonight, huh park?” 

sunghoon instantly shoves the guys shoulder to get him away from the car. and before you can blink, the other two men are pulling out guns, aiming them directly at sunghoon. 

“don’t talk to her.” sunghoon’s voice is stern and cold as he ignores the guns and stares right at the man who spoke to you. 

“relax, relax,” the man’s voice is calm, “we’re not here for her, we’re here for you. because you’re the one who messed with all our engines, right? all the engines to the cars that we can’t sell now.” 

you see sunghoon’s jaw clench, his hand flexing at his side. you’re unable to move, unable to think of anything except the fact that sunghoon’s standing there, unarmed, against three men with guns.

"you shouldn't have come here," sunghoon finally says, his voice low, "you're making this worse for yourselves."

the guy closest to him scoffs, taking a step closer. "worse for us? you’re the one who made this personal, park. we’re just here to settle it." the man nods to one of the men with a gun, “do it.” 

everything happens so fast after that. someone yells and then a loud gunshot fills the empty parking lot. you swear your heart stops for a moment when you see sunghoon stagger back. his hands fly to this abdomen where red blood is already spreading across his white shirt. 

“sunghoon!” you scream, your hands fumbling with the car door as panic overtakes you. 

before you can reach the group of men, sunghoon lunges at one of the men, knocking him back. the guy’s gun slips from his grip, making it skid across the pavement. it lands a few feet away from you. before you can process what you’re doing, your body is diving for the gun, gripping its handle tightly in your shaky hands. 

“y/n, stay back!” sunghoon yells at you, his voice strained from the pain of his wound. but, you barely register what he’s saying as you aim the gun at the man who’s holding a gun to sunghoon’s head.

your finger so easily pulls the trigger of the gun. the recoil of the shot makes your arms jolt back. the man who you aimed at stumbles back, his own gun dropping to the pavement as he falls to his knees. 

suddenly, the weapon in your hand is burning hot in your hand, making you drop it. the other two men freeze, their eyes full of confusion and fear as they scan the scene in front of them. they definitely hadn’t been expecting that, and neither were you or sunghoon. 

“let’s go!” sunghoon shouts, his voice hoarse. his one hand is pressed against his bleeding stomach, his face pale as he tries to mask the pain he’s in. he starts to limp the the driver’s side of the car. 

“sunghoon, no,” you snap, rushing to his side of the car, “you can’t drive.” 

“i’m fine.” he argues, but you can see how much the wound is hurting him. his face doesn’t look the same at all. he can’t even stand up by himself, he’s holding onto the car’s roof like he’s gonna fall any second. 

“get in the passenger side, sunghoon.” you voice is a lot more stern that you had intended. 

you can tell that he wants to argue and protest, but the serious look in your eye makes him give in, “okay.” he carefully limps to the other side of the car. he’s just closing the passenger door when your shaking hands grab the steering wheel. 

the other three men have scrambled into their own car in front of you, taking off down the street quickly. the pavement below you is a mess of blood. you ignore the sight and panic bubbling up in your chest as you slam your foot on the gas. your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat, but you force yourself to focus. 

“just hold on, okay?” you say, your voice trembling. “we’re gonna get you help.”

“no!” sunghoon tries to sit up, “we can’t go to the doctor, y/n! they’ll call the cops! please no!” 

your eyes widen further at the realization that you can’t call for help, that you had just shot a man who’s blood is all over the pavement back there. that sunghoon is a thief, that there’s no way he could get help without going to jail. 

“fine, fine. no hospital!” you turn the wheel sharply, the tires screeching as you turn down another street, changing the direction you were going in. 

“you’re a terrible driver,” he mutters, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk despite the pain.

“shut up, sunghoon,”

before you can think, you’re pulling up to your apartment building. your hands are still trembling as you park the car in the shadows behind the building, where no one will notice it right away. your heart pounds as you glance around, praying none of your neighbors are outside or peeking through their windows.

“come on, sunghoon,” you mutter, rushing around to the passenger side. he groans as you help him out, his weight leaning heavily on you. there’s blood everywhere—on your hands, his clothes, the car seat. you wonder what the fuck you’re gonna do. 

it’s a struggle to get him up the stairs without dropping him or making too much noise. you kept switching between praying for sunghoon to not die right here and for your neighbours to not leave their apartment. you unlock your door with blood that doesn’t belong to you on your hands. you practically drag him inside after you to your bathroom. 

“sit down,” 

sunghoon practically falls down on the closed toilet lid, his face pale with droplets of sweat trailing down his face and neck. his white shirt is soaked with blood and you can feel your stomach turn at the sight— the smell of iron strong when you pull the shirt off of his head. 

you force yourself to not stare at the open, bloody wound and to move. you pull open the cabinet where you keep your first aid kit. 

“i can do it,” sunghoon mumbles, trying to sit up straighter. his voice is weak, but his stubbornness is as strong as ever. 

“no, you can’t,” you snap for the second time tonight. you kneel on the bathroom floor in front of him, pulling out all the supplies you might need. “just let me take care of you, okay?”

he blinks at you, surprised, but doesn’t argue. you grab a towel, folding it up before holding it out to him. “bite down on this,” you say softly. “this is gonna hurt.”

he hesitates for a moment before taking it, pressing it between his teeth. you grab a pair of tweezers from the kit, your hands shaking as you sterilize them with some rubbing alcohol.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, before pressing your hand firmly against his wound. he tenses, a muffled groan escaping him as you work. you don’t think the bullet is lodged too deep, but you’ve never done this before. every time you move, he jerks slightly, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the sink beside him. 

“hold on,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. 

with one more try, you manage to pull the bullet out with the tweezers. a trickle of his blood starts to trail down his side. you drop the bullet into the sink and grab some gauze to press against his wound. 

“i’m so sorry,” you say again, tears filling your eyes as you try to clean the area. you’re just hoping you did everything correctly so that he doesn’t die in your apartment. you just work as quickly as you can, bandaging him up and cleaning it so it doesn’t get infected. “done.” 

sunghoon pulls the towel out of his mouth, his head falling back to the wall behind his head. “you’d be the worst nurse ever,” sunghoon jokes weakly, his voice so evidently tired. 

you roll your eyes, standing up and grabbing a clean shirt from your bedroom. “don’t make jokes right now,” you mutter, helping him put the clean shirt over his head, wondering when your hands will stop shaking. 

he winces at the movement, but he doesn’t complain. he doesn’t want to make you worry more about him. “thank you.” he tells you, and it catches you off guard. 

“yeah, yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heat up. you help the thief to his feet, guiding him to the couch in your small living room. he sinks into the cushion, exhaustion taking over his body as it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep after you give him a pillow and blanket.

sunghoon stays at your apartment for the next few days, being forced to be taken care of by you. 

you make sure he eats and that  his wound is cleaned. everytime you see it you tell him it looks better, even though you’re never really sure. you suppose you say it looks better for your own reassurance and sunghoon’s caught onto that, but he doesn’t say anything. 

when you’re at work you find it hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that a wounded sunghoon is at home on your couch. on every break, your phone is quick to your ear, calling him, making sure he’s still alive. when he picks up everytime, he sounds the same— tired, but  playful. 

“i’m fine, y/n.” he says every time, you can always hear his smirk through the phone, “you’re going to make yourself crazy with all this worrying.” 

but you keep calling, and he keeps answering, and you can’t stop yourself from falling in love with his laugh every time. 

you have tonight off from work for the first time since sunghoon got hurt. you’re sitting on the couch beside him, his head rests in your lap with his messy dark hair sprawled out against your bare thighs. the light from the tv is the only light in the room. the movie is some action one that you randomly picked, too tired to scan through anymore of them trying to find a good one. so, neither of you are really watching the movie. your hand absentmindedly runs through his hair. 

you can feel his hand start to wander across the bare skin of your thighs. it’s subtle at first, just the tip of his finger tips grazing the surface. but they get closer to your core that your shorts are covering. your eyes narrow as you look down at him, “sunghoon, you’re hurt, stop.” 

he tilts his head up to look at you, his lips quirked, “but you’ve been taking such good care of me. let me take care of you now.”

you grab his hand to stop it from going underneath your shorts, “sunghoon, you’re hurt,” your voice is firm, “just rest.” 

he sighs, his head falling back into your lap. “i can’t rest forever, you know,” he mutters. “i have to go back to work at some point.”

the mention of his “work” makes your body stiffen underneath him. the night that he got hurt has been flashing through your mind constantly. the large amounts of blood, sunghoon’s groans of pain— the way the gun felt in your hand as you pulled the trigger. you can’t stop the way your eyebrows furrow in worry. 

of course he notices, “y/n, you know i have to go back. it’s my career. it’s how i get my money.” his voice is soft and gentle as he explains himself. 

“hoon, you can get a real job. i can help you find one.” 

he instantly shakes his head in disagreement. before you can protest more, which he knows you will do, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your thigh, then another just above it. your breath hitches as he starts to press soft kisses against your stomach. 

“sunghoon,” you warn him, grabbing his face with your hand. he stops, his dark eyes meeting yours as he lets his face rest against your hand. “i please, i can’t stand seeing you in pain. it’s too soon.” 

a soft smile covers his lips, it doesn’t completely match his eyes that are swirling with lust. but he turns his head and presses a kiss into your palm. “you take such good care of, y/n. i’ll be okay.” 

his stubbornness makes you groan, “sunghoon, please.” you beg him again, thoughts of his wound stretching open cross your mind. 

but, he doesn’t stop. he only starts to press more kisses against your wrist and arm. his smile grows against your skin with every kiss. 

“let me take care of you now, y/n.” 

you sigh, the fight in you dissipating and the smile on his face has reached full peak. he knows he has won, that you can’t resist him any longer. 

“spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” his voice deepens, “let me see your pretty pussy.” 

you obey his command once again, leaning back against the arm of the couch and opening your legs for him. you let him push your shorts aside, letting the cool air brush against your wet folds. his eyes darken even more, his gaze completely focused on your core in front of him. 

“that’s it, my good girl.” his words come out rough and steady, “i wanna taste you so bad.” 

his free hand holds your one thigh, caressing it and keeping it open for his broad shoulders to fit between your legs. his touch is gentle at first. his fingers ever so lightly start to rub your pussy up and down, spreading your juices around, preparing you for his mouth. it had you whining out for him already. 

“fuck, you get so wet so easily for me. wanna make you cum with my tongue, baby.” 

he barely finishes his sentence before he’s leaning forward, his tongue darting out and tracing the outline of your lips. he’s teasing you, making you squirm and beg for him again. his breath and mouth are so warm against your sensitive skin. 

“oh god, sunghoon.” you moan, your hand reaching down between your legs to grab his hair, “that feels good.” 

sunghoon loves how sensitive you are. how easy you are to get moaning. “you taste so fucking good, ‘m getting get addicted to this pussy.” the vibrations of his words make your legs tighten around his shoulders. 

his tongue flicks your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. your hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. sunghoon chuckles, loving the power he has over you. 

“tell me how it feels, y/n– how my tongue feels against your pussy.” 

you look down at him where his face is pressed deep into your core, his eyes telling you what he wants. his tongue is still darting out to lick every inch of your pussy. “it feels so good, i love your tongue so much. please, don’t stop.” 

“you don’t want me to stop?” his voice is teasing as he slow down the movement of his tongue on your clit. 

“no! no! please don’t!” 

sunghoon laughs at your begging, but he doesn’t stop his tongue from moving. he constantly alternates from flattening his tongue against your pussy to contracting it circling it quickly around your clit. 

“who does this pussy belong to, sweetheart?” 

your head is thrown back over the couch in pleasure, “you.” 

suddenly a harsh slap lands on your clit, sending you squealing as you sit up and look down at him, his hands still holding your thighs open. “louder, who does this pussy belong to?” 

“you!” you nod down at him, your thighs shaking from the pleasure and pain. 

“good girl– because you are my good girl, right?” 

“y-yes!” 

you see him smirk against your core again, “then cum for me, baby. cum all over my mouth.” then, he’s shoving his fingers inside your pussy, heading straight for your g spot as he starts sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it again and again– so desperate to get you to cum. 

“oh god! oh god, sunghoon!” you writhe on the couch. if it wasn’t from his hands holding your thighs open then you would’ve fallen off the couch. “i’m gonna cum!” 

his fingers are pounding into you mercilessly, “that's it, baby, let it all out. cum for me, y/n." his voice was a low growl, urging you on.

your orgasm hits you hard. all the worry and frustration you had built over sunghoon’s health all left your body as the pleasure came crashing over your body. your hips can’t stay still as they buck up against his face. you cry out, your voice filling up your entire apartment as the pleasure overtakes you. sunghoon holds you throughout the entire climax, his mouth and fingers never stopping— wanting it to last as long as possible for you. 

as your body starts to relax, you collapse back onto the couch, your breath coming in ragged gasps. sunghoon slowly pulls away from you. his lips are glistening with your juices, a satisfied smirk is on his face as he looks up at you. 

“fuck that was good,” you tell him, a smile spreading across your face in amusement. 

“i told you i could make you feel good,” sunghoon wiggles his eyebrows in response. you roll your eyes, sitting up on the couch and pushing him to sit up. he does so, slowly. his back against the couch and his feet on the floor now. “c’mere,” he pats to his thighs. 

“sunghoon, it’s too much. i don’t want you to get hurt.” 

he doesn’t attempt to argue this time, only grabs your wrist and throws you on top of his lap. both of your knees are either side of his hips.

“if you want to take care of me then make me feel good, y/n.” he says to you, his eyes still full of lust as they look up at you on top of him. 

you can’t ignore the throb of your pussy at his words, so you give in to him again. your hands grab the hem of your shirt and slip it off your body. you move so you can take off your soaked panties and shorts, leaving you completely bare on top of the car thief. his bottom lip is tucked tightly between his teeth as he takes in the sight of you. it’s the first time he’s seen you completely bare. and it’s just for him. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says as he reaches out his hand. you think he’s going to cup your breast or touch your body, but his hand settles on your lower jaw. his eyes looking directly into yours. “let me kiss you.” 

you lean down, making your lips meet with his. the kiss is gentle and soft. it makes your heart skip a beat as he prolongs it. he doesn’t want to let you go. but he does when you pull away for air. 

“i want you inside me, hoon.” 

sunghoon smirks at your confession, his hands pulling off the hem of his shorts so his cock can spring free for you. it looks so hard and thick— the memory of it stretching you open in the stolen car fills your mind. you can’t wait to feel it again. 

sunghoon grips your hips, giving you something to steady yourself on as you position yourself over his cock. you slide down onto his length with ease from your juices and his saliva covering your pussy. you take him in deeper and deeper until, stopping when he’s all the way inside of you. 

a moan escapes your mouth, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder as you adjust to large size. sunghoon’s hands rub up and down your bare back, soothing you from the stretch. 

“we’ll just go slow this time, okay?” sunghoon’s husky tone speaks in your ear— reminding you of his wound. 

you nod as you sit up straight again. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders as you start to lift your hips off his cock slowly, then push them back down. the first thrust already has you reeling. you continue with the slow pace of your hips, bouncing up and down on top of his thighs. you start to alternate with small, slow circles of your hips. you move them left to right and right to left. it makes sunghoon groan out into the living room. 

“fuck that feels so good, you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

“shh, don’t say that when you have a gunshot wound.” you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. you can feel him smirk against your hand, but he doesn’t remove it. 

you keep your hand on his mouth, making him keep quiet, preventing some of his oxygen. you focus on sliding up and down on his cock, making it hit your g spot everytime it enters your pussy. your eyes keep fluttering shut at the feeling of it. 

sunghoon’s eyes are burning into you, watching every single movement you make on top of him. he loves watching you bring yourself to the edge with his cock— using him. 

“fuck i love your cock.” you moan out, starting to feel the coil unwinding in your abdomen as the pleasure builds and builds. 

sunghoon then takes your hand off his mouth with his hands, you want to complain, to mock him for being disobedient like he did to you, but he speaks too quickly, “i love you.” 

his confession doesn’t startle you as much as it does make the pleasure inside of you turn to fire. it only fuels your need to make him feel good— to cum all over his cock. 

“i love you,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him harshly. he keeps up with your messy pace, kissing you back the same way. your hips don’t stop bouncing on top of him as you make out. 

sunghoon’s hands wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him so your chests are touching. your own arms wrap around his neck. your chest is in his face as you focus on fucking him harder and harder. you can feel his lips start to migrate from your jaw to your neck to your nipples. he sucks each one in his mouth, biting them and swirling them with his tongue. 

“fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.” he words come out in a groan. “keep bouncing like that— you’re gonna make me cum.” 

a sob escapes your lips as the pleasure inside of you is about to spill at any second now. “i love you.” you repeat as you keep your head close to his. 

“i love you.” 

your nails start to dig into his back when you feel his one hand snake down between your bodies, starting to rub at your sensitive clit. you cry out, not wanting him to stop. sunghoon can feel the way your walls are rapidly clenching around his cock. he can tell how close you are to cumming. 

“are you going to cum for me, y/n?” he asks you, his voice hoarse and strained as he feels his own orgasm approaching. 

“yes, yes!” 

“cum then, baby. cum around my cock for me.” 

his words send you over the edge. your whole body tenses up as the pleasure overtakes you. it makes your toes curl and fingers dig deeper into his shoulders. you keep your face buried into his neck, letting him hear all your moans of his name. 

the second your wet walls started to spasm feverishly around his cock, sunghoon can’t hold back his own orgasm anymore. he lets out a loud grunt of your name as his cum shot out of his cock, filling your pussy up with it instead. you can only bounce a few more times on his cock before your knees completely give out with the rest of your tired body. 

you keep each other pulled close. your arms wrapped around one another as you both steady your breaths. there’s sweat all over you and your pussy is constantly throbbing around him. your mind is hazy as you try to comprehend what had just happened. 

sunghoon is the first to pull away, sitting back against the couch as he looks up at you. he laughs quietly at your tired face, your eyelids practically closed. even though he’s injured, he still gently lifts you off his cock and sets you beside him on the couch. your hair is a mess as it sprawls against the couch arm behind your head. 

sunghoon reaches to the coffee table to get tissues to clean up the mess between your legs. he presses soft kisses into your thighs as he cleans you. he makes sure to get every remnant of his cum off your pussy. he ignores the fact that the sight makes his cock twitch in his shorts again. 

sunghoon slips off his shirt and puts it on your body, covering you up. you hum at the smell of his cologne surrounding you. you can hardly believe how mentally and physically exhausted you are. the stress from the past week of taking care of him and the three men trying to hurt him really took a toll on you. 

sunghoon shifts you so he can lay behind you on the couch. he rests his head on yours as he kisses the side of your cheek. he stays there, close to you when he says, “i love you.” 

now, as you can think more clearly, you sigh, “i love you, too sunghoon but,” you turn over your to face him, eye to eye, “i can’t keep loving you if you keep risking your life for these cars. i can't constantly think if you’re dead or alive. it’s too stressful for me.” 

sunghoon looks at you, taking in all your features that he’s come to memorize. the features that he’s fallen in love with since the first time he’s seen you on the empty street behind the club. he’s seen you this past week almost pulling your hair out from worrying so much about him. you couldn’t even go to the bathroom without worrying that if you’d come back he’d be dead.

he saw the way you risked your own life for him during the gith with the three men. the way you dove for the gun just to protect him. he’s done what he never wanted to. he’s put you in danger. 

“if it’s between stealing cars and you,” he starts, his voice soft like a whisper, “then it’s you. it’s always you.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, “really?” 

“yeah, i’m done with the car stealing shit, then.” 

you grab his face and bring it to yours, meshing your lips together. both of you smile into the kiss— happy to start fresh with one another. 

“i love you.” you tell him again, pulling back to press kisses all over his face out of pure happiness. 

sunghoon laughs as you kiss him, “i love you, too.” he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you against his large frame, “but you should sleep now, i find out what your mouth feels like around my cock later.” he fake winces in pain when you shove him his shoulder— making you laugh before you settle against his body again. 

both of your eyes close as you drift off to sleep together on the couch. 

now that sunghoon has hit the brakes and left the fast lane for you, there’s no more danger or crime— just the two of you. and that’s all you could ever ask for.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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@jeonholics

[flemingology]

i love soft ale 🥹 potential request if it sparks your interest: very early days of dating alexia and reader assumes she’s not a cuddly type so tries to give her space. realises alexia is in fact very much a cuddly type who’s asking to be lil spoon. reader teasing her cos how tf is the stoic woman i met a couple weeks ago the same one now making happy noises because i’m scratching her back??? 🤨

little spoon ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia needs a cuddle after a long day. she just doesn't know how to approach it

warnings: none

wc: 1.5k

a/n: been a minute since i published something! i've been very busy with my christmas series, but i got this request an hour or two ago and couldn't resist lol. hope you enjoy! (not proofread, sorry for any mistakes)

Alexia was many things. Sweet, thoughtful, caring, affectionate, considerate, dating the Spaniard was more perfect than you’d ever imagine it would be. It was still early days, you two had only been exclusive for a couple weeks, but you felt good with her. It felt right. Like you belonged together.

Every night, when Alexia finished rewatching footage or studying game plans, and you finished work for your marketing job, you’d find yourself together on the couch. Talking about anything and everything, munching on a meal either her or you cooked, nursing a glass of wine as the night went on. It usually ended in watching a movie or an episode from a show you were following together, a little routine you’d grown to love.

There was one thing, though, something that you found yourself feeling a little apprehensive about. Alexia wasn’t a cuddler. You loved nothing more than the prospect of cuddling up against your brunette lover after a long day of missing her at work. Alexia, on the other hand, not so much. Always an arm’s length between the two of you on the couch, never snuggled up in bed. She wasn’t very fond of cuddling close to one another. Or so you thought.

It wasn’t until one particular Thursday night, that you realised you were very wrong. Alexia came home late. A double training session, two tactical meetings and some media bits here and there led to a very long day, only arriving home a little past 9 in the evening. She dreaded days like these, especially since she knew she had a warm body waiting for het at home.

You were sat on the couch, immersed in the final couple chapters of your book, when you heard a set of keys jiggle outside the front door of your apartment. You glanced at the clock on your phone and frowned, knowing your girlfriend would probably not be in the best mood following the long day she had. You closed your book and left it on the coffee table, making your way over to the front door.

You noticed how slagged her shoulders were, barely able to carry the weight of the day anymore. She toed off her shoes and took off her jacket in complete silence before turning towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. “Amor,” she breathed against your shoulder. “I’m here, baby,” you reassured your girlfriend, rubbing soothing patterns across her back.

You stayed like that for a while, only pulling away after a couple of minutes as you heard Alexia’s belly growl. “There’s a plate in the microwave for you. I made your favourite pasta. I figured you could use some comfort food after the day you had.” Alexia wouldn’t admit it, but you swear you saw some tears welling up in the Spaniard’s eyes. “Gracias, amor. I love you.” You retreated back to the couch after a couple more lingering kisses, soon joined by your girlfriend with a plate of pasta perched on her lap. Again, though, a couple feet away from you. You decided not to think much of it and put on a movie you’d started watching the other day, before you got interrupted by a surprise visit from Alba.

Alexia finished her portion of pasta in record time and stood up to put her dishes away in the dishwasher, the Spanish captain forever a clean freak. It had its perks, sure, but you weren’t exactly very fond of the scolding you’d get every time you left your dishes in the sink to clean up the next day.

She sat back down next to you with a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the long day slowly ebbing away the longer she was in your presence. “How was your day, bebé?” Alexia mustered up a small smile and turned her body towards you, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa, supporting her head. “Hmm, fine. Lots of meetings, a couple new projects, nothing out of the ordinary.” Your girlfriend hummed, trying her best to seem interested, but talking about your work wasn’t really high on her list of things to do right now.

In reality, she just wanted to bury herself in your arms and let the remnants of the long day wash away in your embrace. But she didn’t know how to. You’d never really… cuddled. She assumed it just wasn’t your thing, because you had never initiated it. Not on the couch, not in bed. She didn’t want to intrude, or make you uncomfortable, so she would usually steer clear. Today, though, she needed it.

Alexia shuffled a little closer to you and rest her hand on one of your outstretched legs, softly tracing her fingers up and down your bare thigh. You softly hummed at the sensation, her touch slightly ticklish. A couple moments passed and she shifted again, now nudging your legs apart a little and positioning herself in between them, but not facing you. You tried to catch her gaze, wondering what it was that she wanted, but she avoided any eye contact.

You didn’t hear her the first time, causing her to speak up a little louder. “Amor,” Alexia breathed, in a voice that you couldn’t describe any different than whiny. “Yes, baby?” You raised your eyebrows and met Alexia’s gaze, frowning slightly as you noticed the troubled expression on her face. “What’s up, Ale? You wanna talk about your day?” The brunette shook her head rapidly, biting her lip before she spoke up. “Can I lay with you?”

The question surprised you. Of all the things that you thought Alexia would want or need after a long day, you didn’t think it would be that. Alexia had never asked for a cuddle. She asked for hugs, sure, but never to lay close to you. You quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to hold your girlfriend close. “Of course, baby. Come here.” You shuffled a bit further up the couch and nudged your legs further apart, leaving her space to crawl into – but she didn’t.

“Ale? All good?” The Spaniard looked up at you and you tried to read her gaze. “Can I be… how you say, the spoon?” You withheld a chuckle at her accent, forever endeared with the brunette whenever she tried to speak English. “You want to be the little spoon?” You asked, wanting to make sure that’s what she meant. It earned you a nod and a small smile, a sight you swear you’d never grow old of.

“Of course. Come here.” You shifted on the couch so your back was now facing the back of the couch, leaving some space for Alexia in front of you. She wasted no time in curling up against you, burying her face in your neck as she fished your shirt in her hands.

You didn’t quite know what to do. Alexia had never been like this with you. You weren’t complaining, not at all, you’d probably never felt happier in the past couple weeks of dating the footballer than now. Alexia exhaled deeply, nuzzling her face deeper in the crook of your neck as she settled. “Comfortable?” She hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin where her head rested.

You shuffled and got comfortable, reaching a hand behind your girlfriend’s body and softly scratching her back underneath her shirt. Alexia nuzzled impossibly closer and you held her tight, tracing your nails up and down her back as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

You scratched her back until you thought she’d fallen asleep, her breathing evening out a bit, but you were very wrong. Your attempt at retreating your hand from underneath her shirt was met with an unsatisfied grumble and a pinch to your side, to which you chuckled. “Needy, are we?” Alexia scoffed, but it held no malice as you felt her lips forming a grin against the skin of your neck.

You once again started scratching your nails up and down her back. “Mhm, feels good,” Alexia mumbled against your neck. You pressed a tender kiss against her crown. You soaked up the warmth from Alexia’s body pressed so close to yours, your figures moulding together like you were made for each other.

You spent the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch, eventually moving to the bed where the Spaniard once again curled up against you, this time her head resting on your chest and her leg swung across your midsection.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler, Alexia,” you teased, after giving her a kiss good night. “Shut up. I thought you didn’t like it. We have to make up for lost time.” You chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against her crown, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth from your lover. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

[madaqueue]

EPISODE 3: A TASTE OF HONEY IN DEFEAT

satoru thought he would have no problem winning a bet he proposed, but a month is too long to go without a taste of anything this sweet.

themes/content: smut. edging, handjobs, mean-ish dom!reader, satoru being whiney lmao, premature ejaculation + he cums inside, light bondage (satoru receiving). (wk: 2.1k)

a/n: this is part of @luv-lies no-nut-november collab!!! so excited to have been a part of this, hope you all enjoy >:3

“You know I trust you, but don’t you think the ropes are a bit much?” Satoru giggles as you tighten the final knot around his wrists, shoulders bulging and arms stretched overhead.

“I know you trust me - it’s you I’m worried about, ‘Toru.”

“What, worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?” The smirk painting his features veers into a grimace as he winces, straining against the tightening rope.

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself.”

Pink lips draw into a pout. “Aw c’mon, you know I’ll be good! I’m the one who made this bet in the first place, remember?”

You hum as you tug his hands down, testing the strength of the woven cerulean adorning his skin. The headboard shakes with the movement.

“And yet, you were so willing to break the rules.”

It had been quite a sight, truly - your dear Satoru, splayed across the bed, whimpers and moans falling from his lips like honeyed rain. They landed heavy in your ears, sticky and sweet. When the door creaked open, he made no effort to stop the fervent motions of his fist up and down his cock. He was flushed from head to toe, too lost in his own pleasure to recognize the sound of your footsteps approaching. It was only when your hand rested atop his that he jerked up, clouded eyes turning apologetic.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, I know, I just couldn’t wait-” he had babbled.

“It’s okay,” you purred, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But you knew the deal, remember? I’m the only one allowed to touch you this month, right, Satoru?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“And how close you were to cumming, too.”

“I wasn’t going to, I swear-”

You hummed and squeezed his base, earning a gasp. “You know it’s not good to lie, either. Remember, you made this bet, sweetheart. Were you really so willing to throw it all away? To lose?”

“I wasn’t going to lose, I promise, I just needed something-”

He was getting worked up, panicked thoughts racing through his mind. He braced on his forearms to sit up, but with a purposeful push you guided him back onto the sheets.

“It’s okay, my love. If my poor baby is so needy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you something.”

His eyes widened when you pulled the ropes from under the bed, eyeing him like your next meal, a starving predator ready to pounce. And here was your prey, so ready for the taking, offering himself to you as a good piece of meat should.

And now, he’s tied up like one, too.

“I wasn’t even going to break the rules,” he whines impatiently.

Sitting back, you admire your work: your strong, determined Satoru spread and waiting. Trailing a finger down his stomach, his skin burns hot in its wake.

“That’s certainly not what it looked like to me.”

“I-”

“Because to me, it looked like you couldn’t handle going even a month without touching this needy little cock of yours.”

He pouts. “I’m not little,” he huffs.

A giggle bubbles from the back of your throat, bouncing past your lips.

“And besides, I can handle it, I swear! I made it almost the whole month, I did, I just-”

Tilting your head, you gaze down at him. “What, got too desperate? Poor Satoru, ‘The Strongest,’ couldn’t even follow the rules of a bet he made?”

Blue flashes against white as he rolls his eyes. One hand ruffles his hair, cooing down at him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you beg to break this silly little bet of yours.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, hiding the way pink creeps up his neck and decorates his cheeks, stained like flower petals. He’s soft like them, too.

A light chuckle lands in the air when your palm grazes up his length. He twitches in your hold, warm skin on warm skin.

“H-hah, see?” His mouth hangs open between the words. “Told you I could handle it.”

It’s gentle touches at first, to ease him into it: slow strokes, light fingers. And yet, he’s still wrapping his throat around whimpers.

“Aw baby, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Your lips curl into a smile, breath hot behind them. The words come out syrupy, dripping in sugar (and Satoru has always had a sweet tooth). His stomach aches in hunger - hunger for your hands, your body, your control. Whatever you plan to do to him, he’ll swallow it whole, bigger and bigger bites until his cheeks swell and all he can taste is you.

The grip around his base tightens, running up and down. Something about your skin is so much softer than his, untainted by the cruelty he lives through, only dirtied by desire. It spreads over his skin, glistening white and sticky.

When whines begin to twist through the silence, his eyelashes fluttering to bat away the impending tears, he doesn’t have to say it - he’s close.

Just as his muscles begin to tense, you rip your hand away.

There’s a choked little cry he lets out, hurt like an animal you spared from death. One that was ready for it, for the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is strained already, a high-pitched draw across his vocal cords. His eyes are sparkling and wet.

A peck to his cheek sends shivers down his spine. “Because you’re not supposed to finish, remember, silly? I’m just helping you hold up your end of the bet, after all.”

A sound like untuned violins, haunting and beautiful all the same, plays from his throat. You giggle at the music.

“C’mon, Toru - you wanted this, remember?”

“I know,” he grumbles, scrunching his nose. “Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

You smile.

(You would have anyways)

Your gaze falls upon the aquamarine rope, the matching eyes, before trailing back down his steadying chest.

It stutters when your fingers trace up the veins of his cock.

It heaves when you cup a palm around his balls.

You squeeze.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips lifting off the bed.

There’s a word living at the tip of his tongue, its shape burning into his mouth.

Harder.

Luckily, you know your Satoru - you know what he thinks, feels, wants. And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

The sound he makes is garbled and choked, utter nonsense. It came straight from the depths of his body, a pure animalistic response, one he couldn’t have controlled if he tried.

Already, he’s beginning to tremble in your palm - it’s getting easier to do this, make him shake like a lost leaf floating through the autumn air, held captive by the gusts of your wind. Up and down, he travels with you, because of you.

Again, you pull your hand away.

Again, he whines.

“Noooo,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. It was automatic, the expression of displeasure, ripped from him with the loss of your warmth on his.

“What’s wrong baby? You want me to stop?” It’s more fun when he has an out, when he could say no and chooses not to. When he wants this just as badly as you. “You know you-”

“No.” It's more breath than sound. “No, please. Keep going.”

And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

Precum drips down his length, covering him in remnants of desire. They cling to his skin like silky webs, woven from devotion and need. Each slick pump of your hand up and down creates more and more and more, a beautiful pearl at his slit forming one moment only to be spread by your circling thumb in the next.

Each time you reach his base, you squeeze. Each time you reach his tip, you twist. In this dance you both twirl and breathe and feel in beat, holding on to one another with sweaty hands and tired muscles.

“Remember, you can give up whenever you want,” you coo, the sweet glue of a trap.

But Satoru doesn’t dare taste, doesn’t dare step inside - he knows better.

(Right?)

“I’m not - fuck - giving up.” He tries to throw you a smile, but it lands at your feet.

Fists clench into each other, nails digging into his palms. You almost feel bad, the way he’s beginning to writhe within the ropes. It must hurt, you think, the texture soft but never soft enough - it’s nothing compared to you. In spite of his anguish, he knows better than to give up this easily. You haven’t even really begun, not yet.

When his eyelashes flutter closed, you know to pull your hand away.

He’s getting more subtle, the only sign of his impending pleasure a soft flicker of white and blue. But you recognize it, of course - his pleasure lives everywhere in him. In the way his breath catches, in the way his skin burns hot, in the way he gets all too loud or all too quiet.

There’s barely a sound this time. Instead, he just frowns, displeasure spreading across his sweet features. His lower lip sticks out, and he stares at you with cloudy eyes.

“I know, baby, I know. But this is what it takes if you want to win.”

The words don’t ease the growing ache in his core, but your voice does. Every vowel blurs the pain, every consonant gives him something to cling to. He’ll climb himself out of insanity on your breath.

Again, you wrap around him and drag him closer to the edge. Unable to pull his gaze away, he stares down it, looming, waiting. The free fall must feel nice, the wind against his skin, for a moment before he hits the ground. But with a firm hand on the back of his head, you just hold him there. It’ll be his choice whether he decides to jump. Or rather, when he decides to jump.

Another choked groan leaks from his lips when you pause. There are no words left for him to say, nothing but the agony of desire. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the leap any less tempting.

Hushed whispers, not quite praise, tingle his mind. Little hums of “I know,” or “there, there,” dance from your throat, and he writhes.

Distress always looked so pretty on him. Pretty tears, pretty red cheeks, pretty pouts and pretty cries. Perhaps it’s a curse that he looks like a fallen angel when he weeps - if he looked more grotesque, you wouldn’t feel the urge to bring him back into the jaws of pain.

But he lets you comfort him nonetheless, preen his wings and kiss his tears.

This time, when you stop, he thrashes. His skin burns, crisp like it had been warmed by the sun for too long. Everything is too tight, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. They need to be loosened; they need to be released.

“Please.”

It’s so quiet, it’s almost not a word, just little sounds from his tongue.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Tears stream from glossy eyes when he looks at you. His lips quiver as he speaks.

“Please, I wanna cum. Please.”

The smile spreading across your face is cold and knowing; he looks beautiful as he falls.

“I know you want to, but-”

“I lose.” He’s panting, gasping through the plea. “I lose, I give up, I don’t care, just, please.”

Hot tears melt beneath your thumb as you swipe them away. His mouth hangs open, as though he could swallow the air, hold it inside him and let that ease the aching. But the only thing that can help him now is you, the only thing he can stomach.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

A loose smile flows across his face, easy like gentle waves lapping at the corners of his thoughts. The sentence itself barely makes sense to him at this point, garbled in his lust-clouded mind. But he knows you’ll help him now; he welcomes the push over the edge.

Straddling his lap, you guide him to your entrance. Sticky and hot, he presses into you. Just as his tip enters your warmth, he hurls himself into the wind.

Everything in his body trembles, muscles tightening and contracting out of time. Eyelashes flutter, whimpers dance like petals as he comes undone.

The only thing he can do is twitch inside of you, pearly strings pulsing with each erratic breath.

Finally, he opens his eyes to find you smiling. Warm lips press along his cheeks, dried tears salty on your tongue.

“Well, you certainly lost this time,” you hum, resting your forehead against his; he looks at you like you created the earth itself, your breath in the wind and your heartbeat in the sun. “But there’s always next year, right?”

[anonymousicecream]

Prada (Karina x M Reader)

Milan, Italy, September 2024. As a Korean idol, you are popular worldwide, especially after debuting with your group TXT, under Big Hit Entertainment. Tonight’s your first solo event as an idol, after being invited by Prada to their show in Milan.

You calmly sat down as the show progressed, before your attention was diverted after someone tapped your back repeatedly.

“Oh, Karina-ssi!” You greet your junior from a different company, Karina from AESPA.

“Y/n sunbaenim. Nice to meet you.” She offers her hands, which I shook. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Take a seat here, it’s empty.” I offered her the seat next to me, which she kindly accepts.”

The two of you watched together as the show continued, before it eventually ended. You were about to stand up, but your goal was disrupted when Karina held you down. “Wanna take some selcas?” She asked.

“Of course. Whose camera are we using?” You asked her. “Mine.” She said as she grabbed her phone. She gave you her phone, allowing you to manage the angles as she got very close to you, leaning her body against you. It accidentally made you feel her huge tits, through your shoulders, but you shrugged it off, instead focusing on the selcas, as the two of you increased your smiles as you took more pictures.

“Your turn now, do it from your angle.” You told her, and she grabbed her phone, before adjusting it to the right angles. You leaned closer to her, making heart cheeks on her.

“AISHHH WHY DID YOU DO THAT???” Karina jokingly pouts at you after she looks at the results of the pictures. “What do you mean why? It’s cute!” You replied. Karina groaned before she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling her in onto her shoulders as she took more pictures.

“God, we do look like a couple there…” You told her, making her blush a little, before turning her attention towards you. “Y-Yeah. You look even more handsome in person.” She said, analyzing the pictures.

“You’re such a flirt.” You told her, making her smack your arms. “Careful there Karina, don’t flirt too much, we’re in public.” I reminded her.

“So what? Plus, call me Jimin.” She said, “You don’t want dispatch making up rumors of us do you?” You asked her. “I don’t care, plus it looks quite empty now. What’s wrong with having some fun?” She teased. “Careful, don’t tease too much, you might not be able to handle the aftermath.” You told her.

“Let’s see about that.” Karina said, scooting over even closer to you. “At this point, I might just kidnap you to my hotel room, despite the rejections from our agencies.” You told her, making her chuckle, before she asks, “What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that I want to do it right here, right now.” You said. “Nothing’s stopping you boy.” Karina said. I then grab her fingers, interlocking them and guiding her out of the main hall. It took me a few minutes before I noticed the direction of the toilet, which I guided her into. Once inside the toilet, I pushed the doors of each stall, making sure it’s empty before I locked the door, and then guided her into the corner, and largest stall.

“I’m sure you know what to do now.” You said, watching as Karina walks seductively towards you. It didn’t take long before the two of you met lips, allowing you to feel her soft, peach lips. You saw her tiptoe to meet your lips, letting her feel more of your lips. You moved your hands onto her hips, caressing them before you moved even lower, now onto her thighs. Not long after, you felt her legs wrap around yours, before you lifted her up into the air. 

“Aaaah!” She shrieked, allowing you to divert your focus on other parts of her body. You start kissing her neck, earning gasps and groans from her, while your hands try to lower her dress straps, successfully doing so, exposing her black bra. “Fuck, I love your big tits.” Karina smirked at your words, before replying, “Want a taste?”

“No, I need your pussy now.” You saw a change in demeanor from her, becoming a bit more shocked. I set her down on the floor before I sat on the toilet seat, lowering my trousers and inviting her onto me. “Come on.” Karina soon followed as she sat on your lap. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I can feel you through your shorts.” Karina’s face blushed a bit, before she maintained her cocky demeanor again, and then asking “What will you do about that?”

You moved my hands under her dress, feeling the sides of her safety shorts, before lowering them. Immediately, you felt her lace panties covering her pussy, coated in her juices. You streaked your fingers all over her panties, feeling the extent of her wetness. At the same time, you felt her hands lower your boxers, exposing your hard, throbbing cock. She starts stroking them, matching the pace of your fingers on her panties. It didn’t take any longer before you decided to set her panties aside and lift her up, aligning her with your cock before you lowered her slowly.

“Mmmmhhhh you’re so wet and tight.” You told her as she lowered herself even more. “I know, and you’re so fucking big.” Karina replies as she lifts herself off your cock. She repeated this a few times, doing it slowly and steadily, adjusting to your size before she wraps her hands around your neck as she increases her pace. You used your hand to play with her body, caressing different parts of her body as her pace increases.

“Fuck, faster baby.” Your groans echo in the mini stall as Karina’s rides get faster.

“You love my tits?” Karina bunched up her tits, showing you her enormous tits. You nodded at her question before you unhook her bra and threw it to the side, exposing her perky nipples. You used your right hand to cup her tit, while using your mouth to suck the other one. You started off by licking her nipples, going up and down on them, matching the pace in which she rode you, before you took control of her, controlling her pace.

“Play with yourself.” You instructed her, earning a nod from her as you now move your hands onto her hips, helping her control her pace. Karina used the time to rub her clit under her dress, helping her increase her stimulation. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter.” You saw a smirk from Karina, before she took over again, riding you even faster now. At the same time, you also felt her juices leaking onto your cock, which got even faster and more intense over time.

“AAAAHHHH FUCKKKKK!!” Karina moans as she lifts herself off your cock, squirting HARD all over your lap. You hugged her intensely, feeling her still rubbing her clit as she squirts continuously all over your lower half of your body. “Fuck, that’s it Jimin-ah.” You whispered to her, whilst caressing her back, helping her come down from her orgasm.

“T-Thanks. You haven’t cum yet?” You shook your head after hearing her question. Karina grins slightly before she gets up and kneeled in front of you, splitting your legs open to put herself in between your legs, and more importantly, in front of your cock.

Karina grabs your cock, hovering her mouth over the cock before she drops a gluck of saliva onto your cock. She stroked it gently, lubing your cock with her saliva before she put your mouth into her cock. You groaned, feeling her warm mouth and soft tongue, licking your cock aggressively. Her pace of licking you soon got faster, making you squirm even more under her method of pleasuring.

“Chill down. You haven’t fucked my tits yet.” Karina’s words shocked you. To her however, it seems like another normal day as she moves your cock onto her cleavage. She then squeezed your cock with her tits, before she started sliding them up and down. “Fuck, that feels so good.” Karina’s pace got even faster, enjoying the reaction you made from her actions.

“F-Fuck I’m close.” You groaned, starting to thrust up onto her tits and mouth, allowing your cock into her mouth again. “I know, paint my tits baby.” Karina said, stopping all of her actions to grab your cock. She slapped your cock on her tits a few times before she started stroking it, gripping it tight and stroking it very fast.

“Cum for me. Cum on me. Paint me. Paint my body. Imagine everyone watching you paint my glorious tits.”

The last sentence was the final straw as she helped you bust, shooting your load all over her tits. Karina continues stroking you as your load busted all over her tits, painting them from her cleavage, and onto each of her tits. After you finished cumming, she helped milked out the last of cum from you, before she stopped. She then sucked her hands, tasting your cum on her fingers. “Mmmm, tasty.” Karina then grabbed her phone and took a selca of her covered in your cum before she sent it to you.

[starsinthesky5]

make me juno* || joe burrow x reader

description: he loves you right and he wants your touch for life too. you realize one of you is cute, but two though? you just might let him make you juno ;)

a/n: surprise! felt the urge to write this so here we are. ALSO, I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I SAW JUNO PREFORMED LIVE. LIKE BITCH. I CANT. 

i hope this doesn’t suck lol. i’ve been in a slump lately and i feel so bad for keeping everyone waiting like this ;(

warnings: SMUT. it’s alot. ALOT. & language. MDNI

word count: 16.1 k

taglist (comment and ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeys-babe @joeyb1989 @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87

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“God, he looks so hot when he gets out of the shower,” you murmured under your breath, feeling a rush of heat rise from your toes to your head. “If he just grabbed me by the hips and threw me underneath him, pressed that mouth against my ear…put that hand on my stomach, holding me in place like I’m his entire world…oh god I would–…,” you daydreamed. Your breath hitched at the thought and your eyes screwed shut from the images you were seeing, it was almost too much, the way just the sight of him could set your mind and body on fire. 

And then you heard his voice, soft and teasing. “You okay over there?” he asked you because of how quiet you had been since he came out of the bathroom.  

You opened them a few seconds later, your cheeks red because you thought he caught you red-handed but when you glanced over at the cause of your friskiness–your husband–he was innocently sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to you. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends and a few stray water droplets clung to his golden skin as he squeezed out the final dab of his favorite lotion–cucumber scented, something you put him on–and began massaging it into his collarbone. He looked so relaxed and at peace, but your mind was far from the leisurely place he was likely in. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to share the idea that had been swirling in your head all evening since he came home from practice. 

When he first walked in with that Bengals beanie on his head, those gray sweats hanging low around his waist, and that adorable baby pink Nike sweatshirt clinging to his frame, you nearly fainted. How could he look so adorable yet so sexy at the same time? Like he was one second away from holding a little baby in his arms or one second away from putting a baby inside of you. 

You were already teetering on the edge, your hormones wreaking havoc inside you after he left you high and dry this morning, so his post-practice look made it much worse. He’d skipped out on a quick, pre-practice rendezvous, leaving your needs painfully unmet. What started as a soft, gentle good morning kiss quickly shifted to a sloppy, breathless makeout session, his hands pulled you closer as you begged for his touch–or anything–to bring relief to the ache in between your thighs. But his multiple alarms had other plans. 

So as he made his swift exit, you were left to fend for yourself. There were several things you could have done while he was away to experience that delicious ecstasy coursing through your veins. However, you rarely took matters into your own hands because you didn’t want to take away Joe’s right to see you reach that blissful state—the one he was responsible for inducing for the rest of his life ever since he slipped that beautiful diamond ring onto your finger. He prided himself when it came to bringing you to that heavenly place, so you never wanted to strip him of his right. It was the way he carefully watched your every reaction to know what you liked and didn’t like, his focus persistent, as if your pleasure was his biggest accomplishment. It was his right, his privilege, to unravel you in that way. 

So, you did your best to push those heated thoughts to the back of your mind, even if they lingered long enough to leave you flustered for the rest of the day. And it felt like every little thing was working against you; the graze of your clothing against your skin, the way your mind would wander back to the last time his hands were on you, and even the painfully innocent texts from him that asked how your day was going. 

You were so fucking horny and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And then when you saw him once he came home from practice, those hormones went into overdrive fast. It’s as if every sense was heightened. Every time his fingers would graze over your clothed shoulder, you felt like ripping your clothes off. Whenever his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual, you felt like pouncing onto him. Every time he curled up on the couch to work on the pac-man arcade Lego set you bought him, you daydreamed about him building a Lego set with his little one, his child, your baby…one day.  

Those daydreams had become quite frequent, to be honest.

You and Joe had been married for a little over a year now, and married life was everything you had dreamed of. Maybe even more. It still felt as though you two were dating because the spark between you hadn’t dulled; it only deepened. Everything about your life as husband and wife felt easy, natural, and light, almost as if you two were perfectly in sync. 

Your home became a safe space filled with reminders of your love; framed photos from your honeymoon lining the walls, the scent of his cologne lingering on all your clothes and blankets, and a daily habit of finding tiny notes he left for you in the most random places. It was like living in your own little bubble of love, unbothered by the chaos of the outside world. Those evenings when you’d lounge together on the couch, his arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you watched the latest episode of some trashy reality TV show, were your favorites. Those nights when you’d cook together, teasing each other about who was better at chopping the vegetables, which would eventually turn into a food fight because neither of you would admit defeat, was maximum domestic bliss for you. And other nights, when you’d order takeout and slow dance in the kitchen, barefoot and carefree to “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, reassured you that you made the right choice by saying yes to spending forever with your favorite person in the entire world. 

Everything was perfect with just the two of you, yet in those quiet moments when you caught Joe’s soft gaze lingering on a family, or the way he playfully messed up your nephew’s hair, or like earlier, when he’d come home looking like he was coming home to his wife and baby, you couldn’t help but wonder what life would look like if it was the three of you. 

The thought came unprovoked sometimes, like when you’d be in the grocery store, lost in thought imagining the faint pitter-patter of tiny feet across the hardwood floors because you walked past the baby clothes, or picturing Joe cradling a baby in his strong arms because you saw his teammates doing so with their families. You wondered what it would be like to have your own little one–a perfect blend of the two of you.

There was no rush, of course. Life with Joe felt full and beautiful just the way it was–just the two of you and football, a rhythm you’d fallen into easily and had been dancing to since LSU. But lately, the thoughts of Joe talking to your baby bump had become more common and it made your heart ache in the best way. You could almost imagine waking up in the morning to his cheek pressed against your belly, whispering promises to his little tiger who was growing inside of you. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you breathless. 

You had talked about wanting kids together before you got engaged and you two were on the same page about all of it, like you were about everything else in your relationship. But the one thing you had never talked about was when. 

The idea of Joe as a father made you want to kick your feet back and forth like a little girl; the image, the idea of it, was absolutely adorable and tooth-rottingly sweet. You wanted to see his hands, the ones that clung to you, cradling a tiny bundle of joy that you both created through your love for one another. You wanted to hear his adorable little laugh as he played peekaboo or watch his face light up the face time your baby wrapped their little fingers around his. 

You knew it wasn’t about if, only when. You wanted it, him, and everything that future could hold so badly that it made you ache in ways you couldn’t even put into words. He was your home, your safe place, your everything. Joe had this way of filling every corner of your heart, making you feel so cherished and complete, and the thought of sharing that love with your child was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. You adored him more than you thought it was possible to adore anyone. You had no doubt he’d make the best father and the way he cared for you, for the people he loved, was proof enough. 

You needed this with him. God, you’d do anything to have it with him.

“...Joe?” you finally said, snapping out of your thoughts.

He turned around slightly to look at you, placing the bottle of lotion to the side and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”. 

You felt a wave of nervousness come over you, but you were already too lost in those thoughts to go back. “Here goes nothing,” you thought as you flipped onto your back, your head leaning against the bed frame as you held your phone close to your chest, “...H- Have you ever thought about…spicing things up a little?” you asked, your voice so faint and gentle, almost trying to sound innocent. 

Joe tilted his head in confusion, “Spicing things…up?” he echoed. “What do you mean?” he added with a small chuckle. 

You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing deepening, and your palms becoming sweatier by the second. You sat up, still clutching your phone, “Like new…positions? I- I was doing some late-night research,” you said, trying to remain casual but you couldn’t help but wince at the burning sensation in your cheeks.

Joe’s lips shifted into a smirk as he turned to face you fully, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist and his bare chest basically an open invitation for you to mark him up. “Late-night research, huh? Even late at night, you’re thinking 'bout me?” he wiggled his eyebrows and said. “What exactly did you find?” he chuckled. 

You quickly unlocked your phone and pulled up the image you had saved earlier–a diagram of a particularly intricate position that had you on edge for the past few hours because of the mental image it gave you. “Have you ever tried, this one?” you asked, holding your phone out to him. 

Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the screen, “Wowwww,” he said, dragging it out with a giggle. “This looks… ambitious,”.

You broke out into a laugh, sitting up on your knees and moving closer to him, “You mean to tell me, Mr. Quarterback doesn’t think he can handle it?” you teased. 

His eyes snapped up to yours, a playful yet challenging sparkle in them, “Oh, I can handle it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But can you?”.

You eyed him up and down for a second, feeling the heat in your belly grow with each glance at the little happy trail below his belly button which led to what you were craving. “Don’t underestimate your wife, Burrow. She’s got moves,” you said, running your hand up his muscular chest, your ruby-red nails leaving light scratches as you inched toward his neck. 

“Oh, does she now?” he smiled, moving closer to you. 

“Yes, she does. Maybe you should let her show you?” you whispered, moving closer to him, your lips planting a few light kisses along his jaw to finish your sentence. 

Joe pulled back, meeting your tell-tale eyes to see if you were serious, and the unwavering fire behind them told him you were. He grabbed your phone from your hand, setting it down on the nightstand, his grin widening, “Alright, challenge accepted. But don’t get mad if this turns into an Olympic-level workout,”. 

“Gotta go for the gold, baby,” you winked. “We’re too skilled to back down,”. 

— 

A little later, the two of you were naked and sprawled across the bed, Joe holding the phone up for reference as you tried to untangle yourselves from the failed first attempt at the intimate position. “Wait,” he said, squinting at the screen. “Is your leg supposed to go over my shoulder or–,”. 

“Your leg!” you cut him off, giggling as you pointed to the diagram. “It’s definitely your leg! But wait, I think we have it all wrong because no leg needs to go over a shoulder. Is the photo upside down?”. You were even unsure of it yourself, you never really switched it up like this in the bedroom so this was equally as hilarious as intimidating. 

Joe groaned as he dropped his head, then flopped onto his back dramatically, “This is starting to feel like a TikTok challenge, babe. Sex should not be this difficult,”. 

You grabbed the pillow from underneath your head and whacked him with it as giggles fell from your lips, “You’re the one who said you could handle it!”. 

He caught the pillow, tossing it to the side as he rolled back toward you, “I know, but whoever made these positions clearly is against getting laid because half the time would get wasted just figuring out whose leg goes where. Maybe we should just stick to what we do best? That always works best for us and things…things are already super spicy whenever you end up underneath me, why try to change it?” he winked as his smile softened. 

“You’re probably right. I don’t feel like being more sore than usual for no reason and that looks like something that’d make me pull a leg muscle or two,” you laughed. 

“You still up for it? Or did you just want to do something different tonight and you’re over it now,” he asked, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to push you into doing something if you weren’t feeling it anymore, he only cared about your pleasure and he was worried that not being able to figure this out would put a dent in your high. 

“Oh, yes,” you groaned, waving away his worries. “I’ve been about 5 seconds away from letting go ever since you left me high and dry this morning,” the words falling out of your mouth instantly with no shame or hesitation. 

Joe’s face dropped slightly, “Sorry about that,”. He really did feel bad for leaving you this morning, but he knew better than to be late to today’s practice. The day before, you woke up similarly, except Joe’s head was stuffed in between your thighs for ten minutes before he held you on top of him for another twenty. The extra thirty minutes in bed–although blissful and oh-so-delicious–caused him to be the last one in the facility and the last one to get to the morning meeting, and everyone was on his ass about it. Especially, because of that pretty golden tattoo you left on his neck that he forgot to cover up. 

“Damn, Joe. Ever since you got married it’s like you became even more pussy whipped than you were before,” Ja’marr teased. 

“God Damn, Joe. Give Y/N a break before she starts sleeping in the guestroom. She’s probably tired of your ass,” Tee laughed, earning a chuckle from Ja’marr. 

“Listen, son. I know being young and in love and newly married is…uh…exciting and…*cough*...thrilling..but you have a job and as the team leader, it doesn’t look good to walk in here with your shirt on backward and those marks on your neck. Bad example for the guys,” Zac awkwardly whispered to him. 

“Ah,” you interjected, pushing a finger to his pink, plump lips. “I’m not mad. I’m just so fucking horny and the way you looked when you came home plus the way you looked after your shower made it worse,”. 

He wishes he could show this to them right now. It would be the perfect, “Loserrrrr” moment for him to tease his guys about. You would and could never get tired of him, or this. 

He raised an eyebrow at your cheeky confession, “Really?”. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I don’t care how we do it, I just want you,” you said softly, your hand shifting into his hair as you pushed him closer to you, close enough to press your lips against his. 

Joe melted into your lips the moment they collided, his hands naturally found your hips, gripping them firmly, pulling you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go. In one swift motion, his body shifted and he was on top of you again. His movements were unhurried but filled with a desperate kind of tenderness that made your heart race. He wanted you just as badly, if not more. Ever since he slid that gorgeous ring onto your finger, something in him shifted. Joe had always been obsessed with you, but now? Now, it was like he literally couldn’t function without you. Just one glance at your face, whether you were freshly awake with a bedhead or dressed up for a night out, his composure would crumble. You’d catch him staring at you every so often, his eyes dark and filled with lust, and before you knew it, you were pushed against the closest surface and his name was falling from your lips over and over. 

It didn’t take much to push him over the edge, the mere sound of your laugh and the curve of your smile were enough to drive him crazy. Joe might have been many things, but with you? He was a man utterly and unapologetically consumed by love, and by you. 

“Just hold me and explore me, baby. Stick to what you do best, that’s more than enough,” you murmured between kisses, your voice soft and laced with affection. His lips stilled for a second as he absorbed your words, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with a familiar promise of love and devotion. Without breaking the kiss, his hand reached back for the white sheets, tugging them over the two of you. 

You felt his thick erection slide against your slick folds, each slip and slide sending a flutter throughout your belly, the sensation prompting you to pull away. “Please,” you hissed, “I need it,”. 

“I know, baby,” he chuckled, pushing your lips back to his as he pressed you further back into the cloud-like bed. “You’re so wet…wonder what got you like this,”. 

“You,” you whimpered, feeling his lips slide along your jawline, then to that spot on your neck that he loved, and then anywhere they could go to hear your pretty, soft, open-mouthed moans. “J- Joe,” you whispered, feeling him position his cock right at your entrance while he suckled on the spot below your ear.

“Hold on for me,” he groaned, then pushed into your warm, dripping core in one strong movement. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, fingers digging into his taut muscles as you clung to him with everything you had.

His body moved against yours with a fast, frantic need, every thrust igniting a fire that burned hotter with each second. His rhythm was raw and relentless as if he couldn’t bear to have an inch of space between you. The sound of your bodies moving together, skin against skin, became a beautiful, intimate soundtrack as he pushed into you with a force that stole your breath. The way his eyes were glued to yours and how his arms caged you in, creating a safe yet electrifying cocoon, was another thing that you loved about him. He focused all of his attention on you at all times, it felt like you were the only thing in his world.

“Tell me I’m the only one, baby,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as his cock grazed that perfect, sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips.  

His breath was hot and rough against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, fuck, baby…fuck, yeah…you’re the only one,” he moaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure. “The. only. one. who. has. me. like. this.” his words were punctuated by the unwavering rhythm of his thrusts, each one powerful and deliberate, driving you closer and closer to the edge.  

“Just like that, baby,” you whimpered. The way your walls clenched around him made his head fall to your shoulder, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper. “So good for me, angel,” he groaned, his voice turning into a low growl as he thrusted harder, his movements exact yet full of raw desperation. Every push and pull of his body against yours sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your senses completely overwhelmed by him.  

Another moan escaped your lips, louder this time, as his pace quickened. “Oh, oh…oh, fuck, Joey. I can’t…,” you cried out, your nails digging into his back, your entire body trembling beneath him.  

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist to angle you even closer to him. The shift made his cock hit even deeper, and your cry of pleasure turned into a near scream as he drove into you relentlessly, chasing both of your releases. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gritted out, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips snapped against you with a rhythm that left no room to think–only to feel. “You’re mine, angel. All mine,”. 

The way he claimed you, the way he adored you, held you, and explored you, the way his body pressed against yours so completely, was intoxicating. The sound of his deep groans, the slap of your bodies meeting, and the way his hand slid up your waist to cup your face was too much, and yet, not enough. “I’m so close, baby,” you whimpered, your legs shaking as you clung to him, overwhelmed by the mere passion in his voice.  

“Let go for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as his thrusts became harder, deeper, his movements rough yet perfectly attuned to your body. “I’ve got you, angel. Let go. I’m right here,”.  

And with one final thrust, his body pressed against yours, the band in your belly shattered, your cries of pleasure filling the room as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. “Joe…oh my god! Joe!” you moaned, panting as the aftermath of your high vibrated throughout your body. “You feel…you feel so- so good, fuck. Joe,”.

Joe’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his release, his groans getting louder and more uneven in your ear. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his body tensing against yours. “Baby, fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his voice strained with need. But then, his hips faltered for just a moment as the realization hit him. “Shit…I forgot the condom,” he muttered breathlessly, his thrusts slowing slightly. “I’ll pull out, I swear–,”. 

His words barely registered in your brain as they were drowned out by the heat building inside you and the idea that suddenly sparked in your mind. Your heart raced, but not from nerves–it was something else. A lightbulb moment. This could be the start of what you’d been wanting, what you’d been dreaming of for so long. This could be a way to have that conversation with him later…maybe even act on it before talking about it… 

“No,” you murmured, your voice trembling but stable enough to catch his attention. “Don’t pull out, Joe. It’s okay,”.

Joe rarely ever came inside of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was more so that back then, having a kid in college or while he was trying to make a name for himself in the NFL wasn’t exactly ideal. You both had sex like this a lot, raw and with no barriers, but he found other spots to push out his release other than being inside of you. So right now, when you said that you wanted him to come inside of you, he was slightly confused. 

His eyes widened, his movements stuttering as he processed what you said. “Baby…you’re not on anything,” he said hesitantly, his forehead pressing against yours. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, even though his body was trembling with need, his will hanging by a thread. “Are you sure?”.

You nodded, your hands sliding up his back to hold him closer, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “It’s okay, Joey,”.

Maybe he would take the hint? That you weren’t just saying this because you were too caught up in the lust to think straight, but that you actually wanted this…wanted more than this.  

His breathing hitched, and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to argue. But the way you gazed up at him, your words full of love and comfort, completely untangled him. His hesitation melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire and trust. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping back into rhythm, harder and more desperate this time. “You’re gonna kill me, baby…fuck, I can’t hold it,” he growled, his thrusts turning frantic as he buried himself deeper, chasing his release.  

You moaned loudly, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling into pleasure once again. The thought of him spilling into you, of this moment potentially being the start of something new, pushed you over the edge. “Do it, Joey,” you urged breathlessly. “I want you to. Please. Give it to me, baby.”  

With a choked groan, he finally let go, his body tensing as he gave in. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, his hips jerking erratically as he came inside you, his release hot and overwhelming as he pressed himself as deeply as he could, holding you tightly as he rode out his climax. His breaths were shaky as he came down, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Shit, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe we just…,”. 

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your tone soft and reassuring. “I’m okay. You’re okay,”.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any doubt, but all he found was love and certainty. Slowly, a smile broke through his post-climax fog, and he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.  

“No, you are,” you smiled, leaning back in and dropping two kisses on his lips. 

—

A little later, the two of you lay tangled together under the sheets. You both were a little too wrung out to do anything else, so you decided to stay like this. His hand slid up and down your side, his touch as usual, soft and comforting, but your mind was moving at the speed of light. 

He hadn’t said a word.

You kind of expect him to bring it up, maybe even tease you about the heat of the moment, or tell you how he felt about it. Instead, he seemed so relaxed and at peace, especially with how his head was resting in the crook of your neck as if nothing unusual happened. 

You felt the urge to say something, but how? You couldn’t just blurt it out, “That might get me pregnant and I want that, but do you want that?”. So, you decided to test the waters. 

“That was… intense,” you mumbled, your voice laced with coolness as your fingers traced shapes on his bare back.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, pressing a wet, lazy kiss to your shoulder. “You drive me fucking crazy, Y/N,”.

“I love him. God, I love him,” you thought to yourself, but your mind was still stuck on it. “I mean…we don’t usually…,” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

“We don’t usually what?” he asked while propping himself on his elbow to look at you, his tone giving away that he really was clueless. 

Your cheeks felt like they turned red again as you hesitated to answer his question. You took a deep breath, “You know, we usually never…skip the condom,” you said, your voice soft as you searched his face for a reaction.

Joe blinked, and for a second you saw a spark behind his eyes, but then it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He shrugged slightly, “I guess we got caught up in the moment, huh?” he said casually, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your disappointment. He wasn’t getting it. Either that, or he wasn’t ready to go there, and you definitely did not want to push. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to bring it up?

“Yeah,” you murmured, forcing a smile as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. “Caught up in a moment,”. 

He dropped another kiss on your lips and mumbled an ‘i love you’ before settling back beside you, his arm draping over your waist as his eyes fluttered shut. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with a million thoughts. “Maybe I should let it go for tonight. He must be tired,” you thought, letting out a breath as you relaxed against him. 

But as you lay there, another idea formed. If your adorably clueless husband isn’t going to bring it up, maybe you’d start dropping hints–little comments here and there, planting the seed in his mind like he did inside of you. He was the smartest person you knew, but when it came to subtlety, he sometimes needed to help. 

You smiled to yourself, already thinking of ideas on how to ease the idea into his mind. But for now, you let it go and allowed his steady breathing to soothe you to sleep. 

A few days later – Bengals Bye Week Day 1

The living room was calm, the soft light of the TV cast a gentle glow over the room as the quiet pitter-patter of the rain added to the comforting ambiance. Joe was sitting next to you on the couch, one of his arms lazily resting around your shoulder as your legs were stretched out in front of him. You were as usual, curled up next to him, the large hoodie you stole from his closet hiding most of your body as a fluffy Bengals blanket covered you both to protect you from the cool winter air. Your eyes fell to the coffee table in front of you, half-empty pizza boxes and freshly popped popcorn scattered across the surface, a reminder of the cozy night you two were having today during night one of the Bengal’s Bye-Week. 

The movie on the TV was a cheesy rom-com, clearly your choice since your husband would’ve picked and preferred some action movie that you would’ve been too lazy to focus on. Rom-coms were perfect for cozy nights because you didn’t really need to put all of your focus on what was happening. However, this time, you were glued to the screen. There was a little family moment playing right now–a dad chasing his toddler around the living room and swooping them into their arms as their laughter filled the room. It was a classic scene that had been done a million times before in the movies, but this time, something about it made your heart swell with a familiar ache. 

You shifted slightly, reaching to the side table to grab your water glass to take a small sip, the dad’s laughter in the movie echoing through the room, and without thinking twice, you blurted, “You’d make a hot dad, you know that?”. 

Your cheeks instantly heated up, “Oh, shit,” you quickly thought after you said that. “Where the hell did that come from? I thought I was easing him into this…talk about subtle”. 

Joe, who had been scrolling through his camera roll for a few minutes to find a photo of a pair of shoes he wanted to show you, froze mid-swipe, his eyes darting to you and then to the TV screen. “W- what?” he sputtered, confused and dazed like a deer in headlights by what you had just said.

“Play it cool, Y/N. You said it, no going back now,”. You took a sip of the cool beverage, then laughed, “You good there, Burrow?” you teased, watching as his cheeks turned a shade of red you knew he didn’t like to admit. He always has that adorable blush on his face when you say something about his physique. He knew he was gifted in the looks department, but he was never one to say it out loud himself. Another reason for this blush was what you said after that.

The word dad. 

“What did you just say?” he muttered, a playful twinkle in his eyes as the redness spread to his ears, not being able to believe what you just said. 

You grinned, “I said, you’d make a hot dad. I mean, look at you. You’re already so good with kids and I bet you’d be the one to carry one around in a baby carrier, all rugged and sexy,”. 

Joe’s brows furrowed as a smile threatened to tug at the corner of his lips. He leaned back against the couch, returning to the position he was in before, “You’re insane,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he laughed at your “joke”. 

“Please,” you raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve got major ‘dad energy’,”. 

“Dad energy?” he snorted, the crinkles around his baby blues at full display, “I can’t believe you just said that,”. His hand traveled to your thigh underneath the cozy blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze that matched the tone of his voice despite the fact he was brushing off what you were saying as if it was a silly joke–which it wasn’t.

“Um, why not?” you asked innocently. “It’s a compliment, babe. You’d be the guy, the one who’s always there for his family. The fun, loving dad who’d give anything to make sure his kid knows they’re loved. That’s so hot,”.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds while his gaze lingered on you, the mood shifted as if he was processing something. “You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter, the playful teasing gone. 

You nodded, “I do. You have this…calm about you, you know? Like your life is so chaotic but no matter what, you make room for those little moments, the ones that matter most. You hardly get overwhelmed and manage to give everything your 110%,”.

There was a longer pause this time, the only sound in the room being the faint background noise of the movie. Finally, he let out a soft exhale, his eyes moving down to your lips for a moment before moving back to yours. “You’re making me blush,” he said, almost a little shyly. 

“Good,” you teased, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, “I’m not done yet,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your answer, “What, you going to tell me I look like I’d be good at changing diapers next?”.

You laughed, the nature of the conversation was serious but the little jokes and playfulness added a lighter touch to it. You leaned in a little closer so that your lips were just an inch from his, “You kidding?” you whispered, “I think you’d be amazing at everything, Joey. Not just dad stuff. Everything,”.

Joe’s breath hitched, and before he could say something, you kissed him softly, just enough to make your point clear. When you pulled back, his hands moved to the back of your neck to pull you back in, this time with more urgency. “Alright,” he mumbled against your lips. “You’ve got me now but don’t go giving me too many ideas, or I might start thinking you’re serious about this,”. 

You grinned, feeling the heat between you both rise, particularly in your belly. “Who says I’m not serious?” you thought as you pushed your lips against his again. 

Two days later - Bengals Thanksgiving Dinner 

The air buzzed with energy as the dinner unfolded in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the room. Families mingled with players, and the mood was warm and festive. You had so much to be thankful for, but the thing you were most thankful for was the man beside you who hadn’t left your side since you got here. 

Joe was his usual charming self, offering warm smiles and handshakes to everyone who approached. He was the star of the show as usual, but even in a crowded room, he had a way of making you feel like the only person in his world. 

Joe loved you right. 

Even when his life demanded so much from him, he never let you feel like you were anything less than his top priority. Whether he was drowning in the chaos of the football season or navigating the plethora of public appearances, he had a way of grounding you, making sure you knew you were the center of his galaxy.

He always paid attention, even when you thought he wasn’t. If his eyes were glued to game film, he’d still reach over and rest a hand on your leg, his thumb would be rubbing little circles as if he was saying ‘I’m here with you’. If he was caught up in a conversation, he’d make sure to check in with you through a quick glance or a wink, a silent acknowledgment that he was thinking of you. 

Joe didn’t just love you; he made loving you feel like the easiest thing in the world.

If you were tired, he’d insist on carrying you to bed, no matter how much you resisted. If you were upset, he wouldn’t rest until he made you laugh again. And even on days he had nothing left to give, he’d still find a way to make you feel seen–a quick kiss on your forehead, a few ‘i love you’s’, or the way he’d hold you just a little tighter at night.

“You’re my everything,” he’d tell you, his voice steady and sure like it was the most obvious truth in the world. And you believed him. Because Joe had a way of showing his love in the little things, the quiet gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight was another example. He was the center of attention and had everyone approaching him for conversations, oftentimes overlooking you. But he made sure to rope you into the conversation each time, to hold you by your hip and keep you against his chest, and to constantly keep his attention on you whenever he had a free moment. 

Currently, you stood close to Joe as usual, your fingers loosely entwined with his as you both sipped on your drinks and soaked in the atmosphere. Not far from where you were, Evan McPherson sat on a plush couch, bouncing his baby girl on his knee. Merritt was all smiley and giggly, her tiny fists pumping in excitement as she watched the world around her. 

“Having fun?” Joe murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You turned to him with a soft smile, “I am,” you smiled, your gaze lingering on his baby blues. “What about you?”.

His lips curved into a familiar, boyish grin that made your heart flutter every time. “When I’m with you? Always,” he said simply, though his sincerity shone through every word.

Before you could respond, your attention moved to Merritt when Evan leaned down, letting her waddle on her tiny, unstable feet toward Joe. “Looks like another girl has eyes for you, Joey,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

Joe laughed softly, setting his drink on the table as he crouched down to meet her at eye level. “Hey there, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft in a way that melted your heart instantly. He reached out a hand, and instantly, her tiny fingers latched onto his index finger, gripping it tightly like it was the most important thing in the world. 

Your eyes lit up with a kind of sparkle that said a thousand words, and your heart swelled with warmth at the sigh of Joe, utterly fascinated by the innocent gesture. “Wow, she’s got quite the grip,” Joe said, his eyes twinkling as he gave her hand a little shake, earning a blubbering laugh from the little baby. “She been spending time in the receiver room?” he joked. 

Evan laughed, “Ja’marr better watch out,”. 

You crouched down to where Joe was, leaning closer so that your words were just for him, “Look,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “She knows you’ve got dad vibes,”. 

Hello, hint number two.

Joe turned to you, both eyebrows raised in surprise as a blush crept up on his face, “Dad vibes?” he asked. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your eyes darting between him and the baby still clutching his finger. “She can sense it. It’s a thing, you know,” you nodded, trying to sound credible so that another hint would be dropped. 

Joe chuckled, shaking his head but not pulling his hand from Merritts. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his eyes filled with a kind of soft love that you’d never seen before. 

Was this the look he’d have in his eyes when his own baby would be holding his finger like that?

“Oh my god. Please. PLEASE,” you thought to yourself, feeling an overwhelming amount of fluffy thoughts fill your mind. Would his baby cling to his finger like that while they walked? Would his baby laugh like that at his adorable faces and jokes? Would his baby look at their daddy with that same look of love?

You were so far gone thinking about Joe and your future baby that you didn’t even realize that you were mumbling lyrics to the song you’d heard earlier on the drive over to the event. “You make me wanna make you fall in love…,”. 

It was exactly how you felt watching Joe. He made you want everything–a family, a future, a life filled with moments like these. 

Joe glanced over at you, catching the dreamy look in your eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice quiet and curious.

“Hmm?” you blinked, realizing you’d been caught humming.

“You were singing something,” he said, his lips shifting into that little half-smile that always made your knees weak.

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice was soft and a little shy, “It’s just a song. Made me think of you,”.

His smile widened as he leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve got that look again,” he murmured.

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as he smirked.

“The one where you’re plotting something,” he teased. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”.

You shook your head, holding back a grin. “Nothing,” you said, your voice light but your heart full. “Anyway, I know what I’m talking about,” you teased, giving him a cheeky grin. “She can feel the vibes,”.

His attention shifted back to Merritt, who had started babbling as if she was trying to have a full-blown conversation with him. And Joe being the sweetheart he is, started playing along by nodding and murmuring things that made her giggle even harder. Watching him like this, so natural and soft, made you want to scream. The image of him holding your baby like this flickered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same image and feeling tugged at his heart. 

After conversing with Joe, Merritt was eventually scooped up by Evan, and she whined in protest as her grip on Joe’s finger was forced loose. “Sorry, bud. Looks like you’ve got competition,” Joe joked, earning another giggle from Merritt. 

“She’ll stop when I bribe her with a slice of the pumpkin pie that Y/N brought,” Evan smiled, glancing back as he heard Gracie call out for him. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Husband duties call,” he waved before walking back to his wife. 

Joe straightened up, brushing off his knees as he turned back to you, “Dad vibes, huh?” he said again, this time with a little smirk. 

You shrugged, trying to keep it cool despite the butterflies in your belly. “Just saying. She didn’t grab my finger like that,”. 

Joe laughed, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, a softness in his voice but there was also a flicker of something unspoken lingering between you. 

Maybe, just maybe…the seeds had started to plant in his mind.

The next night - Home

You both lay intertwined in the afterglow of your highs, his body pressed close against yours as you watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You both were still trying to catch your breath, a comfortable silence developing between you. You turned your head up to look at him, your lips morphing into a teasing smile as you traced a finger along his chest. “Mm, I like the way you fit,” you lazily murmured the sexual innuendo, your voice soft and teasing as you slid your fingers down his chest. 

Joe raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what you were talking about. “Fit, huh?” he chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk. “I could say the same about you, babe. You were made for me,”. 

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in to kiss him. “I mean, it’s not like I have to tell your hot ass a thing,” you said between kisses, “Yeah, you just get it,” you nodded. 

Joe’s eyes darkened with a familiar hunger, the kind that always seemed to fire up when you whispered little things like that. “Get what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the countless times he groaned and moaned your name just a few minutes ago. 

You trailed your hand over his body, your touch slow, purposeful, as you let the words fall from your lips. “The whole package, babe,” you smirked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so hot and you know it and you have the full package–the brains, the looks, the athletic ability, the sweetness. Damn, I like the way you fit, god bless your dad’s genetics,”. 

He laughed again, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a twinkle that told you he was just as aware of the subtle comment as you were. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you forward for another kiss. “I guess your dad did something right, too,” he teased, laughing at your silly comments, his lips brushing over yours as he moved to kiss your jawline. 

“I’m serious, Joey,” you said as he pressed light kisses around your face. “You’re so sexy and I just…ugh. It hurts,” you whined. 

He pulled his face up from your neck, a confused grin on his face, “...You..alright?” he carefully asked. 

“More than alright,” you breathed out with an almost drunken lovesick look on your face. “I’m just so in love with you,”. 

Joe smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy lips, “And I’m just sooooo in love with you too, wifey. More than I can ever put into words or physically show. You’re the best thing in my life and fuck, I’m obsessed with every part of you,”. 

"You know,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile as you gazed up at him. “I think I really like this version of you,”.

His brow arched, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? And what version is that?”.

“This one,” you said, your fingers gliding down to brush his jawline. “The one who looks at me like I hung the stars. The one who can’t stop touching me, even when he’s half-asleep,”.

Joe chuckled, his warm laughter grumbling against your chest as he pulled you closer. “Can you blame me? Look at what I get to wake up to every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make it way too easy to fall for you all over again,”.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. His lips, once again, moved down to your cheek, then your jaw, planting soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” you teased, your voice light and playful as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Only for you, angel,” he replied, his lips now hovering just above yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. He kissed you then, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you ended and he began. When he finally pulled back, his hand moved to rest on your lower belly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the soft skin there. The touch made your breath hitch slightly, a quiet spark of excitement lighting up inside you because of where his hand was.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection as you reached up to brush a stray curl from his face.

Joe’s smile softened, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said simply, his tone full of confidence.

Your heart swelled, and before you could think twice, you let the words slip out, casual and subtle. “Well, you better not forget that when you’re the future father of my children,”.

Joe froze for a moment, his hand stilling on your stomach as his eyes widened slightly. “What’d you say?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You smiled, pretending like nothing happened as you leaned up to kiss his jawline. “I said you’re good at spoiling me,” you replied, your tone light and innocent, as if you hadn’t just dropped a hint that made your heart race.

Joe narrowed his eyes playfully, clearly catching the change in your tone but deciding not to push it. Instead, he smirked, his lips twisting into that familiar mischievous grin that always made your stomach flip. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I plan to keep doing it. Forever,”.

And as his kisses deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Another subtle hint was planted and there were many more to come.

You wondered if he was starting to catch on…It’s not like you had been giving the dad-and-baby talk a break…

A few nights later - Dinner at Home 

The faint sounds of the music filled the kitchen as you and Joe sat at the table you’d set up for dinner. Plates of half-finished food sat between you, but the focus wasn’t on eating anymore. It was on the way Joe kept leaning closer to you, stealing kisses between bites, and the way his adorable laugh filled the air every time you tried to swat him away. 

You’d set your playlist to shuffle earlier, but when Sabrina Carpenter’s “Juno” started to play, you couldn’t help but grin. “Perfect timing for another hint,” you thought to yourself. The beat was light and playful, the melody so addictive it became hard for you to sit in your seat. You quickly got up from your chair and grabbed your untouched spoon to use as a microphone, twirling around the kitchen as you mouthed the words to yourself while you watched Joe. He was now sipping on his drink and watching you with curiosity, but also amused at the pop-star-like show you were putting on. 

“I know you want my touch for life, If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno. You know I just might let you lock me down tonight. One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby. You make me wanna make you fall in love,” you sang, pointing straight to Joe as your beautiful voice echoed through the house. 

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, his form pausing mid-air as a slow, knowing smirk face spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, comfortably crossing his arms, and his baby blues sparked with wonder. “Oh, really?” he said, his tone laced with intrigue. “You might let me make you Juno, huh?”. 

You blinked innocently, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away, “It’s just a song,” you replied casually. 

“Mmhm,” he nodded slowly, clearly not convinced. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table as his grin widened. “Seems like a pretty specific song to sing along to while staring right at me, don’t you think?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool even as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “It’s a catchy song, Joey. Don’t flatter yourself,” you said while slipping back into your seat.

“Oh, I’m flattered,” he teased, his smirk turning devilish as he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “So, what’s the deal, huh? You trying to tell me something?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to avoid answering. But Joe wasn’t letting it go. He reached out, gently tugging your hand away from your mouth, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Come on, angel,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t just drop a line like that without explaining yourself,”.

Your cheeks burned as you finally met his gaze, the warmth in his expression melting your resolve. “Maybe I just like the idea,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Joe raised an eyebrow at your confession. “The idea, huh?” he repeated, his hand traveling down to your thigh. “And what idea is that, babe?”. 

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his ear, your voice a soft, sultry whisper. “Guess you’ll have to keep loving me right to find out,” you teased, pulling back with a wink that left him grinning. 

The next morning 

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as you sat on the counter, scrolling through the notifications on your phone while Joe leaned against the kitchen island, sipping his post-workout smoothie. He had just come out from the gym, his hair still damp from his quick rinse-off, and wearing one of those fitted shirts that hugged his chest and shoulders just right. The sight of him standing there, effortlessly attractive and completely unaware of how sexy he looked, made you feel lightheaded. 

“Literally fuck me. He looks so sexy and daddy right now,” you thought to yourself, feeling your panties dampen at the thoughts filling your head. “I swear to god, he better get these hints fast. I’m so ready to be the mother of his beautiful children,”.

Your staring wasn’t exactly…unnoticeable either. You were practically drooling at him when he looked up from his smoothie. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, his brow rising as he questioned your motive. 

You smirked, holding your phone up and sneakily snapping a photo of him before he could notice, “No reason,” you replied, trying to hide your true feelings by sounding soft. 

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head, wearing an almost bashful expression; however, that didn't stop you from sending the photo of the man who was hotter than the sun to your group chat.

you: guys…tell me this man isn’t giving “sexy future dad vibes” right now.  

maya: girl, STOP. he looks like he’d change diapers and still have the energy to fix the sink or something.  

lacy: i swear he’s the type to pull out the “dad voice” for bedtime stories and have the kids begging for more.  

emma: not even kidding, he’d probably rock a baby carrier like a runway model. wait..he basically is after that vogue thing. damn, y/n…you really got the whole package with joe

you: stoppppp, i’m blushing.  

lacy: oh, YOU’RE blushing? meanwhile, we’re all over here swooning by just thinking about little joe and y/n babies

maya: dead serious, if you don’t have his baby, i’m applying for the job (im kidding. james would kill me)  

emma: same. like, does he have a brother?  

you: calm downnn. he’s mine.  

lacy: we know. we’re just living vicariously through you.  

emma: no joke, though. aand i bet he’s already thought about it…you should ask him

maya: yeah, casually drop it during pillow talk. like, “hey babe, how do you feel about onesies?”  

lacy: LMAO. or say, “you’d look so hot holding our baby. thoughts?”  

you: …well, I may or may not have *just* said something like that a few nights ago

maya: OMG, WHAT DID HE SAY?  

you: i acted like i didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask…just joey being beautifully clueless as usual ;)

emma: LOL. iconic.  

lacy: he’s probably in the bathroom googling “how to be the hottest dad alive” right now

maya: he’s already got that title on lock, y/n you just gotta make it official 

you: you guys are insane. but also not wrong

lacy: we live to hype you up. now go make him earn that sexy future dad title  

emma: and then report back. details, queen. detailssss

maya: high five for locking that down, y/n :) you seriously won at life and just know im waiting for the pregnancy reveal…get to it.

lacy: mhm. i want to be called auntie lacy NOWW

You couldn’t control your laughter, the sound vibrating through your chest and bubbling out of you in uncontrollable waves as you read your friends’ ridiculous–yet accurate–texts. Eventually, Joe noticed your behavior as it was pretty hard to ignore. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he set his smoothie down, then slowly approached you. 

“Nothing!” you chirped, holding your phone to your chest to hide the incriminating messages.

“Oh, it’s something,” he replied, his hands landing on either side of you on the counter to cage you in. He leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your lips as he mumbled, “Come on, angel. Spill,”. 

You were still giggling at the situation, practically loopy from all the laughing and teasing, which prompted you to give in. “Fine, I may have told my friends that you’d look hot holding a baby…and that you give off sexy future dad vibes. There also may or may not be a photo of you involved,”. 

Joe froze for a second, then leaned back and blinked at you in disbelief. “You sent that…to your friends?”. 

“Hey! They agreed with me,” you defended, holding up your phone to show him the texts. 

He scrolled through the text thread, his ears getting redder and redder with each tease from your friends. Once he reached the end, his jaw was on the floor and it almost looked as if he was fighting a smile. “Seriously?”. 

“What?” you grinned unapologetically. “It’s true!”. 

He let out a bashful whine, sliding a hand down his face though the playful twinkle in his eyes showed you he was enjoying this. “You objectified me to your friends,”. 

You laughed, “Sorry if you feel objectified,” while sliding your hands to his chest. “But I mean…come on. Look at you,” you added with a kiss to his jaw. “It’s the truth, Joey. Can’t help myself. Hormones are high,”.

He let out a throaty laugh, shaking his head, “Hormones, huh?” his hands slipping to your waist as your legs opened to accommodate his large body. “You know…I could do something about that,”. 

Your breath hitched as you felt his crotch against yours, another rush of heat radiating through your body, “Could you now?” you challenged as your fingers played with his shirt. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips brushing your ear before he dropped a soft kiss to the corner. “But first,” he said, suddenly pulling away and raising his hand with a goofy smile. “Your friends high-fived you for this…Where the hell is mine? I think I deserve to be recognized for locking down the sexy, breathtakingly gorgeous, angelic woman in front of me,”. 

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked at him with that look again–the dreamy one that spoke a thousand words. “I love you,” you breathed out without realizing it because you were so caught up in his ocean-blue eyes to the point where it felt like everything around you had faded away. 

He chuckled, “I love you a lot more,” while earning a high five from you. 

“There. Happy now?” you said while batting your lashes at him. 

“Mmm. Not yet,” he replied, his grin turning devilish as he quickly hooked his strong arm around your waist and lifted you off the counter, then spinning you around until your back pressed against the cool surface of the island. “But I’ve got some ideas on how to fix that,” he mumbled, his voice laced with heat. 

“Joe,” you breathlessly whispered, feeling the cool countertop against your back but all you could focus on was his tight grip on your waist, the warmth of his body, and the heated look in his eyes.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Me?” you teased breathlessly, your fingers curling into his shirt to pull him back in. “You’re the one that has his hormonal wife sprawled out on the kitchen counter right now. Who knows what you’re about to do,”.

Joe chuckled, his lips grazing your jawline as he kissed his way down to your neck. “You started it, babe,” he muttered against you, his teeth nipping the soft skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “And now I’m gonna finish it,”. His hands slid down to your thighs, each squeeze and scratch drawing a gasp from your lips, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he settled between them. His lips found yours again, this time more ravenous, more demanding, as his hands roamed over your body.

“Joe,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down your throat and over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips again, his thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your hips arching toward him as heat pooled in your belly. “I want you,”.

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a blur of movement, your clothes were tossed, his shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. The cool air hit your skin, but Joe’s heated gaze and the way his hands stroked your body made you forget everything else. He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips lingering for a moment as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. His mouth met yours again as he positioned himself, the thick tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Joey, please,”. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with desire as he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

A gasp escaped you, your hands clutching his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and calculated. The cool surface of the island under you countered deliciously with the heat of his body as he set a tempo that had you melting beneath him.“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen. “You feel so good,”.

“Joe,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit just the right spot, over and over, pulling a string of frantic moans from your lips. “Oh. My. God,”.

His hands moved to your hips again, holding you firmly in place as he pounded into you, his pace showing no sign of mercy. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through your tired body, building higher and higher until you felt like you might shatter. “So tight,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as he pushed himself deeper. “So fucking perfect for me,”.

Normally you’d be fully against doing this in the kitchen, especially this bright and early in the morning. But you weren’t lying when you said that the hormones were high. He looked like an absolute god and you just wanted him to take you to heaven right then and there. He made you so insatiable, losing all forms of decency and innocence. 

And you fucking loved it. 

He moaned again, his hips snapping harder and harder into your soaking core, “I’m so…so close,” he breathed out, his voice strained from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. His hand slipped between your sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit as he circled the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. 

“Fuck, Joe. Oh…fuck!” you screamed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as your body arched into his. Your walls clenched his thick cock, causing a guttural moan from his lips as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back for support. 

The sight of you reaching your high under him, the way your body shook, and the sound of his name on your lips, was all it took to send him over the edge after you. 

“On me, Joey,” you whispered, your voice laced with need. “I want to see it, on me. Mark your territory,”. 

The raw need in your voice sent a jolt of electricity through him, his jaw clenching as he groaned deeply. “Fuck..you drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling out at the last second, his hand wrapping around himself, his motions desperate and fast. 

And with a final moan, he gave in, his release spilling out in thick, hot streams across your soft belly, painting your skin and claiming you as you asked. “Oh…,” you moaned at the sight of his pearly cum spilled out on your belly. The slickness against your skin made you hiss, and the sight of it pushed you into a whole other world.

His body trembled with the force of his release, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he caught his breath. "Holy shit, babe. I can't get enough of you," he panted as you slowly rubbed his back to help him down from his high.

"Me too, Joey," you lazily chuckled, panting as you stared up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of what felt like being brought to the gates of heaven.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of labored breaths, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and satisfaction. Joe used his other hand to reach for a towel nearby as his breathing steadied out, and then he carefully cleaned you up. 

His touch was so soft and gentle, each wipe of the towel over your skin was filled with care and attention, and it made your heart explode. Watching him like this, so attentive and loving even after the dirtiest moments, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of satisfaction.

You really deserved to be high-fived for locking him down. 

“Future dad vibes,” you teased under your breath. 

“Hm?” he hummed, brows furrowed as he glanced up at you. 

“Ohhh, nothing,” you sang, grinning mischievously. 

His eyes narrowed in suspicious, placing the towel to the side and leaning over you again. His eyes pinned you with a soft, curious look. “You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” he said. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“Just the usual thoughts,” you smiled, “Like how lucky I am to have you,”. 

His face softened, his hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, “I’m the lucky one, mama,” he said, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was intoxicating. 

Mama?

“Oh my god? Is he catching on?” you thought to yourself as you smiled into the kiss. You quickly pulled away, “Did you just…call me mama?” you asked, trying to keep your cool as you stared into his captivating eyes. 

Joe leaned back, a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “Uhhh…maybe?” he said, his voice a little casual but also a little…nervous? “I don’t know…it just felt right,”.

It’s a sign. A sign from the universe. 

He had to be catching on…right?

You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned up to him. “Well, it’s cute,”. 

“Cute, huh?” he murmured, pulling you closer. “You like it, mama. I can tell,”. 

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname again. The thought of how close you were to that becoming a reality filled your body with the most extraordinary feeling. “...Maybe,” you responded with that dreamy look in your eyes again. 

A week later - Friday Night

The two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by takeout containers and half-empty bottles of sparkling water. Today was a rest day for Joe as he was playing Monday Night Football this week, so you decided to take it easy and have a little date night at home. Back in college, a lot of your date nights looked like this because you both preferred comfort over glitz and glamor. You just needed each other, some good takeout, and an entertaining movie, and you were set. 

You two did simplicity better than any other couple. For you, the extravagant dates and expensive gifts didn’t matter nearly as much as the way Joe made you laugh with his dry humor, how he’d shower you with kisses after a long day, and just those little moments your hopelessly romantic heart craved. 

The way he looked at you right now, all cozy on the floor, served as a reminder of how lucky you were to have built a life where you could just be.  

Joe had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you both were settled on the plush rug, laughing over another silly rom-com you’d picked out. The soft hum of the TV was barely audible over the few crunches of takeout and the shared laughter between you two. He had one hand lazily reaching for another spring roll, while the other gently ran up and down your arm, his thumb brushing your skin in slow strokes. “I don’t know why we ever do anything else,” Joe murmured with a lazy smile, taking another bite of his food before glancing at you. His eyes were warm like he’d never want to be anywhere else in the world but here, with you. “This is perfect”.

You grinned, stretching out next to him and letting your fingers trace the outline of his chest through his soft, Bengals t-shirt. “I don’t know either,” you teased, your voice light and playful. “I could definitely get used to this for, like, forever,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he caught your gaze. “Forever, huh?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as his lips brushed softly over your temple. “You sayin’ you’d be okay with being stuck with me for the rest of your life?”.

You giggled, the sound soft and genuine, as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I mean, you did already put the ring on my finger and say your vows at the altar….but yeah,” you smiled. “Just you, me, some food, and our couch... maybe some babies one day,”.

Here we go. Final hint. This has to work. 

You had been dropping hints almost every day for the past week and a half, there was no way he was that oblivious, right? As each day passed, you got more and more restless. You just wanted him to get what you were implying and make it happen. It was that simple.

You wanted him to make you Juno. 

It may have just been a cute little song you had been obsessed with lately, but Sabrina really spoke to your heart with every lyric. The way the song casually danced around love, intimacy, infatuation, and that perfect type of connection–it made you think about your own future, what it could be, and how, deep down, you felt ready. You were already so in love with Joe, and that love was only growing stronger. The thought of starting a family, of being his partner in something even more beautiful, was controlling all your thoughts.

Joe’s hand paused on your arm for a second, and you could feel the shift in his energy. His gaze, once playful, turned thoughtful as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “You’ve been talking about that a lot lately,” he murmured, a hint of something deeper in his voice. “Having babies?”.

“Oh my god,” you thought, your heart racing in your chest. This was it. He was finally catching on.

You bit your lip, feeling nervous but trying to keep your cool. “Maybe,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. Your voice suddenly became more stable as you continued, “I think about it a lot. About us...and a future,” you paused, watching his reaction. “You, me, and…a little one,”.

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in that comforting way he always did when he was about to say something important. “I think about it too,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. “I think I’ve always wanted that. Wanted to be a father. With you,”. 

“Oh my GOD,” the voice in your head was screaming with excitement. 

He wanted it too. 

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his voice. He continued, his eyes locking with yours, the gravity there too clear to ignore. “I watch the way you are with kids. The way your vibrant laugh fills up the room when you’re spinning my niece around at a family gathering. The way your whole face lights up when a baby looks at you and waves,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I see how natural you are, how much love you give to them, and it just...makes me want that. I want to give that to you, to build that with you,”.

A warm flush crept across your cheeks, but your heart swelled with tenderness. He wasn’t just saying these words–he was feeling them, and it made everything feel even more real.

He sighed softly, his gaze softening as he spoke again, his voice heavy with something deeper now. “I’ve always wanted this, but I didn’t want to pressure you. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rushing you into something before you were ready. But I see the way you look at them, and I can’t ignore it. It’s like…everything inside me knows that you’re the one. The woman of my dreams. My wife, obviously, since I married you,” he said with a laugh, earning one from you too. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a father with you by my side,”. 

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, and you were overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in his voice. He wanted this with you, too. He didn’t just want to create a family with anyone; he wanted to create it with you. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Joe,” you whispered, “I want it, too. More than anything,”.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Your hints were definitely hinting,” he said with a kiss to your cheek. 

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks. Joe’s easy laugh made you feel safe, loved, and seen in a way that only he could. The weight of the moment was still heavy, but now it felt full of hope, not pressure.

“You caught on, huh?” you teased, your voice still a little shaky with emotion.

“How could I not? I think what did it was that night when you sang Juno and pointed right at me, you had that dreamy look in your eyes,”. 

You beamed with excitement, “Imagine a mini version of you running around–blonde curls, big blue eyes, tiny cleats. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t be adorable,”.

Joe paused, “A mini version of me?”. 

You nodded enthusiastically. “One of you is cute, but two, though? Give it to me babyyyy. Game over. The world wouldn’t be ready for a mini Joey B. I honestly think I’d give birth to your twin,”.

Joe chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch with a smirk. “You’ve really thought this through, huh? Even the fact that we’ll have a boy first?”.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, leaning closer, your hand resting on his thigh again. “I mean, you’d be the fun, cool dad, teaching him how to throw a perfect spiral. All his friends would be so jealous because his daddy and coach is THE Joe Burrow. And me? I’d be the mom who packs the best snacks for football practice and wins everyone over with my charm. Total dream team,”.

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”.

“And you love it,” you shot back, tipping your head with a grin.

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I do,” he said simply, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone that always sent shivers down your spine. “And you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your heart suddenly thumping as he leaned closer.

“I think you might be onto something,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Two of me? Could be kind of fun,”.

Your breath hitched, your hands moving to his shoulders as his lips captured yours in a kiss that made your whole body feel lightweight. He deepened the kiss, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, his hands settling on your waist. As you broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes glistening with a mix of naughtiness and love. “But you know,” he added, his voice teasing now, “Two of you wouldn’t be so bad either. Imagine how bossy and adorable that kid would be,”.

You gasped in mock offense, smacking his chest. “Excuse me! I’m not bossy–I’m assertive. I always get everything done just the way I want, and that, my gorgeous lover, is a talent everyone wants to have,”.

Joe laughed, pulling you closer. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” he dragged out. "But if we’re really doing this…like really doing this right now. I guess we better get started,”.

Your cheeks blushed as his hands tightened on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. “Oh, you’re serious now?” you teased, though your voice lingered with excitement.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression soft but full of determination. “Completely fucking serious,” he said. “You ready for two of us?”.

Your answer came without hesitation, your lips finding his again as you whispered, “More than ready,”.

—

The house was still, the air filled with the quiet buzz of the night, interrupted only by the sound of Joe’s breathing and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath him. He carried you through the house as if you were weightless, his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, your body snuggled against his warmth. He moved slowly, taking his time to bring you to the bedroom as if he was savoring every second, every beat of your hearts in sync.

When he placed you onto the bed, it felt like the world had slowed, almost stopped. He hovered above you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his gaze heavy with desire but also a tenderness that took your breath away. His lips pressed against your skin, soft at first, leaving a trail of warmth across your collarbone as he kissed his way down your neck. Each touch, each press of his lips, felt like a slow fire building inside you, the heat of his mouth sending shivers spiraling through your body.

His hands traced over your skin, following the curve of your waist before settling on your hips, pulling you closer. Everything felt like a blur and before you knew it, you both were completely bare, physically and emotionally.

His voice, was deep and soft, as he spoke against your skin. "You know, baby, if we're really going for two of me…," His words were teasing, but there was a sweetness in them, an undeniable affection. "We're going to need to take this slow. I want to feel every inch of you,".

You shivered at his words, the sensation of his breath against your neck leaving you with a rush of desire. Your fingers slid up his back, feeling the tight muscles under his skin, every inch of him hard and firm as he braced himself above you. "You think I can’t keep up?" you teased softly, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of his touch.

Joe’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled back to look into your eyes. His blue eyes darkened as he gazed at you with such intensity it made your heart race. “Oh, I know you can,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “But I’m not in a rush. We’re going to take our time. I want to make sure you feel everything,”. 

He lowered his body again, pressing his chest against yours, his lips finding yours in a slow, soft kiss that deepened as he slowly sank into you. Every movement, every brush of his lips was purposeful, as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt with each touch, each kiss. His body moved over yours like water, slowly and fluidly as his hands slid to your hips, fingertips digging in, pulling you closer as his lips trailed down to your neck, biting softly. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against your ear. “So perfect, baby. I’m going to give you everything,”.

Joe’s hand slid between your bodies, pulling you closer as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck. “I want to hear you, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of desire. “Tell me how much you want me,”.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers teased you with slow, deliberate strokes. Your body arched into his touch, desperate for more, your nails lightly dragging down his back. “I want you,” you breathed, your voice shaky, filled with need. “I want all of you, Joe. Please,”.

He groaned in response, pressing his body closer to yours as his lips captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His movements grew more urgent, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust deeper and slower, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, but all you wanted was more, to feel him even closer. “God, you feel so good,” Joe whispered between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect. I’m going to take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good,”.

His rhythm was steady and deep at first, savoring every moment, each thrust building slowly as his muscles flexed with every movement. The heat between you two was growing, his breath becoming heavier as he pressed you closer, meeting your body with more urgency. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust. “I can’t get enough of you. You feel incredible, baby.”

His cock grazed over your sweet spot, each push and pull causing gasps to leave your lips. “Oh, Joe…fuck…fuck me,” you moaned. 

Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, your hands tracing his back, feeling every muscle ripple with each thrust. His pace picked up, but he kept the rhythm slow, savoring the moment, his eyes dark with desire but soft with affection. “You’re going to be so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as he kissed you again. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby. I’ll give you everything, Y/N. Everything,”.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your body trembling with the intensity. “Joe…I-...you feel so good. I love you, I love you so much,” you whimpered, your brain clouded with lust and love for the man above you. He shifted his position, his hands pushing your legs further apart as he deepened each thrust, his rhythm slow but powerful, pushing you to the edge with every motion. “You feel amazing…fuck- I love you,” he panted, his voice strained. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whined, feeling his large hand on your belly. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he continued to pound into your slick core. With each movement, he drove deeper, his body moving in sync with yours, filling you completely. His hands traced every curve of your body, his lips whispering more praise, more sweet words. “You’re so perfect. So perfect for me, baby. Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low with hunger. “Tell me you want this,”.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body shaking beneath him, the pressure building inside you. “Yes, I’m yours. All yours, Joe,”.

His pace grew faster, more urgent, his body shaking with the effort to hold back as he neared his high. “Take it all, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion. “Take all of me,”. 

With one final deep thrust, he jerked, his body trembling as he buried himself deep inside you. The thick band in your stomach snapped at the same time as his hot seed spurted into your core, coating your walls. His grip on your hips tightened as he whispered your name, his voice full of love, desire, and a promise that lingered in the air between you two.

—

A little while later

“You think we did it?” you asked, your voice soft, yet a playful interest lingered in your tone.

Joe chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating against your cheek as you lay in his arms. The sound was like a secret melody that only you two shared. He let his fingers glide through your hair, the gentle touch sending a calm warmth through your body. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his voice low, teasing, yet laced with affection. “But just in case… I wouldn’t mind practicing a few more times…you know…for the sake of our little team,”.

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, full of joy and love. You shifted your head up slightly to look at him, catching the look in his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re eager for two of you?” you teased, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Joe tilted his head, his grin growing wider, and you saw the admiration flicker in his eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. “If they’re anything like you, how could I not be?” his voice was sincere, his words filled with warmth and something deeper, a promise that made your pulse quicken just a little.

The simple, genuine way he looked at you sent a wave of love rushing over you, and before you even realized it, your fingers were threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was soft, lingering, as if you both were savoring the sweetness of this moment, the quiet intimacy between you. “Good answer, Burrow,” you murmured against his lips, your heart gushing with affection. “Let’s see if you can keep up this energy, though,”.

His grin widened, and there was a glimmer of playful challenge in his eyes as he shifted, his strong hands finding their place on your waist. Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, the sudden shift leaving you breathless, a shock of ecstasy rushing through you. His lips found yours again in an instant, the kiss more passionate, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel his heat, his body pressing against yours, and it sent a wave of excitement rushing through you, making everything else fade away. “Oh, don’t worry, babe,” Joe whispered between kisses, “I’ve got plenty left in the tank.”

The way he said it, the promise in his voice, made your heart race again. Everything around you faded as the moment pulled between you–soft and full of meaning. His hands slid down your body, finding your hips, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to leave. The warmth of his body, the softness of his touch, and the way you fit together perfectly made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.  

As he held you, the thought of what could come next–the idea of him being the father of your children–filled you with quiet excitement. This wasn’t just a brief moment. This was the beginning of something real, something you couldn’t wait to experience with him. The thought of carrying his child, of building a life together, made everything feel even more intimate, even more meaningful. You both knew this was only the start of what was to come, and that thought alone made everything feel even more precious.

And he wanted it just as bad as you.

5 Months Later

Five months later, you and Joe found yourselves navigating the world of baby shopping–something you’d never quite imagined would be this overwhelming, but here you were, standing in the middle of a store that seemed to have every possible baby item under the sun. The shelves were stacked with tiny clothes, soft toys, cribs, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and honestly, you were starting to lose track. Your baby bump was prominent now, a constant reminder that your life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic–and you couldn’t wait.

Joe, of course, was hilariously lost in the sea of options. He stood in front of a shelf of baby pacifiers, holding up two identical ones, squinting at them as if they were the most complicated decision of his life. “Babe, I swear…they look exactly the same. Why are there so many of these?” Joe muttered, a confused frown crossing his face. “What’s the difference between a giraffe pacifier and a…regular one? Are these for actual babies or are they just toys?”.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of him, standing there like a man on the brink of a breakdown. “Joey, they’re just pacifiers, it’s not that deep,”. You moved over and picked up the giraffe one he was holding, smiling as you handed it to him. “This one has a cute giraffe on it. Baby Burrow is going to love it,”.

He made a dramatic face, clearly trying to comprehend how pacifiers were even a thing in the first place. “Okay, but like…why so many giraffes? Can’t we just stick with one? There are a hundred versions of the same thing in here,”.

You laughed and stepped closer to him, your hand resting on your growing belly. “Welcome to parenthood, babe. The options never end,”.

Joe stared at the shelves again, now starting to feel like he might have made a huge mistake agreeing to this shopping trip. “This is… way harder than any game-winning play,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he scanned the baby aisles. “I don’t even know where to start. Look at all this stuff. Baby clothes, diapers, wipes–combo wipes–isn’t one pack enough?”.

“I can’t believe you’re comparing diapers to football plays,” you teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “But I’m starting to see it now..you’re overwhelmed. I knew this was going to happen,”.

He finally turned to you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “So, this is what you meant by making you Juno, huh?” his voice had a light, teasing edge, and you could see the twinkle in his eye as he tried to make sense of the madness.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him for a second. A slow smile spread across your face as you realized that, yes, this was your life now–the pregnancy, the baby stuff, the chaos–and it felt absolutely right. You walked over to him, shaking your head with a smile. “Exactly. You loved me right and I let you make me Juno. Congratulations,”.

Joe’s grin only grew wider as he took a step closer to you, his arms slipping around your waist and his hand resting on your bump. “Well, if I’m the cause of this, I guess that makes me the one who has to do all the heavy lifting when it comes to baby gear, huh?” he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hide his playfulness behind mock seriousness. 

“Oh, you better believe it,” you said, holding your belly with one hand while you wrapped the other around his neck. “That means carrying all the baby stuff from the car to the house. You ready for that, Burrow?”.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on an overly confident tone, even though you could see his inner panic behind his eyes. “I’ll carry everything, no problem. I’m ready to be a dad,”.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see how ready you are when the baby actually gets here,”.

Just as you said that, Joe leaned down to kiss you softly, a kiss that was sweet, slow, and full of promise. He pulled away after a moment, his lips twirling into a grin. “I’ll be ready, babe. You know why?” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying this moment. “Because I’m gonna be the best damn dad there ever was and I have the best damn mom by my side,”.

You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. You rested your head against his chest for a moment, the soft buzz of the slightly busy store around you fading. “You’re already the best, Joe,”.

He hugged you tighter, his hand gently brushing over your bump, and then he looked at you with a soft smile. “You’re the best too, babe. And this whole baby thing? I think we’ve got this, I’m serious,”.

The two of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by aisles of tiny socks and stuffed animals, but it didn’t matter. At this moment, nothing else was more important than the two of you and the new life you were about to bring into the world. The future felt as bright as Joe’s smile, and there was no one else you’d rather do this with.

As you both walked toward the checkout with your cart full of baby things, Joe glanced down at you with that same, goofy grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Okay, maybe one more pacifier…just in case,”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re already thinking ahead, huh? I guess we should just buy the whole store,”.

“Well,” Joe said, pulling you close as you reached the register, “We might as well start preparing for the chaos. But hey, at least we’re in this together,”.

“Always, Joe,” you said, smiling as you leaned in for another kiss. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be with right now. Nobody else I’d rather have make me juno,”. 

–The End–

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 What If....

You ask him to leave the uniform on? 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I am feral over this. FERAL. Literally chewing on my own arm because I need to calm down. Your prompts always get me going. I totally blame you for this. Now, I went with a little variety here. We've got Kyle in formal military dress, John coming home from deployment, Johnny returning on break for a quickie, and Simon playing out a pre discussed fantasy. Enjoy!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, CNC, breeding, restraints, welcome home sex, quickies, formal events, semi-public sex, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), sex in a car, dirty talk, brief knifeplay, light degradation

Word Count: 3.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s return is delayed.

He was supposed to come home to you a month ago. But it wasn’t him that notified you about his postponed reunion. Someone from SAS contacted you via the post. The envelope held a singular piece of paper. No apology. Just black ink on a white sheet with an official letterhead. John has always been good about making sure you know when he’ll return. It's something you constantly worry about.

While on a mission, you won't hear from him—this you know. But whenever he is able, John makes an effort to let you know when to expect him or if he's okay.

To not hear from him is odd, and it stirs up all sorts of emotions, pushing your brain toward any number of possibilities. Each scenario appears briefly before sliding into another. They worsen—and then you’re sick, stomach twisted into a tight knot.

That piece of paper is on the kitchen counter. Untouched—but not forgotten. It said yesterday. And yesterday, John did not return.

You’re chewing on your fingernails. Pacing. Stressing.

It's the familiar squeak of the doorknob from the front door that finally stalls your racing thoughts. All that mental energy becomes physical. You're sprinting, throwing yourself at John the moment he enters.

He chuckles—the sound is pleasant and soothing to your heart.

“Didn’t think you’d be home,” he says, drawing you close.

Your answer is to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, and seize a kiss from him that says so much. You need John to know how much you’ve missed him—how worried you’ve been.

His hands on your hips tighten, squeezing slightly as he melts under your kisses. Each one is desperate. Needy. You savor him like you’ll never know this again. John's grip on you is firm, and much stronger than you can resist. He draws you away from him—not enough to create a separation—but enough to talk.

“Slow down, love. Let me look at you.” His hands move to your face, cradling your cheeks. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," you reply. You pull him close again. "Need you." Just a murmur, hardly audible, but John hears it.

He does not resist. He gives in, accepting your love, answering every kiss and touch with one of his own. Hands roam, fingers cling, and yet you're not nearly close enough. You need him on his back with you atop him.

John breaks away, breathing heavy, lips slightly puffy from kissing you. "Bedroom."

You shake your head. "Right here,” you reply, going in for another kiss. “Uniform stays on.”

The middle of John's brow scrunches slightly in confusion, but your fingers are already looping in his belt buckles, guiding him into the living room. That brief moment of confusion morphs into a sultry smirk.

John allows you to guide, allows you to push him onto his back on the sofa. His hands never leave your body, they roam constantly even as you undo the front of his pants and shimmy them down to mid-thigh.

You have him in hand instantly, coaxing him to hardness quickly. The need for him is a driving force, positioning yourself above him, ready to impale yourself.

John's hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your center. "Your—fuck." The sound of your slickness greets him and John groans.

Placing your hands on his chest, John palms the base of his cock, lining it up. You don't slowly ease down. You drop, accepting every inch of him in one go. There is a brief flare of pain from the rapid intrusion, and then it's gone, replaced with the fullness of him inside you.

With your palms splayed wide, you're able to rock your hips, moving up and down his length in a steady movement that has both of you groaning.

"I missed you," he murmurs as you come back down on him. "Fuck—I missed you."

Your thighs start to burn with every bounce. John's fingers dig into your hips, dragging downward before ascending again. With the next roll of your hips, John meets you, thrusting up. It cuts a sharp gasp from your lips.

He grips harder, taking control. You cling to the front of his uniform, fisting the fabric as John brings you down just as he thrusts upward. It is not sweet. It is brutal and desperate. Each connection drags more pleasure out of you until your head falls back and you clench around him.

With a deep groan, John sits up, and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. Pinned beneath him, there is nowhere to go. All you can do is take what he gives.

John buries his face against your neck. "Love you so much."

You hook your heels behind his legs, urging him on. "Love you," you manage to gasp.

It is all sweat and heat. John's lips graze the line of your throat and then your chin. You turn toward him, the two of you meeting as he holds his body against yours, his release flooding your pussy.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle drapes his arm over your shoulder, tugging you against him, the noise of the function receding with every step. Usually when the two of you attend a formal function together, Kyle is in a suit, but this attendance was requested by Kyle's superior officer, Captain John Price.

Instead of a suit, Kyle wears his formal military dress. The uniform is freshly steamed and free of wrinkles. His shoes are polished to perfection. Like this, he's incredibly handsome. You've been admiring him all night, resisting the urge to touch him too much around people he works with on a regular basis.

"Can't wait to take this bloody thing off," sighs Kyle, lightly tugging on the neckline of his uniform.

You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring his warmth. "I think you look rather dashing."

"Dashing?" he laughs.

As the two of you enter the parking garage, you snag his hat, placing it on your head. Kyle's smile widens. He leans in for a kiss, greedily accepting what you offer him. Removing the car keys from his pocket, Kyle hits the button to unlock the vehicle. The SUV beeps, headlights coming on.

Kyle takes his hat back, holding it with one hand instead of putting it back on his head. He offers his mouth again and you close the distance.

"Can't wait to get that dress off you, love," he murmurs against your lips. “Been thinking about it all evening.”

You place your hand against his chest. "I think I'd like it if you leave the uniform on."

Kyle nearly chokes. "What?" he draws back slightly.

With a mischievous grin, you tug Kyle around the side of the SUV. The vehicle is in a corner spot, leaving the two of you tucked between it and a cement wall. There is no camera and no light. Both of you are hidden in shadow.

No one will notice the two of you unless they come looking.

You lean in slowly, offering your mouth. Kyle places his hand on the side of your throat, thumb slowly rubbing against the front of your neck. The kiss is honey-sweet, and tinted with seductive need. You seek another, and yet another until the two of you are gasping for air.

"Not here," murmurs Kyle, drawing back slightly.

Your hand slides downward, pausing at his belt. Kyle whispers your name, but there is no fight in it. If anything, it is lustful. Fingers toying with the belt, you kiss him again, loosening the buckle and then the front of his pants.

Reaching your hand inside, you find him hard and wanting.

"Someone will see," he groans, grabbing your wrist.

"Who will see us?" you reply softly. Kyle's gaze shifts outward to the parking garage.

"No one is around." You start to descend, opening his pants further.

Kyle's attention returns to you. His pupils expand as you take him in hand, painting your bottom lip with a pearly bead of cum. You present your glossy mouth to him, and Kyle brushes the pad of his thumb across it.

You lightly nip at that thumb, and then take him into your mouth. Kyle stifles his groan, but it comes out as a muted whimper. He gently cups the back of your head as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks when you come back up.

This is just a tease. You want his resolve to slip.

Kyle doesn't break eye contact. He is completely focused on watching you. His dick twitches in your mouth, and Kyle grunts.

"Fuck, love. Come here."

With gentle tenderness, Kyle grasps the back of your neck, easing you off him. You extended your legs, leaning into him.

His voice is slightly husky. "I can't wait until we're home."

Kyle opens the rear passenger door and helps you up into the seat. You slide backward to the other end, Kyle following. With a hand on your throat, he pushes you onto your back. These next kisses are rough and possessive. Hungry. Claiming. You open for him, wanting to consume.

His free hand is gripping your dress, shoving it upward where it collects at your hips. Your tongue meets his the moment his fingers slip between skin and underwear. It is brief, and then he's drawing back only to bury his face between your legs.

Digging your heels into Kyle's back to stabilize yourself, you give in, moaning loudly as his tongue swirls a path up and down your sex. He teases just like you teased him. But it is short-lived.

Kyle is desperate for you. He finds your clit and stays put, tongue working quickly to send you over the edge. Your body shudders, a breathy groan escaping you as the orgasm hits. Still on your back, Kyle ascends, one hand pressed to the inside of your thigh while the other finds leverage against the car door just above your head. You lift your hips slightly, presenting your pussy to him.

He takes the hint, thrusting deep.

He does not go slowly. It is skin slapping against skin. It is all low groans and desperate fingers. His body weight keeps you pinned, and if anyone were to open door they'd have a clear view of his bare ass.

"Don't stop," you beg. "Please."

Kyle's answer is to seize your mouth, to force his air into your lungs, to firmly press his body to yours and swivel his hips, pelvis grinding against clit. Your hands fall on his ass, and then he's transformed. An animal. Rutting.

Surely, the car is shaking, but you hardly care. You only want him to finish. To give you every drop of his release.

You feel his muscles tighten under your hands, and then your bodies are sealed.

There is a small pause between then and the moment he kisses you, this time tenderly.

"So much for waiting," you tease.

Kyle’s exhalation is a pleased one. "Just wait until we get home."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

Johnny's smile is devilish. "Came to see you."

"Me?" you laugh. "You just saw me this morning."

"And it wasn't nearly enough," coos Johnny, grabbing hip and waist, tugging you against him. "Missed you the whole time. Couldn't stay away."

Before you can form a reply, Johnny is lifting you up and onto the kitchen counter. He pushes everything up and out of the way, revealing your pussy to him.

"Johnny!" you exclaim.

With one hand on your thigh, Johnny uses his other hand to remove his belt and undo the front of his pants.

"I came home to fuck my wife." You instantly feel your cheeks grow hot. With a sultry smile, Johnny leans in but doesn't close the distance. "Would you like that?"

You nod. "Yes," you reply, voice nearly a whisper. "But—"

"But what?" he asks. You gesture at him. "The uniform? That stays on, love."

Guiding you wider, Johnny circles your clit with the pad of his thumb. The touch is electric, making you shiver as he toys with your sensitivity.

"Look at that," he purrs. "Look how wet and ready you are for me."

You whimper as Johnny tests your pussy with a finger.

"I think this deserves something bigger. What do you think, love?" He inserts a second and you whimper again. "Use your words."

"I want you inside me."

"I am inside you," he teases, pumping both fingers.

You shake your head, gasping as his thumb toys with your clit. "Your dick, Johnny."

"That I can do." His fingers are gone instantly, replaced with the head of his cock. He holds himself just inside, inching slowly until you've taken him to the base. "We'll have to make this quick. Can't be late and disappoint Price."

Johnny lightly swivels his hips, and then he's holding you in place, thrusting steadily. He kisses your lips, then your cheek. Resting his forehead against your temple, Johnny boxes you in, using your pussy for himself.

"You take me so well," he says softly. "Watch. Want you to watch."

Your gaze shifts downward, locking on to where your bodies meet. Keeping one hand on the countertop to stabilize yourself, you bring the other between your legs, fingers lightly playing with your clit.

"That's it," purrs Johnny. "Come for me."

A brief swirl and you're gone, squeezing hard around Johnny. He fucks you through it, grunting as he increases his pace. With a moan that claws up his throat, Johnny seals your bodies together, and his warmth floods your pussy. He thrusts lightly and stills.

A beat of silence, and then you both burst out into laughter.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, shaking his head.

"You came all this way on a break just to have sex with me?" you laugh.

Johnny leans back, grinning sheepishly. He glances down at his watch, smile fading. "Shit."

He pulls out and steps back, fumbling with his pants.

"Are you going to be late?" you ask teasingly.

Johnny tightens his belt and then helps you off the counter. With a quick kiss to the cheek, he heads out the door.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Every light in the house is off. The blinds are closed and it's completely dark except in one particular room.

The deep red glow calls out to you like a siren song. You stride toward it, moving through the hall silently like a shadow. The bedroom door stands open, revealing the blood-tinged space. From your point of view, nothing is out of place. All is calm and as it should be.

But Simon is here somewhere. Lurking. Watching.

This is what you wanted after all. An idea you passed off to Simon with the hope that he'd indulge your fantasy. Clearly, he took it to heart.

Adrenaline spikes in your blood as your gaze focuses on the bed. Attached to each corner are wrist and ankle cuffs. To be immobile and bred at Simon's pleasure is all you asked for, and here it is.

As you step forward, a large gloved hand slides over the front of your throat, squeezing. Simon is right behind you, and you feel every inch of him. Without even having to look, you know Simon is in full tactical gear. Parts of it dig into your back.

The leather of his gloves squeak��as his fingers adjust against your throat. With a little pressure, he tilts your head back and you meet his whiskey-brown eyes. It's all you can see of his face. The rest is shrouded behind a balaclava.

"Do as I say," he growls. "Or you'll make this harder on yourself."

His command sends a bolt of need straight to your clit. Already, you feel a growing slickness between your thighs.

"Answer me if you understand."

"I understand," you murmur.

Simon makes a pleased sound deep in his throat. His thumb rubs a gentle line back and forth over the same spot.

His head tilts, lips pressing against your ear through the balaclava. "Then be a good little slut and get on your back."

Using his leverage on your throat, Simon lightly shoves you toward the bed. This time you turn around, facing him completely for the first time. He's dressed in all black tactical gear. Every inch of him is covered except his eyes, and his large frame fills the doorway.

When you take a step back, he takes a step forward. The backs of your thighs hit the bed, and you push yourself up and on, reclining until you're nearly horizontal. Simon saunters, gaze predatory and observing. His gloved hands hover just above your legs, pausing there before he bends slightly, reaching for an ankle cuff.

Simon glances between it and you languidly. You're not sure what his intentions are, not until he grabs your ankle with his other hand and tugs hard. You yelp, surprised, and then you kick out, attempting but failing to free yourself as Simon attaches the cuff into place.

"You said you understood," he growls, as you sit up to swing on him.

Simon snatches your wrist right out of the air. He hops onto the bed, kneeling as he grabs one of the cuffs for your wrists. Still, you fight and still you fail as he latches it in place.

You're not immobile but you're more restrained than before, movement restricted enough that you can't fight back like you want to. Not that you want to escape.

With a fluidity that surprises, Simon removes a knife from his boot and hooks it under the hem of your shirt. A sharp tug and the fabric surrenders to the blade. Simon tears it further, removing the garment completely.

As you use your one free arm to lash out, Simon is already prepared, blocking the blow and forcing it back to the bed. He attaches the cuff and returns the knife to your clothes, splitting your pants and tossing the remains aside.

You're on your back, completely naked and cuffed to the bed.

Simon's hand wraps around your throat, the knife tip dangerously close to your face. "I was going to worship your pretty pussy," he murmurs. "But I think I'll just take what I want."

It's all a game—a scene. You want Simon to use you, to fuck you ceaselessly, to do whatever the fuck he wants because he can.

Simon flips the knife and imbeds it into the bed above your head. Slowly, he removes his belt, tossing it aside. When he opens the front of his pants and eases them down a fraction, you nearly groan at the sight of his hardness. Simon palms the base of his cock.

"I won't be gentle," he says, gloved fingers pressing against your pussy.

He rubs back and forth, easing a little more from your body before grabbing your hips and slamming home. There is a brief flare of pain from the intrusion and then nothing at all except excitement.

"Your body is mine," he growls as he fucks you. "And for the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to breed this pussy until I'm satisfied."

You are unable to move, unable to do much but take it. Simon is situated between your spread legs, and you have a clear view of his cock sliding in and out of you. If you want an orgasm, Simon will have to grant it. Begging for it won't get you anywhere. You need to be good, and then he'll reward you.

Simon grunts as he thrusts, pace increasing as he nears his end. Watching him is lovely. His groan is lust-drenched, his orgasm sending a little shudder through him that you feel in your core.

Simon's gaze shifts to between your legs where he slowly pulls out. "What a fucking sweet sight," he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His cum pools at your entrance, threatening to drip out. Soon you'll be overly full, a mess between your legs and on the bed.

Already Simon is stroking himself back to hardness. "Think that cunt of yours needs a bit more.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[monzabee]

short n' sweet (social media au) - op81

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where in an attempt to figure out who Y/N is dating, the internet come up with theories only to realise she is dating none other than Oscar Piastri and chaos ensues.

Pairing: oscar piastri x pop star!reader (model used: sabrina carpenter) (and domingooo)

Warnings: cursing (i think), sabrina carpenter is horny but it's okay we ride with it, feat the internet being the internet, i have a big fat crush on mercello hernandez so you have been warned

Auhtor note: came all this way, had to explain, direct from @percervall; mar this one is for you, i haven't had this much fun in a long time so thank you for indulging my brainrot and excitement😭🫶

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by elleusa, taylorswift, gracieabrams and 3,255,376 others

yourusername: toto, i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore. short'n sweet cumming to a city near you! first stop: columbus, ohio

user: bro just give me ONE chance

user: SHE'S GORGEOUS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: te amo diva

user: don't know if i wanna be with her or i wanna be her

view all 5,594 comments.

user: see you tomorrow pookie

user: cant wait to see u 🫶🏼✨🤍

user: she’s the sweetest & shortest 💋

user: it’s Y/N's world and we’re just living in it😭🤍🤍💋💋💋

user: is he talking about TOTO FUCKING WOLFF??

user: why is f1 everywhere, no she isn't😭

tiktokuser1

caption: bed chem from opening night!!

user: that mic is ON! ✨

user: I LOVE THIS DIVA!!

user: watching this isn’t enough, I have to be there

user: I need that bed.. NEOWWW

user: SHE BETTER BRING THE DAMN TOUR TO AUSTRALIA CAUSE THE FOMO IS CRAZY

user: oh i think she'll be bringing the tour to australia alright

user: what does that mean??

user: what do you know!!

tiktokuser2

caption: YO I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT SHORT N' SWEET TOUR IS THAT GIRL!!

user: 'have you ever tried this one?' ugh her mind😭

user: IS THIS THE NEW NONESENSE OUTRO FOR THIS TOUR I NEED TO KNOW

user: i can't take my eyes off this, i've been staring at it for the past five minutes!

user: okay diva we see you👀

yourusername

Liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, haileybieber and 4,182,928 others

yourusername: hello l.a., are you ready to wrap it up?

user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

user: okay who is he and why is he lurking in my diva's likes?

user: MY QUEEN (me typing this while listening to espresso 👀)

user: just a girl living life and making everyone fall in love with her

user: i’m 26 and AFRAID of Y/N Y/LN

view all 7,011 comments.

user: the caption and the last pic with the kittens the vibes don't match i love you😭

yourusername: stoppp, i diee

user: how is this tour like halfway over ????? second leg of tour maybe???? 😭

tiktokuser3

caption: have you ever tried this one?

user: i don't know how she keeps coming up with these

user: imagine having this much freak, i wouldn't be able to leave my house

user: am i the only one who is excited for the last three shows in la??

user: her boyfriend is one lucky guy that's for sure

user: she has a boyfriend??

user: girl who do you think the guy in the white jacket and the thick accent is?

tiktokuser4

caption: omg guys😭😭 domingo is here😭😭

user: CAME ALLL THIS WAAY HAD TO EXPLAAAIN

user: deerect from domingoo

user: okay hear me out... mercello and Y/N??

user: noooo, this crossover is actually too insane i can't handle it

user: look at how he's looking at her bro's down bad😭

tiktokuser5

caption: WE'VE LOST HER TO DOMINGO GUYS

user: somebody call kyle and tell him the good news😭

user: who's kyle?

user: omg do you live under a rock or something?

user: am i the only one who thinks they are not dating?

yourusername

Liked by tiktok, oscarpiastri, marcellohdz and 3,669,817 others

yourusername: LA night 2 ♥️💋 second locationnnn maybe he’s biiii!!! see you tonight for our last show of the US leg :’) how the hell

user: God bless your Dad’s genetics, Domingo

user: OMG DOMINGOOO… “NOW SHES WITH A HOT GUY BUT HE LOOKS GAY, HEARD HIS NAMES DOMINGO”

user: DOMINGO IS CHEATING ON KELSEY

user: no hate to domingo, but oscar jack piastri liked this post under 1 minute😭😭

user: i think we've established that she is probably dating marcello, please stop with the delulu

user: Y/N IM HERE👹

view all 5,179 comments.

user: marcelo hernandez had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever… and he did

user: the budget for this tour is insane… feels like a literal broadway production

user: came all this way, let her explain deeerect from LA

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer, marcellohdz and 4,928,234 others

yourusername: date night but make it our way tagged: oscarpiastri

user: i'm sorrryyyy, but the dress is giving andie andersonn

yourusername: princess sophia is having some fun tonightt

user: this is still the most mind boggling couple ever BUT YOU LOOK GOOD THO

user: i'm so normal about this, i am sooooo normal about this

user: it's giving ross from friends and i am here for it

user: the best hard launch in the history of hard launches

oscarpiastri: great show, even better after party

yourusername: why did i know you were going to comment this

oscarpiastri: i'm literally sitting right next to you and you saw me type it

user: unhinged gf x calm bf duo is superior and this is the biggest proof ever

view all 6,728 comments.

marcellohdz: but what about domingo...

yourusername: i'm sorry domingo...

user: but is mark webber still alive, MARK ARE YOU THERE

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 928,256 others

oscarpiastri: came all this way, had to explain... tagged: yourusername

yourusername: 100% recommend, 5-star service

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: 🥰

user: mister oscar jack piastri god bless your dad's genetics indeed

user: world class driving, world class relationship reveal

landonorris: okay but do we get free concert tickets ooor?

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: of course!

user: this is actually so cute i'm going to throw up

view all 3,156 comments.

user: have you ever tried this one just took a whole other meaning

user: wait, are we going to see them together in las vegas??

user: the hard launching is insaneee

[gtgbabie0]

-Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: {Sevika has some trouble with her mechanical arm, you offer her help}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

softSevika,softSevika,softSevika! Enjoy my lovelies <3 💕

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The pale light of the moon was drowned out by the neon signs that flicker soft colours of pink and blue which bleed through your small apartment, it was the only source of light guiding Sevika through the room before she finds the light switch, clumsily flicking it on.

It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly, what was meant to be a simple drop off and pick up turned into a violent mess— fucking useless, she thought bitterly. It’d be the last time she would work with some newbies who couldn’t tell their left from their right.

Her frustrations were bubbling over, that much was clear when she slams the front door shut, immediately wincing at the loud noise and once again she silently curses, this time at herself.

It was well past midnight and you were definitely knocked out like a light, it was endearing how quickly you fell asleep, one moment the pair of you would be talking then the very next you were snoring your head off. The thought of you curled up in your shared bed with your face smushed against the soft pillows makes her smile— the type that softens her hardened features.

It almost made her forget about the dull ache that seized her muscles, almost. She needed a drink.

So with a bottle of whiskey and her toolbox, you had so kindly brought for her spread out on the coffee table she sat down on the couch trying to fix the mess that had become of her mechanical arm— which was so much more harder to do by herself, without you there to unscrew the screws she couldn’t reach or to hand her the right tools… or to caress her cheek with those soft hands of yours, fuck, she had missed you more then she’d like to admit.

Sevika had been at it for hours, fumbling with one stubborn screw that had been lodged stuck. It refused to come loose for love nor money and it was driving her up the damn wall that she throws the stupid screwdriver across the room, watching it bounce across the wooden floorboards with a loud clang and a thud.

She stares down at it with a small scowl, scoffing before reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Sev?— what’re you doing?” Your soft voice, heavy with sleep ripples through the silence, breaking down the spell of anger that seemed ever present.

“Nothing, go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” She mumbles the reply, ducking her head down to look at the floor beneath her, it was almost ridiculous how fast the guilt hit her. She’d woken you up at god knows what time with her banging around.

You shake your head at her dismissal, padding your way over to her with a small frown— your hands tightening the silk robe you had wrapped around your body. Without a word she moves her legs so you can perch yourself on the edge of the coffee table, sitting in front of her.

“You won’t be able to fix it if you’re drunk.” You tell her, a small smirk ghosting over your lips as you watch her put the bottle of whiskey down on the table with a small huff.

“It’s not the alcohol—” Sevika replies gruffly, her heart skipping a few beats at the feeling of your hand against her knee as you rummage through her toolbox. “It needs a specific part.” Gods, you made her feel like a lovesick fool sometimes but damn if she didn’t absolutely adore the feeling.

With a soft hum, you let your fingertips graze along the metal fixings of her prosthetic arm, the joints were all broken and a couple of cogs were missing— it’d be easier to fix if it was detached and by the look on Sevika’s face she knew this… but it was a pain to do.

“I could-” you go to offer her an alternative, eyes skimming across the mechanical arm as your tired mind runs a mile a minute.

“Just help me take it off,” She concedes with a weary sigh, nodding over to the screwdriver which you’re quick to pick up.

She didn’t like having it off, to feel so vulnerable and defenceless. In a strange way, it scared her. Sure she could probably knock a guy or two out with one hand but it was still daunting to feel so stripped in such a way.

You stand up from the coffee table, situating yourself in between her legs as you begin to gently unscrew the bolts, handing them over to her one after another as she puts them safely into a bag. Then with a soft hiss of air, the arm comes loose, the weight falling from Sevika’s shoulder and down on the sofa beside her.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow… get that specific piece.” You promise her with a tender smile, looking down at her from where you stand with her rough hand resting over the curve of your hips from between the opening of your silken robe— caressing up to your waist slowly.

“Mmhm.” She hums in agreement, leaning forwards to bury her face into your soft tummy with a heavy sigh that borders on a groan as you skim your fingertips along her cheek and through her hair ever so slowly that it has her nuzzling into you like a damn cat.

Gods, you knew just how to dismantle her… you were a dangerous woman— her kryptonite.

“C’mere.” She mutters, pulling you down onto her lap without a single second thought. Her strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against her as you melt into her body— her fingers brushing along your hip.

“Come to bed Sev— you look like you’re about to pass out.” You whisper, turning your head to get a good look at her with those soft eyes of yours… so tired and sweet.

“I will just let me hold you like this for a minute.” She replies back, bumping her forehead against your own— pressing a kiss to your cheek then burying her face into the crook of your shoulder, a muffled ‘I love you’ spoken into your skin.

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[creamflix]

christmas event looks so kewl! can i have sukuna + mistletoe (naughty) please? 😽😽

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

SUKUNA has never understood your fascination with christmas. 

the baubles, the garlands, the lights strung across the tree — it all seems excessive and nonsensical to him. when he catches you draping the tree with shiny ornaments, your tongue peeking out in concentration, he’s half-tempted to ask if this is some kind of sacrificial ritual. 

but he keeps quiet. mostly because watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly feels... oddly satisfying.

the mistletoe, though? that’s where things get complicated.

he first notices it dangling from the ceiling in the entryway. you don’t bother explaining it, brushing past with a knowing smile, leaving him to squint suspiciously at the strange green plant. 

“warding off spirits?” he mutters to himself. “what kind of pathetic charm is this?”

of course, his assumptions are shattered after an admittedly frustrating deep dive into google, of all things. the man searches everything from “green thing christmas ceiling” to “magic christmas plant meaning” before finally landing on an answer. 

and when he learns the truth? his mood sours instantly.

a kiss. it’s some absurd tradition that demands he kiss you underneath this thing. 

you’re his; he doesn’t need some ridiculous plant giving him permission. but then again... maybe it’s not so bad if it’s an excuse to remind everyone else of that fact.

the next time you catch someone entering a room under mistletoe, sukuna is already there, arms crossed, posture tense. his crimson gaze flickers between the plant and the unsuspecting victim like a predator sizing up its prey.

“don’t even think about it,” he growls lowly, stepping deliberately into their path. his presence alone is enough to make them reconsider, slinking away without so much as a glance in your direction.

“suku!” you scold, but your amusement betrays you.

“don’t ‘suku’ me,” he snaps, scooping you into his arms and positioning you directly under the mistletoe. “you think i’m going to let anyone else get near you? this is my right.”

his lips claim yours in a possessive kiss, fierce and unrelenting, as if marking you all over again. and when you pull back, breathless, his lips merely shift to your jaw, trailing downward in a heated path.

“sukuna,” you murmur, half-laughing, half-scolding. “that’s enough! it’s just a silly tradition.”

“no,” he grumbles, hands sliding to your waist and tugging you closer. “it’s a tradition that involves my human. and if some stupid plant demands it, i’m not going to stop at one kiss.”

his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and you can feel his sharp teeth scrape teasingly against your skin. one of his hands creeps beneath your shirt, splayed warm and possessive across your back.

“kuna, stop! your hands —”

“my hands are exactly where they belong.” his voice is a low rumble, a mix of defiance and desire. but he finally relents, letting out a dramatic sigh as he pulls away, though his hands linger at your waist.

“fine. you win. for now.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love it.” his smirk is smug, but there’s something softer in the way his thumb brushes against your hip, his gaze lingering on your face.

truthfully, he still doesn’t understand half your human traditions, but if they involve you — your laughter, your blush, your kisses — he supposes they aren’t so bad.

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