#can you even recognise the need to ‘put the phone down’?
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(Personal ‘Being A Certain Kind Of Autistic’ Moment:)
(You ever think you’re too hinged? I was gonna say for the internet but since covid so many of the neurotypicals in real life are actually worse.
Like someone has an inappropriately strong emotional reaction to the benign, and you’re like ‘okay they’re triggered, walk away with no eye contact’. Then you see other people doing it. And more and more. Not about the same things, different things, random things. And you’re just… Is it me? Am I too hinged?
I’m not saying I’m never triggered but I always tell myself ‘hey before you interact with anyone, stop being such a freak’ if I feel like I’m in danger of being rude to or about a Human Person. And I know that’s autism training, learning to catch yourself; but also clearly not everyone bothers, even the neurotypicals anymore hence irl situations where you’re just watching some 55 year old woman go off on a receptionist over literally nothing.
Like you’ll watch people stew themselves to a rolling boil over things they’ve…made up in their head? When they could just…not do that? Or could assume the best? Like they pre-order rage for things that haven’t even happened yet. Not like political things where you could argue that it could incentivise action but like raging about how film/book in a series/event is going to be so terrible, beyond simple mental prepping for disappointment.
It’s like I feel too mentally healthy compared to everyone else. But even plenty of irl people I know who absolutely wouldn’t consider themselves (or be considered by me as) mentally unwell in any regard are like this.
I know me having the flavour of autism where ‘everything has to have a reason, but when you understand what it is you don’t feel the need to be upset about it anymore’ kind of makes this worse. Because that’s not how real people feel things. But I dunno. Feels like it’s getting…more, doesn’t it? I mean it is, must be, had a Doctor Who episode kind of about it a week ago. But it’s got me feeling autistic alien again. Even on the autism site.)
#i know social decay and breakdown of the social contract is real#(again thanks for the validation there rusty)#but i’ve seen people post some weird shit#from a ‘stealing is morally neutral/positive even’ post#to other oof political takes#(which are fine to a degree this is a site for damaged 14 year olds)#(that’s just a thing that has to happen in their growth cycle)#but also things where you want to say#‘you would never say that to that person’s face so don’t say it at all’#…but you also think#they kind of might say it to their face??#and that’s fucking worse#accidentally seeing some jodie thing on the side of an instagram vid#like jesus christ if you can’t be normal enough to not say that#can you even recognise the need to ‘put the phone down’?#like how do you fix that#can’t even send shit to their mothers#i’ve met some mothers recently#and they are not doing better#and they’re not even terminally online#we called it television rot#and daily mail rot#we always have an older ‘rot’ to look to#but i think it just scapegoats the fact that some people#are choosing to rewire their brains in the worst and laziest ways
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want more, rafe cameron
When reader and Rafe have been sneaking around with each other for the last two months, y/n can't help but want more. Bringing this up with him, she's under the impression he's embarrassed to be seen with a pogue.
warnings: swearing, insecurities, arguing, mentions of sex, angst, always a sucker for a happy ending though, it's a looong one <33
pairing: rafe cameron x fwbpogue!reader
Y/n was sat on the little bench outside her small home, right by the water as the wind blew through her hair. Her knees were tucked up to her chin as the kook boy who usually plagued her thoughts did just that, sink into her mind.
It was never meant to be more than a good time, something to pass the summer. He made her feel good - in more ways than one - he would take her out on dates, whisper sweet words to her, and the way he looked at her. She could swear he was in love, that he was just as infatuated with her as she was him. But the way he only took her to private and secluded places, the way his words were the most affectionate when he was deep inside her, the way he would put space between them whenever he saw someone he recognised. These small things, things he may not even realise he does, they all reminded her that she wasn't anything to him. He would never let himself fully be hers, he could never let his reputation fall like that.
He gave her just enough that she felt completely and utterly consumed by him. Craved his attention, his touch, even a small message would complete her day. However, as time went on she knew she needed more, she knew that she couldn't bear much more before she completely lost herself to please him.
"Come over" The message catches her attention, the illuminated screen laying on the bench beside her pulling her from her wandering thoughts.
She knew the message was from Rafe before her eyes even flicked to the screen, she never really had anyone else calling on her. It wasn't that she didn't have any friends, but she wasn't one to go out and the friends she kept knew that.
A couple weeks ago, she would've been on her way to his before she could even start replying, no thought needed except the thought of being in his proximity. Now, however, she was tired. Tired and sad, feeling pathetic really after spending so long thinking about him.
"feeling tired tonight. sorry, rafe" She replies slowly, her heart pounding as she sends it. She turns her phone back off, yet before she can place her phone back down her screen lights up with another message from him.
"Please, baby. I need you" He responds, her heart sinks. She doesn't know how much more she can stand up for herself, fighting that craving feeling she has for him.
"not in the mood rn tbh" She tries to stay strong, holding onto that tiny bit of dignity she has left in her.
"Don't even need to fuck"
"Just wanna be close to you"
Her heart pounds faster and her breathing is shaky. Fingers hovering over her illuminated screen. Every possible message she could write spinning though her head.
"you can come over then" She types out, deletes and types out again. She had never been so unsure in herself before, never doubted her own thoughts like this. But she sends it, stopping herself from contemplating and worrying further.
Rafe had been to her place a couple of times before, only ever to pick her up. Each visit shorter than the last, hurrying to leave as if humiliated to be caught in such a place. It made her feel ashamed of who she was, how she grew up and she felt even more embarrassed that she let a guy make her feel so insecure about something that could never change, something that literally made her who she was.
"Coming" The phone lights up for a last time in her hands and when her eyes run over the message she is filled with surprise and even more shame as her heart warms for him. She knows that him visiting her is the bare minimum. That being able to step foot in the place she calls home should not be seen as a difficult task. But she feels happy that he's coming to see her because he wants to.
She sits with her pathetic thoughts as she waits for him. Curling up on the bench as she watches the way the pearly moonlight glimmers across the waves perfectly. The soft wind sending chills down her spine and strands of her hair across her face.
"Y/n?" She hears his voice call out and for a moment she feels like she's lost hers. "Baby?"
"Yeah, around here" She replies softly as she sees him bend round the corner of her home. She has a tiny smile on her face, never fully reaching her eyes.
"Something wrong, pretty girl?" He mutters softly as he moves to sit next to her on the bench. He's dressed in sweats and she can only assume he's been relaxing at home prior to coming over. He gently takes her bare legs and slides them onto his lap. He can't help but let his eyes rake over her perfect body. The way she looks so small in his shirt he must've let her borrow once and some pyjama shorts. Yet for the first time, he puts aside his vulgar thoughts because he can tell she's unhappy.
Her eyes look into his, the way he's cracked open her feelings so easily, reading her like a book despite keeping a wall up of his own. Her breath shaky again as she gives a small shrug, her eyes dropping down to his hands. The way his thumb gently runs back and forth over her knee.
"Talk to me" He says softly, the crease between his brows deepening as he loses her gaze.
"Do you even care?" She voices gently. Not looking at him, to maintain the little power she has left over herself.
"What?" He mumbles with confusion, his body straightening up as he didn't expect such blunt thoughts from her.
"Do you even care that I'm upset? Or what I'm upset about?" She mumbles a bit louder as her gaze moves back over to the glistening waves ahead of them.
"O-of course I do, I don't understand?" He mutters as his thumb stops the stroking and instead slides to her chin, moving her face to look at him.
"I mean we aren't dating, and it feels like you've never really cared about how I feel outside the sex." She tells him for the first time. The tension feels suffocating, yet at the same time the weight off her shoulders is so liberating.
"That's what you think?" He asks her, a strong tone of annoyance or maybe disappointment.
The eye contact between them so intense that she feels as though she needs to take a deep breath before replying or she might pass out. "That's exactly how it feels." She admits gently with a shrug.
"That's not what this is." He says firmly, shaking his head as his hand slips off her chin and runs down his face with a huff.
"You're embarrassed to be seen with me. Face it, Rafe. It's not like we're dating. You only keep me around for a good fuck." She says shakily, running off adrenaline and the fact that there's no use stopping now that she's started.
"You don't embarrass me, I'm just not ready to make things official." He tells her unwaveringly, yet his eyes darting towards the water, the ground, her. Everything about his body and words make him seem so secure in himself. Yet his eyes express all his true emotions, how hesitant and insecure he really feels.
"God, Rafe. You can barely be seen with me, and I can't bear to be just some girl you fuck and take out secretly." She tells him, her throat feeling scratchy and sore as her eyes water lightly. She curses herself for getting so emotional, it wasn't even that serious yet she couldn't keep herself together.
His heart breaks, pained as she expresses her feelings to him, pained as he watches her fall apart in front of him. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He mutters gently.
"Don't be. You never promised me anything more than what you've given me." She shakes her head gently, as her eyes look at the side of his face.
"I want to give you more, I want to promise you the world." He whispers with his head in his hands.
"I can't continue feeling like this, Rafe." She tells him softly, "I can't handle craving you privately."
"I didn't know you felt like this..." He replies shamefully, his hands sliding down his face as he turns to look at her with torment. His eyes are glossy and his jaw is clenched, he doesn't know what there is to say to make this better.
"Don't bullshit." She mumble with a soft frown, not believing for a second that he didn't know she was completely infatuated with him.
"No, y/n. I mean it. I've... I feel for you. And I don't know how to handle it, express it. Fuck. I'm a mess, baby." He spills to her helplessly. "If I knew how I was hurting you, I would've done something, said something. I just- it's so difficult for me." His voice rasps and cracks unsteadily.
She doesn't know what to say, heart pounding as she watches his sincerity. She fiddles with her fingers anxiously as she tries to think of anything to reply with.
"Please believe me, pretty girl" He practically whimpers, his hands itching to feel her near him.
"What are we gonna do?" She whispers as she looks down at her hands. "Something needs to change... I can't go on like this" She tells him.
"I wanna make you mine." He tells her, giving in to his desperation to be close to her as his hand moves to rest on her anxiously fidgeting fingers.
"What's holding you back?" She mumbles as her eyes remain glued to their hands, fluttering closed for a moment as she soaks in the warmth of his hand.
"I-I don't know. I just, I feel so stupid because I want to give you the world but I'm the one stopping myself from giving it to you." He opens up quietly, his eyes boring into the side of her face. "But I know I need you, for more than just your body. I need you in every way I can have you." He whispers to her, gently pulling her closer so that his lips brush the shell of her ear. His closeness, warmth and the way his breath tickles her ear shoots a shiver down her spine.
"Please let me have you."
(a/n: i had to end it there or i would keep writing all night, i hope you all enjoyed!!)
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#obx fic#obx#obx season 4#rafe obx#rafe x reader#pogue reader#rafe x fwb!reader
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How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.
ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k
“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart.
“I’m not scared.”
“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.”
“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park.
You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door.
Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door.
“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?”
Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.”
She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone.
You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby.
You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight.
“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?”
Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.”
You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.”
Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell.
“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?”
Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips.
Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.”
You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.”
“Hi,” Noah says quietly.
Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.”
“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder.
Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask.
“No… buppy.”
“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.”
He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.”
Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk.
“He doesn’t have formula?”
“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.”
“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him).
Steve crouches down. “Can I help?”
Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.”
“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces.
“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist.
He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.)
“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.
“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee.
Steve snorts. “Thank you.”
“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand.
You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is.
You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?”
“What? No? Of course not.”
“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.”
If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.
You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.”
Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh.
“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu.
“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says.
“What if you don’t like what I’m having?”
“I’ll learn.”
You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?”
“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely.
“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it.
“Then he can have some of everything.”
You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any.
“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”
“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!”
“What, babe?”
“My hand!”
“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh.
“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own.
Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.”
Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.”
Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning.
“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers.
Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”
“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.”
Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh.
“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?”
“No,” Noah says cheekily.
Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”
“Think so?” you ask.
Steve nods.
You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask.
Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones.
“Like me,” he says, grinning.
“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!”
You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead.
Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader
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↳ please respond…I showed you my cock ⚤ ghostface x female!reader 【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth
2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.
‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends.
Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone.
It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging.
Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was.
Unknown Number +1**********
➤ quiet night?
➤ parents aren’t home.
➤ neighbours are out of town.
You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you.
Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV.
Unknown Number +***********
➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day.
➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties
You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep.
Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone.
Unknown Caller
You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it.
“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise.
“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.
“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you.
“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho.
“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you.
“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end.
You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss.
You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head.
“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge.
“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through.
Gfce23 added you on Snapchat!
It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit.
Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole.
“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock.
The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs.
His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring.
Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy.
It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach.
Unkown Number +**********
➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight
➤ leave your window unlocked
➤ i know your parents wont be home
➤ hope you like it rough princess
#ghostface smut#ghostface#scream#scream2#scream3#scream4#scream5#scream6#screamsmut#mickey altieri#mickey altieri smut#billy loomis#billy loomis smut#ghostface x reader#smut
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shy!reader has been pretty much m.i.a all week, and fratboy!chris does not care. no seriously, he doesn’t care.
he’s just kept his eyes peeled every night through crowds of sweaty bodies jammed into his living room, and even through the sluggish crowds of tired students in college hallways, yet he couldn’t find you.
it was on the 6th night when chris was seriously considering showing up at your place — for no reason just he needed your lit notes, of course —when he received a text from nick.
nick, the eldest — and no doubt more mature —triplet. chris’ eyebrows furrowed at the notification, why was nick texting him at 10:30pm on a weeknight? kid cares way too much about being on time for class in the mornings
—
Nick: *image attached* isn’t this one of your girls?
—
the somewhat blurry picture was taken from a distance in the old, dusty library on campus. you sat in a corner, a mess of notes, books and your laptop sprawled on the desk in front of you. you looked weak, your hair a mess, bags prominent under your eyes.
before chris could even react, his phone buzzed again
—
i’m not a total creeper, i’ve just noticed her here every night this week and i’m pretty sure she has not changed her sweatshirt once
or pretty much left this library.
i seriously hope this is actually her and not a complete stranger
you know what, i’m talking to her. don’t change my mind.
—
chris groaned, the realisation of finals week dawning on him. sometimes chris forgets how much college actually means to you, and how ridiculously sick it makes you.
he did not have time for this, he had customers to please, yet - he didn’t hesitate. he’s huffing and complaining pretty much the whole time, but he’s quick to make his way over to the library he’s really not too familiar with, saving you from the shackles that is a conversation with a redbull fueled nick sturniolo.
-
you can take it from here, love u pooks mwah
- 🫧
gonna take it from here in shy!readers pov cos i want nick and shy!reader to have some one on one time before fratboy!chris grumpily comes over !!
your back aches with a constant throb, your eyes feel gritty and sore, and a dull headache pulses at your temples, making it difficult for you to concentrate. hunched over in the dimly lit corner of the library, you've spent countless of hours — days — buried in textbooks, scribbles notes and laptop screens, desperately trying to absorb everything before your exams.
the week has been relentless, leaving you physically and emotionally drained, as if the weight of your studies is pressing down on you.
you haven't seen chris in almost a week. the silence has been deafening — no texts lighting up your phone, no calls breaking the quiet, and no facetime calls at late hours. truth be told, you did put your phone on do not disturb, silencing any incoming calls to shield yourself from distractions. it's not that you intended to cut off all communication completely; you simply needed space.
you needed to be alone, to gather your thoughts, and to focus on your studies, to not be distracted by his intense social life.
however, you are distracted when someone slams a stack of textbooks onto the table opposite you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. startled, you lift your tired gaze, and your heart thumps when you recognise a familiar that slumps into the seat across from you.
he runs a hand through his tousled mullet, adjusting the thin-framed glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose before flashing you a friendly grin.
you know who he is. you've seen him in countless pictures and instagram posts with chris and matt. yet, despite your familiarity with his image, you've never met him in person — you never even spoke a word to each other, and you find yourself sliding further down in your seat, a wave of awkwardness and shyness washing over you.
"hello—fuck!" nick curses as he sets his can of red bull down on the wooden table, only for it to topple over and spill a little. flustered and annoyed, he mutters under his breath, hastily dabbing at the tiny droplets on the table with the sleeve of his sweater. his eyes finally meet yours again, and he offers another grin. "hello."
"hi.." you manage to respond, your voice barely above a whisper.
"i've noticed that you're, like, constantly glued to this fucking seat, like you haven't moved the entire week—" nick pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realises how awful his wording sounds. he quickly holds up his hand, a look of urgency in his expression. "i'm not a creep. i wasn't staring at you. i know you—i think i know you—no, i do know you. you're, like, kinda with my brother. chris. that's you, right? god, tell me that's you, 'cos i'm gonna end up losing my mind—"
"yeah," you cut off his intense rambling, which is probably fuelled by the red bull he keeps fidgeting with. "that... that's me, yeah."
nick blinks at you in silence for a moment before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he bluntly says. "wow, you really are quiet," you become a little flustered at that, tearing your gaze away from him until he asks incredulously. "the fuck are you doing with chris of all people?"
a subtle smile pulls at your lips at that, especially when you glance back at his face and see the shock etched across it. honestly, you don't even know what you're doing with chris, but it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to go into the details with his brother. so, you simply shrug your shoulders in response.
nick suddenly deadpans. "blink twice if you need my help."
now that makes you laugh — a genuine, unexpected sound that splutters past your lips. you quickly cover your mouth, eyes widening as the sound echoes through the library and you glance around, paranoid that someone might shoot you the dirtiest look and demand you to shut up or leave.
but nick waves it off dismissively when he notices your worries, "they can go fuck themselves."
you remain silent for a moment, considering his words, before stating, "we... are in a library."
"then they can go fuck themselves quietly."
another genuine, but quieter, laugh escapes you. you find yourself relaxing a bit more with him, opening up and feeling more comfortable as nick takes charge of the conversation; showing genuine interest in your major, your studies, and your hobbies.
you do the same, getting to know him better, and even getting a little excited when you realise how many similarities you share. the more you chat, the more your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. the tiredness that had once taken over you begins to fade away, replaced by a lightness you haven't felt in days, and your books and notes sit forgotten on the table.
however, your head perks up in surprise when you spot chris walking through the double doors. he's wearing a beanie on top of his head with tuffs of curly hair peeking out, a hoodie that swallows his frame, and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.
he glances around the library, his eyes finally zeroing in on you and nick at the far end of the room. you can't quite read his expression — his face stoic as he makes his way over.
he drops down in the chair beside you, and nick immediately pulls a face, shooting you a look that makes you giggle again, and chris huffs at the sound, clearly unimpressed.
"stop botherin' her," chris mutters, his foot hooking comfortably beneath your chair as he settles in.
"m'not."
chris rolls his eyes, ignoring nick's response as he turns his attention to you. he takes you in for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he says, "tell him he's botherin' you, kid."
you can't help but smile gently. "he's not bothering me. he's been fun.. i like his company."
"told you," nick muses across from across the table. chris snaps his head towards nick, shooting him a glare as nick lifts the can of red bull to his mouth, a smirk spreading across his lips as he adds, "bitch."
#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#ᯓ꒰🫧anon꒱#☆ fratboy!chris#☆ shy!reader#☆ bsf!nick#꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱#꒰ bsf!nick x shy!reader prompt ꒱
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Irresistible || CL16
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two
December 2019
Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.
“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”
He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.
“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”
“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”
Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”
Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.
You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”
A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”
“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”
“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”
He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”
August 2017
All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.
You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.
“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?”
You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before.
“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”
“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”
“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.
“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.
“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”
You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”
You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”
He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”
You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.
“Charles, dépêche-toi!”
You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.
“Well?”
You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”
“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”
“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”
You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him.
“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”
“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”
Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”
You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”
He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”
“The Fairmont.”
The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”
“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Your boyfriend?”
You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”
He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you enjoying the city?”
“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”
“Have you been to Jimmyz?”
“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.
“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”
January 2020
Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink.
You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.
The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.
“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.
“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”
August 2017
The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.
“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”
You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.
With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”
Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”
He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”
You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.
Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”
February 2020
You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.
“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.
The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.
“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”
“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.
She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”
You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.
“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”
“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”
August 2017
“Where are we going?”
Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.
“You live in a hotel?”
He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”
He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.
For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.
The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.
“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.
Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.
“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”
Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.
“What’s my name?” he repeated.
“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.
“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”
The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.
You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.
Giada: When are you coming home?
“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.
You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”
His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”
You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.
Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx
You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.
You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.
It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.
“You look like you had a rough night.”
You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.
You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.
“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.
He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”
Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.
February 2020
You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away.
“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”
“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”
Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?”
“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”
“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.
Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”
You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping.
“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”
“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”
“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”
“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”
“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”
“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”
You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”
“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”
You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”
He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”
“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”
“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”
“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”
“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Asshole.”
“Biche.”
“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”
You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”
A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad.
“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”
“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”
Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too.
“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.
“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway.
“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”
“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”
You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”
“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway.
“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”
“No, she prefers me with nothing on.”
You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”
“Night, ma biche.”
It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.
“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”
You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply.
Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours.
Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water.
“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”
“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.
“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”
His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”
“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him.
You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”
“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.
“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”
“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”
Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys.
You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”
Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”
You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable.
Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”
His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.”
“She’s pretty.”
He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”
You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”
“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”
“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it.
“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”
“This is a bad idea.”
It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”
“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.
“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”
“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”
He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”
Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way.
“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”
He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”
“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”
The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand.
Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening.
“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv.
“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”
“Okay, and?”
His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”
“Why?”
He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.”
His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”
“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”
You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.
“Good news or bad news first?”
You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.
“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”
“Is that the good or the bad news?”
“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”
“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”
Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”
“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.
“This is going to be great.”
Click here for part two.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#lando norris fanfic
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obsessed.
featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader
contains: college!Sukuna, somnophilia, dub/non-con (reader is asleep), cunnilingus, fingering, toxic love, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of male masturbation
note: all characters are aged up to 18+!
word count: 1.3k
series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral
masterlist
MDNI | 18+ content
It had been one week since you fucked Ryomen Sukuna. One week of you going to class, meeting up with friends, reading in your favourite café. One week of total, blissful obliviousness to the effect you had on Sukuna.
Stalker is a loaded term, but probably an accurate one, Sukuna thinks to himself as he watches you walk home. He’s no stranger to one-night stands – in fact, he tends to thrive off them. But you’re different. Sukuna can’t stop thinking about that night. The noises you made, the way you felt, the euphoria of marking your insides with his cum.
Sukuna is obsessed.
Luckily for him, you live on the ground floor. And he’s just spent a week learning how to lockpick a window from YouTube.
He waits until the lights go off in your bedroom before sidling up to the window. He’s big and not always graceful, but he’s extra careful tonight. He waits outside the window until the moon hangs high in the sky, until he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep. And then he puts everything he learned to use and carefully breaks open the window.
It’s not his fault, not really. It’s not like you left him your phone number and he has no idea what your socials are – he guess you’re pretty private? And every time you caught each other’s eyes on campus, you only looked away. Worse, you looked uninterested.
Didn’t you feel what he felt that night? Didn’t you share in that ecstasy? He knows you did because he watched you cream on his cock.
So this little game you’re playing is irrelevant. Sukuna wants you now. He wants you always.
He stands in the dark of your room, watching you sleep in the dim, silver glow of moonlight. Truthfully, he didn’t think much of you when you first came up to him. A pretty face, no doubt, but nothing special. Nothing unlike all the other girls he’s fucked and never spoken to again. But something unlocked inside him that night. Now, looking at you, he feels a rush of affection. Sukuna bends down to brush a lock of hair from your face, desperate to kiss you again. You don’t even stir.
Sukuna smiles to himself. Even in your sleep, you trust him. It encourages him to slowly pull off your blanket, leaving you only in your panties. He stands back, taking a moment to admire you. The beautiful curves of your body, the gentle rise and fall of your naked chest, your hair splayed out across the pillow.
“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. Because that’s what you are – his.
Sukuna slowly crawls onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress. He makes sure to move carefully so as not to wake you. He know he can’t fuck you, not like this, not when you need to work his cock slowly inside you. But he’s okay with that – tonight, he wants to taste you.
That night, after you’d left, Sukuna had run his fingers along his cock, scooping up a mixture of his and your cum. He recognised his own taste but yours was new. Delicious. He’d spent the whole week thinking about it, fisting his cock to the thought of tasting you again.
Now’s his chance.
He gently lays himself between your legs, nudging between them. With the size of his body, it spreads your legs nicely for him, affording him a clear view of your panty-clad pussy. Sukuna casts a longing glance at your bare tits but tells himself to be patient – this won’t be the last time he gets to touch you.
Sukuna turns his gaze towards your pussy, taking a deep inhale. You’re not wet yet but he can still smell you, sweet and feminine. It makes him ravenous.
Carefully, keeping one eye on your face to check your reaction, he drags your panties to the side. You don’t stir.
My sweet angel is a heavy sleeper, he notes to himself happily. Perfect.
Faced with your naked pussy in front of him, so inviting, Sukuna leans forward and licks a tentative stripe along your lips. He glances up to check your reaction. Nothing.
Encouraged, Sukuna laps at you softly, slowly dipping his tongue between your folds to seek out more of your nectar. He wants so badly to wrap his large arms around your thighs and hold you flush to his mouth, to eat you the way he knows you deserve. But he has to be gentle right now.
Sukuna is not a man who begs. He won’t suffer the indignity of seeking you out publicly, making the first move. No, he wants you to come to him. He wants you to say please, please stuff your cock inside me again.
The thought makes his cock stir, throbbing against the confines of his sweatpants. Sukuna trails his tongue up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking softly. You whimper in your sleep and the sound is music to Sukuna’s ears. He starts to grind against the mattress, desperate for some friction.
With one hand, Sukuna cautiously dips a finger between your folds, now puffy and slick with arousal. He can feel your hole, the tight ring of resistance that he pushes past slowly, and he remembers how it felt wrapped around his cock. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip to stop from groaning. Fuck. He’s not going to last long like this.
Cum for me, pretty girl, he thinks, pressing his finger deeper and sucking on your clit again. Cum on my tongue.
As if you can hear his thoughts, your hips start to buck. Even in your sleep, you can’t get enough of him. You need more of him. Sukuna curls his finger, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and stroking it. You gasp and groan, still asleep but your body responding. Sukuna licks your arousal before circling up to meet your clit once more, swiping the flat of his tongue against it.
A dam inside you breaks. In some distant dream, your orgasm ripples through you, making you fist the bedsheets and curl your toes. Sukuna feels you clench around his finger and nearly cums himself. How this tight little hole swallowed his whole cock is a wonder.
Not to risk overstimulating you and waking you up, Sukuna withdraws his finger as your orgasm subsides. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sucks your arousal from his finger.
Fucking delicious.
He’s painfully hard now and wants desperately to coat you in his cum but he can’t give away that he was here. He needs to be patient. And if Sukuna wants something, he can be patient as a saint about it.
But he's not leaving empty-handed.
Quietly, he pulls your panties back into place, smoothing them over your now soaking mound. In the corner of your room, he spies the laundry basket - it doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for.
Sukuna restraints himself to only one pair of your used panties, plucking them from your other clothes. He brings it to his nose to inhale the scent of you, your taste still lingering on his tongue, and he has to stop himself from groaning. You have no idea how badly he wants to be inside you, to feel your heavenly pussy around his cock.
He had promised himself he was going to leave but how can he? You're lying there looking so fucking perfect, so ripe for the taking. Sukuna balls his hands into fists to stop from reaching out to you.
No, he has to go. If you discover he was here, you'll never come near him again. This is his little secret and he'll take it to the grave.
Later, he knows he'll spend the rest of the night with your panties pressed against his face and his fist around his cock, replaying the night you spent together in his mind. It'll be a cheap imitation but it'll have to do... for now.
He withdraws into the shadows of your bedroom, climbing back through your window and closing it silently behind him.
Until next time, he thinks.
Taglist: @tojis-ball-sack @moonjellyfishie @kalulakunundrum @benimarusimp33e
masterlist
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#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna smut#tw: dubcon#tw: dubious consent#tw noncon#somno k!nk#somno fantasy#cw somnophilia#somnophillia#somnophilia tw
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(pairing: bf! jun x f!reader)
missing my junnie a little extra today :(
you open your eyes, everything in front of you still a bit blurry and kind of dark due to having just woken up. you look for your phone, tapping your hand around the bed in hopes it is somewhere in there and that it still has some battery on it.
after you finally feel it under your pillow, you pull it out to see just how long you have slept for.
10:48am.
holy fuck. you have slept for over 11 hours.
ever so slowly, you sit up straight, rubbing your eyes in the process.
it is only now that you are able to concentrate that you can hear soft music playing from somewhere outside the bedroom, which can only mean one thing.
you boyfriend is finally back home.
getting out of the bed so quickly you almost fall face first into the carpet, you run out of your room and into the living room.
only to see your boyfriend's shirtless back turned towards you, putting away what looks like to be 7 new and different cat figurines on the bookshelf that is in your living room, quietly humming to himself along to the music playing from the tv.
almost as if he can sense you looking at him, he turns towards you, getting only mildly startled. once he recognises who it is that is standing there, he smiles widely.
"hey there sleepy head, i was wondering-", he starts to speak.
but you being you, and having not been able to see him for 3 months in real life, you don't give him the chance to finish his sentence, opting to run full speed at him.
reaching him in only few steps, you collide with his body, arms going directly around his neck. the force of your body knocking into his own is enough to make jun stumble back, letting a little 'oof' escape him.
his arms automatically, like an instinct, wrap themselves around your waist, hugging you so tightly he lifts you off the floor a bit.
which seems enough for you to wrap your legs around his waist, burring your face in his neck in hopes he won't see the tears escaping you.
although he may not see them, he definitely can feel them. but knowing you, there must be a reason why you aren't showing your face to him.
so he lets you cry all your tears out, even though there's nothing he would like more than to wipe them away at this moment.
he lets you hang off of his body like a little koala, not even complaining about your weight or that you have been hanging from his neck for 5 minutes now.
ever so slowly, you let your legs find the floor again, relieving him of holding you up for so long.
you look down intentionally, hiding your face away from him so that you can wipe your tears away, not wanting to bother him as he had just gotten home.
jun having none of that, puts a finger under your chin and slowly makes you look at him, his gentle smile and his own tears greeting you.
his gentle and big hands cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you tried to hide.
the smile that was decorating his already handsome face stretches even wider as he watches you.
ever so quietly, his deep voice rasps out "there she is, my girl...my pretty baby." all while his thumbs still stroke your cheeks.
it seems that you aren't quite done with the tears because apparently it only took those words coming out of his mouth for you to start full on sobbing, voice wailing like a little child that has just fallen off their bike and scrapped their knees.
jun, not surprised one bit, just bring your face into his naked chest, hugging you tightly while you let it all out.
he gently kisses your head, shushing you because he doesn't really need yet another noise complaint from his neighbours on his first day back.
you try to utter a little "j-jun-" through your sobs, but to no success.
jun, the angel that he is, just lowers his head even more in order to kiss your cheek, letting his warm lips linger against your gentle skin.
through his own sniffles, he says "i know baby, i'm here..."
"...i'm right where i should be..."
"...i'm home, my love."
#seventeen#svt#svt x reader#fypシ#tumblr fyp#fypage#fluff#jun x y/n#jun x you#wen junhui x reader#jun x reader#wen junhui#jun seventeen
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Life In The Fast Lane
She's an F1 driver stranded in Oklahoma. He's a cowboy storm chaser. What more can I say?
Warnings: Talks of food and restrictive diet
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Where are you?
She looked around. God, she hadn't been here in years, not since she moved to Europe with her aunt. The gas station had always been there, but she hardly remembered it. Still, she pulled in to get her bearings, to work out where she was going.
The gas station wasn't anything to write home about. It needed renovating, rust and rubbish everywhere. The people milling about were on their phones, not paying her any attention. That was weird, the people not knowing who she was. She was a big deal, after all.
Her car was low key for this trip, inconspicuous. It was the car she'd gotten at seventeen, that she'd had brought over from Europe once her career took off and she was able to visit home more.
"Somewhere in Oklahoma," she said into the phone as she looked around for some sort of indicator of where exactly in Oklahoma she was. Her GPS wasn't working, broken in both her car and phone. She was utterly lost.
'You're supposed to be here for media day!
She knew that, knew she was supposed to be in Texas at that minute. The idea to drive from her parents place in Enid to the track it Texas had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she was lost, incredibly lost.
"I'll be there before the first practice," she muttered. "Just cover me for today."
She put the phone down as the loud, obnoxious music started. She whipped her head around and watched as the red truck pulled into the gas station. There was a guy cheering as he hung out of the window of the truck.
People flocked to the track, the camper, and the RV behind it. They parked up, turned up the radio, and climbed out to meet their public.
The driver of the red truck climbed out. On his head was a white cowboy hat, a pair of sunglasses covering his face. He took a sharpie from somebody's hands and started signing everything in sight. Shirts, hats, anything he could get his hands on.
He made his way through the crowd, giving out pictures and signing anything until he got her her. "Hey there, darlin'," he said with a charming grin.
Before she could say anything, he took her hat from her head and decorated it with his signature.
"What the fuck?" She snatched her hat back from him. His scrawl was now across the brim, name unintelligible to her eye. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
He still wore that stupid, charming grin as he pulled sunglasses away from his eyes. They were pretty, a fact she would later come to realise. For now, she was pissed. "You're telling me you're not a fan?"
Her face was hot as she stared up at him. "Who do you think you are?" She asked, voice low. It wasn't a question, not really. A challenge, one he would have been stupid to take.
Stupid or clueless.
But he didn't take the challenge. The man from beside him did. "You're sayin' you haven't heard of Tyler Owens?" He asked and laughed, shaking his head as he walked away.
They were having too much fun, whoever they were. Placing her hat back on her head, she muttered obscenities as she made her way back back to the car. Even if she knew where she was going, there was no way to navigate around all of the vehicles now filling the gas station. She supposed she had Tyler Owens to thank for that.
Her head hit the horn and she didn't stop the noise. Eyes were on her. Maybe some of them recognised her. Who was she kidding, everybody was here for Tyler Owens.
He watched her, too. Still signing shirts and pictures, but he glanced back at her every so often. The only other people he'd met in this sort of setting that hadn't desperately wanted his signature was Storm Par. And Storm Par certainly hadn't reacted like that.
There was a full minute where the only sound in the gas station was her horn, her head firmly planted in the middle of the steering wheel. Her hat, the one that now held his signature, was gone, tossed into the back somewhere.
Fuck, he almost felt sorry for her.
She lifted her head and the noise stopped. Throwing it back, she closed her eyes. She was saying something, but the car around her kept the noise in.
Signing just a few more pictures, Tyler approached. His boots crunched the gravel beneath his feet and his sunglasses hid any emotion that could have been read on his race. He still wore that grin, the one that made him seem like a cocky asshole. It always would, until he took the glasses off.
His knuckles tapped lightly on her window.
She glared at him as she pressed the button to lower the window. "What do you want?" She asked, expression set.
It was kind of terrifying, but Tyler didn't falter. "Are you okay?" He asked, leaning against the door.
She raised her eyebrows at him and turned to face forward. No, she wouldn't entertain this. He was a dick, and he wasn't trying to hide it.
"I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."
Good, she didn't want his help. His whole reason for helping was to boost his own ego, she figured. She'd met his kind before, usually had it out with them in some of the fastest vehicles in world.
Grabbing her cap, she placed it on her head. She couldn't ro up the window, not with the way he was holding it. "I know this area pretty well," he began, leaning forward so that the brim of his obnoxiously large hat was in the car with her. "If you're lost, which, I think you are, I might be able to help."
Taking him up on his offer of help. It would have meant swallowing her pride and accepting the fact that she couldn't do it on her own. "No, thank you." She forced and smile and then looked down at her phone.
It was late. The sky was already beginning to turn orange and there was no way she was going to reach her destination before the darkness set in. "I'm just gonna find a motel and hunker down for the night."
She started the engine. "Oh, the nearest motel is-" But she was already winding up her window, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence before she sped off, driving around those in her way with incredible skill.
A name had been on her hat, Tyler had been looking at it the whole time that they had been talking. It might not have been her name, but there was only one way to find out.
It took her a little while to find a motel. When she pulled into the parking lot, the red truck and its accompanying vehicles were already there. There he sat, tinkering with the pile of crap on the top of his truck. His eyes followed her car as she pulled into a parking spot, as far away as she could get from him, grabbed her bags from the back, and marched towards the motel reception.
He kept watching as she paid for the night, grabbed the key, and marched out of the reception. "See you finally found it," Tyler asked as he grabbed his beer. "Took you long enought, for an F1 driver." He said the last bit so quietly, but she still heard it.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned back towards him. "What the hell did you just say to me?"
He nodded towards her hat. "I googled you," he replied. "You're a racer, right?"
A huff left her lips and she folded her arms over her chest. "You googled me?"
He gave a quick nod and sipped his beer. "You should try googlin' me back at some point."
The laugh that left her lips was melodic, had a light dusting of pink on Tyler's cheeks. "You actually want me to Google you?" She asked and he gave a quick nod. But then the smile dropped from her face all together "You're fucking creepy," she said and walked away.
His face was entirely red at that. She turned on her heel and walked away, making her way to her own room.
The rest of Tyler's group of Storm chasers laughed as they looked at him. Face completely red, eyes following her movements until she locked herself in her motel room. "Tyler has a crush!" Boone sang. His laugh was infectious, had everybody else laughing with him.
"Shut up, Boone," Tyler mumbled, but he couldn't hide his own smile. She was a tough nut to crack, but he was going to be the one to do it.
***ED TRIGGER WARNING FROM HERE TO THE END***
"Tyler Owens," she mumbled as she typed his name into the search bar of her laptop. Emails popped up on the bottom right hand corner of her screen, but she ignored it. She knew she was supposed to be in Texas, knew she was so close to missing the first practice session. It was fine. If she set off as soon as the sun rose, she would be fine.
She pressed search and waited for the results to appear. The motel WiFi was shitty, forcing her to wait an age before the results appeared.
There was his face. He was handsome, but she hated it. His face just invited her fist. That was it: He had a handsome, punchable face. She scrolled down until she got to a link to his YouTube Channel. "What the hell is a Tornado Rangler?" She mumbled and clicked on the video.
It was a live stream, edited down to a more consumable format. His voice was loud and clear through her speakers, had her scrambling to turn down the volume on her laptop.
It was actually kind of incredible. She watched as he drove into a tornado, anchored himself down and shot fireworks inside of it. It was stupid and dangerous, but wasn't everything she did stupid and dangerous?
She hated that she was impressed.
As soon as the knock came at her door, she slammed down the lid of her laptop and scrambled off of the bed. Her feet were half in her shoes as she made her way to the door and looked through the peep hole.
The groan that left her lips was audible, loud enough for him to hear through the door. But he didn't back away like she hoped. Reluctantly, she pulled open the door. "What do you want, Owens?"
He had expected her to be cold, indifferent towards him. But she just sounded so tired, so defeated. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tyler opened the box in his hands.
A pizza box. She hadn't even seen it when she opened the door. It smelled like shit. Not literal shit, no, it smelt good. But it smelt like food she shouldn't be eaten on a race weekend.
"I brought a peace offering," he said, waving it around slightly. God, it was mouthwatering. That cheese looked like that stringy stuff that made the slice never ending.
She swallowed, which was the wrong move. The smell was inside of her, begging her to grab a slice and just taste it. 'C'mon', the voice in the back of her head said. 'Just a bite. You won't make it to Cota for the race, anyway'.
She shook her head, as if that would banish the voice, and blinked. "You know I can't eat this stuff, right?"
Tyler looked at the pizza, and back at her. She didn't just sound tired and defeated, she looked it, too. But he let that charming, handsome, punchable grin cross his face. "C'mon, you don't have to have all of it. We can share."
"Generous." She rolled her eyes.
But he just looked so... not pathetic. That wasn't the word she was looking for. But he looked like a kicked puppy who just wanted her comfort.
With another groan, she stepped to the side and let him in.
My darlings, do we have another series on our hands?
#tyler owens#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens fluff#tyler owens x you#tyler owens oneshot#tyler owens fanfiction#tyler owens fic#twisters#twisters 2024#twist#twisters fic#twisters fanfic#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader
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omg.. wait for your valentines event could you please to like frat/playboy! katsuki x soft/nerd! reader (who could also look so fucking hot and gorgeous omggg😫)
so basically they’re just at a party and katsuki finds the reader hot but doesn’t know it’s actually the reader so he goes up to them asking them their name and stuff and then he realizes he knows the reader from their classes together and also realizes he’s in love /w her 😫😫
playboy…frat boy,,,katsuki…. i’m… ugh melting. i love this man so much IM MELTINGGGG. also… aha… sorry for taking this long.. SCHOOL OS ACTUALLY KICK MY BUM BUM SIXTH FORM IS GETTING SERIOUS GUYSS!!! but i’ll put my whole attention into tasks again guys.. sorry if this is really bad lowkey think i’ve lost my sparkle for writing but dw it will come back soon!! suggestive, references to corruption kink, gender neutral reader, use of pretty, sexy, succubus (lmao). 1.1k words!
stephanie; katsuki bakugou
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katsuki should be at the library with you right now, you both had agreed to go to continue doing research for the project you were assigned to do together, but katsuki had other plans.
one that involved a hell of a lot of alcohol, cheap valentines decorations and someone to… relax him for the night.
in all honesty, he was avoiding you. something weird was happening, where everytime you grazed him with your soft skin, every look you gave him with those sparkling eyes, all of it, all of you, were starting to make him feel off. as though he wanted to protect you, but also ruin you.
you’re just so delicate, everything about you is the complete opposite of him, kind, loving, gentle, sweet, something about it made him so… possessive of you.
he didn’t know when this actually started to appear, he just knew that the last time you spoke to him in class got him sweating buckets to the point where even fucking shoto (the most socially inept) realised something was off with him.
so, here he was, blowing you off and ignoring your texts to come here. alone. how fucking fun.
katsuki’s carmine eyes whisked through the crowd, trying to find someone who will help him forget all of his woe’s about you and whatever this weird feeling that was bubbling inside of him, until they landed on…you.
well, yes you, but it wasn’t like he knew it was you since you looked completely different.
you were perfect, outfit way too tight and body way too perfect. you looked down right sexy, practically like a succubus waiting to suck his soul but one that had some form of gentleness to you.
regardless, he wasn’t exactly waiting to figure you out, he just needed a quick fuck for the night to get his stress out.
and so, he began to do his signature party trick, the bump and surprise.
he began walking straight towards you, making sure that his gaze was not fixated on you but directly past you until he bumped into you from behind, causing a cute little gasp to leave your lips.
‘reminds me of yn.’ he thought to himself for a split second, quickly trying to rid himself of that thought, of you.
“huh, you bumped into me.” katsuki scoffed, pretending not to be completely flustered as you faced him because damn you looked sexier up close.
those eyes though, felt familiar, they seem to sparkle innocently as he looked at you.
“no, you bumped into me?” you responded softly despite the loud bass of the music almost drowning you out, yet his ear was trained to listen to you.
“guess i need your number so that we can sort this out later.” katsuki smirked, fishing his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you.
“you already have my number, remember? especially since you’re kinda blowing me off right now.” you pouted slightly as you sighed.
“wait, have we fucked before?” katsuki’s answered back confusingly, glancing between all the people he was blowing off right now on his phone and your face.
“what, no?! bakugou, do you not recognise me?” you scoffed.
“um, no?” katsuki gruffed out, tired of all these games. he just wanted to take you to his bed, set you down on the bed and ravage you.
“it’s me, y/n l/n?” you responded sassily, your hands on your hip as you rolled your eyes.
katsuki’s eyes widened, how, in any single universe did he approach you out of every single girl at this fucking function?
you didn’t look anything like you did in school, you were all dolled up, wore something that showed your figure and something that made you look so… fuckable.
not to say that you in school isn’t already a pretty little thing in katsuki’s eyes, but this party-look painted you in a whole different light that was intoxicating to him, dangerous even.
“there’s no way in hell, out of every girl i could’ve approached, it was.. you.” he spoke slowly.
“don’t make it sound like it’s such a terrible thing.” you cutely looked to the side, your face slightly falling.
fuck, even when you were upset you were cute as hell.
‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ katsuki thought frustratingly.
you kept invading his mind, etched into his soul and locked into his heart. nothing ever overshadowed his constant thoughts of you and no matter how much he tried to look at other people, flirt with others and get into bed with them, he truly couldn’t because every single time, his heart would come back to you.
he fucking hated it.
but, more so, he was scared of it and thus, scared of you.
not like he would ever admit that, he’s katsuki fucking bakugou for crying out loud.
“are you ok?” you asked him.
“i.. don’t fucking know. why are you everywhere, yn? i keep.. seeing you and thinking of you.” katsuki responded, his blush intensifying.
“what.. are you trying to say bakugou?” you looked confused.
“call me katsuki.” katsuki looked to the side, his face almost completely red now.
“ok, katsuki, what are you trying to say?” you asked once more.
ok, that was a mistake, if katsuki was flustered before, now he was completely ruined hearing his first name leave your pretty lips.
“i.. don’t know. it’s valentine’s day or whatever and for some reason the universe brought us together right now so, take a fucking guess.” katsuki scoffed.
“you want me?” you said excitedly, smiling widely as your once unattainable crush seemed to finally feel within your reach.
“depends on what your answer, damn it, katsuki bakugou does not get rejected.” his confidence was now increasing as he saw how elated you were at the prospect of being with him.
“only if you ask me properly.” you teased.
“fucks sake, ok, yn l/n, these past few project meetings had me feeling a type of way i never knew i could feel. you’re gorgeous, and i think now i realise that you aren’t only cute but sexy as fuck. not just that though, you’re kind, you’re smart, you have a hell of a lot of resilience and will power, all in all, you are the dream person for me. so, will you like, be my fucking valetines or something?” katsuki smirked
“yes!” you squealed, running to wrap your arms around his extremely toned torso.
katsuki was slightly surprised, of course he had been touched before - a hell of a lot of times actually - but, this hug you gave him just felt different. a lot more personal and intimate, oddly enough, he loved it all the same.
“you smell so good.” you sighed, immediately pausing as embarrassment flushes your entire being.
“is that so? wanna see how good i smell without these clothes on?” katsuki smirked.
“we just got together! also, i need you to promise me something.” you rolled your eyes yet your tone changed to something more sincere.
“yeah?”
“that you’ll stop with kissing all these other girls.” you sighed.
“kissing- honey, i do a lot more than kiss-“
“don’t wanna hear it! just want you to promise me you’ll stop.” you put your palm up to signify that you wanted him to stop.
“i promise.” katsuki replied, looking straight into your eyes, all that the present was warmth, kindness and love.
katsuki was new to this but he would definitely try, anything for you.
#bakugo katuski#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#katsuki bakugo imagine#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou fluff#mha bakugou#katsuki x y/n#bakugou katuski x reader#katsuki x you#katsukibakugou#playboy katsuki
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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 1: Cat Adams
genre: fluff, angst
word count: 4986
pairing: reader x spencer reid
description: you finally understand what is going on. and that leaves you more lost than ever.
a muted shade of green masterlist
previous chapter // next chapter
The first thing you notice is the colour of the walls– beige and cold and not green. You don’t say anything to Spencer, though; you couldn’t even if you tried. Not with all those eyes on you. Your visitor’s pass clicks and clanks against the buttons of your shirt and your hands still shake, even with how tightly they are holding onto your bag. Morgan and Spencer have been very careful to not make too many sudden moves near you, but they are not the problem, it’s the situation. It’s the fact that Spencer doesn’t tell you who is Cat Adams. Is the fact that they made you put your phone in a metal box before entering the building, and then proceed to talk about as if you are not right there.
“She’s going to need a security detail,” Morgan sighs, sunglass finally off and it knocks your breath away how worried he looks. He can’t really hide it, you think, not with how expressive his eyes are. Spencer, on the other hand, is unreadable. His face is set and frozen in a blank expression that has all the hair on your arms standing up. He doesn’t speak, though, and that is probably the first time you’ve ever seen Spencer Reid that quiet. “Kid, are you listening to me?”
“Security detail won’t do,” Is all he says before guiding you out of the elevator and into an open space filled with office desk, trapped inside those god awful beige walls. Fuck, you think you are starting to hate beige; that specific shade of it. You hate how it numbs out everything inside, how trapped it makes you feel. No one really talks to you, but from the way they stare, it’s quite obvious that they know what Spencer won’t tell you.
At this point, there are various things happening inside of you and you can’t quite keep up with them all. Your stomach is roaring, sending sharp jolts of pain up and down your torso and you wince a little with each step you take. In turn, each step you take has you wobbling on unstable legs, and you take deep breaths to try and keep it together. Though every time you inhale, your lungs burn from the panic that lingers in the back of your brain. And finally, you brain, tired and overused, still seems to have an issue with processing the situation, and it takes you to a time that no longer exists– a time in which Spencer laughed at your literary themed jokes, or when he would come with coffee and nothing more than a smile. You understand now, why he kept you in the dark about his job; you understand the weight that this job has on him.
It makes you wonder if it’s a weight you’re strong enough to carry on your shoulders.
By the time you blink yourself awake from your world of past memories, there are people around you and you don’t recognise any of them. Somehow, you are seated at what looks like a very typical office desk; the chair swivels as you look around. The copy of The Argonauts on the desk is a dead giveaway of whose desk you are on, but then why isn’t he here? Why did he bring you to this cold, cold place and left you by yourself? Why– “Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”
There are two women next to you, one to your right and one to your left. You don’t like how they make you feel like a cornered animal, but their faces show nothing but understanding and compassion, and you don’t feel like being a bitch will help your situation. Your anger, building higher and stronger with each passing second, is not because of them, and you are many things, but you like to think you are not unfair. “Yeah,” You croak out, gulping the ball of emotions that seemed to be stuck halfway down your throat, making it hard to talk or breathe without your lower lips wobbling pathetically.
“Y/N, my name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ. This is Emily, we both work with Reid.”
It takes you a second to know who they are talking about. For you, it’s never Reid. It’s Spencer when you are laughing at one of his rants about something so niche and specific that you couldn’t find it anything other than amusing. It’s Spence when you’re heart is full and the butterflies are awake. And it’s Favourite Customer when you want to tease him. It’s never just… Reid. “Spencer,” You nod, embarrassed by your own need to say his full name. You don’t want to need him, right now, but you can’t help but look around the open bullpen. His wild, shaggy hair is nowhere to be seen and you don’t understand how the sweet man that stole your heart can do something like this. You are scared and confused and he just left you with strangers. “I uh, I’m sorry, but wha-what’s going on? No one will tell me anything, and I think I have the right to now why Spence had a gun and why I was dragged away from my shop and–“
If you had anything in your stomach, you’d vomit again but all you manage is to double forward a little, the pain of your hunger and your nausea together starting to get a little too much when the added stress of being alone with strangers got added into the mix. “Here,” JJ pushes a packet of saltines towards you. “Got into them when I was pregnant with my boys and now I always keep one here. It’ll be good to eat something, Morgan mentioned you got sick.”
“Thank you, I– Penelope?” Seeing her there, with her pinks and oranges and yellows, makes as little sense as seeing Spencer with a gun. Her warmth and happiness don’t fit in a place like this, that, so far, has only brought you anxiety.
“Y/N! Oh my god, sweet, pretty Y/N!” For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you chuckle. And it breaks you down inside, how fragile you must seem for Penelope to wobble towards you in such high heels and yet, hug you with the utmost care in the world. It’s in her arms that you start crying again. “Oh no, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay… You’re safe here.”
“Safe from what?” You wail, and if Spencer had bothered enough to be there, that would’ve been the first time he would have seen you raising your voice.
Ever since you were little, you never raised your voice. As an adult, it has happened once or twice, but never at someone specifically. Your nature is that of a more reserved person, someone who enjoys the spectator role a bit too much and prefers to observe from afar. There is power in knowledge, and it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that you value the little bit of it that you have– so much so, that you built a business in which you could gather all the knowledge you deemed special and worthy and important, and then you could share with other people. Sure, you don’t always feel like your job is significantly important for the betterment of the world, but every time a client leaves with a smile, you know you’re doing your part.
“Cat Adams.”
The name alone is enough to make you fall onto the chair again, body limp and drained. Spencer is back, but he’s off. His lips are pursed in that way he does when he is unsure of what to say and he’s hidden his hands inside his pockets. It’s his own way of keeping secrets, hiding his hands from you… and you don’t like it. For as long as you have known him, his excitement shone through his hands; it’s the fast movements and the wiggle of his fingers that always make you smile. It’s how he best communicates and now it’s how he pushes you away. “Miss Y/L/N,” There is a man in a suit standing next to him, and you shrink in your chair under his stare. It’s heavy and cold, and you think that if he looks at you for a second longer you might start crying all over again. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m the unit chief for the BAU. Please, come with me and I’ll explain everything. JJ and Spencer, you too. Penelope, prepare to brief the team in 20.”
Part of you wants to tell him no just to see what would happen. It’s clear, from more than just his title, he’s in charge. Your one and only connection to these people and this place is Spencer, so he is your tell-tale. He is your magic ball. It’s a skill, rather than a gift, being able to sense people like this– it’s something that years in retail and sales have taught you– and right now, you see how Spencer shifts his weight from one leg to the other while looking at his boss, waiting for instructions as if he couldn’t come up with them himself, and that, more than anything else that has happened today, is what scares you the most.
Because if a man like Spencer can’t come up with an answer for this specific issue, you are not sure anyone else can.
—————————————
“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You are not above begging, hands balled into fists on your lap as you look up at Aaron Hotchner with pitiful eyes. You probably look messy, at this point, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you care about is you. And your store. And the fact that an hour has passed since you first got to that godforsaken office and no one seems to care; no one seems to care about your time or your personal affairs.
They only care about that stupid package.
“Miss Y/L/N, I apologise for the confusion we’ve caused, but I guarantee that everything that has been done so far was to keep you safe,” His words, as strong as they sound, don’t feel any more assuring than then tentative glance Spencer throws your way.
“Oh god,” You breathe out, eyes wide while your mind ran circles around you. It is a dangerous thing, to let a literary lover imagine– your brain, filled with epic tales and unforgettable real stories, starts rushing towards the worst case scenario and you find yourself reaching out to hold at something, anything, that might make you feel grounded in reality again. It’s how soft Spencers suit feels in your fingertips that makes you realise you reached out for him. “Oh god, was that like, a bomb? Did I sign for a bomb? Oh god, Spencer, do people send you bombs? I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Spence, I–“
“It wasn’t a bomb,” Spencer is quick to interject, hands finally out of his pockets when he reaches out to hold your shoulders. His thumb gently caresses your arm and you try to breathe somewhat regularly, imitating the rise and fall of his chest like he is the beacon light bringing you back home in treacherous waves– like he is the only one you can trust in that place. “Y/N, it’s okay, it wasn’t a bomb. The contents of the package are not important and they were harmless. But we need you to focus. I know I scared you and that this is all very overwhelming, but you need to listen to Hotch. Please.”
In your mind, you keep repeating those words to yourself– Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.
“Cat Adams is a prolific serial killer,” Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. “We’ve arrested her a few years ago and we believe she has resurfaced.”
Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.
“And that she has been targeting Reid.”
With one panicked look his way, you say what the words stuck in your throat can’t convey– I can’t listen to Hotch anymore. “She… She is a serial killer,” You whisper, eyes focused on Spencer in search of a nod or a shake of his head. This is the FBI, but you only trust him. “And she is after Spencer. Okay, I uh– I need– I don’t know what I need.”
If you asked Spencer, he would tell you that you have a certain something about you whenever you are tired. Your shoulders slump forward and your head fall on your hands in a desperate way to keep your neck upright. The lack of energy is almost visible in you, and sometimes he has to fight the urge to hold your head up for you.
But you don’t ask Spencer. Actually, you don’t say anything at all; you let people talk about you and around you, but your brain shuts down with each and every word, unable to retain any more information. “Can I go home?” There is a minute of silence before Hotch sighs, shaking his head. “But you said you arrested her, correct? Therefore I shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I mean, it’s not like she has access to USPS delivery data from prison, right?” The more you speak, the faster you try to get up. You’re not thinking straight, and with all due reason– there is no power left in you to do this. There is no energy, no will, no strength to keep on going because it feels like you’re running in circle.
Spencer notices it, too, and in what can only be interpreted as a daring attempt to calm you down, he let his hand rest on your shoulder for a second. It’s a subtle way to tell his team to go easy on you, almost like he’s having a full conversation with Hotch without opening his mouth. You, however, don’t catch it, and you continue to try and push yourself upright and away from them. You need to get away from them.
“So she has no clue who I am and I have nothing to do with this because I’m just a bookseller! And I just happened to sell Spencer some books and we’re just friends!”
A wave of shame downs on you when the words leave your mouth, like you are admitting to failure when you haven’t even had the chance to try it to begin with. It’s like you deny Spencer’s presence in your life as a whole, like he has no significant place or role next to you, and you can’t seem to meet his eyes even when he starts speaking. “Y/N, I am so sorry,” The choked out sound that escapes him is the only thing that makes you look, makes you raise your eyes to meet his and you gasp when you notice he is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was gone, that she was not a threat anymore, I–“
“Reid,” JJ sighs, and you see something in her that makes you shift in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with the way his name sounds coming from her lips. “Reid, she’s going to be alright. We will get some officers to keep watch by her place, and we can file a request for protective detail during the day.”
“You know as much as I do that none of that will help!” Spencer’s voice gets higher and louder with each word and his hands are back at it again, flying around the room in frustration. You have never seen him like that before, and it scares you more to see him scared than to hear that you might now be placed under protective custody.
“Spence,” This time, when your voice wobbles in fear, it’s not because of him. “Spence, is it really bad?”
When you were little, you used to refuse to admit your were scared. You’d use any other word– frustrated, spooked, uncomfortable– but you would never admit fear. Your dad always thought it was the cutest thing, though, because despite you puffing your chest out and crossing your little arms over your chest, the one thing that always gave you away was the way your lips wobbled. Right now, you feel like that little kid again, refusing to admit to how you really feel but giving it all out anyways.
Spencer’s eyes read you like a book. You can feel the weight of them, moving across your face, taking in the lines and expressions you make without even realising. It’s like every part of you is a new chapter, telling him more and more of a story he is yet to finish, and with a sigh, sad and defeated, he nods. “It’s really bad, Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. I should’ve been honest with you, I should’ve told you what I did and who I worked for and all that it brings with it.”
“No, Spencer, this is not your fault,” You breathe out, reaching for him in a moment of weakness. Your anger is still there, still simmering at the way that, in a sense, this is very much his fault, but you manage to rise through it when his nervous hands try to reach for you but fall nimble by his sides instead. “I mean, it kind of is, but it isn’t. And it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Right? I’ll be–“
“You’ll be just fine,” Hotch interrupts. His brows are slightly raised and from the way he looks at Spencer you think he knows something you don’t, but you’ve been feeling like that ever since you’ve stepped into that office. Everyone around you knows something you don’t– they know things about each other, about Spencer, that you simply don’t, and that you think you never will. Because after this– this betrayal, this hurt, this fear– you just don’t think you and Spencer can coexist anymore. You don’t think you can forget, as hard as you might try, the sight of him holding that gun to your head. So for now, you try to calm down. For now, all you can do is try to calm down. “Miss Y/L/N, we need to asses the situation, understand if you are in any kind of immediate danger. While our team works on this, we will ask that you relocate. Do you have relatives you can call? Friends?”
Technically, you do. Your parents live in New York and so do most of your friends– all it takes is one call. But that is one call you really don’t want to make. “I don’t want to leave my store,” Looking down at your hands, you wonder how easy it is for them to see right through you. “I just moved here. I know it might sound stupid, specially considering the… you know, this whole situation. But my life is here now and I would rather stay, if, if that’s okay, of course, I mean, you know… best.” God, you look so uncomfortable trying to stand up to his boss that the pity in Spencer’s face is almost palpable. “Please.”
“Hotch, she can stay with me.”
“Do we think that is a good idea?” JJ frowns, and you can’t help but nod, looking at Spencer as if he’s insane.
“I– That’s a very kind offer, but isn’t she after you?” You manage to ask, looking around for any clue their team might give you. These guys are professionals, though, and they know how to keep up their masks of indifference.
“Yes and no,” He explains, sighing before crouching next to where you sit. “Y/N, this woman– Cat– she is psychology disturbed. She is what we call a black widow, do you know what that is?”
You nod, blushing a little with how close he is to you. “I uh, I read a book that the main character was a black widow. Butter, by Asako Yuzuki.”
His smile makes you melt a little, and you hate how weak you are to the little windows of personality he allows you to see from time to time. “Yeah, I like that book too. But… this is real life. Cat Adams goes after cheaters, liars.”
“Then why is she after you?”
“Because I lied to her,” He admits, your eyes stuck on his expression and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his jaw ticks in response to what you can only assume to be anger. But you are not, anyone else, you are very much so yourself, an observer, a quiet listener, and it just so happens that your favourite person to observe and listen to is Spencer Reid himself. “I was our decoy to capture her and now she sees me a as a game. Almost like, like a game of wits, to see who’s smarter, to see who will win. Is this making sense, Y/N? Do you need a break?”
“I just, I don’t understand where I fit. I was just housesitting for you, I could’ve been a complete stranger.”
“Miss Y/L/N,” Hotch interrupted, leaning forward in such a somber way the hair on your arms stand up. “You have managed to get something she never did. Cat Adams is acting out in jealousy.”
“What did I get? I’m sorry, I don’t–“
“Me,” Spencer said, eyes piercing into yours. “You got me.”
—————————————
By the time you make it back home, the moon is high and the roads are clear. It has been a while since you last got out of the house at the early hours of the morning. Fresh from the move and focused on your new store, making friends wasn’t at the top of your priority list when you landed, a year and something ago. Without someone to drag you out to bars or bribe you to go to clubs, you don’t really leave the house much at night, preferring the comfort of your own couch and the company of a book in the weekends.
“You know,” For a second, you almost forget that he is right there behind you, and you jump a little when his voice echoes in your empty apartment. “You’ve been to my place so many times, but I never really even seen your apartment.”
How do you tell him that there is not much to see, anyways? How do you tell Spencer that, in the time you’ve been here, the 365-plus-something days, you just never really thought about your apartment the same as your home? Your walls are empty, and it’s a little embarrassing, the way his brows shoot up when your turn on the lights. Besides your couch and a centre table, the place is almost empty. The TV stands on an old piece of furniture, a unit too dark and too classic to match with the rest of the things you have, and it’s a little too obvious that it came with the place and you were just too lazy to get rid of it. There is a singular throw pillow on the couch and a blanket, with a pile of books standing by the foot of it. But what really strikes him as odd, what really makes Spencer look around and make sure that yes, this is your apartment, is the fact that there are no shelves. There are no books, besides the four or five pilling up on the rug.
“You know, for a book lover, you have… no books,” He mumbled, hands on his pocket as he offered you that smile you used to adore so much, but that now makes you a bit uneasy– tight lipped, never really reaching his eyes. “Why do you have no books?”
“They are all downstairs,” You say, marching straight to your room to grab a backpack. “How many days do you think I’ll be staying with you?”
“Honestly? Until we solve this.”
“…And how many days is that?”
From where he stands, he can’t see your sagged shoulders, trembling hands holding onto the blue backpack you had laying around the back of your wardrobe. “Pack for as long as you can,” He shouts from somewhere deep inside your place. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Too late for that,” You mumble to yourself, grabbing the closest items your found– a couple of shirts, sweaters, and jeans. After today, it’s not like you have much energy left to try and plan outfits ahead, so anything will do.
It’s borderline funny, when you think about it… Just yesterday you were worried about what to wear, nervous hands sifting through your endless collection of sweaters to try and find just the right one for the day. Spencer visits you everyday, so everyday is a new day to impress him. You even start wearing makeup; a bit of mascara to make your eyes shine behind the glasses you refuse to wear, some blush to make the natural flush you get whenever he’s around seem more normal. It’s vain and futile, you know, but it makes you feel a tad more confident. A tad more… colourful. Like Penelope. “I think I’m ready,” You say once you’ve gathered all items you might need from the bathroom. “I’ll still be good to work, right?”
He nods, a smile on his face as if this is good news to him too. “Yes, we will have men stationed outside your store all day, so you don’t have to worry about anything while I’m away at the BAU. I’ll personally drop you off and pick you up myself.” His words don’t make you feel any more confident, hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “Y/N, I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. This is temporary, and uh… I’d like to think that, you know, staying with me is not all that bad. You’ll get the bed and you are comfortable in my apartment, anyways, right? And, and! And we can have movie marathons and talk about books, cause I have a lot of books! You know that, of course you know that, you sold me half of them.” Clearing his throat when you just stare at him, you can see how Spencer is ranting. But you don’t mind the rant, actually; oddly enough, his nervous words are the one thing giving you a sense of normalcy right now. “Cat won’t come to you personally, if that helps. She is in federal prison, we’ve confirmed it yesterday, and anyone that comes in and out of your shop will be checked. Y/N, we– I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you need to trust me.”
“I do,” And you don’t mean to sound so sad, but you can’t help it. Right now, he’s the only person you can trust, and for you, that is one of the saddest things you’ve ever experience, because even though you know you need to pull away from him, that you need to put some distance between yourself and the man standing right in front of you, you just don’t trust yourself to be able to do it. “Anyways, can we go? I’m really tired, it’s been one hell of a day.”
The walk over there drains the last bit of life you still have in you, foot dragging and tripping on the road, and you hate that this is how Spencer holds you for the first time– stopping you from falling on your face. “Sorry,” You mumble, following him once you’re on your feet again. The way his hands hover around you while you slowly make your way up the stairs of his apartment is adorable, and each and every time your heart skips a beat for him, it also breaks for yourself. You are digging your grave, and the worst part is that you don’t seem to care. You’re weak, you think to yourself, exhaling heavily when you finally walk inside the familiar apartment.
You are so tired that you don’t really think about things too much, dragging yourself to the armchair you adore so much and sitting down. The way you kick your shoes off isn’t very polite, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow; for now, all you want is to shut your eyes and drift off to sleep, lulled by the muted green walls and the stories they told. While you slip into the hypnotic pull of a dreamless slumber, you can hear shuffling in the background, and later on, much later into the night, you don’t feel it, but Spencer covers you with your favourite blanket– the wool one his mother gifted him ages ago, the one you always leave tossed aside on his armchair. And you don’t see the way he smiles at you either, like he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn’t mind; not as long as you get to sleep as soundly as you are then.
Actually, when it comes to Spencer, you are blind. To logic, yes, but to him, too. For someone as observant as yourself, it’s a little ridiculous how oblivious you are to the looks he send your way when you’re not paying attention. They linger, and he smiles in a way you’re yet to witness, but they are all for you. It’s the one bit of him that Spencer can give you, and you’re not even aware of it enough to take it and keep it safe.
But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to not have hopes.
Sometimes, Spencer thinks, fixing your blanket so that it tucked under your chin just right when your curl into a small, defenceless ball of exhaustion, it’s better to never have loved, then to have loved and lost.
He would know.
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aaaahhhh this is really happening! it's now official: a muted shade of green is an active series :D sorry if it felt like it took so long for an update, I just don't have much time to write recently, but I'm working on it! hope you like it <3
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid series#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x oc#nerdy spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid cm#spencer reid comfort#spencer reid core#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#elle greenaway#emily prentiss#jason gideon
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Thinking more about Akechi's rank 3, and about its flow into rank 4 at the jazz club—where Akechi begins to open up to Ren, by taking him somewhere special to him that he hasn't shared with anyone else.
Don't you think it seems off, on a first glance? Like it doesn't work? Because Akechi does not seem to entirely appreciate Ren's intervention. If you look at their phone call afterwards, it seems like Akechi lost control in the café, and is trying to take that back from Ren. He threatens him with what Ren "took" from him!—"I'll be dictating everything, from hair to accessories". Ren dictated the hair and accessories in rank 3, and now Akechi needs to do the same!
Make no mistake, this exchange, while cute as a button, is also Akechi struggling to regain some control that he feels he lost. He needs payback; he needs to meet Ren's challenge; he needs more.
So what's going on?
always in chains
As Akechi mentions in the engine room:
This line, of course, suffers in translation, so let's take a closer look:
Akechi 君は、今までの自分とか、人間関係とか⋯そういうものに囚われない。 kimi wa, ima made no jibun to ka, ningen kankei to ka… sou iu mono ni torawarenai You don't allow yourself to be enslaved by such things as human relations or past selves…
Did you understand this line on its first pass? Or at all? "Past selves"? What is this, Akechi, are we bringing in reincarnation now? What do you even mean by "human relations", is this a biology class?
Let's rework it a little. ima made no jibun—that's "the you until now". We might say "who you've always been". And ningen kankei—well, that is "human relations", translated very literally. But nobody would ever say that—it just means "relationships"! When you talk about your ningen kankei, you're often talking about your skills with relationships—how you get on with people. And Akechi gets on with people very well.
So what is he actually saying?
You don't allow yourself to be enslaved by such things as human relations or past selves… You're not a slave to expectations, or to how others see you.
Akechi will later tell us that these chains have bound him since his earliest days:
Those chains are the core of the resentment and envy he feels for Ren. More than anything Shido could potentially do to him, the expectations of others are what bind and torment Akechi. And this difference in how Akechi and Ren respond to outside pressure is one of the most important contrasts between them.
back to rank 3
So what does all of this tell us about rank 3, when Akechi is spotted by celebrity hunters?
In this situation, Akechi can't do anything but leave. He has to be the good boy everyone expects. He can't just sit there soaking up the adulation, and it seems clear that he isn't so inclined—look at the way he cringes away in his seat, and more to the point, look at his face:
Before he's accosted, his sprite and model match—he is probably genuinely pleased! But afterwards, though the sprite is sad, the model looks angry. Akechi can't confront his fans and ask them to leave him in peace. He can't dare to be angry with them, even though he's spitting tacks. He is chained—he can only ever do what people expect "Goro Akechi" to do.
Not just as a celebrity, but in every sphere of his life, even when he's carping to Sae or showing off for Shido, he is a slave to his public image—to the expectations others have of him. He cannot act outside that box. Society put Akechi in chains from babyhood—and his response was to own them, to build a bigger, better cell for himself. That he understands—he tells us how it works repeatedly!—and that he recognises, but can never escape.
So what is it that Akechi learns about Ren, in rank 3? It's that if you dare put Ren Amamiya in a cell, he'll tear it down.
Akechi could only dream of acting the way Ren does in this moment. Ren takes a huge risk here—on how Akechi will react, on how the crowd will react—and it pays off. Rather than submitting to the chains others place on him, Ren refuses to be bound. Ren is ungovernable.
Of course that's catnip to Akechi. Of course, even though it unnerves him, he wants more. He's drawn to Ren like a moth to flame—and this is the genesis of the bitter envy that will become so toxic by rank 8.
revision history
Click here for the latest version.
v1.1 (2024/10/06)—clarified some pronouns.
v1.0 (2024/10/06)—first posted.
#persona 5#p5 meta#shuake#goro akechi#ren amamiya#ALSO OF COURSE#this is akechi's first indication of how far ren will go *for his friends*#something else that will be so significant to him by rank 7
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can you make a fic with jiung “talking you through it” CAUSE HE MOST DEF WOULD???
tags: soft dom!jiung x fem!reader, phone sex, guided masturbation, pet names, praise | mdni
“i just called to wish you a good day at work before i leave for mine,” jiung speaks calmly with a hint of playfulness in his tone which makes you realise he’s actually teasing you, “and you’re gonna make me hard?”
“you asked what my dream was about and i told you,” you reply as your fingers put pressure on your clit through the cotton fabric of your panties, slow circles that invite a well familiar warmth into your lower body.
his voice always sounds so arousing when he’s flirting with you, and listening to it so early in the morning after a wet dream… the temptation is too hard to resist.
“does it feel good, baby?” jiung shuts his eyes, painting the image of you laying in your bed; hair messy, thighs rubbing together needily, nipples hard.
“not as good as when you do it,” you say with a slight frustration while keeping the same steady motions going.
jiung’s lips slide into a smile at your words, before he bites on them from the sudden thoughts bursting into his head. he recognises that your breathing turns more heavy as time goes on, and he’s trying to imagine you in as many details as possible.
“did you push a finger inside you yet?”
“no, not yet,” you reply before humming from the growing pleasure.
“do it, baby... wouldn’t it feel nice?”
with your free hand, you slide down your underwear to your ankles, and press gently into your wet entrance. your middle finger glides through your tight gummy walls, making you gasp from the feeling.
“wet?” jiung asks, letting out a soft chuckle.
“yeah,” you sigh, moving it slowly back and forth. “i’m so wet, wish you were here with me…” your brows gather together every time you force your finger deeper.
“it’s alright, baby,” jiung’s smooth voice comforts you from the speaker while also making you more sensitive at the same time. “focus on my voice for now, okay?” his palm adjusts his boner as you let out a small moan at his ear. “add one more finger in.”
you do as he says, feeling the nice stretch. however, the feeling can barely compare to the one of his long slim fingers, even after you curl yours up and begin to pump them quicker.
“fuck—” you whine quietly and jiung is glad you cannot see the smug smile on his lips provoked by your desperate sound; by the obvious way you seem to not be able to imitate his ways; to bring half of the thrill he brings you every time.
“move them faster, sweetheart,” he encourages you, “i wanna hear how wet you are..” the squelching arousal spreads louder, turning jiung’s mind foggy and he palms his erection with a stronger grip before speaking again. “your pussy sounds so pretty, you got it soaking wet for me.” he breathes in meanwhile you shift against your pillow, arching your back, because the pleasure starts increasing the way you need it bit by bit. “gonna cum any minute now, aren’t you, love? i can feel it too.”
jiung remains silent for a moment, just taking in the sounds of your hand smacking lightly against your skin as you chase your high; the lewd noise from your slickness and your panting which makes the skin of his neck hot…
the way you chant his name doubles the tension in his pants; the growing need to feel you makes it impossible to ignore now.
“i’m right here, baby.” he softly mutters once you repeat his name few more times. “right here…”
while you, on the other side of the phone, feel how every next word of his pushes you further…
“you sound so fuckin’ beautiful, don’t stop.” he will listen to you losing control over moaning his name forever if he could. “good girl… gonna come over at your place after work today. the rest of your pretty body needs some attention too.”
a/n: hope this is close to what you had in mind <3
#💌: xhdream inbox#— writing: p1harmony#p1harmony hard thoughts#p1harmony hard hours#p1harmony smut#choi jiung smut#jiung hard thoughts#jiung smut#jiung x reader#p1harmony x reader#piwon x reader#p1h hard thoughts#piwon smut
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A little blurb request for princess 👸 wally : wally wins an award and has to fly to receive it maybe a ballon dor or Swiss award (completely up to you 🥰). Reader isn’t able to travel with her as she’s just had acl surgery and is beyond gutted and feels like she is letting her gf down. When Lia receives the award she mentions reader and then the hosts says he has a surprise for her which is a pre recorded video from r congratulating wally and telling her she knew she could do it etc. when wally gets back to her hotel room r has also arranged for some balloons and food with a card from her. Lia is left speechless
i skipped the message at the ceremony because i found it hard to fit everything in to something blurb size. i hope you still like it !
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The flight back to Zurich had been uneventful, a blur of recycled air and weak coffee. Lia isn’t sure why she feels so restless; the award ceremony was a success, She should be happy. Proud, even. Instead, she feels the hollow ache of missing you, heavier than the trophy tucked underneath her arm.
Her phone buzzes as she steps into the elevator at the hotel. It’s you, naturally.
“Hey,” she answers, her voice soft.
“Lia!” Your voice is warm, comforting, but there’s something brittle underneath it. “Are you back at the hotel yet? How was it? Did you eat? Did you—”
She laughs, cutting off your ramble. “I’m fine, schatz. I’m just getting to my room now. You really don’t have to fuss”
“Well, I do,” you retort, but there’s no bite to it. She can picture you on the couch, leg propped up on its designated cushion tower, your brace a stark reminder of why you couldn’t come. The guilt twists in her chest again.
She slides her keycard into the door and pushes it open. At first, nothing registers; she’s still distracted by your voice in her ear, telling her how much you wish you’d been there.
And then she sees them.
Balloons. Not a modest handful, but a full bouquet of them, bright and gleaming, tied to the back of the desk chair. There’s a spread of food on the table—her favourites, she notices immediately: rösti, a neatly arranged charcuterie board, and a small chocolate cake that looks almost too perfect to eat.
“What the…” she murmurs, trailing off.
“Lia?” you ask, confused.
She sets the trophy down slowly, her movements deliberate, and walks over to the desk. There’s a card nestled among the balloons, your handwriting unmistakable. She picks it up and opens it, reading the words to herself:
To my Lia,
Congratulations, my love. I’m so proud of you. I wish I could’ve been there to see you shine, but I know you made everyone in that room feel lucky just to be near you. Enjoy this little surprise—I thought you might need a proper celebration. Love you always xx
Her throat tightens. She presses the card to her chest and exhales deeply before raising the phone back to her ear. “You did this?”
There’s a pause on your end. “I thought maybe the balloons would distract you for a bit”
“How did you even manage this?” She asks, her voice tinged with awe.
“Magic,” you reply lightly, but she can hear the pride in your voice. “I just… I hated the thought of you coming back to an empty room after such a big night. You deserve to feel celebrated, Lia”
She sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the balloons, the food, the card. It’s silly, really—she’s the one being recognised, and yet you’re the one making her feel like the luckiest person alive.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admits, her voice softer now.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you reply. “Just eat something. You must be starving.”
“I am,” she concedes, reaching for a piece of cheese from the board. “But you’ve completely ruined me, you know. How am I supposed to top this?”
“You don’t have to top it,” you say simply. “You just have to come home”
The ache in her chest softens, replaced by a warmth she can’t quite put into words. She takes another bite, the flavour rich and comforting, and smiles.
“I’ll be home soon,” she promises. “And then I’m taking care of you, okay?”
“You already do,” you say, your voice so sincere it leaves her momentarily speechless.
She looks around the room again, taking in every detail of your carefully planned surprise. The balloons catch the light, their glossy surfaces shimmering, and she decides that maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad after all.
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bucket hats & trench coats | peter maximoff
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・❥・summary: peter ralph gets caught up in the westview incident
・❥・word count: 2.1k
・❥・warnings: 18+, nsfw. female reader, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, agatha all along spoilers kinda, swearing.
・❥・ authors note: this is pure filth im so sorry. also bless @jazz-berry for getting caps of our boy that i just had to use for this 💕
The click clack of fingers zooming across a keyboard was the only sound that rang out through the room. Peter’s eyes were solely fixed on the computer screen as he typed up his newest Reddit post. Ever since the events of Westview had happened and his mind was his own, he was determined to spread the truth of what had really happened. He was the hero Westview needed. Thing was, nobody really cared to listen to his ramblings about Wanda and Agatha and how he’d been manipulated by both.
Apart from you. Everything Peter had experienced, you had, too. The hex had taken you both under control. The only difference was that had only been under Wanda’s control and not hers and Agatha’s like Peter had been. It had taken a real toll on him. He was still himself but he was… paranoid, guarded like he couldn’t trust anyone.
“Holy shitballs, dude,” he spun around in his chair to face you who was sprawled out on the couch with a book in your hand. At the sound of his voice, you peered over at him, a brow raised in question. “Some kid wants to meet up to talk about the whole Westview shit. We gotta go meet him, babe. He wants to know all about Agatha and Wanda and the freaky crap that went down.”
As you looked at Peter, you couldn’t help but frown. He was still as handsome as ever but his face was now adorned with a beard, the lines and bags around his eyes more prominent than ever. His hair was an unruly mess of half silver, half brown. He’d dyed it to try and hide himself but had never kept up with it so now the roots of his curls were a shocking silver that mismatched the brown. His eyes that once held so much joy, so much fun were now full of fear and vulnerability.
“Okay, if that’s what you want to do then, yeah,” you nod.
That’s how you ended up in a parking lot the next evening. Peter looked ridiculous stood beside you in a long trench coat and a bucket hat. Although, maybe in a weird sort of way it was a look. Or maybe you were just so desperate for your boyfriends touch that you were finding anything about him attractive now. Intimacy had come to a complete halt after everything that happened. He spent most of his time on Reddit trying to spread his story. The whole thing had really put a strain on your relationship but you loved this man and there was no way you were leaving him when he needed you the most. So what if you had to touch yourself most nights just for some relief. If that’s the way it had to be then fine.
“You look ridiculous,” you hissed at him, shaking your head. “Do you really need all of this?”
“It’s a disguise, duh! Can’t have him recognising me, can I? That’s why I’m going by Ralph… I mean, Randal — whatever fake name that police dude gave me. What’s up with you anyway? You’re crabby,” he took a sideways glance at you before glancing down at his watch.
“Nothing.” It was a mumble, hands stuffed into the jacket of Peter’s you were wearing. As he was about to speak again - or, more accurately, call you out - a car pulled into the lot. This was it. “Just be careful, okay?”
Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. His beard tickling your face, the sensation only increasing those impure thoughts of wondering what it’d feel like somewhere else, somewhere lower. Peter nodded, giving your hand a squeeze before you jogged off back to the car. This was his thing. It was something he needed to do alone so you made yourself comfy in the backseat of the car, pulling up a game on your phone to pass the time.
It felt like too much time had passed since you left your boyfriend to his meet up so with concern, you got out of the car. Peter was walking around in circles, alone, mumbling to himself. Walking over to him, you approached cautiously. “Peter?”
“I forgot to tell him so much. Damn, I’m an idiot. Do you think he’d meet up again? I need to tell him about the rabbit and….” You cut him off by taking his hand in yours.
“I think you need to relax. This isn’t good for you.”
“It’s the only thing I can think about. It’s the only thing going through my head at any given point. All I can think about is the awful things those… witches… made me do.”
At the word witches, you cut in with “bitches” causing the tiniest of smiles to creep onto his face. You had missed his smile. It was one of the most beautiful things on the planet and you’d do anything to see it again.
“I know, baby. But… you’re letting this consume you and… it’s driving us apart. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my Peter. I miss joking around, going on dates, you stealing stuff for me, being intimate with each other. Do you not realise how long it’s been since we had sex?” You sighed, playing with the fingers on his hand.
“…fuck,” he let out a sigh of his own, the realisation hitting him. Hard. How the heck could he forget about the most important person in his life? No, he wasn’t having that. He had to make it up to you and quick - luckily that just so happened to be his speciality. His hands slid down your sides, finding your hips and pulling you into him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst fucking boyfriend. Let me make it up to you?”
Everything that happened next was a blur. Before you knew it, you were laid on the backseat of the car, legs spread wide with Peter between them. You had no idea where your panties were — Peter had pulled them off in a frenzy. His tongue teased along your folds elicting the most precious sounds he’d ever heard from you. Every brush of his tongue drove you wilder and wilder. His beard rubbing against your thighs only adding to the growing desire in the pit of your stomach. His lips sucked on your sensitive bud causing you to whimper, hands flying to his hair until you realised he had the stupid goddamn bucket hat on still.
“Peter,” you breathed out.
“Yeah, baby, you like that?” His tongue swirled around your clit, completely oblivious to how annoyed you were.
“Peter!” This time he looked up at you from between your legs. “Take the stupid fucking hat off.”
“You mean it’s not doing it for you? Thought bucket hats were all the rage,” he snickered but he took it off, tossing it into the front of the car then dove back in like a man starved. The long, broad stripes of his tongue sliding through your pussy was like ecstasy. God, you had missed this. When you felt him prodding at your entrance, your hands once again flew to his hair this time tangling in it successfully as his tongue dove into you.
“Oh shit,” you moaned, hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue explored your plush walls. Peter could do this all day. Your moans were like music to his ears, the taste of you the best thing he’d ever have on his lips.
“That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against you, his tongue making its way back to your clit. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna let me make it up to you?” Between the kitten licks and the sound of him sucking up your juices, you were sure you were about to see heaven but then the little shit thrusted two fingers inside you. Your body arched as he pumped them at a rapid pace. The stimulation of his tongue and fingers was too much for you to handle and you came. Peter lapped at you, his fingers not letting up as he rode you through your orgasm.
He pulled his fingers from you. A shit eating smirk - one reminiscent of the old Peter - was plastered on his face when his eyes met yours. Seeing your release over his lips was enough to almost trigger another orgasm. It really had been so fucking long. “Not done yet.”
Through the dimly lit windows you could see him, rubbing his hard-on through the fabric of his jeans. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you leaned forward, one hand reaching out to pop the button and pull down the zipper. With his help, you pulled down his jeans and boxers enough to free him. You reached out, stroking his cock, the pearly beads of pre-cum leaking from him. With your thumb, you spread it around his tip, causing a groan to pass his lips.
“Damn, babe, keep that up and I’m gonna shoot a load on you in two seconds.” He pushed your hand off him. “Need to fuck you now. Need to fuck you real good to make up for the last year.” He pumped himself a few times, his brows furrowed as he looked at you. “Trench coat on or off?”
You contemplated it for a second. “Fuck it, keep it on. Makes you look like a mysterious hot grandpa.”
“Grandpa?! You little brat.”
That was all you heard before he pushed his cock into your tight walls. He bottomed out in one thrust, filling you to the hilt. God, it felt so good to feel him inside you again. Instantly, he began thrusting into you at a rough pace, his hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. All you could think about was your boyfriend was fucking you within an inch of your life again. Finally.
“So fucking wet for me, baby. Don’t think I haven’t heard you touching yourself every night,” he grunted, pulling out and pushing back in with force. Each thrust rougher than the next — all his pent up frustrations finally having a form of release. “Thinkin’ about me when you were playing with this pussy, huh?”
“Yes, Peter,” you mewled. Your hips bucked wildly against his trying to match his pace but it was no use. He was definitely using his mutation with the way he was pounding into you, your body moving along the seat with every thrust.
“Ain’t gotta do that no more. Gonna fuck you like this every night now,” he lifted your legs over his shoulders to hit even deeper inside you. “So damn tight.”
Hands gripped his forearms as he rutted into you like an animal in heat. Sweat was forming on his forehead, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on bringing you as much pleasure as he could. His eyes focused on the way your tits bounced under your shirt, roaming lower as he watched himself disappear in and out of you. Fingers found your clit and you felt the vibrations rumbling through him, causing you to almost scream out. It was too much. Way too much.
“Peter! Ooooh. Can’t -,” you cried out. Before you could even register what was happening, your walls tightened around him, body arching into his as you came. Peter didn’t let up, thrusting into you with a frenzied speed and muttering dirty ramblings as he chased his own high.
“I’m gonna - fuuuuck,” his thrusts grew sloppy and before he knew it he was spilling his load into you, white hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Your legs fell from his shoulders as the two of you collapsed into each other in a sweaty heap.
The silence was almost deafening. The only sounds were your breaths as you both tried to remember how to breathe properly. The windows of the car had steamed up which caused you to giggle. Of all places you thought this would happen it definitely wasn’t in the car. Peter couldn’t help but laugh too. “You good?”
“Great,” you assured him. “Might not be able to walk but damn, Maximoff. I forgot how good you were.”
He scratched the top of his head, feeling every single bit of remorse for letting things get this bad. “Sorry about that, babe. That’s on me. I just got caught up in this Westview thing that… I neglected you but swear down I’m gonna keep making it up to you. Never meant for it to come between us.”
“I know,” you cupped his cheek. “Do me a favour, though?”
“Anything.”
“Keep the beard.”
tag list (ask to be added!): @juliamaximoff @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @xmidnight-rain @honeymoon8
#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff#ralph bohner#peter maximoff x you#quicksilver x reader#peter maximoff smut#my fics
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Okay but like you guys know how Toji killed Riko Amanai because she was the star plasma vessel and he hates the Jujutsu world?
Imagine that after killing Riko and just narrowly escaping Gojo and Getou, promising to kill every Star plasma vessel just to spite them, he has a daughter- you, and its revealed that you're the next star plasma vessel, a perfect match for Tengen to merge with and prevent forced evolution, and now Gojo and Getou are sent put to capture you and bring you to Tengen.
And they go, not because they want to bring you to Tengen, but because they want to protect you from Toji, only to find out that you're his daughter that has him wrapped around her tiny finger and oh oh THE HYPOCRISY???? So as long as you're his daughter, TOJI WONT KILL THE STAR PLASMA VESSEL?????
Ans Toji's all like- "ohh you guys don't need to worry about Y/n, I'll take care if her and protect her from anyone and everyone. Yall better leave rn unless you want to have a horrible death." Meanwhile, toddler reader is just in her own little world as she's spinning around in circles because it's fun when the world is spinning and makes her stumble.
Anyways, Gojo and Getou don't believe him, and even if they did, they won't just let him go that easily because fuck that guy, he killed a teen and now has the gall to stand there like he didn't kill an innocent kid.
And Gojo is all like "fuck that, we gonna kill your kid too bitch." He's not, but he's gonna make sure Toji feels scared and doomed before dying.
Immediately, Toji has whipped out all of his weapons, pushing you behind him, and just then, out of thin air, the entire Zenin clan appears to Toji's aid because yes, they hate Toji too, but they adore you and they eint letting white haired bitcha and his emo Buddha bf take you.
As the battle begins, there's someone from the clan who's keeping you safe, moving you away from the battle ground so that you don't end up getting hit, and obviously, they put some headphones and sensory videos on their phone to keep you distracted from the fight. Meanwhile, there is absolute chaos on the field, Getou and Gojo being merciless as they kill one clan member after another.
Eventually, one of the attacks ends up blowing away your "bodyguard" and you're just there alone, unattended and unsupervised, so naturally, you look to the ground and see Gojo wielding Hollow Purple, and you don't know what that is except for a purple orb and since your dear uncle Naoya had been forcing you to take tutoring from the best teachers in tge world, you had learned color theory and immeadiately, without knowing the consequences of your actions, you throw out a yellow orb directly at the purple orb because you were taught in art class that "yellow cancels out purple", but now everyone is looking at you like "did a kid just- neutralise the most powerful Jujutsu technique???? Without so much as breaking a sweat?" And you're just giggling nd jumping up and down, calling out to Naoya "see uncle Naoya??? Those classes were not a waste of money!"
And that's when everyone noticed-
You're alone.
Naobito is immediately yelling at Toji to "collect your chaotic child before she reveals more of her powers and becomes everyone's target!" And Gojo is like "??? Um wtf?? Did a child just beat me???", while getou is springing into action to get his hands on you before Toji can.
Toji beats him to it, grabbing you with one hand while the other pulled out his sword. Getou summoned his own curses to help him attack Toji and simultaneously save you. As the two began fighting, Gojo sent another attack to Toji, who in an attempt to save you, shielded you with his body while taking the impact of hit.
As Toji was down, you were taken away from him by Getou, and while you didn't understand just what happened to your dad, you were becoming distressed as he didn't respond to you. And with your distress came a change in your cursed energy, which Getou recognised and he knew sooner or later, you will have an outburst of energy and hurt everyone in the process, because you're just a kid who doesn't how powerful she is.
So, yanking on Gojo's shoulders and telling him to leave the other members of the clan because they need to leave right now, the three of you teleported out of there.
Anyways, Gojo and Getou decide to take you in because there's no way they're giving you to Tengen, and taking you back to the Zenin clan was also out of the question, AND not to mention, they want to discover more about your cursed energy and help you control it. I mean, Getou wants to help you learn your powers and also give you a normal childhood, Gojo is slighted that he got beat by a child who didn't know what she was doing and he's low key concerned if you're gonna be a threat in the future. So... why not just take you in, and act like your parents because you're a gullible child who'll believe anything, and really has the attention span of a goldfish.
And at first, things were great because Gojo was like a chaotic parent who adored bullying you, while Getou was the calm and collected parent who helped you calm down as you swore you were gonna Hollow Purple Gojo if he kicks the back of your knees one more time. But everything changed when Getou parted ways with Gojo because he wanted to "kill humanity because they're all selfish and cruel🥰" and Gojo was like "babe, no, it's my job to be the sadistic one as a joke and you're the one who's supposed to laugh and say no, humans need us to protect them🥺" but Getou is like no, fuck that. And then Getou is like, well you can give Y/n to me because I love children and I love taking care of her, and Gojo is like "no." While holding a very struggling child that wants to scratch his face off, and Gojo only said no initially just so that there's something for Getou to come back. He knows how attached and fond Getou has grown over you. But Getou just sighs and goes "aight. Shared custody it is then. See you in 8 months, Y/n! Give your papa a kiss🥰" and you do.
And yeah, everyday since Getou departure, you can see the changes in Gojo's behaviour. It's not bad exactly, he's depressed for sure, and he's doubting his principles every step of the way, BUT he's kinder to you and to humans in general now. Meanwhile, whenever you do meet papa Getou, with Gojo's supervision cause my man doesn't trust Getou to not take you away and turn u into a killing machine, you can see the changes in Getou's personality too. He may still have that same kind, noble, shaman facade going on, but you see the way he looks down on the weak and on the non sorcerers. You see how he uses people as means to achieve his ultimate goal. Sure, you can also see that he still adores you, but you... dont know if you still love him with his view of the world.
Then one day, it happens. Gojo has finally killed Getou, not because of any ill intent, but because he simply threatened his students and the innocent people of Japan. And even though you knew this day wold eventually come, you still didn't forgive Gojo for a long time. You cried and fought against him, until Gojo had to eventually knock you out just so that your breakdown wouldn't unleash cursed energy and endanger everyone.
After Getou's death, Gojo's behaviour towards you and in general did a whole 180. He became the kinder, softer, gentle parent towards you. The empathetic teacher who pushed you but also consoled you when you failed, instead of the previous Gojo who would ridicule you for failing to master a technique.
Getou's death had definitely changed Gojo in other ways too. He had become more protective of you, always keeping you around because he couldn't bare the thought of losing someone else (Riko, Getou, etc). He keeps a close on you, watchubvvyour development and progress like a hawk because he knows you will soon be wanting to help him on missions, or worse, go solo. He doesn't want that, he can't have that. So the more you push Gojo to let you be independent, the more he tells you to sit down and practice more because you're just not ready yet.
Then one day, you reach your braking point and just- leave when Gojo is busy with his students. And this turned out to be a big mistake because the moment you had left Jujutsu High, it seemed like you were surrounded by thousands of enemies. Everyone wants to either kill you or capture you, and you don't even know why (because Gojo never revealed to you about your family or you being the star plasma vessel). Fortunately, you had trained enough to fight these assassins, and by the time you were done, you were tired and wanted to return back to Jujutsu High, but before you could, someone knocked you out.
When you woke up, you were lying in bed in a traditional Japanese home. Soon, a man with blonde hair came in, introducing himself as your uncle Naoya. He revealed who you were, how he was your family, how he saved you from Gojo, the man who stole you and killed his family members.
Of course, you call bs because why wouldn't you?? Naoya gives major prick vibes without trying so yeah, you didn't trust him at all. Then he pulled out pictures of you, of Toji and everyone else, and you vaguely remembered them, but not enough to believe him because Naoya could just be manipulating you to be compliant for human trafficking.
And then he takes you to another room, on the way you see a lot of other people who are looking at you fondly and have tears in their eyes, they seem like they want to say something or touch you, but Naoya glares at them to move away. Eventually, you reach a door and on opening it, you see a man sitting on a wheelchair, looking away from you.
"Who's that?" You asked as Naoya gently pushed you in. He walked towards the man, turning his wheelchair around and your breath hitched-
"Y/n, meet Toji, your-"
"Dad?" You whispered, recognising him as memories flashed through your mind. How- how could you have forgotten him all these years?
Tears began flowing down your face as you saw his miserable state- his face emotionless, the man was missing an arm, and he looked pale and weak.
"Gojo did this to him." Naoya began. "While your father was fighting, Gojo tried to purple Hollow you. But Toji took the hit instead, protecting you. He almost died that day, but with a little cursed energy, we were able to save him." He sighed, patting Toji's shoulder. "Unfortunately, he is paralysed. The cursed technique we tried to save him, has sent him into a vegetative state. He can't move, can't speak, doesn't even react."
More tears fell as you began questioning if Gojo really did this. Then again, if he was so innocent, why did he never tell you who your father really was.
"Why- why did you bring me here?" You asked.
Naoya scoffed. "Why wouldn't I? I had to save you from that monster. Look at what he did to your father! How could have I just leave you with him? You belong here, with your family, with your clan!"
"I cant- I can't stay here." You said, tearfully.
"Why not?"
"Because Gojo will find me. And when he does, he will hurt you all. I- I can't have that-" but Naoya pulled you into a hug as you began sobbing into his chest, heart heavy with guilt at the sight of your father.
"Shh, its okay. This is not your fault. You didn't do this, Gojo did. Which is precisely why you must stay here, with me and with your father. Besides, you don't need to worry about Gojo. I'm not a weak sorcerer, yknow? And not alone either. Plus, I remember you neutralising Gojo's attack pretty easily as a child. I'm sure you're better at it now. Obviously, not better than your uncle, I mean who are we kidding? No ones better than me-"
Yeah, you're remembering Naoya alright now.
Meanwhile, Gojo is losing his mind and is on a murder spree through Japan to find you. He doesn't even know who fucking took you, and Naoya may not be as strong as Gojo, he is pretty good at hiding, like a rat.
Besides, Gojo isn't the only who's looking for you.
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