#but i think she looks different every day

[rcmclachlan]

8x06 fix-it fic: Amnion

Buck doesn't bounce back from Tommy the way he did with all his other breakups for reasons he can't articulate or even look at. He thinks of how long it took him to recover from Abby, but even that felt different, because he'd had hope carrying him through most of it. He doesn't have that now.

The worst part is it's bringing everyone else down. It's starting to affect the job, and he can't take any more of Bobby's pity dinner invites or the kid gloves Eddie handles him with. Then one day, Chimney (in an attempt to lighten the mood) asks Buck if he's pregnant, and it awakens some primordial rage in Buck that he never knew he possessed and damn near rips off Chimney's head about it.

But once the blood levels in his adrenaline start rising and he calms down, he starts thinking about it. Before he knows it he's thinking about it day and night, and now that's starting to affect the job more than his heartbreak had been.

Then one night Maddie invites him over to watch trash TV and eat junk food until they can't feel feelings anymore, but instead of the patented Maddie Hug he's expecting, she hands him a First Response test stick the second he walks in the door.

Five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom pale-faced and dripping tears because there are two lines in the test result window, and Maddie leads him over to the couch where they curl up and cry together. Just like the old days.

Maddie asks if he's going to tell Tommy, but there's no judgment in her voice, like she's behind him no matter what he decides, and Buck tries to make her laugh when he says, "How do you know it's his? I could've been living it up for the last month. New person almost every night. Exploring myself."

She just gives him a Look. Also patented.

Under the weight of her scrutiny, Buck thinks about Tommy's face before he left the loft that night and how ''Buck'' looked and sounded so wrong coming from him. Like the shape of it was so painful he could barely move his mouth around it.

Finally, he shakes his head. His eyes well up with more tears, which feels impossible, because the human body can't possibly produce this much liquid. He's going to drown them both. "I thought... I thought we had a future, Maddie. I really did. I guess I still get one... but only with part of him."

A couple of months pass and Buck's entire world shifts. The 118 have rallied around him in a way that almost feels like they're closing ranks to every other firehouse. Eddie becomes especially protective and devises a 5000-point care plan that makes him twitch if Buck so much as thinks about deviating from it, but he also keeps telling Buck that he needs to tell Tommy about the pregnancy.

"If only to get his family history," Eddie says reasonably, but there's something pleading in his voice every time, like there's so much more under the surface that he's trying to keep under wraps. Like there's more about this that he thinks Tommy should know.

Chimney's in the middle of explaining why he's stealing the cool uncle crown from Buck and sitting pretty on the throne when Buck asks him about it.

"Is there something about Tommy that no one's telling me?"

It trips Chimney up. Literally. He just barely catches himself from going headfirst into the kitchen counter.

Buck's heart starts pounding. "Chim, does he know?"

"No," Chimney says, firm and almost a little offended. "We promised you we wouldn't say anything. But Buck... you should tell him. You should talk to him."

Part of him wants to whip his phone out right then and there and dial Tommy's number. He could do what he did the first time: ask to meet somewhere and laugh about bad coffee and plead his case for a second chance. He could reach across the table for his hand, but this time, he'd stand up and walk over to Tommy and place it on his belly. "I don't care about firsts or lasts," he'd say. "I care about only's. And you're the only one I want."

But the other part of him, still licking its wounds, hormones in flux and forcing organs to shift and bend as it makes room for the thing he and Tommy made together, bares its teeth and snaps, "He made it very clear that he had no interest in hearing what I had to say."

Chimney never brings it up again.

Meanwhile, Hen goes a little overboard with forcing him to undergo random physicals—she pops out of the shadows twice a day to ambush him with the blood pressure machine, and he keeps threatening to avoid rooms that have doors—but he loves it. His body is a complete stranger to him for the first time in a long time, but the changes he's experiencing are interesting and he's having a blast cataloging every new one. He and Hen have a spreadsheet with like fifty tabs, and she helps him navigate every test his actual OBGYN sets him up for.

He's over her house at least once a week, although pregnancy talk at the dinner table is verboten.

"If one of you says the word 'amniocentesis' one more time, I will start a food fight," Karen had said, finally putting her foot down. Across the table, Denny perked up.

As much as he hesitates to even think the Q-word, it's a pretty quiet pregnancy. The cravings are kind of wild, though, and he goes most of his first trimester feeling like he's going to die if he can't eat rice krispie treats with cottage cheese. Every time Bobby sees him cracking open another container of Hood, it looks like he's seriously reconsidering sobriety.

But as incredible as they are about the pregnancy, they're all tiptoeing around the other elephant in the room: when Buck is going to stop working scenes. He and Bobby have a series of discussions that satisfies neither of them and resolves nothing, and it builds to a big blow-out that ends when Bobby tearfully begs Buck to stop risking his own life and the life of Bobby's grandkid.

After that, it's like some stone thing in him dissolves into sand and he finally eases back a bit in his fifth month. He doesn't put up a fight when Bobby orders him to only handle the winch or stick with hose duty, and if he stays a little closer to the engine because he gets winded so easily these days, no one comments on it.

In his sixth month, the inevitable happens: there's a call out at Palos Verdes and it's all hands on deck, which means the 217 is there too. At first he thinks he might make it through without running into Tommy at all, but he turns a corner and—there he is. Smudged with mud and looking like a drowned rat because of the downpours, but in his turnouts he's big and capable and, for a second, he's walking into First Presbyterian and apologizing for missing the ceremony.

But the memory is easily wrestled back into the past the second Tommy's gaze fixes on Buck's belly.

Buck wants to stage a retreat that would make the Allies at Dunkirk stand up and applaud. He wants to throw his arms open so Tommy can get a better look at it, say something cool and mean, like, "Did you know that INNOTEX makes turnouts for carriers these days? Pretty progressive of them, if you ask me."

He wants to be weak and ask if Tommy will spare him a hug. Just one. Nothing greedy. Just—a moment to soak in his warmth, to inhale the smell of his skin. Enough to carry him through the rest of it.

But he does none of that. He inhales through his nose, lifts his chin, and says, "Firefighter Kinard."

At that, Tommy smiles, and it's completely awful. There's no joy in it. Not even amusement. He looks like he wants to be sick, and Buck feels like a monster.

But Tommy swallows and says, earnest as anything, "Congratulations. I-I knew you'd find it. I never doubted for a second that you'd find the person who'd be your last."

Even as he says it, Tommy's face does something indescribable, but it rips through Buck's chest and shatters his ribs, tearing through pericardial layers until it scores the vulnerable muscle of his heart. It's so shocking that it almost knocks the truth right out of Buck's mouth.

Someone comes over the radio and requests all available first responders with flight experience to report to the B-zone, and Tommy straightens up and locks whatever it was away.

With an unsteady hand, he tips an invisible hat to Buck and says wryly, "Firefighter Buckley," before jogging away.

And Buck stands there like an idiot watching him go. It's that night all over again. It's Buck instead of Evan.

"See you around," he whispers, and then runs back to his post in the A-zone.

+

Tommy gets the call when he's halfway through a burrito foisted upon him by Dana, who had taken one look at him and said, "You look like a flood victim. Eat something before I get HR involved."

He'd taken a mutinous bite and couldn't argue with her. Months later and it still felt like he'd watched everything he loved wash away with a tide he couldn't fight. Except he'd sent the tide himself. He had no business feeling like this.

But they send him to the site of a car accident where a pregnant driver had been T-boned by some asshole who ran the red light, and the RA unit called to the scene didn't have the right equipment to assess the fetus. But the victim's belly was hard enough to warrant a med evac.

By the time Dana gets the victim loaded on the backboard and inside, Tommy's already on with both First Presbyterian and LA General to see whose neonatal surgery team is available.

The door on Tommy's side slides open and Tommy turns in his seat to ask what the hell Dana's doing over there, but it's Hen who's pulling herself inside.

His stomach clenches with dread. "Hen?"

"I'm riding with you," she shouts, taking the headset that Dana gives her.

He looks just beyond her and wishes he'd had the presence of mind to listen to the manifest when Dana had read it aloud to him, because Evan Buckley is strapped to the gurney and looks like he's on a completely different planet.

"Hen." Tommy can't hear him say her name, but he sees Evan's mouth shape the word. Evan reaches clumsily out for her with one hand while pressing the other to his belly.

Hen murmurs something to him that the comms can't pick up, and Tommy wonders if they've notified Maddie, if they've notified the father, whoever they are. If they're already at the hospital waiting for them. If Tommy will have to see them, talk to them face to face.

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the hot wash of blood over his tongue, then forces everything down to join the burrito from earlier that really wants to make a reappearance. It isn't his right to know any of it. That went out with the tide, too.

He locks it down tight enough that he gets them into the air so easily they might be a feather on the wind, then he heads in the direction of First Presbyterian. The real start of it all.

They're maybe halfway across the city when Evan shouts, desperation and fear carrying his voice over the rotors, the words sliding together, "Hen, check Nora! Y-Y'need to ch—"

"Nora's fine, Buck," Hen says, her voice clear as a bell in Tommy's ear.

Staring at a skyline he can't see, Tommy says, "'Nora'? Was someone else in the car with him?"

When Hen comes over the comm, her voice is as inescapable as a flood. "Nora's what he decided on for the baby. It's her name."

Tommy's hand tightens on the cyclic so the way it starts shaking won't be so obvious. "Nora was my grandmother's name."

He'd told Buck about the woman who was basically the only family he could stand, who was responsible for not letting him become his piece of shit father, who accepted him when no one else would. She'd meant the world to him. She'd been the world to him. And for Evan to give his kid her name—

Realization hits like a levy breaking, and he turns to look wide-eyed over his shoulder at Hen, because it can't—he couldn't be—

"Patient, male, 33, prenatal course complicated at 8 months gestation," Dispatch had said.

The timeline is right.

Hen stares right back, as good of a confirmation that he could get outside of a DNA test.

Without breaking her gaze, Tommy tells Dana to take over. She gives him an unreadable look but says nothing except, "Copy that," and smoothly resumes their journey while he squeezes into the back. There's hardly any room next to the gurney and his knees are compressing his lungs, but he takes Evan's' hand and stares blankly at the shiner forming around his right eye until Hen breaks the silence.

Why didn't you tell me, he wants to demand, but he knows that if he so much as opens his mouth, he's going to start screaming until someone sedates him.

"For the record," she says, "I hate what you did. I hate what you took from him. But I understand why you did it."

Tommy rolls his lips inward and wants to suffocate himself to death. She understands? Does she? Does she know a life can be obliterated in the span of a minute? Does she know what it is to live a half life, to walk through the world like a five-year old drew a scribble on a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be a person?

Does she know what Evan looks like when his joy is sucked away? Because Tommy does. She hates what he did? No one hates what he did more than him. No one hates him more than him.

Shakily, he lifts his other hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Evan's birthmark, which used to know the touch of his lips so well that Evan would joke that it was actually in the shape of Tommy's mouth print. Like a brand.

He forces himself to inhale. It seems impossible that Evan's here, carrying their child, their Nora. Evan used to say the lightning strike gave him super powers, made him invincible, and Tommy's ashamed to admit that he almost believed him. It seemed like nothing could ever bring Evan Buckley down, but here he is in Tommy's sky, halfway to Heaven already.

He glances at the LifePAK—where Evan's life has been concentrated into a series of lines and numbers, the reading strong despite everything—and then looks back at Evan, who is still the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen even now.

"Evan," he chokes out.

There's no answer. At least not from Evan.

Across from him, Hen breathes through her nose and then quietly says, "I'm only going to say this once, Tommy, so I hope you're listening. If you can't trust him to know what his own heart wants, then this flight will never have happened. When he wakes up, you will not have been here. I'll change the manifest myself."

Tommy closes his eyes. Something hot spills down his cheeks.

"I know things haven't been all sunshine and roses for you. Lucy's said you've basically shut down since it ended. I know you're hurting just as much as Buck is... which is why I'm telling you: be sure. He's going to have enough on his plate without worrying about whether or not you're going to swan out of his life again. You need to be sure, Tommy."

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he opens his eyes and holds her gaze without flinching, and he tightens his hold on Evan's hand.

The rest of the flight passes in the kind of silence that feels like a cyst was lanced. Or maybe a boil, as it were.

+

Buck wakes up in stages to find he's in a hospital bed, and when he puts a hand on his belly it's smaller and almost deflated beneath his palm. He is just starting to hyperventilate when suddenly Tommy's there, murmuring to him, "You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise, she's fine. She's fine. Look."

And Buck, heart racing, forces himself to breathe slowly while he follows Tommy's gaze down to the bundle in Tommy's arms. Then he stops breathing altogether.

"She's fine," Tommy says. "A little early, according to the doctor, but absolutely fine."

Buck collapses back to the bed and weeps in relief, because she's fine. She's here and she's fine and she's perfect. Tommy gently places her in Buck's arms before retreating to the chair next to the bed which has a dent in the vinyl in the shape of his ass.

But Buck is enraptured with Nora, who smacks her lips in her sleep, and he marvels aloud, "She has my mouth."

"Thank God for that," Tommy says with a laugh. "It'll help take the focus off my nose. Poor kid."

It hits Buck like lightning that Tommy is here. He's in this room and talking about Nora like—like he knows. And there are things Buck should probably be saying, like apologizing for not telling Tommy about her as soon as he found out, or asking why he's there at all, but the words are crowding in his mouth and he can't figure out which ones should go first.

Tommy's lips twitch in a smile that is awful to look at, like he completely understand Buck's struggle, but his voice is soft and even when he says, "I need you to know that it wasn't about you. Not you personally. It never was."

Buck stops trying to speak and just stares at him, because that is bullshit, and oh, he knows which words should come first, and he opens his mouth to release them into the wild but Tommy holds up a hand.

"I know," he says. "I was a coward and an asshole, and I'm more sorry than I can possibly say. I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. But I need you to know why I did it."

And, in fits and starts before he finally finds the thread, Tommy tells him about Jeremy.

After Tommy ended things with Abby and then finally came out, he dated around for a long time before he met Jeremy, who was brilliant and fun and new. Tommy was the first man Jeremy had ever been with, and Jeremy was the first person Tommy saw a future with. He'd been so sure about Jeremy. He'd believed that Jeremy was it.

Until, almost two years in, Jeremy ended it. He'd sat Tommy down and said kindly, cruelly, "You're amazing, Tom, but you're just the first. You can't be my last." And then he'd left Tommy completely shattered in the rearview.

"That night, when you asked me to move in... it was like I was watching him put on his coat all over again," Tommy says shakily. "But what I felt for you was lightyears beyond anything I felt for him. I'd fallen so hard for you that I knew if I had to watch you walk away I'd never get up again."

Buck stares at Tommy, eyes rimmed red, and says, "So instead you made me watch you walk away."

It must land like a fist because Tommy exhales sharply and hangs his head, bowing around the pain. He sits like that for a moment, absorbing it, before he lifts his head and nods. "Yeah. That's exactly what I did."

There are deep, dark circles under Tommy's eyes that speak of a hundred sleepless nights, and his body is sharper, leaner, trimmed entirely of anything soft. He's made entirely of angles. He's so unfairly hot. He's miserable to look at.

Buck swallows and murmurs, "You look like there's no love in your life, Tommy."

Sucking in a trembling breath, Tommy smiles weakly and sketches a shrug. It looks like the fatigued steel of his edges are starting to crack.

"I left all my love with you that night." His gaze darts down. "Among other things."

Buck looks down at Nora, who's sleeping the sleep of someone already exhausted by existence, or maybe just by her fathers' drama, and thinks that maybe he really has been carrying all his love plus Tommy's around. Because otherwise he has no idea how he's so full of it.

"She's absolutely perfect," Buck says, smiling dopily.

"She's... more than anything I could've ever dreamed of."

He looks up in time to see Tommy drop his gaze to the floor at the same time his shoulders lift and lock like they're bracing for a blow. And in a voice so thin it's barely a sound, Tommy says, "I know I don't have... any right to ask, but is there any... any chance I could be part of her life?"

The tears that have been languishing at the edges of Buck's eyes finally see an opportunity. He doesn't think he could've held them back any longer if he tried.

Mouth trembling, he whispers, "Just hers?"

At that, Tommy looks up, eyes wide, disbelief and hope chasing each other across his face like dogs. He jerks a little in his chair but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.

Buck stares at him, a tsunami pulling everything back from his shoreline, and bites out, "Thomas James Kinard, if you don't get over here and kiss me, I swear to Christ—"

But Tommy's out of the chair and at his bedside, cupping Buck's face and tenderly smearing a kiss over his open mouth, licking the relieved gasp right off Buck's tongue.

Between them, Nora makes a tiny noise, and Tommy startles away just enough that he can press the side of his head to Buck's and gaze down at her with a tremulous smile.

"She really is something, huh? Sorry about the nose, kiddo," he says softly.

Buck knocks their heads together and says, "I happen to love that nose, thanks. And like you said, my lips will help balance it out."

Huffing a laugh, Tommy kisses Buck's lips. And the side of his nose and the bolt of his jaw. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to Nora's little pink and blue hat.

"I'm sure if you are," Tommy murmurs, tilting his chin up so he can flash a brave smile up at Buck, who smiles back.

"I was always sure."

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[detective-wraith]

“Well, honestly I’d be more confused than anything.” I responded honestly. “It would probably take until at least the third time it happened for me to actually attack the person.”

The Mimic gave me what I believed to be an incredulous look. “That says more about you than it does about us.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “You lot have probably had strangers reaching down your throat since the day you were born. It’s honestly more of a surprise that you aren’t used to it by now.”

The mimic is shaking its… head? Body? I can’t tell the difference, but it doesn’t matter right now. The mimic shook itself in disagreement, and then told me an honestly surprising fact; “it really doesn’t happen all that often. Only people who do it are rude adventurers.” It shoots me a meaningful look that I take to mean it classifies me as a rude adventurer.

“In my defense, you had every opportunity to clarify that you were not a chest before I tried opening you. If you don’t want people to think you’re a chest, don’t act like one!”

The Mimic was getting agitated. “I WAS ASLEEP YOU DIM-WIT. I NEED TO SLEEP IN ORDER TO STAY ALIVE, JUST LIKE HUMANS DO! IF YOU WANT TO TRY DOING ANYTHING ANIMATE WHILE SLEEPING, BE MY GUEST,” it shouted, sending reverberations off the walls nearby and nearly deafening me.

“Whoa there! Calm down before you try to kill me,” I said placatingly.

The mimic, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want to listen to reason. Its words were becoming harder to decipher as it spoke faster “CALM DOWN? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STUCK THEIR UNWASHED HAND IN MY MOUTH! I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!”

I backed up warily. “Trust me, that’s a bad idea. I don’t want to have to kill you.” I stated in a calm voice, moving my hand to my sword at my waist in preparation for any sudden attacks.

This turned out to be a good move, as the mimic suddenly lunged at me. I swiftly drew my sword and chopped it in two, right where the hinges would be if it was a real chest. This unfortunately did not stop its momentum, and 2 halves of a still twitching mimic rammed into me full force, knocking me onto my back. As I struggled to get up, the rest of my party finally walked through the door.

As our healer looked at me, she failed to hold in a laugh. “You’ve been in here how many times? 200? More? And you still can’t deal with a mimic.”

The other members of my party were being far more helpful, pushing the mimic off of me. As they did, I saw they were laughing too, just much quieter than our healer. I let out a curse, then stated in a matter of fact way: “I hate all of you.”

"MIMICS CAN TALK!?" "Of course we can, you idiot, we're not mindless monsters." "Then why do you guys always attack adventurers?" "You'd attack a stranger too if they opened your mouth and stuck their hands in it unwarranted."

[millyh23]

Abuelita

Alexia Putellas x Reader

word count:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Barça team was gathered at a lively café, chatting and laughing over coffee and pastries. Alexia was seated comfortably beside you, her arm resting on the back of your chair, as she listened to Vicky animatedly tell a story to Jana, Bruna, and Salma across the table.

Vicky’s words flowed quickly, with phrases that even you had to concentrate on to catch. But Alexia was nodding along, as if she understood every word—until she leaned in, eyebrows furrowing.

"Wait… what does ‘it hits different’ mean?” Alexia asked, looking between them, a bit lost. The younger girls exchanged amused glances.

“Ah, Ale,” Bruna said, barely hiding her grin. “You wouldn’t get it. Too old-school.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing at Mapi, who had also caught the teasing. She shot you a mischievous look before leaning in with a grin. “Hear that, Ale? Gen Z is trying to tell you something.”

“Excuse me,” Alexia protested, scandalized, her eyes darting between the girls and you. “Old? I’m not old!”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, patting her knee. “Next thing you know, they’ll be showing you how to use emojis, abuelita.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and Alexia’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “I am not an abuelita! Just because I missed a couple of phrases!”

Salma winked. “It’s okay, Ale. You’re vintage.”

Mapi leaned closer to you, laughing as she whispered, “And here I thought she was the queen of cool.”

Later that evening, you and Alexia were back home, winding down on the couch. She had one arm slung over the backrest, scrolling through her phone, her usual relaxed expression back in place. But you couldn’t resist one last tease.

You nudged her, hiding a grin. “You know, they had a point. You were really struggling today with the slang.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, giving you a playful glare. “Don’t even start.”

You stretched your arms over your head dramatically. “It’s fine! I get it. You’re probably used to words like… I don’t know, fax machine and VHS—totally normal, classic stuff.”

She scoffed, setting her phone aside and shifting to face you. “Excuse me, I’m not ancient! I’m 30, Y/N.”

“30 is practically 40,” you said with a smirk. “And 40 is practically—”

“Don’t you dare continue.” She tried to look offended but couldn’t keep a straight face, her lips twitching into a smile.

You shrugged innocently. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe you should start preparing. We can get you one of those pill organizers and a nice pair of reading glasses—”

Alexia scoffed again, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“I try,” you said with a wink. “But seriously, I could teach you some phrases. We can get you caught up with the cool kids. How about lowkey? Like, lowkey, you’re kinda cute even if you’re old.”

“Lowkey, you’re testing my patience,” she shot back, but she was laughing now, tugging you into her side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop… for now,” you relented, snuggling up against her, feeling her relax under your touch.

Alexia huffed, pretending to sulk. “I’m telling the team you’re a bully.”

“Oh, please. They already know I’m your biggest fan,” you teased, smiling as you felt her laugh under you.

---

It was a typical Saturday evening, and you and Alexia were sprawled out on the couch after a long day of training. You were scrolling through your phone, catching up on messages, while Alexia sat next to you, humming absently as she flicked through a magazine.

Suddenly, your phone pinged, and you saw the group chat lighting up. The usual suspects—Vicky, Jana, Bruna, and Salma—had started their usual banter.

Vicky: “Anyone up for dinner at 8? I’m thinking sushi 🍣.”

Jana: “I’m in! LFG! 🍻”

Bruna: “Same here, but gotta bounce early. Gotta get my beauty sleep 😴”

Salma: “Same, girl. TTYL!”

You smiled, seeing the typical chaos in the chat, but then you noticed Alexia peeking over your shoulder, trying to read the messages.

“What’s ‘LFG’?” Alexia asked, squinting at the screen.

You turned to her with a grin. “You don’t know?”

She straightened up, looking defensive. “Of course, I do. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. Sure.”

Alexia leaned back with a casual shrug, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, what does it mean?”

You suppressed a laugh. “It means Let’s F*ing Go, Ale.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she quickly tried to recover. “Oh, right. Totally knew that.” She gave you a nod, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you did.”

The next message pinged up.

Vicky: “Yo, can someone get the S&P from the fridge? ASAP?”

Alexia furrowed her brows again. “What’s ‘S&P’?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Salt and Pepper, Ale. Obviously.”

Alexia looked at you, trying to keep her cool. “Well, I knew that,” she said confidently, though you could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Another ping came through.

Jana: “BRB, gotta grab my OOTD for dinner!”

Alexia just blinked. “Okay, I know BRB means ‘be right back’… but what’s OOTD?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh. “Outfit of the Day, babe. Classic fashion lingo.”

She exhaled sharply. “Of course, I knew that.”

“Right,” you teased. “Totally.”

Another message came through, this time from Bruna.

Bruna: “That’s a mood, Vicky!”

Alexia stared at it for a long moment. “…What does ‘mood’ mean? Like, the weather?”

Now, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “No, Ale. Mood means—well, I guess you can think of it as like when something vibes with you.”

Alexia looked horrified, but instead of admitting defeat, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Okay, well, I’m learning. I’m not old like you think I am.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, ruffling her hair playfully. “Keep telling yourself that, Ale.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m definitely not as bad as you make it sound.”

You leaned over, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re adorable, Ale. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you with your cool kid education.”

As the next message came through, you saw Alexia’s eyes narrowing at the screen, but this time, she kept her mouth shut, likely trying to figure it out on her own.

Salma: “Catch y’all at 8, IRL. Can’t wait for the vibes ✌🏼”

You waited a moment, then turned to Alexia with a grin. “Do you know what IRL means?”

Alexia’s face betrayed her confidence now. She stared at the screen and then looked back at you, frowning slightly. “It’s… not important.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I know! It’s… I’m Really Lame,” she said, her voice rising a bit as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

You burst into laughter again, earning a playful shove from Alexia. “You’re so full of it, Ale.”

“Fine,” she huffed, slumping dramatically. “Maybe I’m a little behind. But I’m catching up!”

You smiled, wrapping your arm around her. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you. You’re not that old.”

“Ha ha, funny,” she muttered, giving you a sideways glare. “I’m going to learn all the abbreviations, and then I’ll make you feel ancient.”

“Good luck with that,” you grinned, kissing the top of her head. “In the meantime, I’ll just keep you up to date on all the latest slang.”

Alexia mumbled something, but you caught her trying not to smile. It was cute—though she’d never admit it, you knew she was secretly enjoying being the student for once.

After a long week of intense training, you dropped onto the couch beside Alexia with a dramatic groan, sinking into the cushions like you were trying to become part of the furniture.

“Ugh, my back is killing me,” you muttered, rubbing at a sore spot between your shoulders.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smirk. “Who’s old now, hmm?” she teased, giving you a light nudge.

You glared at her, feigning offense. “Excuse me, my back pain is from being overworked, not from old age.”

She chuckled, stretching out beside you and crossing her arms over her chest. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. You sounded like a grandma just now.”

“Alright, abuelita,” she cooed in a teasing tone, grinning as she patted your hand like you were ancient.

You gave her a playful shove, trying to suppress a laugh. “Listen, just because I have one tiny backache doesn’t mean I’m old.”

Alexia tilted her head with an exaggerated look of sympathy. “Do we need to get you one of those heated blankets? Or maybe a nice back brace?”

“Oh, you’re hilarious, Ale,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

She leaned in, clearly relishing the moment. “I mean, I could help you schedule a physical therapy appointment. Maybe get you into some gentle yoga?”

You laughed, trying to hide how much you were enjoying her teasing. “Please, I’m still in my prime! You, on the other hand, are the one struggling to keep up with Gen Z slang.”

She raised her hands in surrender, feigning innocence. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go… for now. But I’m just saying, if you need me to fetch you some extra pillows, just let me know.”

You groaned, reaching for a pillow to toss at her, which she dodged easily, laughing.

“Alright, maybe I’ll go see the team physio,” you admitted, finally giving in. “But only if you promise to stop calling me abuelita.”

Alexia leaned back, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin. “We’ll see, grandma. I- I mean amore," Alexia quickly corrected.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[mywritersmind]

pookieeee how are youuu 💗 I'm in NEED of a Franco fic where the reader is João Félix's little sister...

So she obvi speaks Portuguese and English (maybe some Italian in there too) butttt unlike her brother her Spanish is rusty. So when reader drags her brother (and of course some of the guys from the team) to support her best friend at a race, he's listening in to every little comment Franco makes about her in Spanish and trying to subtly give hints to reader that he likes her, and of course some good brother teasing! Just hardcore fluff, friend pining and good old family banter!

HE CAN UNDERSTAND - FC43

listen up : i used google translate don’t come for me. not proofread! super cute and fluffy! loved this request sorry if i didng execute it well😭

word count : 2281

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Franco!” I jump into my best friends arms as he laughs. The moment I asked for three Grand Prix tickets, he sent them over immediately and went on a rant of how excited he was to see me.

“Y/n!” He grins widely at me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” He's in his race suit, his hair messy and extra wavy. I run my hand through it, fixing it a bit.

“You’re a mess.” I laugh as he pushes my hand away and rolls his eyes, “Oh!” I suddenly remember that my brother is standing behind me. “This is my brother, João! I can’t believe you two haven’t met!” I smile at both of them as my brother shakes Franco’s hand.

Oddly professional for someone he knows I love. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/n never shuts up about you.” I slightly blush at his words as Franco lets out a laugh.

“Good to know…” Franco gives us a mini tour. I'm so beyond happy for him. This has been his dream since forever, the first time I met him he even jokingly flirted and said I could be a WAG.

Franco is charming and hilarious so my brother likes him instantly. We end up in the William’s garage, everyone scrambling around and talking in languages I can’t understand.

Since it’s race day, i’m genuinely surprised Franco had the time to see us. Especially since Qualifying was earlier today.

But my best friend works in magical ways.

⋆༺

FRANCO

I watch Y/n talk to Alex’s girlfriend. I watch as her hair flows down her back and her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “So,” João turns to me, sort of intimidating for his height but so far I think he approves of me. “You’ve known Y/n for a while, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah, she hasn't been able to shake me yet.” He laughs, nodding his head.

“You care about her?” Why do I feel like i’m getting interrogated?

I nod, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“I mean as more than a friend.”

I laugh uncomfortably, joking with him, “Are you asking me my intentions?” He does not find this funny. I clear my throat and breathe out, “We’re just friends.”

Y/n comes skipping back over to us. I’ve always been taught to not lie, but i’m not about to confess that I like her to fucking brother.

“J, you’ve got to see his car!” She takes his arm and pulls him away, “You coming, Fran?”

I’m about to follow after them but my engineer taps my shoulder, “Gimmie one second! Don't touch anything, Y/n, I know how you are!”

She gives me one of her signature smiles, making my pulse quicken and my smile falter. I catch her brother giving me an odd look before I sit up and wave.

I turn to my engineer who’s smiling, big, “Dios mío, te estás sonrojando.” (My god, you’re blushing.) I roll my eyes at him, turning to see Y/n point to my car and start asking questions to someone in blue.

“¡Cállate por favor!” (Shut up please!) Her Spanish is more than rusty. I've tried to teach her some but she gets distracted and she always ends up persuading me into something different. Still, it’s weird talking about her when she’s right there.

“Vamos, ¡te gusta! Es la forma en que la miras... como si fuera el sol.” (Come on, you like her! It’s the way you look at her… like she’s the sun.) I push his shoulder at his words. Christ, is it that obvious?

“Actúas como si fuera un cachorrito enamorado.” (You act like i’m some lovesick puppy)

“¡Porque lo eres! Siempre hablas de ella, tu pantalla de bloqueo es ella, ¡siempre le estás enviando mensajes de texto! Admítelo.” (Because you are! You always talk about her, your lock screen is her, you are always texting her! Just admit it.)

I cross my arms at him, not daring to glance back at her. “No voy a arruinar mi relación con ella…” I shake my head and tease him, “¡Ahora vuelve a trabajar!” (I’m not ruining my relationship with her… now get back to work!)

I join Y/n and João again, smiling and doing my duty as a tour guide. João gives me another weird look and i’m hoping it’s not because i’m losing his trust. I know i’m not her boyfriend, but I still want him to like me.

They are soon asked to step into the visitors area as I warm up for the race. Y/n kisses my cheek before she goes, “Good luck, Fran. Be careful!” I know my cheeks are red but all I can focus on is her so close to me, her lips on my cheek.

I nod, “Thank you. Have fun watching.” I wink at her and turn, getting ready.

⋆༺

YOU

“I’m so nervous! It’s so rainy!” I bite my lip as the cars go out on track in a second formation lap. The race hasn’t even started and someone’s already out!

My brother eyes me, he’s been acting weird all day and I hate it. He suddenly turns to me, “You don’t like Franco?”

It catches me off guard, “Uh… of course I do?” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean can you see yourself with him? I think you’d be cute.” I laugh out loud.

“João, when have you ever wanted me to date someone?” Especially Franco. I mean, maybe i’ve thought about it.

Okay maybe I've fantasized about it… a lot.

But what am I supposed to do? Confess to my best friend who’s always been there for me that I think he’s irresistible and criminally hot? No.

“I just think if you’re gonna date anyone… He’s a good option.” My cheeks heat as I shake my head, “You’re blushing! Come on, Y/n, why not?”

“Just shut up, the race is starting!”

The next time he brings it up is at a yellow flag, “He’s definitely nicer than your ex.” I give him a death glare and attempt to tune him out, “And who did you go crying to after he broke your heart….?” Franco. The answer is Franco because he’s always there.

It’s been hard recently because of his races, but he’s constantly texting or calling me. I think he just wants someone to gossip with.

“Again, he’s my friend. Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn’t mean you know everything!”

“No but I know everything about you, and you don’t look at your other friends like that.” I hate that stupid smug smile on his face. And I hate that he’s right.

My stomach drops when Franco goes into the wall. I grab onto my brother's arm who doesn’t look concerned at all and more happy that i’m so worried! I slap his arm, “You have no empathy!”

I cross my arms, biting my lip as I watch him exit the car. Thank god he’s okay.

Franco gives me a small thumbs up when he’s back in the garage. I can tell he’s absolutely gutted, the air is awkward and thick with tension since Franco’s crash meant that the whole team's weekend is over.

The race is long and honestly scary. Still, all I can think about is Franco.

Maybe this weekend, his attention to me, my brothers comments, and how Franco’s been looking at me, has finally sealed what I've been dreading.

I’ve known I like him for a while, but I don’t want to ruin us. I can’t be embarrassed by my closest friend!

I’m not an idiot, I see how he flirts with interviewers or even fans. Part of me wants to believe that’s just his personality, but the other part is screaming at me that he doesn’t like me.

His eyes though, he looks at me so deeply that sometimes I feel like I'm apart of some big trick.

“Hey,” My brother nudges me, “Race is over.” I snap out of whatever daze I was in and nod, “I gotta pee, go talk to Franco!”

When I look to where he points, Franco’s already looking at me. His race suit is unzipped and he looks so tired. “Hi.” He smiles softly but I can tell it’s forced.

“Sorry your first race with me sucked.” He frowns, leaning against the little barrier from the garage and friends and family.

“Hey…” I touch his arm briefly, “It did not suck! And It’s not your fault. It was scary though…”

His eyes look sad and I know it’s not just because he crashed. Franco feels so deeply and this weekend has been especially hard for him. I can tell he sees the worry on my face, “I'm really really happy you’re here. We’re getting dinner later, right?”

I go to the hotel with João first. We change and meet back at the restaurant. “I’m so hungry!” I groan as we sit down, Franco said he would be here soon but I am not above ordering early.

João sits across from me, “Gotta wait for your boyfriend.”

I eye him, “You better not say anything in front of Franco. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He laughs a bit.

“I really don’t think I will.” He’s so ominous today. “I can tell i’m making you uncomfortable though. My only question is… why?”

“Why?”

“Why can’t you accept that you like him? He’s obviously not going to turn you down. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes when he talks to you.” The waiter brings water which I gulp down immediately.

“I- No! I can’t like him. He’s my friend.”

“So you’ve said… but the best relationships start out that way.” Why is he pushing this so much?

“I just… I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”.

“Funny…” he mumbles something, “That's what he said too.” but I can’t hear him because Franco sits and starts saying hello.

Our dinner is amazing, the food is perfect and I can’t stop laughing at Franco and João. “You’ve gotta come to a match sometime!” My brother laughs, “The team would love you.”

Franco grins, “I would be honored! Y/n always talks about your games, you’re pretty good apparently.” This boosts my brother's ego far too much and we end the night while talking about football and childhood stories.

“He always teased me with his friends!” I roll my eyes at the memory, “They were all learning Spanish in highschool so I never understood them!”

Franco laughs as João shakes his head, “Why didn’t you take spanish in highschool?”

“I did! I just never caught on. Plus João became fluent after school anyway so his schooling barely helped.” I shrug as Franco’s expression turns odd.

He blinks, looking to João, “You’re fluent?”

“Si.” He looks almost smug about it as Franco nods slowly, swallowing.

“Así que escuchaste…” (So you heard…)

“Todo.” (Everything) Franco’s smile drops completely at my brothers words. But my brother still carries on with a smile, “Eres muy obvio, pero lo apoyo.” (You’re very obvious, but I support it.)

I frown at their communication that I can’t understand, “Okay, can you two stop gossiping? I’m ready to leave.” Franco smiles at me, nodding slowly as we stand.

Our walk back to the hotel is short and luckily no fans interrupt it. The warmth of the inside makes me smile and the ding of the elevator makes me yearn for my bed.

“Uh, Y/n?” I look back at Franco as he talks, “Could I speak to you for a moment…” I look at my brother who nods, a smile still on his face as he disappears behind the elevator doors. “Let’s go outside.”

It’s no longer raining so we venture out into the hotel's garden. It’s beautiful with tall plants and trees, a small path that we walk on, and flowers that I've never seen before.

“What did you walk to talk to me about?” I turn to him, he looks oddly scared and a bit chilly. He starts to speak but then closes his mouth and thinks, “Franco…?”

“I like you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I freeze, “I really like you and not just as a friend… like way more than that.”

I blink, “You’re kidding?”

The panic on his face is immediate, “No?”

“Shit. Okay!” I realize i’m so caught up in my own world that he probably thinks I don’t like him, “I feel the same.”

He breathes out, stepping closer, “You fucking scared me.”

I smile, not believing this is even real, “You really like me? Because my brother has been making me feel delusional all day!” He takes my hand in his and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“He heard me talking about you in spanish…” I raise a brow, “My engineer was teasing me and I didn’t know he spoke it!” I laugh, shaking my head at his story, “But I'm glad he did. I probably would be sitting in my room all alone if he hadn't.”

I grip his hand tighter, stepping closer, “I’m really glad too. I didn’t want to ruin anything but fuck I really like you.”

He grins and leans in, He paused before I nod. Franco presses a kiss to my lips softly, “I can’t believe you have a crush on me.” I whisper as groans and rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

“No! No taking it back now!” I laugh, pulling him back to me, my hand going to his neck and my lips meeting his, “You’re stuck with me now.”

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 6

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Last night was… well it just was. And Tara wasn’t really happy about it, clearly.

tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, hangover y/n, angry tara, jelous, jealous, jealous

Tara always got what she wanted. Always. Did she think she was spoiled? No, not really. She didn´t think she was spoiled, she just hated the idea of not getting what she wanted and everyone around her knew it. Especially her sister.

She and Sam were the same yet so different. They looked the same, cared for one another the same and almost enjoyed the same things. But what they didn´t share was opinions and judgment. The viewing of the world and its look. The sentiment. But at the end of the day, things were thrown into the trash because they had nothing to do with love.

They would do first and last for each other.

These were the things that the young Carpenter appreciated the most. Having family and friends that she could rely on and trust. She would do anything to protect her circle of the people she loves. Why was she even thinking that way right now?

Because of her.

At the time Tara got home she already scrutinized the girl. Found out her name and birthday, her family and the names of her friends as well as her pet, which was by the way pretty cute but Tara didn´t want to get distracted and soft by that idea.

She checked who she follows and...

„This bitch.“ Tara whispered under her breath after she found your account in her following list. Of course, she already did that. Tara wouldn´t be surprised if she already texted you. Her fists clenched at that thought.

Her finger pressed the small round photo of yours to get into your page. Your photos and highlights loaded and Tara started to stalk. No, she wasn´t a stalker and she definitely wasn´t stalking you, she was just looking for her friend.

Friend.

That´s what you are now? To Tara you have always been someone close to her friends, you were in her friend group but she never took you as a friend. She got feeling she wasn´t your friend either but... she needed to take care of you because of her friends, no?

She clicked on the last post of yours which were some random photos you took like school and coffee, there was even Ethan who looked like he didn´t enjoy being photographed, the last photo was you with a headset around your head doing some weird faces.

You were pretty cute, yeah so what? She finally said that but that doesn´t mean you aren´t getting on her nerves every time you open your stupid mouth.

„Your right dimple is deeper than the left one.“

Tara´s corners of her mouth got up a little.

After that, she pressed the button of the comments. Chad was laughing at Ethan and also Ethan cursing you. The last comment is what made Tara´s smile drop. It was from that girl, an emoji with a heart in her eyes.

Liked by the author.

Sam was minding her business in the next room when she suddenly heard a loud sound coming from her younger sister´s room.

„What the hell is she doing?“

-

The bright sun shining through the window right into your eyes was the first thing your brain processed. Maybe if you were a little bit smarter last night and didn´t drink like an alcoholic you would be in a better state.

„Ugh someone help.“ you rolled on the side of your bed and stood up. You felt disgusting you smelled bad and your hair was everywhere. The clothes from the night before were still on you only now they looked all folded and wet from your sweat.

You grabbed your phone that was on your table seeing a lot of unopened messages as well as a low battery. Suddenly it started ringing signalizing a phone call.

„Hello?“ you said with your throat hurting a little.

„Y/N? Hey buddy, you okay?“

„I´m fine Ethan, I just woke up what´s up?“

„Oh, sorry! I was just a little worried about you I didn´t see you yesterday leaving and also didn´t hear from you so I just wanted to check.“ he said with a quick explanation.

„Oh I just drank a little more than I should have yesterday.“ you laughed a little still with not much energy. You just wanted to take a shower and go to bed again.

„You don´t feel fine? Should I come? I-“

„No Ethan it´s fine, I´m fine just a little exhausted but nothing serious. Don´t stress yourself.“

„Oh.“ he said quietly trying to read your voice. „If you say so, but if anything just text me, okay? I want to be here for my friend.“

You smiled at his words. No doubt he was your best friend. „Of course. Thanks, buddy.“

You grabbed new clothes and went straight to the shower. It was like an invisible relief that was washed off of you. After that, you put on some sweatpants with a hoodie and went to lie down again. Suddenly your phone lit up with a new message.

Demi: Hey you ok? I was worried ab you last night

Demi: when you wake up text me

Demi: Y/N

It was Demitra? Were you that much wasted that everybody knows it or what? Oh Gosh, you prayed that you didn´t do anything embarrassing what will everybody remember for the rest of their lives when they look at you?

And even though, why was she so worried, it wasn´t like you knew each other that long. But it was good to have someone to worry about you except your best friend.

Y/N: hey sorry to worry!

Y/N: everything fine promise

She immediately saw your text and replied to you. You spent a pretty long time just texting and lying around, having no energy to do anything more. Demitra was a good girl. She was attentive and soft-spoken. You weren´t an idiot, you saw that she was interested in you, otherwise she wouldn´t try to talk to you every time she saw you or texted you, right?

But was she someone you would go out? You´ve never thought about it not anyone. Maybe it was time to finally step up from this introverted state and go to see some new people. Who knows, maybe it will lead to her. The question is, would you be mad about it?

-

The knock on your door was a thing that tore you off of watching the TV. You kept lying down with a confused face. But the knock was there again only this time louder.

„Are you serious.“ you got up not wanting to leave your comfortable couch. Behind your door was Mindy and Chad with Ethan and behind him Tara.

„And what are you doing here huh?“ you asked as you opened the door wider for them to come in.

„Why are you asking so offended do you have someone in here?“ Chad said with a smirk on his face.

„Y/N why the hell is so dark in here? I feel like I´m in a cave!“ Mindy yelled as she went to your window to unfold the curtains.

Tara turned around and scrunched her nose. „Ew it smells so bad in here, do you ever open your windows?“

„Oh my and this trash, when was the last time you cleaned your house Y/N?“ Chad asked. Your nerves were getting higher with each word that left their mouth. Did you come to annoy you?

„You came here just to get on my nerves or what?“

„Y/N I bought you a soup.“ you turned to Ethan who was standing across the room with a small can of food. He was so cute that you would never forgive yourself if you said something hurtful.

„Thanks, Ethan you are the best.“

Chad sat down on your couch taking a controller into his hand. „And I´m not?“

„No, you are an idiot.“ you smiled vacantly at him. „And anyway weren´t you also drunk last night?“ you asked him.

„Well yeah but I guess I can just handle it better than you.“ he smiled.

„Handle it better my ass.“ you whispered under your breath with an annoyed look.

-

„How do you feel?“

You turned to the side seeing Tara leaning by the kitchen door. Her arms were folded and her eyes were focused on you.

„Fine, I guess.“ you said as you took another spoon of Ethan´s soup into your mouth.

She higher up her eyebrows as if she didn´t believe you. „I´m pretty surprised, you were like a different person last night.“ Your eyes widen at her words.

„No I wasn´t! I was completely fine!“

„Raising your voice is only making me sure that you don´t remember a thing.“ she unfolded her arms and went into your fridge.

„Yeah I forgot that you know everything.“ you shot her an angry look. „And what do you think you are doing?“

„Serving myself?“ she grabbed some snack that was there opened it and took a bite. „And yeah, I know because I was taking care of your drunk ass yesterday you idiot.

„So what? You want me to thank you?“ you looked at her with face puppy dog eyes. She rolled your eyes at your child's behavior.

„That´s what it should be.“

„Yeah like hell that I will thank someone like you. I don´t remember it so I´m taking it like it never happened to shut your short ass up.“

„What did you say you moron?“ she ran to you and slapped your shoulder with all her strength.

„Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?“ you stood up looking down at her with anger across your face.

„Me? You are the one that doesn´t have the basics or polite behavior!“ she yelled into your face with her big brown eyes standing almost on her tippy toes to look more intimidating.

„Will you two stop it´s getting annoying!“ Mindy yelled from the living room. You huffed before you grabbed the plate with your soup to leave.

Tara looked down at her hand and then looked at you. „Great now I have to use hand sanitizer!“

You pleased all the angels and every creature that can hear you for your help not to throw that soup at her at that moment.

-

Tara was sitting on your couch beside Mindy. You all were watching some show that was already on when they came in. Your eyes were barely open leaning your head on Ethan´s shoulder. Without her noticing Tara smiled a little at sigh.

„Can someone pass me that please?“ you asked with a low voice pointing at the snack that was on a table in front of you.

„You can get it yourself.“ Tara mumbled.

„But I said please!“

„So? That means you will get whatever you want?“

You just sighed at her words yet not changing your position. Ethan bent over to get it for you but before his hand was able to get it someone else already did that.

Tara grabbed the snack and threw it on you. Then she turned to watch the show again without any word like nothing happened. You just caught the snack with a small thank you. Everyone in the room saw this small interaction. Of course, they did it didn´t happen a lot of times that you two acted like friends, not like enemies. So whenever this happens they smile a little having some kind of calmness in their chests.

After the show, everyone went somewhere in the house leaving Tara still in the place. She was scrolling down on her phone out of boredom when suddenly your phone rang with a notification. That caught the brunette's attention. It was a message from the Instagram dm´s.

The girl looked up if someone was coming before taking your phone into her hands. Demi. Demi?! You were texting each other? Who did text first? Was it her? And what did you even talk about?

Tara desperately wanted you to just block her, she was no good. Tara hated her with all her heart.

This bitch just can´t get off, can she?!

[archiveofvirtue]

lovely kook!reader tries her hardest to avoid her ex bf!rafe, yet they unintentionally meet at the country club after her sudden disappearance from kildare island about a year ago

content / ex bf!rafe x fem!reader, lowkey toxic, rafe confronting reader, public arguing, reader lowkey hates kooks, topper and kelce being nosy, 2.1k words

notes / this is the start of my lovely kook!reader x rafe cameron (x jj maybank) trope, inspired by my own fanfic that I published on wattpad. prob not gonna line up with everything in the fic and might differ when it comes to the relationships or dynamics. storyline is roughly set around s1 but I pictured s2/s3 rafe while writing, feel free to imagine him however u want tho! enjoy <3

It had been one long, strange year since you had set foot on Kildare Island. The familiar winding roads, the ocean breeze rolling off the coast—everything seemed to have stopped, like a postcard frozen in time. But as you watched the streets of Figure Eight again, you knew that things were different now, at least for you.

There was a time when you’d loved this place, every privileged corner of it, but that had all died the day you’d left, slipping away in the dead of night without a word to anyone—not even Rafe.

Rafe. You barely let yourself think of him, but back at home, it was hard not to. He haunted every space you’d once felt safe in, like a ghost you couldn’t shake, a wound that kept opening just when it seemed to be healing.

You knew you’d see him eventually. But you definitely had no intention of rushing it.

Your first stop was Sarah Cameron though. The Sarah you used to be best friends with. You didn’t even make it up the driveway of your house before Sarah ran toward you, wide-eyed and disbelieving. There was a sense of relief while you two were hugging, tears spilling down both your faces as though the past year had melted away. But there was a hurt, too, a simmering anger in Sarah’s eyes when she pulled back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sarah sniffled, her voice both angry and broken. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

You looked away, throat tightening as guilt clawed at you. “I couldn’t. There was too much… too much happening, Sarah. I didn’t want anyone else to get dragged into it.”

“And you think you didn’t hurt anyone by just leaving?” Sarah’s voice was calm, yet the pain in her eyes was obvious. “You hurt me, and Rafe—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off, the hurt in your own voice surprising you both. “Please.”

For now you didn’t want to think of him, you just wanted to do right by Sarah.

Soon you two sat on the porch together, and as the sun dipped low on the horizon, you opened up as much as you could, while Sarah led you into the crazy things that had happened in her family, yet there were some things she couldn’t say—not even to you.

But it was obvious that things were different in Sarah’s life now. Sure enough you weren’t the only one who had changed.

The next day you found yourself with your arms crossed sat in the back seat, as your parents drove you toward the country club. You stared out the window, jaw clenched, as you passed the manicured lawns and sprawling mansions of Figure Eight. You’d spent your whole life around the “kooks,” but now, after a year away, their pristine facades and carefully maintained smiles felt even more unbearable. You could already hear the empty chatter, the insincere “how have you beens” that would spill from every corner of the club.

Your parents, seated in the front, acted as if nothing had changed. As if you’d never vanished in the first place. Your mother had been chatting away, going on about the latest family news, updates from the other families you knew, parties you’d missed. All with that same flawless smile, the one you had once tried so hard to mimic, until you realized it was just another mask.

“Won’t it be nice to be back?” Your mom asked brightly, as if you had simply been on a long vacation.

You forced a tight smile, refusing to answer. You didn’t want to be “back.” You didn’t want to slide into this carefully molded life again, pretending to care about who had bought the newest yacht or who was dating whom. It was all so hollow, so far from the girl you’d become in your time away.

The club came into view, its grand facade stretching out against the sky, every line designed to impress. As you all pulled up, you spotted the familiar faces you’d once known so well—polished, proud, and utterly convinced of their own superiority. You felt a flicker of resentment twist in your chest. These people, so arrogant in their security, with their money and their reputations, hadn’t changed a bit. You doubted they’d even care to ask where you’d been or why you’d left. To them, you’d simply slipped right back into place, as if you were another part of the club’s decor.

You gritted your teeth as your father gave you a proud smile, as though parading you around the club was some grand triumph. But you knew the truth. You were just another polished dime in their collection, and that was all they wanted from you. The real y/n, with your broken past and unspoken truths, was something they’d never acknowledge.

You straightened, lifting your chin, your expression cool and defiant. Let them think what they wanted. You were back, but you wouldn’t fall into their world as easily as before. You were different now.

But then you spotted Mark, the clubs bartender and an old friend of yours. You quickly slid onto the barstool in front of him, trying to get away from the piercing eyes of the people. You two exchanged a few words, Mark catching you up on the most recent gossip of Kildare, but in the back of your mind you still had this uneasy feeling, the possibility of meeting Rafe here at this hour wasn’t really high, but it was still there..

You were almost starting to relax when you heard the low murmur of voices just behind you.

“Isn’t that y/n?” The voice was unmistakable—Topper, as easy to recognize as a long-lost memory.

A wave of anxiety hit you, wondering if Rafe was with him, but when you glanced back, your eyes met Kelce’s instead. Relief flooded you, and you gave them both a small wave. Topper and Kelce had been fixtures of your life in Figure Eight once upon a time, more Rafe’s friends than yours, but you’d spent enough time around them that you knew you could at least handle a quick chat.

“Y/N,” Kelce greeted, his surprise melting into a friendly grin. “Back from the dead, huh?”

You smiled a little at that, nodding. “Something like that.”

Topper gave you a once-over, shaking his head as if still trying to process that you were actually standing there. “You know, no one knew what happened to you. You just… left.”

“Yeah, I know.” You forced a tight smile. “I guess I had my reasons.”

You exchanged a few more awkward pleasantries, and you could feel their eyes flickering to each other, as if they wanted to ask more but were holding back. It was strange—normally, they’d be all over you for details, but now, they seemed guarded. And then, as if on cue, they went completely silent.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, glancing between them, suspiciously raising your brows at them.

But you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Y/N.” Rafe’s voice sounded from behind you, low and dark, charged with a barely-contained anger that made your stomach twist. You cursed under your breath, clenching your jaw before forcing yourself to turn around.

His gaze met yours, his ocean blue eyes widening with shock that quickly narrowed into something darker, more dangerous. He was silent, just staring at you like he was seeing a ghost. He could see the flash of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe a hint of guilt-but you lifted your chin, meeting him head-on.

“Rafe,” you replied evenly, fighting to keep your voice steady, though you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

Topper and Kelce glanced between you, clearly uncomfortable, before they mumbled something about getting drinks and made a quick exit, leaving the two of you alone.

You stared at each other for a long moment, he looked good. Really good. His hair was slightly longer, the blonde tips hanging over his forehead.

Staring at him for a little too long you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe?—but you brushed it away. You couldn’t afford to let him get under your skin again. Not after what went down between you.

Rafe stepped closer, his expression twisted with the kind of disappointment that bordered on betrayal. “So, what, you just fucking waltz back into town like nothing happened?“

He stood slowly, stepping closer until you were nearly face to face. You could see the slight lines of fatigue around his eyes, could smell the hint of whiskey on his breath, mixed with his signature cologne. It brought back a flood of memories that you’d fought to bury.

“You just..,” he said, his voice thick with something that might’ve been hurt if you thought he was capable of it. “You like fucking with me, don’t you?”

You lifted your chin, your voice was icy, edged with a bitterness Rafe hadn't heard before. “What did you expect me to do, Rafe? Stick around after everything you pulled? After what you… made me do?”

He frowned, his jaw tightening as he processed your words that felt like a slap to the face. “Made you do? I didn’t make you do anything.” he echoed, his voice rising. “Do you even get how messed up it was, just disappearing like that? Leaving everyone behind, leaving ME behind without a word?”

A humorless laugh slipped from your lips, hard and cutting. Arguing in public like this definitely wasn’t planned, but at this point you didn’t care. “That’s the thing with you, Rafe. You don’t even realize the damage you cause, do you?”

He flinched, just a barely-there twitch of his jaw, but you caught it. For a moment, you almost felt a pang of pity for him. Almost.

“What happened, y/n?” he asked softly, his voice dropping to something almost vulnerable, caught off guard by the force of your resentment. The old you he remembered had looked at him like he hung the moon, but the woman in front of him now—was a stranger.

“Where’d you go? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?” You repeated, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. “I didn’t owe you any explanations. I did what I had to do to protect myself.”

“From me?” he shot back, his voice cold. “That’s what you think, huh?”

You bit your lip, hating that he could still get to you, hating that despite your anger, some part of you still felt drawn to him. But you refused to give him any satisfaction. “You can’t change the past, Rafe. Just… stay out of my life.”

For a moment, his anger melted away, replaced by a flicker of pain that softened the hard lines of his face. But just as quickly, the hurt turned to anger again, and he took another step toward you, his voice a fierce whisper. “You think you had it all figured out in that pretty little head of yours, huh? You run away and pretend it’s all my fault?”

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiance you didn’t have before. “Maybe it is. Or maybe we were just bad for each other. Either way, I’m not letting you drag me down again. Not this time.”

His face twisted, and you could see the realization dawn on him—you weren’t the girl he’d once had wrapped around his finger, not anymore.

Silence stretched between you as you waited for him to say something, anything, that might shift the weight of what you’d once had. But he just stared at you, and for the first time, he felt a sense of regret, an ache for what he’d lost. He wanted to reach for you, to say something that might bridge the gap between you. But he didn’t.

You released a shaky breath, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body. You’d known coming back to Kildare wouldn’t be easy, but facing Rafe again had torn open wounds you thought you’d closed for good.

One thing was certain, though—you wouldn’t let him break you again. You’d fought too hard to build yourself back up, and you weren’t about to fall apart now.

This time, you weren’t going to run away.

With that, you turned away from him, willing yourself not to look back, even though you felt his eyes on you as you walked toward the door. And before he could say anything to stop you, you were gone..

please let me know what u think 🎀

feel free to request anything for lovely kook!reader x rafe in my inbox !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @rafesangelita @rafescokewhore @rafesweetie @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @starkeysprincess @starkeydolly @beausling @seasons-of-death @sematarygirls @dolcekissy @moremaybank @httpsdrewstarkey @t6urusmoon

[free-sugar]

bunny hybrid!yandere x pissed off empress!reader

Imagine a bunny hybrid who's main role in life is to kill for the elites of his burrow. He is set to rule his burrow until it is destabilized, with he and his fellow elites tried for treason.

The poor man, being as beautiful as he was, was spared and gifted to an unprecedentedly young empress.

Everyone knew what he'd done to her, to her family.

"Do you remember me?" she asks as he is presented to her in her throne room.

"Of course," he says, smiling as ruthlessly as he did that day. Though he is bound in both chains and powerful enchantments, he looks strong. "How's your scar?"

"Bold question." You smile back, but you're sure it doesn't reach your eyes. You force yourself to not touch the healed gash on your collarbone. "You'll learn better."

I've become stronger.

But what happens if the poor bunny is not as cold as he seems?

includes; femdom, revenge, oral (fem receiving), degradation and masochism (yan receiving/being), forced marriage, dubcon, hurt little comfort

“I mustn't give in to temptation, Your Highness… To give in to such beastly, masculine instincts…”

You tear the man down to his knees by his hair. "It's 'Your Majesty' now. You made sure of that.

“And I don't care about any of that. You're mine, now. You're in heat, so let loose, according to my command.”

“B-But…” The man began to plead, covering his growing erection with his hands. “It's my first time doing this… I don't want to be like the other dumb bunnies that hop around the moment they're sent off… I'm the next on line…”

This killer? A prude? A VIRGIN? you think. Laughable. He was surely old enough to not speak like a shy sweetie?

“How will they know? Come here.” You shove his worried face into your crotch. “Lick and suck like a good slut.”

“Mmph—”

“This tongue is mine to use. You're just a tongue now, understand? Tonight, you're just a pussy wiper.”

The terrifying man has tears in his crystal clear eyes.

Why is he so complacent? you wonder.

He his tongue begins to search your tight pussy, lapping at his mess every few seconds. He brings both hands to your hips. He begins to run his chin, fucking his tongue into your eager cunt. You hold his head to steady yourself, stepping in his pathetic cock all the while.

“Nng… Slut… Slut!” you scream out, on the verge of crying. You bounce up and down, crushing his cock and violating his virgin mouth. He grips you tighter, tears now streaming down his murderously beautiful face. You want to hit him, but you settle for degrading him like the bitch he was. You call him a slut, whore, monster— You say that he's lower than dirt, lower than nothing.

You want to die on his lips so he could feel what you felt.

“Fuck… Fuck… Nng…!” You suffocate him with your lust, choking him with your hedonistic flood.

So rough! he thinks. This confuses him, since he lived for and with extreme roughness and callousness. How was this different? Was it because it was… sex? Tonight, it seemed, he found himself numb and dazing out.

“You like that, slut? You like that?” you pant, snatching his head away. He is silently weeping, puppy dog eyes both begging for more and begging for a break.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…”

“For what?”

“A-About your family… I'm truly sorry…”

You fill with pure, unbridled rage. Why would apologize now, of all times?!

What a buzz killer.

“Get me a belt,” you say, stepping away, “one of yours.”

[barcaatthemoon]

goody two shoes || paige bueckers x reader ||

You and Paige take the next step in your relationship.

18+

Paige couldn't wait to see you. A couple of days every week, Paige had been coming over to hang out with you. She had gotten used to seeing you, so whenever she found herself unable to come over all week, Paige had been missing you a lot. Most of her teammates had no idea that Paige was going to hang out with you, and Paige kind of wanted to keep it that way.

Azzi and KK knew, but that was pretty much it. You weren't like most of the girls that tried to weasel their way into Paige's life. They wanted to fuck, and while Paige had been absolutely fine with that before, you being different intrigued her. You didn't really seem all that interested in sex with Paige or anybody at all.

"Damn P, what did sweet little (Y/n) do to get you rushing around like this?" KK asked teasingly. Paige didn't pay any mind to it and just rolled her eyes as she continued to gather up her things. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this over a girl before."

"Nothing is going on, K. (Y/n) isn't like that," Azzi said. Paige noticed a slight edge to Azzi's voice. She had noticed it before whenever KK made jokes about you and Paige fucking. Sometimes it was even directed at Paige, but Paige had been trying to pretend that she hadn't noticed it.

"Nah, there's no way that Paige is acting like this over a girl who doesn't put out," KK said. Azzi just tried to ignore KK and left, Paige hot on her trail.

"You really shouldn't let KK talk about (Y/n) like that. She's got a loud mouth, and it'll spread around the locker room. I don't think (Y/n) would appreciate everybody around campus and the internet talking about her like that." Azzi shoved past Paige after that, leaving the blonde a bit dumbfounded. She sent a quick text to KK about leaving your name out of her mouth before she set out towards your apartment.

Azzi's words echoed around in Paige's head. She had heard a couple of frat guys complain about you at parties before, but she hadn't really given it much mind. Now though, she wondered if you had actually ever been with someone sexually before. Paige hadn't taken someone's virginity in a couple of years, and the idea of taking yours kind of made her nervous. She didn't really think that she was special enough to deserve that, but then again, she didn't want to bring it up until you had put sex on the table.

The two of you were taking things slow. Paige understood your apprehension about her, especially with the way that girls had thrown themselves at her when the two of you went out for lunch together. Sometimes they'd have tact to back off once they noticed you hanging around, but most of them pretended that you weren't even there. Despite your insistence that it didn't bother you, Paige knew differently. She had noticed the way you'd be a bit less affectionate with her after these instances.

"Yeah, she's walking over now. Bye Az, I love you," you said as you hung up your phone. Paige looked absolutely trapped in her own head, and all you wanted to do was comfort her. "Hi Paigey."

"Hey baby," Paige greeted you with a quick kiss. She placed her hand on your back as she led you inside. Your apartment was on the bottom floor, which you were pretty grateful for in moments like this. Azzi's phone call hadn't been a very long one, but she had urged you to have the talk with Paige that you had been holding off on.

"So, Azzi called me. She's kind of mad at you," you told her. Paige groaned as she covered her face. You pulled her hands down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I didn't say that I was mad at you. It's not really your job to constantly defend me."

"Yeah, but it kind of should be. I mean, I'm your girlfriend, and KK just says stupid shit sometimes. Azzi reacts kind of harshly sometimes, but she has a point." Paige looked really down on herself, so you decided that this was as good of a time as any to rip the bandage off.

"Paige, she's only getting mad because she knows that it's not true. Obviously you know that we're not having sex, but I haven't had sex with anybody. I didn't tell you that before because I didn't want you to think that I was a prude or a loser," you admitted. You felt your nerves grow with each moment of silence between the two of you.

"I wouldn't think that about you at all. I like being around you. I like hanging out with you and doing all sorts of things I wouldn't with other people. We don't need to be having sex, and I don't mind waiting until you feel like you're ready for me. I'd be a pretty shitty girlfriend if I pressured you before you were ready, and I don't think I'd be able to honestly say I loved you if I did any of that."

"Y-you love me?" Paige went ghost white for a moment, afraid that she had overstepped. The look of relief that washed over her as you launched yourself into her arms seemed to bring her back to life. "I love you too!"

…

Something had definitely shifted between the two of you after that day. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you found yourself opening up a little more physically. Now, it was Paige who found herself pulling back between the two of you. At first, she had been very open with her willingness and want to sleep with you, and a small part of you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have told her that you were still a virgin.

"Shit!" Paige swore as she quickly turned around. Paige had asked to come over and take you out to lunch after her morning classes, so you told her to just come right in. You had woken up later than normal, and for the past 30 minutes or so, had been lounging around in your pajamas. You realized a little bit too late that Paige had never really seen you in any state of undress, so to see you in just a t-shirt and boxers was probably a bit of a shock for Paige.

"Paige, it's fine. This is what I sleep in. Don't tell me that you expected me to wear some Victorian nightgown like Scrooge," you teased. Paige cleared her throat as she slowly lowered her hands from her eyes. "Give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready to go."

"I can order in if you don't want to change. I'm sure that with food around, I'll be distracted enough to keep my hands to myself," Paige offered. You agreed to Paige's suggestion and secretly hoped that Paige wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of you.

"What if I wouldn't mind if you didn't?" you asked her. Paige's face went red at that.

"You don't mean that. You don't want me touching you," Paige said as she flopped back onto your couch. You crawled into her lap and started running your fingers through her hair.

"Yes I do. What's up with you, hmm? I've been trying to move things along without pushing, but you keep shoving me back. Is this because of what I told you?"

"You deserve better than some fuckboy like me. You're kind and sweet, and so fucking good that I don't know what to do with myself when I'm around you. I'd love nothing more than to bend you over the back of your couch sometimes and make you scream my name, but you deserve better than that. You deserve someone soft and sweet, and I don't know if I can do that," Paige confessed. You sighed as you twirled some of her baby hairs in the back around your fingers.

"But you are all of those things, you just don't realize it. You've been coming over for almost nine months every single week to spend time with me. You stopped going to parties because I didn't want to go. You buckled down and put more effort into your schoolwork because you noticed that my grades were slipping a little. You love me, and more than that, you put so much effort into caring for me in ways that you don't even notice. Paige, you're the best person that I've ever dated by a long shot, and I've never been so sure that I trust someone with my body more than you."

"I don't know what to say to all that," Paige mumbled. You could tell that she was getting sort of shy, so you leaned down and kissed her. "You really want to have sex with me?"

"Of course I do. I love you, and it definitely helps that you're the hottest girl I've ever met." Paige was smiling hard at your words, and it was like a switch was flipped for her. She pulled you in for a kiss, not pushing you back once even after you deepened it.

Paige moaned into the kiss as your tongue slipped past her lips. She was absolutely loving the taste of you and couldn't wait for more. Paige broke the kiss to begin trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You were panting a little as you tried to catch your breath. The second that you had it back, Paige was right back at your lips kissing you again. This kiss was a little rougher than the one before, and it left your lips buzzing pleasantly.

"Do you want to do this right now?" Paige asked as her hands ran along the outside of your thighs.

"Yes, I'm sure. I've wanted this for a while now. I don't know what changed, but I know that I want you Paige in a way that I've never wanted anybody else before," you told her. Paige didn't need any more convincing after that. She picked you up in her arms and carried you back to your bedroom.

Paige gently laid you down on your bed, and both of you had the realization that she had never been in this room before. You watched as Paige took in as much of her surroundings as she could without disturbing the momentum the two of you were building. She pulled her shirt off, leaving her in a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra.

You had seen pictures of Paige like that before, but never been around her like that. Paige seemed to sense your interest in her body, and flexed as she joined you on the bed. She grabbed your hand and placed it on her waist, allowing the tip of your thumb to brush against her abs a little.

"Do you have anything on under your shirt?" Paige asked as her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. In the two years that you had been at UConn, you had never been to a football game. You were sure that Paige had given you that shirt, as she somehow always ended up with so much free UConn merch as a prominent student athlete.

"No, but you can take it off anyway," you told her. Paige bit her lip as she pushed the fabric up your torso. Paige faltered a bit when she reached the top of your ribcage. You took the last little step for her, and Paige's attention zeroed in your breasts. "You can touch if you want."

Paige acted on instinct and took your breasts into her hands. She pressed kiss after kiss to your chest as her fingers began to tweak and tease your nipples. It as much further than anybody had gotten with you before, and you felt yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the simple gestures.

Slightly uncomfortable by the arousal pooling between your legs, you started to squeeze your thighs together for a little bit of relief. You had only recently began to try getting yourself off, and it was nothing compared to the way it felt as Paige's thigh slotted in between yours. Your head fell back with a gasp as you began to grind against her leg, no longer caring about feeling shameful about any of it.

"Relax baby, I'll take care of you. You deserve better than humping my leg," Paige told you. She placed her hands on your hips and pushed back a bit. You immediately whined at the loss of contact and stimulation, only to gasp when you felt Paige's hand between your legs. She cupped you over your boxers, just barely able to feel a little wet spot through the fabric. "I want you to know before I do this that it's not going to change anything between us. I'm still gonna be right here for you because I love you."

"Paige, I love you too, but please don't stall. I need you," you whined. Paige pulled the boxers down your legs and threw them behind her. She spread your lips open to reveal how wet you were. Paige knew that it had been a while since she had been with anybody, but she couldn't remember the last time a girl had gotten this wet for her.

"Fuck, you are so hot baby," Paige told you. You let out a little whine and pushed your hips forward, hopeful that she'd take the hint and keep going. Paige seemed to take mercy on you, and she let her fingers run through your folds. Her fingers moved with no resistance, stroking you gently before being replaced by her tongue.

"Paige!" you cried out loudly. There was no way that your neighbors weren't going to hear that. You didn't care though, not when you were being brought so close to what you swore had to be heaven. Paige seemed blissfully unaware of how close you were to cumming already as she just continued happily lapping at your cunt. Your fist balled up in the sheets as you let out a string of incoherent mumbles, hips rising and bucking against Paige's face. "Stop. Please stop, I can't…"

"Shit, my bad," Paige said as she let your legs snap shut in front of her. Paige sat up on her knees, looking at you with the proudest grin on her face that you thought you had ever seen. "So, um, I know this is a stupid question, but how was it?"

"I don't know what I expected, but it was better than that," you told her. Paige let out a sigh of relief as she moved to sit next to you. "Do you think that you could order that food now please?"

"Oh yeah, of course. And, um, I'm gonna go run and grab you something to drink. If you want when I get back, we can take a shower together. Not because I want to stare at you or anything, just that I don't know how strong your legs are gonna be. I'm gonna shut up now because I don't think I'm making this sound any better."

"You're so sweet, Paige. Such a good girl-," you cradled Paige's face and pulled her in for a kiss, "-friend. Absolutely the best."

[urno1luv]

Change of Heart 1/2

i made this little fic a few months ago... cant believe im posting this now😭😭

mean girl minjeong x reader. pretty overdone but it's too gooddd😩nothing explicit just winter falling for you

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

You had always been invisible to people like Minjeong.

She was the school’s queen bee, the one everyone gravitated toward, the girl whose smile could send anyone into a frenzy and whose stare could crush your confidence without a single word. You were nothing to her—just another nameless face in the halls of the school. Most of the time, you stayed out of her way, keeping your head down, avoiding eye contact, because if you looked at her for too long, you might end up the target of some cruel remark. It was easier to blend into the background.

But recently, things had changed.

At first, it was subtle—a glance, a flicker of interest that you couldn't quite place. You'd catch her eyes across the room in class, and instead of the usual cold, dismissive stare, she'd hold your gaze a moment longer, as if studying you. Sometimes, there would be a small, almost knowing smile, one that was too soft to belong to the same girl who'd humiliated you just a month ago.

Then, one day after class, she was there—waiting by your locker, arms crossed, leaning against the row of lockers as if she had all the time in the world. You froze, unsure whether to turn around and pretend you hadn’t seen her or face her directly.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she looked you over with a strange intensity. This was a different Minjeong. Without her usual entourage, her sharp features seemed more like a weapon than before, aimed directly at you.

"You're still avoiding me," she said, her voice quiet but dripping with a certain edge. "I thought you'd be smarter than that."

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to react. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Minjeong took a slow step toward you, her heels clicking ominously against the floor. "Don’t play dumb. I’ve been watching you, and I don’t like being ignored. You think you can just disappear in the crowd like everyone else? Not when I’m paying attention to you." Her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. "I’ve noticed you, and that means you don’t get to just blend in anymore."

The tension in the air was palpable. You couldn’t breathe, and for some reason, your heart raced faster with every word she said. Minjeong wasn’t threatening you—not exactly. But there was something in her tone that made you feel like there were no options for escape, no way to get out of this situation cleanly.

"I’m not interested in your games," you said quickly, trying to sound firm, even though your voice was trembling slightly.

Minjeong’s lips curled into a smirk, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was sharper, more deliberate. “You think I’m playing games?” she murmured, stepping even closer, her body nearly pressed against yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re different from everyone else here, and I can’t stand that. I need to know why. I need to know everything about you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. What did she want from you? Why was she suddenly so fixated on you?

Her eyes lingered on your face, unreadable, her breath just barely brushing against your skin. For a moment, you couldn’t even think straight.

“I don’t care what you think you know about me,” you stammered, your mind racing for something to say that would make her leave. “I’m not interested in being your—”

She cut you off with a soft laugh, and for a moment, you could almost feel the power shift. “You’re so desperate to push me away,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But you don’t get to do that. Not anymore.” Her voice was low, almost soothing, but the words felt like a warning. “You think I won’t notice? You think you can hide from me?” She leaned in closer, just enough so that your breath hitched in your throat. “I’ve been paying attention. And soon, you’ll realize you’re exactly where I want you to be.”

Her words hung in the air long after she finished speaking, the weight of them pressing against you. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could feel her watching you, feeling you, in a way that made every fiber of your being scream to run.

But you couldn’t. Because when Minjeong finally stepped back, her eyes didn’t leave yours. They lingered, studying you as if she was deciding whether to let you go… or keep you in her sights a little longer.

“I’ll see you around,” she said finally, but the way she said it left no doubt—she would be around. You couldn’t escape her.

And the worst part was, for some reason, you didn’t even want to??

[sevikasupremacy]

Hiya I just started following you blog and love all of your works so I was wondering if I could request something. (This can be sfw or nsfw its completely up to you)

Sevika with a s/o who's quite girly and enjoys wearing dresses and skirts. (Basically the opposite of sevika). I think it sevika would be so cute with an opposites attract kinda s/o, and no one understands how they got together or even because they are so vastly different from one another but get along just fine.

(Obviously absolutely no pressure to write this and I hope your doing well)

Bye👋

<3

Stop this is so adorable 🥺

Sevika With a Girly S/O

➼ Sevika’s intrigued honestly.

➼ Everyone knows that this woman right here is indeed intimidating. Well… not until she laid eyes on you.

➼ The first time you entered The Last Drop with that cute little skirt of yours, Sevika knew you were the one.

➼ You were just so… cute.

➼ And the way you looked over at her and smiled—

➼ She won’t admit it but she felt her heart melts

➼ Honestly no one expected it.

➼ You? The woman Sevika was in love with?

➼ Yep. That’s fucking right. And you should be proud to call this beautiful woman your girlfriend.

➼ Oh Sevika loves watching you try on your dresses. It’s like having a personal fashion show.

➼ “Spin around for me, Sweetheart. That’s right…Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

➼ She’ll pat her lap (your favorite seat) the moment she lays eyes on her favorite dress. She just loves to admire you up close.

➼ She likes feeling the soft fabric that was hugging your body perfectly. It was like every dress was made just for you.

➼ And because of your love for wearing dresses, she came up with a nickname just for you — and it was “Princess”

➼ Every time the two of you went out, Sevika made sure to keep an eye on you.

➼ And whenever anyone stops to look at you, she’ll immediately wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you into a kiss.

➼ Sevika was proud to have you all to herself — and she will make everyone aware of it.

➼ But it was as if her gaze always soften whenever she looks at you.

➼ She’ll have this poker face throughout the day, but the moment you appear in front of her, she couldn’t help but smile.

➼ Sevika never understood how and why you were attracted to her in the first place.

➼ You were like a beautiful doll. A treasure that needs to be taken good care of. That was why Sevika was so gentle with you.

➼ She never used her mechanical arm on you just because she was scared to hurt or even scratch you. So whenever the two of you walked side by side, Sevika made sure you were on the side where her real arm was.

➼ “New dress? It’s perfect for you, Sweetheart. Do I like it? Oh I love it. You’re so beautiful, Princess.”

➼ “I’m so glad that you’re all mine.”

[sinnaminsuga]

𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 - changbin x reader

wc: 4,400

cw: mostly fluff but then it gets NSFW. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: changbin is your favorite barista who makes an effort to make every mundane morning coffee order a little more intriguing.

a/n: i wanted something soft and sweet and playful with binnie but if you know me i can't control my need to be a degenerate!

as always thank you to @httpdwaekki for helping me map this out (PLS BE PROUD OF ME FOR FINDING MY OWN PICS) and i'm including a tag for @thefantasyden because she is changbin's wife after all.

sw: dirty talk, talk of somnophilia, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

Stopping at the little cafe down the street from your apartment on your way to work had become somewhat of a ritual for you. You looked forward to the coffee sure, but also the man making it for you. The barista who worked the morning shift, Changbin, was not only handsome but incredibly kind and sweet. In the weeks you’d been frequenting the little spot, you had developed a fun rapport with each other that you really looked forward to each day. It started off as simple hellos and exchanging of names but had developed into him no longer writing your name on your cup and instead opting for funny jokes, questions, or trivia facts. The trick though was that he always wrote the answers on the bottom of your cup so you couldnt find out the answer until you were done with your drink that day. Not only did it make the little game suspenseful but it also kept your mind coming back around to thoughts of the handsome man who started it.

Today was no different, you walked into the shop, saw Changbin behind the counter, caught his eye, drank in his gorgeous smile at your arrival, and approached the counter to order.

“Well well well, if it isn't my favorite customer!” he greeted you, leaning forward onto the counter. You couldn't help but glance down at his arms, they were so distracting sometimes with all that muscle on display. Quickly you averted your gaze to the menu board but unbeknownst to you, Changbin caught your appraisal of his body. He grinned secretly to himself before speaking.

“I don't know why you're looking at my board like you're going to order anything different than your usual.” he joked.

You put on a fake pout and turned to him. “I hate that you’re right. Whatever, coffee jockey. Just get me my drink!” you teased, poking out your tongue at him. His head dropped and his shoulders shook with the laugh that bubbled out of him. He wagged a finger at you and turned to make your drink.

You would never say it out loud but when Changbin turned around to make your daily beverage, it was one of the best parts of the interaction. It gave you nothing but time to feast your eyes upon the expanse of his wide back, the subtle tapering of his waist to his hips, and of course the curve of his ass. Hey, he is the one who put the tight pants on okay, he was practically begging you to look! Or at least that's what you told yourself. You were so lost in thought about what might be hiding under his signature form fitting black t shirt that you almost got caught gawking.

Changbin turned back to you, classic to-go cup in hand and you noticed his familiar handwriting on the side of the cup. His grin had you speculating what today’s joke or question might be. You took the cup from his hand and spun it to start reading it.

“ ‘What's the best thing you can do with 10 single digit numbers?’ ugh not fair, I hate math, I’ll never figure this one out!” you whined and stomped your foot. This prompted him to laugh again, carding one hand through his dark wavy hair while the other pushed his glasses back up the delicate bridge of his nose.

“There's nothing to figure out, I always give you the answer! Just think of me as your own personal snapple cap.” he retorted, eyes glimmering.

You huffed playfully and took a sip of your coffee before narrowing your eyes at him. “Alright well one day, I’m gonna know the answer all on my own and impress you. Just you wait!”

“You already impress me…” Changbin murmured just low enough you could barely hear it, but you did. For his sake though, you just pretended not to. “Anyway, this one is on the house, I’m feeling generous today. See you tomorrow?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Same time as always Bin,” you said as you turned to leave, “but be ready for me to have a witty response to today's question though!” you called over your shoulder with a smile.

***

All morning you pondered what the hell the answer to this number question would be. You cursed yourself for not asking for an iced drink instead so you could just chug it and look at the bottom of the cup.

After a while of typing, you reached out for your coffee and took the last sip cheering internally because now you could finally find out the answer!

When you lifted the cup and your eyes fell on Changin’s neat and tidy handwriting, your mouth dropped open. Surely this was a dream, right? You couldn't take your eyes off the numbers, his phone number, and the words “Call me!” in his personal script.

Almost mindlessly you picked up your phone and tapped out the numbers, your thumb hitting the call icon. After just two rings Changbin’s voice traveled into your ear.

“Hello?” he asked casually.

“Hi, Bin? This is you, right? You questioned, almost expecting it to be a prank.

“Ah, I see you've finished your drink! This might have been my best idea yet.” he chuckled. “Takes you a while to drink your coffee huh? I assumed you’d be quicker to finish, what with all the energy you have.” He flirted, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the gasp at his innuendo. It didn't work though and he just ended up laughing louder.

“I’ll have you know mister Seo Changbin, there's a lot of things i'm quick at…and finishing is not one of them.” you quipped, this time you were the one hearing the gasp from the other end of the call. You couldn't help the grin on your face, talking to him just felt so easy and the flirting was so fluid and felt so good. It had been a long time since you felt this good talking to a man.

“So as much as I love our little coffee cup game, I'd like to buy you a different kind of drink. And dinner to go with it if you’ll let me.” Changbin said, a quiet apprehension coloring his voice like he was worried you might reject him.

“That sounds wonderful Bin, I'd love that. When?” you asked, already trying to plan what to wear.

“Tonight? Or is that too soon? Shit, I sound too eager don't i? Oh whatever fuck it, i am eager. I've been wanting to ask you out for forever!” he hurried out, his voice laced with humor and excitement. You took a few minutes to exchange information regarding the date and decided he would pick you up at seven. You said your goodbyes and hung up before tracking down your supervisor to tell her you weren't feeling well and leaving early to start the weekend. She didn't need to know you were really going home early to prepare for your date, that was your business alone!

***

Seven o’clock came quicker than you expected but luckily you were just slipping on some shoes when the doorbell rang. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before swinging open the door. Changbin looked gorgeous. You'd never seen him out of his apron before so it was a feast for your eyes. He went monochromatic in his look for the evening with black pants and a black button up shirt and it was enough to almost make you whine. He looked so damn good you couldn't stop yourself from making a joke to distract from your glaringly obvious staring. “Wow, I can't remember the last time I went on a date with a man who actually tucked his shirt in.” you quipped, making him laugh. “I'm concerned about where you're finding these men, tucking in your shirt is maybe the most work a man has to do in the getting ready for a date process.” he said, leaning against the doorframe grinning. “Now let's get this date started.” Changbin said, offering his hand to you and leading you to his car.

***

“You can't just drop insane lore on me like that and not explain! Start talking!” you hissed from across the table. “There's not much to tell! I was young with no work experience and I needed a job!” Changbin said, throwing his head back laughing.

“You can’t seriously tell me you believed it was a paid position on a dance team, he was so clearly pedaling a “Magic Mike” situation Bin!” you were wheezing at this point.

You had been talking about anything and everything for what seemed like hours and you had asked him how he got his current job. The story being that he used to go to the coffee shop every night before they closed to get his caffeine buzz for his job at a club downtown. He was a bouncer but the original interview hadn’t been for that. A man had scouted him on the street one day and asked him to come audition to be a member of a “dance team he was putting together”, and Changbin had been so sweet and naive that he believed him and went.

“Well I definitely knew what kind of “dance team” it was after he told me to take my pants off!” Changbin whined, covering his face with his hands as you cackled.

“Anyway, I told him I couldn't do that but I would work the door as long as he never asked me to strip again. Then I decided one day that the night shift wasn't for me and I just applied for the barista job and worked my way up.” he said, rightfully proud of himself and his accomplishments.

The waiter stopped by and delivered the coffee you ordered after dessert and scurried away again. You lifted the cup and took a sip, not enjoying it even a little. Your face must have shown it because Changbin huffed a quiet laugh before saying “The coffee sucks huh?”

With a shy smile you replied, “I’ve definitely had better.” A light blush tinged his face, knowing you were talking about the drinks he made for you every day. He reached across the table to take the cup from your hands and when his fingers brushed yours you swore there were sparks. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Oh babe, it's not just bad. Its fucking burnt!” he said, scowling at the mug like it had insulted him.

“Let's get out of here. I’ll make you a better one.” He said, tossing some money onto the table for your dinner bill and offering you a hand to lead you to his car once again.

***

When you pulled up in front of the coffee shop you were confused. When Changbin offered to make you a drink, you assumed it was a flirty line and a way to get you into his apartment. But apparently he was serious when it came to the coffee.

You stood behind him as he unlocked the door and then he ushered you in.

“Bin are we supposed to be in here?! It's after hours! Won’t you get in trouble?” You whispered, trailing behind him as he flicked on a few lights and went behind the counter. When he turned to look at you his eyes were twinkling like he was in on a secret you had no idea about.

“Sweetheart, I own this place. And my apartment is upstairs, I can do whatever I want!” he said, shooting you a proud smile as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Your jaw dropped at his confession. You quickly schooled your expression and leaned on the counter. “So allllllll those times I playfully threatened to tell your manager you were messing with me, you were the manager the whole time?!” you screeched at his back while he prepared your coffee.

“Well...yeah i guess so!” He chuckled as he poured some espresso into a small cup. He finished making your beverage and turned to hand it to you. He looked so good with his sleeves rolled up, his hair a bit messy, and his glasses sitting just right, you couldn't help but stare at him for a moment. When he blushed again, you shook yourself out of your trance and took the cup, bringing it to your lips to take a long sip. Your eyes closed and you hummed a sound of satisfaction at the drink, he always made it just right. When you opened your eyes again that's when you noticed the writing on the cup. Looking at the side of it, you noticed he was continuing your usual game so you began to read it aloud.

“You can use me to say hello, and to say goodbye. I’m not as good when I’m too dry. I can be quick or I can be slow. What am I?” you spoke, curiosity coloring your tone. At the same time you were reading the riddle, Changbin was rounding the counter to stand in front of you. He reached out and took the cup from you, tipping it back and downing the rest of the liquid before handing it back to you. Your heart pounded as you tipped it back and read the two simple words on the bottom of the cup out loud.

“A kiss.” you breathed out. And then it happened. Changbin’s hands fell on your waist and pulled you toward him, your lips meeting gently. His mouth moved against yours as his fingers gripped your hips. Your pulse was racing and the only thing you could think of in this moment was how badly you wanted him. It had been months of playing around this attraction and it was all coming to a head. It seemed like Changbin felt it too because it was as if he couldn't get your body close enough to his even though you were pressed together. He was grabbing at any bit of you he could get his hands on and sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you gasped. It was the hottest kiss you’d ever had and your brain just chanted “more, more, more”.

He hiked your leg up over his hip and his thigh rubbed at you just where you wanted it to. You threw your head back as you panted for air but Changbin never slowed. His lips fell to your now exposed neck and shoulder where he alternated between kissing and sucking at your skin. You squeezed his biceps as his teeth grazed your pulse point. Then a thought pierced through the lust addled fog and you realized where you were, the coffee shop. In full view of the big glass windows facing the street.

“Bin…Bin hold on! People will see us!” You squeaked, horrified at the notion that any random person walking by might see you being taken apart by this man.

“Don’t care. Want em to see. Mine.” He panted against the skin above your breasts, rocking you against his thigh. The motion sent you reeling for a moment, the delicious friction against your center almost too good.

“Bin, take me upstairs. Please?” you whimpered against his mouth after pulling his face to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah youre right. Okay c’mon.” He mumbled, realizing maybe the idea of being seen wasn't the best idea for business reasons. He took your hand and pulled you to the back of the shop and lead you up the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of his apartment you didn't have much time to take it in but from what you saw it was very cute with some unique furniture pieces and light fixtures. Changbin weaved you through his apartment to his bedroom where as soon as you were in it, he had you against the wall with his lips attacking any sliver of skin he could get to. Your chest was heaving as he made quick work of your clothes and stripped you down to your bra and panties. He stepped back with a hand over his mouth, his breathing heavy as well. You felt very exposed as his eyes raked over you so you tried to make a joke.

“I’m almost naked and you're still fully clothed. Doesn't seem very fair, Binnie.”

“Fuck, say that again.” He groaned as he rushed back to you.

“Binnie?” You questioned.

“God, I love the way that sounds comin’ out of your mouth.” He pulled you to the bed and laid you down before reaching down to remove your panties. He gently pushed your legs apart and a low rumble resonated from him. “So fucking pretty. God damn, even prettier than I dreamt.” He groaned.

“Been dreaming about me huh? Why don't you have a taste and find out if I live up to your expectations?” you flirted as you brought your hands up to remove your bra.

And he didn't need to hear anything else. He dropped to his knees and drove right in. Immediately his lips latched onto your clit and he sucked, hard. Your back bowed up off the bed and a scream tore out of you at the unexpected intensity. Two of his fingers began rubbing at the wetness seeping out of you, and then he slowly pushed them inside. It felt like he was everywhere all at once and you were on complete overload. He continued lapping and sucking at you as his finger pumped lazily in and out of you, scissoring every few thrusts like he was trying to stretch you out. When your moans increased in volume and your hands fisted the sheets, Changbin curled his fingers and pressed against the spongy patch inside you. He rubbed over the spot repeatedly and gently bit down on your clit making you wail as you fell apart.

He removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth to suck them clean. The shine on the lower half of his face was all you and it brought you a sick kind of joy seeing yourself all over this beautiful man.

Changbin quickly removed his clothes until he was standing in front of you only in his boxers. You slid off the bed and onto your knees in front of him. When you looked up at him he was already staring down at you and it made you feel so good, knowing he enjoyed seeing you like this. You reached up and slowly drew his boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“Jesus fuck.” You breathed, in awe of his size and the pretty leaking tip.

“What? Is everything okay? We can stop!” he hurried out and nervously pushed his glasses back up his nose as they had started to slide down from the angle he was looking at you from.

“No! No we are not stopping, fuck no. It’s just…you've got the biggest dick I’ve ever personally seen. Took me by surprise for a second is all, even though it shouldn't have. I should have known from how you carry yourself. Major BDE.” you explained and he started to laugh.

You leaned forward and in one go, took as much of him into your mouth and throat as you could, punching a sound out of him you'd never heard before but were determined to get him to make it again.

“Fucking hell baby, that was a lot. God damn it, your mouth is so hot.” he moaned out as his hips started to move. His hand weaved into your hair to hold your head still as he shallowly thrusted into your eagerly awaiting throat. Your eyes almost rolled back as you savored the taste and weight of him on your tongue.

All too early it seemed, he withdrew from your mouth. He started to chuckle but you didn't know why until he spoke. “You're pouting sweetheart. I took my dick out of your mouth and you look disappointed. I might be the luckiest man alive.”

“I like it. Helps me turn my brain off. And you taste good.” you mumbled. His hand came down to caress your cheek. “God, youre an angel huh? Sent just for me. C’mon, up.” he said as he helped you stand.

Changbin got on the bed first before motioning you to climb on top of him. “Wan’ you on top first. Easier for you to control how much of me goes in at once. Will you ride me baby?” he asked.

“First?” you questioned, still standing beside the bed. He looked at you confused.

“You said you want me on top first. You gonna be movin’ me around a lot?” you asked with a grin.

“Baby, i’m going to have you in so many ways tonight. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He said as you threw a leg over his lap.

You reached forward to take his glasses off for him but he stopped you. “No. I wanna see you, perfectly. Now go on, put me inside pretty girl.” And who were you to argue?

You reached beneath you to grab hold of him and line him up with your entrance. As you slowly sank down on him you watched his face. He stared at the spot where your bodies were now joined for as long as he could bear before you were fully seated on him and his head shot back. His hands wrapped around your thighs were squeezing you so tight you wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in the morning. You planted your hands on his pecs and thats when you saw it, the tears spilling out of his eyes that were slammed shut.

“Bin? You okay baby?” You cooed.

“Uh-huh. Jus’ feels s’good. Been waiting for this, for you, for months. God, feels so good it almost hurts sweetheart.” he whimpered on a shaky breath.

“It’s okay, M’gonna make it all better okay? Promise.” you said, leaning down to kiss him as you started to rock your hips. Gradually you picked up speed and were riding him in earnest, desperate to get him as deep as possible.

“Ughhh Binnie, feels so good. So big too, stretches me out so perfect.” you moaned.

“Yeah? You feel me so deep huh? Fuck youre so warm inside. Feel like im gonna bust like a fucking teenager.” Changbin groaned as you fucked him hard and fast, riding him like you had something to prove. You kept at it for a few more minutes until he stopped you to change positions.

He flipped you onto your stomach and pushed one leg up so you were flat on the bed but your legs were spread enough for him to settle between them. You felt the head of his cock prodding at you and then he sank inside in one fluid thrust. It was lucky you were already flat on the bed because if you hadnt been, you were sure your knees would have given out. He fucked into you like that for a few minutes and then he slowed down again. He leaned over you and pressed his chest to your back.

“I’m gonna try something, if you don't like it just tap my arm twice okay?” he asked and all you could do was moan out what you thought was an “okay”. Suddenly he looped his arm underneath your neck and bent it at the elbow effectively putting you in a headlock. He started thrusting into you again at a steady even pace and slowly he increased the pressure of his bicep and forearm against your airway. The obstruction of your airway was enough to send your brain into a foggy cloudy space and you loved it. It heightened the sensations of everything else. You could feel his sweat slicked chest sliding against your back, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you could feel the heat in your lower belly building.

“Youre so fucking pretty like this baby. A beautiful doll just for me to play with huh?” he said. “Yeah you like it like this don't you? Quiets your brain for a while doesn't it? Makes you so cockdrunk you can't think of anything else. So beautifully mindless just for a little while. Binnie will take care of you baby, don't worry.” he spoke softly and you could feel that heat inside you skyrocketing. Who knew this sweet man was so nasty in bed? “Why dont you cum for me baby, hmm? Give it to me sweetheart, wanna feel this tight little pussy sucking me in.” he encouraged as he kept moving inside you. “C’mon…c’mon baby. Yeaaaah there it is. Good girl.” he coaxed as you exploded around him with a yelp. He released your neck from his hold and used both hands to pull your hips up.

“Can’ hold myself up Binnie. You have to do it.” you whined, exhausted and boneless from your second mind blowing orgasm of the evening.

“S’okay baby, I got you. Don’t worry, I'm so close, keep squeezing me like that. Yes yes yes…” he mumbled as he continued to batter your insides with his huge dick. About four thrusts later he was spilling inside you, laying claim to your walls with his cum.

Changbin was over the moon and not ready for this to end so he stayed inside you and rolled you both over onto your side into the spooning position. He reached over you to grab the blanket and cover you both.

“You wanna stay inside me Binnie? You want me again soon?” You yawned out, exhausted from the vigorous activities.

“Mhm…feels so good. Feels right, like i belong there. That okay?” He asked, his voice gentle as his hand stroked the soft skin of your thigh.

“Mmm yeah. Like it. Fuck me again when you wake up though okay? Even if i’m still asleep. Wan’ wake up to you drilling me.” You mumbled, fully about to descend into sleep safe and warm in his arms. Changbin groaned and bit down on your shoulder before he responded.

“God youre fucking perfect aren’t you pretty girl? Sure, as soon as i wake up I’ll fuck you into the mattress. Whatever you want baby, Rest up. I’m far from done with you.”

The End

[trashytracktales]

Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶

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none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

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𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me 🤍🎀

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.

They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.

The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.

The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.

She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.

Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.

Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.

She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.

They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.

Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.

Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.

Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”

“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”

She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.

“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”

He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.

“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.

She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”

Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.

“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.

She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”

Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”

Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”

Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”

She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.

Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.

“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”

His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”

He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.

“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”

He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”

“But—”

“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.

She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.

His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”

“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”

For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.

“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”

She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”

To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.

His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”

She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.

“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”

As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.

Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.

“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.

She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.

Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.

They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.

The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.

Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 

Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.

“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.

“Forgive you?”

“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”

She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.

He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”

She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.

“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.

“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”

“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”

“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”

He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.

His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.

“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.

She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.

“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.

His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.

Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.

“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”

She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.

He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”

She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.

“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.

Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”

Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.

Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.

She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”

His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.

She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.

His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.

“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”

“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.

And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.

The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.

Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.

Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.

A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.

He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.

Fuck people. All of them.

She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.

“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”

“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”

Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.

“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”

She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.

She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.

Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.

So predictable.

“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.

Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.

At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.

“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.

“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.

She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.

“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”

She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.

The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.

“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.

Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.

She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.

He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.

Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.

“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.

Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.

It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.

Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.

Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.

“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.

He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.

With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.

“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”

He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.

“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.

“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.

“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.

“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.

Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.

His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.

Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.

“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”

Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”

“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

[loved-reid]

You’re Cute…Yet Irritating [s.r]

Post prison!Spencer Reid x sunshine!fem!reader

Summary: She’s always humming a tune, dancing, or tapping her fingers. And Spencer can’t stand it.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, irritated Spencer, crying, self doubt, rude comments, self hatred, etc.

Note: I always fidget and I thought this would be cute! Let me know what y’all think!!

Sorry for any errors! I didn’t re-read it! :)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

2,745 times

And yes, he was unfortunately counting.

He bet she didn’t even know she was doing it, the repetitive rhythm of her finger nails on the desk. Files piled it, almost all the time, and Spencer always had to walk by with his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from organizing it the way he liked.

He was going to be honest, he kind of missed having that feeling, the urge to clean or organize. It told him, in a way, that his old self was still with him, and that little thing gave him hope that he so tightly held onto.

But his old self was able to focus. His old self was able to dig himself into file folders and never be able to leave, yet the tapping.

Spencer couldn’t take it.

His eye twitched every time she breathed particularly loud, his lips pursed when her foot started tapping on the floor, and, worst of all, his head shuttered when her dang finger nails tapped on the desk’s top.

He hated the noise.

And it surprised him that he did, it was such a little thing that was apparently going unnoticed by everyone else. But he just couldn’t focus on his work with the practical racket that was doing on next to him.

He wasn’t gonna lie, he almost got up just then to go ask Hotch for a desk rearrangement. But he knew that his boss would suspect something and either tease him about it or shake his head about how ridiculous it was.

Spencer agreed as well. He couldn’t change seats just because the woman next to him was tapping her fingers.

Gosh, even thinking it sounded absurd.

But he couldn’t help but imagine silence.

Silence while his brain could process things.

Spencer could’ve lost it when she started humming a soft tune. She seemed to have a new one in her head every day, each time she sat down, tea in hand, she hummed a different song than yesterday.

He couldn’t quite pin point which one it was, but he didn’t dare to continue thinking to figure it out.

His head turned toward her, hoping she’d notice his glare but she didn’t, she’s still stuck on the file she was looking at.

“Quit that, will ya?”

Her head snapped up at the sudden outburst, surprise reflecting in her eyes yet he spotted confusion.

How was she confused to the constant annoying tapping she was doing? And the humming? Spencer was slowly loosing his mind.

He took a deep breath to prevent from lashing out, his hand coming out and wiggling his fingers toward hers.

“T-the tapping, it’s irritating. Quit it please.”

Her face dropped from surprised to hurt, and Spencer somehow hated that it was quiet as soon as he said something.

“Right. Sorry,” she whispered so softly Spencer almost couldn’t hear her. She tried to add a little chuckle at the end of her murmur, yet her voice cracked against her own accord.

He watched her fingers stop, instead clenching them in a fist tightly.

Spencer should’ve been glad that the silence he so wanted was granted, but something unsettling brewed in his chest at her facial expression, her now glossy eyes staring at her computer screen. He also noticed her other hand that wasn’t holding the folder was digging into her thigh to prevent it from bouncing out of anxiety.

He didn’t know the feeling, regret, maybe, but all Spencer knew was that he wished he hadn’t said those words.

But he didn’t want to say sorry, something inside him prevented him from doing it. Maybe he was selfish because he ignored the regret in him and took the opportunity to have the ability to focus once more.

“I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she hummed softly, just under her breath as she stirred her favorite tea in the mug the next morning.

Spencer had to admit, he missed her singing in the morning. It reminded him that through all the terrible cases they’ve experienced, there was still happiness in the world, still hope, and she clearly found it through music.

But the pounding headache that didn’t go away that day prevented him from being kind.

So he couldn’t dare to show his wishes of her singing more often, heck no. And the more he thought about it the more irritating it became. He became hyper focused on the breath before each sentence she sang, the cinnamon toothpaste blaring his nose. She was also slightly off pitch every couple seconds, and she sang a couple words wrong.

It got worse when she took forever to mix her tea, blocking his path towards the coffee machine.

He huffed, ignoring the way she flinched. “Move, will ya? There’s people who actually want to do their job and not sing songs about sunshine and rainbows; just please let me get some coffee.”

Her once upwards lips turned down, the light in her eyes going out. She cleared her throat. “Right, s-sorry.”

Spencer couldn’t help it. The comment spat out before he could control it. “S-sorry,” he mimicked. “You do know confidence is a key to this job, right? Quit the childish stuttering it’s infuriating.”

He didn’t see her reaction, but if he did he would see glossy eyes and a facial expression that represented a shattered heart.

She raced out of the room, tea discarded on the counter and beelined towards the bathrooms. She quickly fumbled with the lock. It echoed throughout the bathroom, somehow making her emotions worsen. The tears went full force, a sob covered by her hands surrounding her.

His words kept repeating themselves in her head, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for the job.

Why even apply? He was clearly smarter than her and took things more seriously. What was she thinking? Coming into a field like this and humming and singing all the time? Who does that?

She could feel her makeup smearing, and her black fingers rubbing her cheeks confirmed her suspicions.

She never knew Spencer’s problem with her. Every moment she recalled every encounter, hoping not to come across a moment where she offended him. And she never did.

But now she knew. It was her humming, her tapping, her singing, her stuttering.

She wasn’t good enough to be here.

The thought made her cry harder, the type of sob where your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurry as your chest aches.

A soft knock on the stall door made her both flinch hardly and gasp at the same time.

A throat was cleared, an awkward moment of silence shoving its way between them.

“Can I come in?”

The voice on the other side wasn’t one she expected. Her heart started going on its own path, thumping quickly within her chest.

Her hand moved on its own accord, though hesitantly, and opened the lock.

Spencer’s hand came into view, opening the door and entering himself, closing and locking the door behind him.

Something about him being so close, the door locked, and them being in a place just for one person made her already beating heart pound harder.

His features, no doubt, were beautiful. His nose was like a button, eyes like chocolate in fresh cookies, lips soft and full like a blooming flower.

His hair, oh his hair. It was like a soft blanket she wanted to nestle her fingers onto, pulling at the roots until he let out a satisfying noise-

No.

He hurt her. The words he said. She was upset. He doesn’t like her.

Then why was he having such an effect on her?

Him clearing his throat once more caught her out of her thoughts, eyes meeting his.

“I wanted to say sorry. For what I said,” he whispered, and she noticed his fingers playing with each other. “It wasn’t nice nor professional. And I don’t mean any of it.”

His apology was simple and sincere, eyes somehow widening while gazing at her. (Or were his eyes always like that? Full and desperate?)

“And in case you were wondering, you’re lovely at your job,” he sounded like he was rambling again, but he also seemed desperate to get the words out. “Your singing brings happiness to the place. You’re more than good enough to be here. And I’m sorry I made you doubt your amazing abilities.”

She felt a soft smile come to her lips, cheeks reddening at his complements. She wiped her nose. “Really?”

He nodded, leaning down and grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her cheeks.

Instead of simply giving it to her, he wiped them himself, wiping the damage he did to her away on his own. “I mean it with my whole heart.”

Her heart warmed.

“Thank you Spencer,” she whispered shyly.

He gave her a toothless smile, opening his arms for a hug from her.

Her heart pounded, knowing he barely let anyone touch him, but stepped towards him nonetheless.

Her arms went underneath his blazer, on top of his dress shirt (causing him to shiver) and laying her head on his chest.

He embraced her back, far too tall to be over her shoulder so he rested his chin on her head, shampoo filling his nose.

They stayed like that for a couple moments before pulling back to look at each other.

His eyes met hers, emotions swirling around, like they were trying to tell him something.

If it was a warning or an invitation Spencer didn’t know, but he leaned forward to find out, nose brushing hers.

Her lips parted, causing his eyes to shoot downward at the movement.

He gave her a moment to push away, to shove him out of the stall for even thinking she had any interest on him.

The rejection never came.

He finally planted his mouth on hers, her hands shooting to his hair to pull at his roots, a small groan leaving his lips.

His lips tasted like coffee and something truly Spencer.

Whatever it was pulled her in more, craving the taste of his mouth.

They finally pulled away, breath fanning each other’s faces. She was the one who laughed first against his lips, and he copied her before kissing her once again.

Sure, she was irritating at times, but she was cute, he’d give her that.

[monimccoythings]

How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.