#echo park protests

[fairy-angel222]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—how they breed you when you make them jealous

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎, 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈, 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smut, degradation, praise, breeding, baby trapping, mean doms, choking, exhibitionism, hair pulling, rough sex, spit, daddy kink, hair pulling, somnophilia

✮ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

What the fuck did you think you were doing? Gojo seethed to himself. Who the fuck were you with and why were his hands on you. What would seem to be a normal friendly hug had blue eyes glaring at you through the cafe’s window.

Gojo plastered on a fake smile, the bell ringing as he walked through the door. You looked up with a wide smile, “baby.” Gojo’s eye twitched as the man behind you smiled too, “Hey man, Y/n’s told me so much about you.”

You frowned as your boyfriend took the man’s hand in a bruising grip, giving it an unnecessarily hard shake. “And you are?” He questioned, forcing himself to keep up the nice guy act.

“Oh, i’m Haru, an old friend of y/n’s” Gojo scoffed internally, his arm making its way around your waist. “Well, Haru, we’ve got to go now,”

Waving bye to your friend, you bit your lip as you looked up at the white haired man, “are you mad?” Gojo scoffed, “Nope.. not at all.”

A lie.

You found yourself sprawled out on the back seat of Gojo’s car in the parking lot for anyone to see. Your legs were spread up in the air as Gojo took his anger out on your cunt.

Your eyes were wet with tears as your boyfriend hammered into you. “How many times do i have to fucking tell you, hmm baby?” He scowled. “How do I get it in your dumb little brain that you’re mine.”

Gojo’s bright eyes darkened as he sped up his pace, thick cock ramming into your g spot with every thrust. Your boobs bounced as your body rocked with his hips, the entire vehicle being moved from side to side.

“Gonna have to fuck a baby into you to drill it in your head.” He grunted, not slowing the movement of his hips until you were shaking for him. Your eyes blurry with tears as small ‘m sorry’s left your mouth

“Good. You should be. Show me you’re really sorry and take it yeah? Take it nice and deep.” he groaned, hips rolling roughly into yours.

Small babbles and hiccups echoed throughout the small car, your hand gripping tightly onto the side of the seat as your orgasm washed over you. “F-fuck,” you moaned, pussy tightening around him as you creamed.

Gojo smirked, bottoming out inside you as his eyes met yours, slender fingers pushing themselves past your lips and resting at the back of your tongue. “Gonna fill you up kay baby? Gonna let everyone know that you’re my little slut only.” he growled.

You shook your head in protest, your little waits muffled by his fingers. Gojo cursed, his eyes never leaving yours as he bred you deep. “There we go, gonna look so pretty carrying my baby.”

Your eyes widened when you heard a throat clear awkwardly. Scurrying to cover up but being held down by your boyfriend instead. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you looked up to find Haru.

“U-uhm.. you f-forgot your sweater y/n.” His cheeks were beat red and his dick was strained against his pants. Never in a million years would he expect to see you like this.

Gojo grinned as he looked at the male, slowly pulling out of you to give your friend a sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy. Haru’s breath hitched and Gojo’s head tilted. “Like what you see? Too bad you’ll never have it cause it’s mine.”

✮ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Silently watches as you innocently entertain two guys who were clearly flirting with you. How stupid could you possibly be. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, Nanami sighed. Did he always have to remind you that you belonged to him? You should have known that by now.

And you most certainly should have known that no man ever has innocent intentions. Getting up, Nanami walked up to you with a face void of any emotion. Tapping you twice on your back to indicate that it was time to go. You even had the audacity to tell the two men bye in your sickly sweet voice.

The ride home was silent.

You kept trying to strike up conversation but pouted when all you got in return were uninterested hums and nods. “Kentooo,” you whined. “Why won’t you talk to me?” you frowned. Your boyfriend simply glanced at you and scoffed. Watching as you rest your head against the car door and let your eyes close shut.

You woke up with a small whimper, soft moans falling past your lips. You felt so good, your pussy clenching around.. a cock?

Your eyes shot open to find Nanami in between your held up legs. His eyes dark as he hammered into you. His thick, veiny cock abusing your g spot as it fucked into your abdomen.

A loud mewl left your mouth as Nanami’s hand made its way around your neck. You felt so full, his cock stretching you out and forcing you to take him deep. Entire ten inches reaching deep within your belly. “K-kento.. so deep.” you whined.

Nanami grunted, tightening his grip on your neck to bully his entire cock into you. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, let you know who you who you fucking belong to.” He groaned, looking deep into your eyes with a glare.

You whimpered loudly, eyes blurry with tears as he fucked you dumb. “Nngh, ‘m cumming Kento, ‘m cumming so hard,” you sobbed, toes curling as you babbled out his name.

Nanami scowled as the thought of you with another man crossed his mind, his grip becoming a bruising one as he snapped his hips into yours at an unforgiving pace. “Fucking take it baby. This is exactly what you needed. Get it through your dumb head that you have an owner.” he spat, watching as you shook uncontrollably underneath him.

Screaming loudly as your body was rocked with his thrusts. Nanami groaned at the way you began to squirt, threatening to push his cock out at the mere pressure.

Stilling inside you, Nanami let his hot ropes of cum coat your insides. His hand around your neck finally loosening as he kept his cock plugged into your sopping cunt. You were his. Now you would have the stomach to show it.

✮ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Watches with a smile as you dance. Taking note of all the men that were eyeing you like food. Eyeing you like you weren’t already owned. He was sat on the club’s couch with his legs crossed, arms spread out along the chair’s backrest and head tilted with a smirk. His eyes roamed his waist, his hips, and his ass. Every part of you was his.

And you knew that, you were just so oblivious to all the hungry stares directed at you. Toji stalks tall towards you. Towering over your figure and nodding towards the exit. Understanding that it was time to leave, you made your way outside to wait for your boyfriend in his vehicle.

Five minutes passed and you frowned in worry. Where was he? Your thoughts were cut off by the driver’s car door slamming shut. Toji using a rag to wipe blood off his bruised knuckles.

“Toji-” before you could open your mouth to speak, you received a warning glance from your boyfriend to keep your mouth shut. You swallowed hard, wondering what the hell your boyfriend had gotten into. Especially since he was smiling like a maniac as he drove.

At home, you found yourself on your hands and knees, loud moans and mewls spilling past your plump, drool filled lips.

Toji’s thick cock pounded into you hard. His hips snapping roughly into yours. Rough hands held your hips in a bruising grip, his cock forcing its way deep into your tight hole and ramming into your g spot with each movement.

You let out a loud cry, the flesh of your ass shaking with each contact. “F-fuck— d-daddy, nngh, feels so good,” you whined, a yelp leaving your mouth as you were yanked up by your hair. Your back flat against his chest allowing him to fuck you even deeper.

Toji had one hand tangled in your hair, the other held your throat. Your whimpers and moans echoing in the small room as your pussy squelched lewdly. Toji’s smirk never faltered, kissing up your neck and to your ear.

You clenched hard when he groaned softly, deep voice rasping in your ear “Fuck you’re taking daddy so good, gonna fill you up with another Fushiguro hmm? Gonna look so hot all round and swollen with my son. Your tits leaking with milk for daddy to take care of you. Does my little slut want that?”

You whimpered loudly at his words, clenching down on his cock as heat built up in your stomach. “Mhm, wanna feel you deep. Wan’ carry your baby so bad.” you mewled. Eyes rolling back as Toji rolled his hips up into yours.

Toji brought his teeth down on your skin hard, nearly drawing blood as you moaned. Pulling your head back even further, Toji leaned down to press his lips against yours, sloppily swallowing your moans before pulling away with a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your mouth hung open in short pants, your boyfriend letting a thick glob of his spit fall onto your tongue. “Fuck, gonna show all these assholes that you’re mine yeah? They probably won’t even live to see it.” You let out a silent scream, feeling Toji’s cock absolutely destroying your gummy walls.

“O-oh fuck, d-daddy, ahh,” you moaned, body trembling as you reached your orgasm. “Gonna cum, fuck, gon’ cum on your cock.” Little incoherent chants of his name falling past your lips.

“Cum f’me baby, make a fucking mess.” He groaned, tightening his hold on your neck as your slick dripped down his cock with one final cry. “There we go,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppy as he buried himself deep inside you, ropes after ropes of sticky cum painting your guts white.

Your knees felt weak as you came down from your high. Eyes fluttering closed as you steadied your breathing.

“Now, who do you belong to, baby?”

“You.. i belong to you,”

“Good girl. Might even keep my cock in you so that you don’t spill any of daddy’s cum.” He chuckled, knowing full well that he was being serious.

[pucksandpower]

It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Eyes wide, body frigid in terror, Eddie felt the sheer horror of the current situation sank in. 

He was at Gen Con. 

In their hotel.

With zero vacant rooms and one minor, Henderson created, screw up.

The room only had one bed in it. 

“It’s fine, we can share.” Steve said, brushing past.

Like this was not the life ending, earth shattering, soul rendering issue that it was.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Eddie croaked trying to remember how a normal person acted instead of someone whose stomach had just fallen out of their ass. 

“Nah, I did this all the time with the basketball team.” Steve said as Eddie actively regretted every single decision that had led to this point in his life.

“Hell this is even a king sized bed. We have plenty of space!” 

Steve did a goofy little spin jump, landing butt first on the bed and bouncing on it with glee. 

“Space, sure.” Eddie echoed. 

Hands shaking, eyes determinedly focused on anything but the ex-jock, Eddie found himself chanting a mantra over and over in his head.

One that would valiantly get him through the next weekend, God and D20's willing.

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

“I don’t have cooties, if that's what you're worried about.”” Steve waggled his eyebrows. "Here,  I’ll even let you have one of my pillows.”  

Said pillow was flung through the air, to smack Eddie dead in the face. 

'Fuck it." Eddie thought wildly. "I am NOT fine!'

And after Eddie got his hands on him, Dustin Henderson wouldn't be either.

xXx

“I am going to kill you.” Eddie snarled, the very second he could get Dustin alone.

“No you won’t, you love me too much.” Henderson dismissed, a smug little smirk in place. 

The absolute brat. 

“I do not, and if I did, I would take it back after this.” Eddie glanced around once again, beyond paranoid about discussing this in the open parking lot of a shitty hotel, but knowing he needed to get this under control, now. 

“What were you thinking!?” 

“That I read a really interesting zine about this exact scenario, mostly.” Dustin shrugged. “Worked out great for them, I thought I’d try it for you!” 

Eddie groaned, head flying back as he fisted both hands in his hair.

(if only to prevent himself from wrapping both hands around Dustin’s stupid throat.) 

“What did I tell you? This isn’t something you fuck with man!” 

“I know, but as I told you, Steve is perfect!” Dustin protested, and didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Eddie lost control and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Perfect!?” He sputtered, actually sputtered, shaking the fist that held Dustin's shirt captive. “Perfect!?” 

“Trust me on this--you have a crush on him, he desperately needs someone in his life--seriously, Eddie, it’s sad how he acts when he’s not dating--and you guys get along great now! What’s the problem!?”

“He’s straight!” Eddie shrieked, startling several onlookers. 

“Laced!” He added immediately after, in panicked afterthought. “He’s so straight laced we could never get him to agree to that plan!” 

Dustin leveled an unimpressed look at him. 

“Dude, really?”

“We are still in Indiana, Henderson.” Eddie said, then got close enough that he felt comfortable hissing the next part through clenched teeth.

“They don’t exactly care for the queers here, even at a place like this.” 

“Are you sure? Because the Con’s welcome packet has a few different panels that--”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face, letting go of his idiot, freshman friend's shirt to grab at his hair again. 

“Henderson, for once,” He pleaded, and maybe it was the sheer desperation in his tone or how upset he looked but either way Dustin seemed to finally realize how serious he was.

“just once, I need you to listen to me. You cannot let Steve know I’m gay. This is something that has to stay between us, especially now I’m sharing a bed with him.” 

Which Dustin knew, because Dustin was the one who’d called and changed the room. 

“But Steve’s--”

“Most likely bisexual, I heard you the first several times you said it, but you can’t just--assume that about someone!” Eddie was well and good on a rant now, two seconds away from pacing about. “Even if you’ve been to a salon with them!” 

He pointed firmly at Dustin’s stupid face (and the kid's equally stupid mouth) before he could once again insist Steve was into men purely based on how anal he was about his hair.

“Steve might be cool with--other people,” Eddie was unsure of who knew what about Robin, and was not about to hand Dustin another secret given how he was acting about this one, “but that does not mean he will be cool with me--or you, pimping him out, to me!” 

“I’m not pimping him out!” Offended, Dustin patted at his shirt where Eddie had previously been holding it. “Look I’m sorry, but--”

Eddie groaned, loud and dramatic. 

“But,” Dustin doubled down, “You trusted me with the whole, you know.” He waved his hands in some sort of vague, unreadable gesture. “Can’t you trust me about this?”

“I didn’t trust you with that, you barged into my room and then dug around my closet insisting your character notes got mixed in with mine when I was hi-sleeping!--and then read something personal!” 

The snort he got in return let him know Dustin was well aware he’d been high as hell, but that was neither here nor there, given what had happened after. 

When Dustin, rifling through Eddie’s closet, came across one of Eddie’s private notebooks. 

The ones that contained equally private stories, penned by Eddie's hand.

One of which might have had characters--who did not sound like Steve, thank you,-- and definitely not paired with a character based on Eddie himself. 

(“So Sir Sylvan Harrachtáin and Edwin Morningson are random names you pulled out of your ass, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Sir Sylvan with his great hair and--what’s this? A horse named…Beamer?”

“Henderson so help me--” ) 

It may have led to the two of them growing closer instead of Eddie getting chased out of town with pitchforks, but that hadn’t stopped the sheer panic it had caused when he realized just what it was Dustin was reading. 

“Potato, tomato.” The little shit dismissed, and Eddie felt the urge to strangle him return in full force. “Look I get it--I promised I wouldn’t tell and I keep my promises. But since there aren’t any other rooms in our inn…”

Eddie looked at the sky, because if he saw the little dipshit wiggle his eyebrows in relation to himself and Steve Harrington, his new friend, who baked cookies with Jeff and once helped Grant jump his car, Eddie was going to lose his mind.

Loudly, and with much fanfare. 

“You owe me. Big time.” He declared to the clouds. 

He pretended not to hear the sigh that got him, either. 

“If you so say. Now can we go to the convention?" A whine crept into Henderson's voice. "Steve’s going to think we’re fighting.”

"Fine.” Eddie finally lowered his head to glare Dustin dead in the eyes.

“But to make my ire clear, Henderson? That magic sword your dwarf just acquired is gone. Disappeared. Vanished like a puff of smoke."

He made a ‘proof’ noise, hands spreading out as he did it. 

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

“What!? Eddie--” 

“Nope.

“Edd-iieeeee--”

“I’m not listening.” He plunged both fingers in his ears, walking determinedly towards one of the other three hotel rooms Hellfire had crammed themselves in. 

Wished desperately that he could manage to swap beds with Jeff, or Grant, or someone without making Steve feel like shit--which it would, because Eddie knew things like that about Steve now.

Behind him Dustin rampaged, which at least, made Eddie a little happier.

xXx

“We can switch rooms.” 

“What?” Eddie asked, startled out of his present thoughts (and the giant pile of D&D related papers spread in a circle around him.)

He turned to look up at Steve, who was hovering awkwardly behind him.

“You’ve been weird ever since you realized we’re sharing a bed. If it’s making you that uncomfortable we can just switch.” He shrugged, like saying that didn’t hurt him, even as the kicked puppy look holding court on his face very much screamed ‘emotional damage.’

"I have not!” Eddie twisted himself around immediately. "I am perfectly fine, thank you!"

Steve frowned down at him. 

“Eddie, this is the longest conversation I’ve had with you since we got here." Steve deadpanned. "I’d blame that on the whole, you know, nerd herd gathering, but it’s pretty clear that’s not it. I watched you literally turn around and walk the other way when you spotted me earlier." 

Shit.

"It's kinda obvious you're avoiding me." 

Shit, shit, shit!

“I'm not, promise!" Eddie lied. "I’m just--distracted. There’s just so much happening and it’s--a lot.”

He said it like the con was overwhelming, and not chaos he was positively thriving in. 

Steve searched his face.

“Alright," He said doubtfully, "but I mean it. Say the word and we can switch. I'm sure Jeff'll let me share a blanket or something."

Which was the last thing anybody needed, on grounds that Jeff would try and fix things.

(Jeff, bless him, had never been good at fixing things.)

Drumming up every acting skill he possessed, Eddie flashed two thumbs up in response, painting a fat grin on his face.

“We're all good Stevie. Besides, I’m going to be up late at so many panels, you won’t even notice me coming back. You're practically gonna have the room to yourself!"

Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, the second he realized the convention itself could provide a nice, neat little way out in the form of two different late night panels.

Who needed sleep anyway? Not him!

"Okay." Steve said, somewhat mollified.

Crisis averted, Eddie dove back into his plans, distracting himself as best he could while trying to ignore that Steve had dropped onto the bed.

(One of those plans might have involved revenge on Henderson, and that one he gave special attention to.)

xXx

There were no late nigh panels.

“Not until tomorrow, my friend!” The jovial guy dressed in what Eddie was pretty sure was supposed to be a wizard costume told him. “We had a few but the folks running them got stuck in traffic, so we had to cancel."

He beamed, like he hadn’t just disintegrated Eddie's one and only escape plan.

"Besides, if you go to sleep now you can catch some of the early morning panels!”

As if he hadn't planned on rolling into them anyway, lack of sleep be damned.

“Can we go back now?” Gareth grumped to his right, the only person who’d agreed to stay out all night with him (and who was not a 14 year old who’d been overruled by Harrington.) 

"We could go find a room party?" Eddie hedged instead, as they made their retreat.

"Dude."

"Fine," He muttered, defeated. "We can go back."

To Steve. 

And the single bed. 

In his head, he plotted out Henderson's death.

Maybe he'd use fire.

Or sticks, or even a fricken--toy horse, or something...

xXx

He'd done it.

Changed into the oversized shirt he called sleep clothes, and crawled into bed like a completely normal, totally straight human being.

Had even done a remarkable job of laying perfectly still. Exactly how a normal, not panicking person slept!

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

Steve was laying next to him.

He had to of course, that's how a bed worked, and yet somehow, Eddie couldn't get past it.

Or the fact that the dick wasn't wearing a shirt to bed.

His thoughts chased each other in nervous little circles, anxiety gnawing on his gut like a favored bone as Eddie did his best not to move one single inch.

Pity that the thing about attending a large convention, was the sheer amount of walking, talking, and expending general energy one had to do.

Entirely against his will, Eddie fell asleep. 

He had been planning on laying awake in frigid terror all night, to prevent any possible way Steve might clock him, but his body had other plans.

Some of which involved sleeping like Eddie normally slept--arms hugging a pillow, head buried in it's soft, comfortable, kinda ticklish surface.

He rubbed his nose further into it as the tickling sensation increased, pulling him away from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.

Grumbling, Eddie went to adjust his stupid pillow when he had the weirdest realization that it too, was moving.

Pillows, his sleep addled brain informed him, did not move.

Steve would, though.

"Fuck!" He screeched, flying up into a sitting position as he registered that he'd gone full octopus--cuddling Steve with all four limbs.

Steve flew awake, his own body flying up into a sitting position.

His mouth started moving a mile a minute, and it took Eddie a second to parse that Steve was still partially asleep as he let out a string of absolute nonsense about code reds and being upside down.

"Whoa!" Eddie said when the guy nearly fell out of bed. "Shit Steve, it's just me!"

"Eddie?" Steve asked, halfway out of bed. "Are we--is everything okay?"

"Yeah I--yeah." He grimaced, grabbing a strand of his hair and pulling it protectively over his face. "I think I woke you up."

"S'okay." Steve ran a hand through his hair, before slowly sinking back into the bed, alarm fading. "Are you okay? Nightmare?"

Eddie blew out a breath.

"Probably. It's fine, don't worry about it."

Steve eyed him doubtfully.

"If you're sure..."

Eddie gave him a wobbly smile back, patting the space on the bed next to him as he made himself lay back down. "Promise. I'm--I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should have slept elsewhere..."

That did it.

"You're good. Startled me is all." Steve let out a sort of forced chuckle before laying back down. "I overreacted."

Eddie hummed, not trusting himself to say anything as the two of them settled back down.

It did not escape him that unlike most people who'd been rudely woken up in the middle of the night, Steve didn't try to keep any distance between them.

No, he had to scoot closer, like he needed to know his friend was near. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for death.

"I get nightmares too, sometimes." Steve admitted in the following quiet and oh, God, no, Eddie could not do an emotional late night talk right now.

"They definitely suck." He said flatly, before rolling over to face the opposing wall. "Night Stevie."

Steve snorted, but it sounded amused instead of hurt.

Eddie sighed quietly in relief as he too, turned away to face the wall.

He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up and fall asleep again, and everything would be...

Perfectly...

...fine.

xXx

"--ddie, you're on my arm man."

"Wha?"

"My arm." That was Steve, Eddie's brain dutifully identified as it crawled it's way to consciousness. Steve who was his friend now, and was also talking very close to his ear. 

"Also my leg. And torso."

"You have a nice torso." Eddie mumbled thoughtlessly. 

Why was Steve here? They were doing something that should have been stressing him out, was stressing him out, but it was hard to think when he was this tired.

"Thanks," Amusement threaded it's way through Steve's voice, "but I'm going numb here. You have a hell of a grip."

Eddie frowned, the words sludging through the fog, until finally, the dots connected.

Eyes opening wide, he carefully took stock of the position he once again found himself in--wrapped around Steve like the guy was the only life raft left.

Oh my God.

"Shit sorry--" Steve oof'ed as Eddie smacked an elbow into his ribs as he let the poor man go, madly scrambling to get as far away as possible.

He tried to apologize for that, but was too busy fighting the bedsheets to get anything out. 

"Eds." Steve laughed, grabbing him as Eddie tangled them both up. "Calm down."

"I'm calm!" He protested, far too loudly, limbs flying every which way as he tried in vein to get the fuck away.

Stupid sheets-!

"Eddie." Two heavy hands came down on his shoulders, Steve having managed to get himself into a sitting position. "It's alright."

"It's not Steve." Eddie spat, and then panicked harder because fuck, that is not what he should have said.

"Hey, easy." Steve was talking quieter now, hands squeezing gently, like Eddie was some kind of spooked wild animal and fuck, he was really losing it here.

"I mean it. We're at the convention, remember? We're sharing a hotel room and you have a bunch of dorks and dumbass things to do in like, two hours."

Eddie violently shrugged him off.

"I know that!"

Steve, somehow, did not take offense to the very aggressive tone that had been snarled in. 

"Then you know you can breath for a moment. Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out."

Which was probably true, given the rapid, rabbiting beat of his heart.

"Is this what you were worried about?" Steve added, as Eddie finally freed himself from the damn sheets. "That you have nightmares?"

“It's not nightmares.” Eddie spat instantly, chest heaving.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he was exhausted to the point where he wanted to cry about it.

God did being gay suck.

“Then--what? That you cuddle in your sleep?” Steve was teasing, Eddie knew Steve was teasing but that was too on the nose. “Dude trust me, Tommy was an octopus growing up. I don’t care.”

“No it’s not, that, exactly--”

"So what is it then, exactly?"

Too. Fucking. Close.

"Drop it Steve--"

Emotions rose like a tidal wave, all encompassing. Overwhelming. 

"I would if you weren't clearly upset about something--" 

He lost control. 

“I’m gay!” Eddie yelled.

Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just panicked himself out of the closet. 

It died. 

The crazy, huge emotions. The way he'd been fighting himself, tooth and nail, the panicked thoughts that were zooming around his brain.

“I didn’t say that.” He said, eyes wide.

Steve blinked.

“I mean, you kinda did.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Nope. No. I said, I said--”

“That you’re gay.” Steve finished, then frowned when Eddie flinched. “Dude it’s okay--”

“Is it, Steve!?” He interrupted, hand finally falling from his mouth. “Is it? Because if you ask half the people at this convention--who are my kind of people and understand I’m not shilling souls to satan--if it's okay!? They'd say no!"

Tears pressed against his eyes, a reaction he hated that he had.

"They'd say no, and then they'd try to kick my ass for sleeping in the same bed as them!" 

A tear escaped and he swiped angrily at it. 

“I’m okay with it.” Steve said quietly, which had the effect of making Eddie shut up. “And those people suck.” 

The laugh that escaped Eddie's mouth was brittle.

Bitter.

He turned his head away from Steve, angry that he’d gone and admitted the very thing he knew better than ever speaking aloud. 

“Yeah well, I didn't think you would be, given how you used to accuse anyone and everyone of being a queer loser right along with the rest of the basketball team.”

Which wasn't fair, exactly--Eddie knew Steve had changed. Had seen it in the way he and Robin talked quietly about Will, when they thought no one could overhear.

(A habit Eddie would break them of, if he and Steve made it out of here as friends, still.) 

He wasn't Will though, and Will wasn't the one presently sharing a bed with Steve.

“That’s because we were all making out with each other at away games.” It was said so fucking quick Eddie briefly thought he hallucinated it.

Lucky for him, Steve wasn't done. 

“Robin thinks that whole thing was some kind of group denial. Like if we made enough of a thing out of it we could all pretend we didn’t have our hands down each others pants all the time. I am not exactly on speaking terms with that group anymore.”

He shrugged like that his fall from grace hadn’t been the center of the rumor mill for most of his senior year, and came with a lot of shit talking at his expense.

“But I can still prove it to you, if you’d like.” 

Shock--and six million thoughts-- hit Eddie like a mack truck. 

‘You’re lying/No way/that makes so much fucking sense/how did that even start/was it every game/whose pants exactly did you have your hands down and how do you feel about my pants--’ 

“How?” Eddie got out, sounding only slightly strangled. 

“Well--you’re here. I’m here."

And then Steve gave him a smile Eddie had only ever seen aimed at women, a slow lazy curl of the mouth that implied a hell of a lot.

"I'm fine with making the math work."

Maybe he was dreaming this.

(Eddie pinched himself and found that somehow, he was not.)

“I realize I don’t look like it, but I don't the whole casual kissing thing." Eddie blurted out. "Hasn't exactly gone well for me."

He regretted it the second it left his mouth. 

That was sharing too much of himself. The vulnerable gooey part who'd kissed a few girls (and even, once, a guy) and found he couldn't for the life of him make such things casual.

Plus Steve was kind of a good friend now, and Eddie had a crush so big that doing this and then never doing it again would kill him, and--

(and, and, and…) 

“It can mean something if you’d like.”

What.

“What?” 

Eddie stared at him.

Steve stared back. 

“Steve Harrington." He said flatly. "Are you trying to get in my pants?”

‘I will rip them off right here and now if you are,’ He thought wildly, like he hadn’t just tried to die on some “it has to be meaningful” hill. 

(Sue him, he was a horny teenager who'd just learned sex might be on the table, he could change his mind.

It totally wouldn’t tear his heart apart after either!

Nope, not his, made of steel Eddie’s heart was--) 

Steve raised his hands in the “don’t shoot” pose, looking all too pleased with himself. 

“Hey, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But,” and here he dropped the flirty little grin, which Eddie was only now realizing he was utilizing, “I meant it. I'm not opposed to trying this out, with you."

Trying? What the hell did that mean!?

Steve hadn't stopped talking.

"I won’t take it anywhere if you don’t want to though, don't worry.

Then he tilted his head and added; “I can also leave if that made you uncomfortable. Robin keeps telling me I can’t flirt with men like I flirt with women and--” 

“No.” Eddie’s mouth betrayed him yet again, terrified Steve might talk himself into leaving. “No--you offered!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I did.”

“To have--” God Eddie couldn’t even say the words, “with me?” 

Somehow that last part came out as a question, and Eddie planned immediately to throw himself out of a window.

The grin was coming back. “Yes. With you.” 

“And it would…mean something?”

That was pushing it, Eddie knew that was pushing it, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

This whole thing was now a runaway train and he'd ride it to it's inevitable wreck.

“For me it would.” Steve said, raising himself up on his knees. 

He inched forward, planting his hands down on the bed, face awfully close to Eddie’s own. 

“I don't like doing things anymore without it meaning something. To be honest, I don’t think I ever did. Besides, Robin's right."

"About?" Eddie asked, goin cross-eyed as Steve leaned ever so much closer.

"That when I say I admire you, or I miss you, or that I want to see you, I'm not exactly meaning it in a friend way."

Oh.

"Oh." Eddie said dumbly.

Steve closed the distance, mouth first. 

They were kissing.

Stars exploded in the sky. Fireworks went off outside, birds sang, people cheered--

(Eddie bit Steve’s lip, twice, in some sort of overexcited maneuver before he was gently guided into Steve’s lap, the ex-jock twisting to lay back down and bringing Eddie with him. 

It was smoothly done, a slow maneuver, and Eddie had to go and ruin that too by ripping his mouth off Steve’s to press sloppy kisses all down his neck. 

Thankfully Steve did not shove him off for that, or the hickie he definitely left on that stupid, tan neck, instead arranging them once again until things, finally, started to be less frantic. 

It was the best night of Eddie's life.)

xXx 

“So what does mean something involve, in this little situation we have here?” Eddie said some odd amount of time later, cuddled happily against a now naked Harrington. 

“I’m not supposed to say boyfriends.” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder. “Scares people off."

Apparently he was the type to need naps immediately after having the naked kind of fun. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” Eddie reached down, lacing their hands together tightly.

Steve kissed his shoulder. 

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet.” He said, rather than responding directly.

“We can’t, Steve, or did you forget where we live?”

Another kiss, this one turning into a grin when it made Eddie shudder. 

“Oh we absolutely can. I’ll prove it to you. Next Friday?” 

It took him a moment--a stupidly long moment, for someone who prided himself as a wordsmith--but Eddie got it. 

A smile exploded over his face. 

“Next Friday." He said. "It’s a date.” 

(A very long time later, Henderson would find out about all this and gloat about this so hard he’d fall off the steps of Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie would only let him live on grounds that Steve was also there at the time, and was worried about Dustin’s ankle.

This did not stop Eddie from standing above the little shit, announcing karma would one day get him soon, and if not, than Max Mayfield, who absolutely could be bribed into committing murder.)

This was the bonus for Door Prize/Sugar, Spice (and Everything Dicey) which can be read in it's entirely here: LINK

[isaadore]

DEDICATED TO YOU | CHARLES LECLERC

pairing dad!charles leclerc x mom!reader

⭑ SUMMARY charles dedicates his helmet to you and amélie. word count 1.1k

warnings my french skills, pure fluff

note i haven't written in french in almost two years, so bear with me if some things are wrong 😓

MASTERLIST | CL16 MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST

The days leading up to the Monaco GP were hectic, with Charles and his team focused on securing another victory in his home country. Charles was constantly busy with testing and training, which often began early in the morning and ended late at night. Yet, Charles always managed to find time for you and Amélie, no matter how busy he was. And tonight, he came home with a special surprise.

“I’m home!” Charles said as he opened the front door, the familiar click echoed through the hallway.

From the kitchen, you peeked down the hall and saw Amélie already heading towards her father, who was waiting with open arms.

Charles laughed as she ran into his embrace. “Hello, mon ange (my angel). How was your day?”

Amélie wriggled free from his arms and excitedly recounted her day. “Maman and grand-mère took me to the park! I saw puppies, Papa! Sooo many puppies!”

Charles chuckled, ruffling Amélie’s hair before heading over to you. “Puppies, huh?”

“Yes! Big ones and little ones!” Amélie replied, sticking her arms in the air to demonstrate the different sizes of the dogs.

You smiled at their exchange, enjoying the moment as Charles finally entered the kitchen.

“Mon amour (my love), I missed you,” Charles said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“I missed you too,” you said, kissing him. Amélie, catching the moment, scrunched her tiny nose in disgust. She waddled over and tugged on Charles’ pant leg.

“Up, Papa!” She demanded, reaching her arms up.

Charles bent down to lift her up, making playful airplane noises that sent Amélie giggling. He settled her comfortably on his hip before turning his attention back to you.

“Since I have you both here… I have a surprise.” He reached into his back pocket while carefully holding Amélie, and pulled out his phone. With a swipe, he turned the screen towards you, his photo album open.

Amélie’s eyes widened as she recognized something in the image. “My name!”

You looked at the photo and immediately recognized Charles’ helmet. However, it was no longer the familiar red with white details but a striking crimson with gold and black accents. What made it truly special, though, was the elegant script of your names—yours and Amélie’s—handwritten by Charles himself and beautifully detailed along the side of the helmet. You could recognize his handwriting anywhere.

“Oh, wow,” you managed, feeling speechless. But Charles didn’t need you to say anything. He watched you as you read over the names again and again, your eyes filled with emotion. He knew you so well, he didn’t need words when your eyes told him everything he needed to hear.

“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but you know how complicated these things can be,” Charles said. “I thought Monaco would be the perfect race to debut it.”

“Monaco is the perfect race to debut it... The design itself is perfect. Thank you, Charles," you said, still overwhelmed with emotion. You leaned in to hug him, careful not to suffocate Amélie. But the three-year-old, like her father, enjoyed being dramatic.

“Maman! I’m squished!”

The familiar sounds of roaring fans, whirring machines, and busy mechanics working on cars filled the air as you left the hospitality area. You walked alongside Amélie, who was still learning to walk long distances. She wobbled and stumbled at times, so you and Charles were always ready to catch her. But Amélie’s boundless energy never let an occasional fall stop her.

So, when she tripped over nothing halfway to the Ferrari garage, you decided to pick her up despite her protests, insisting she could walk on her own.

“There’s mon petit rayon de soleil (my little sunshine)!” Charles exclaimed as he spotted you and Amélie entering the garage. He planted a kiss on your forehead before taking his daughter from your arms.

Carlos, watching from behind one of the computers, smiled and said what everyone was thinking: “I’ve never seen a father love his daughter this much.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to tease me, Carlos, but I’ll take that as a compliment,” Charles replied playfully, half distracted by Amélie, who was now playing with his Ferrari cap.

Carlos held up his hands in defence and turned back to his work.

You smiled at their banter before approaching Charles and taking Amélie back. “So, are you ready to show them what you’ve got?”

“Of course,” Charles said. “I haven’t been working this hard for nothing.”

With the race about to begin, you left Charles and his team to focus on their preparations. You guided Amélie away from Charles, and she immediately started blabbering to nearby mechanics. This caught the attention of a nearby cameraman, who immediately began capturing the adorable moment of the little Leclerc. You stifled a laugh as Amélie posed in front of the camera, showing no signs of shyness.

About a half-hour later, you and Amélie had settled comfortably into the team hospitality area.

“Maman, look! Is Papa waving at us?” Amélie asked, pointing excitedly at the big TV displaying close-ups of the drivers. The screen showed Charles waving to the crowd, but the cameraman stood in front of him, making it look like he was waving to the camera.

“No, love, he’s waving at the fans out there,” you said with a chuckle, amused by her confusion.

Amélie’s face scrunched into a pout when she realized her dad wasn’t waving at her. But her frown soon changed into a smile as the cars on the track began to line up. Whether in person or on-screen, racing always held her full attention. Even at a young age, she had quickly grasped the basic rules of the sport.

As the race began, the roar of the engines filled the air. You held onto Amélie, worried about her leaning too far over the rail. Charles, in his signature red car, quickly took the lead from his pole position the previous afternoon.

With each passing lap, the excitement in the stands grew as the Monegasque driver pulled further ahead. His skill and precision were clear to everyone watching. You and Amélie watched with anticipation, her tiny cheers barely audible over the cacophony of engines and roaring crowds.

As the final lap approached, Charles’ car glided effortlessly across the track, each maneuver flawless and calculated. The checkered flag came into view, and Charles crossed the finish line with an impressive lead.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and you and Amélie joined in, her smile radiating.

Then, one of the TVs in the lounge focused on Charles emerging from his car, his helmet still on. You caught a glimpse of your and Amélie's name on the side of the helmet. Seeing the names proudly displayed as Charles celebrated his home victory made the moment even more memorable.

MASTERLIST | CL16 MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST

[jinwoosungs]

08/27/24; 07:30pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they’re feeling playful ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

sylus can get very obnoxious if your attention isn’t solely on him. it’s true that he’ll spare you some time when you ask him to stay by your side while getting some work done. however, once the day morphs into night, and he realizes that you have yet to turn your gaze away from your laptop’s screen / phone-

all hell will break loose sylus will find a way to get your attention.

with your eyes hyper focused on the tasks at hand, sylus will take out his phone and type several times on its screen before suddenly standing from his spot next to you on the couch. with his arms cross, he’ll let out a huff of your name before grabbing a hold of your device and tossing it the the side of the room. a gasp would come from your parted lips, with several words of protests coming together in a mesh of panic.

“sy! that was a really expensive device! and what if you just erased my work?!”

sylus would let out a scoff in response. “what? that old thing? as if i haven’t already backed up all your work here.” he points to his phone while giving you a mischievous glint. “and besides, as long as you ask nicely, sweetie, i can replace that old thing with a mere snap of my fingertips. now come, you’ve already wasted the whole day away, and i’m not about to let you intrude on the night as well.”

his haughty tone echoes throughout the living room, making you roll your eyes when you finally decided to humor your boyfriend. watching him put on biker clothes, your eyes shamelessly follow how each piece of leather perfectly fits his body. just as you were close to admiring the curve of his ass, sylus turns around to smirk at you.

“what is it, sweetie? like what you see?”

you roll your eyes but match with sylus’s teasing nature, slapping his backside with the palm of your hand as the impact was heard echoing throughout the room. a cute, yet almost offended expression crosses his features, and it was more than enough to have you giggling in response. he rolls his eyes and takes a hold of your hand, leaning down to bite against the palm of it, his crimson eyes shining with mirth.

“i’ll take my revenge on you soon enough, love, but for now we must go.”

sylus tosses you your helmet, taking a hold of your hand as you leave the penthouse together. once you stepped into the parking garage and saw sylus’s motorcycle, you knew that you were in for a treat.

despite your prior annoyance with him tossing aside your work, admittedly, you were grateful for his forced distraction. once sylus gets on his bike, shoving aside the kickstand while revving up the engine, you don your helmet and took your place behind him.

surrounded by the faint scent of leather and his cologne, you cling to sylus as he quickly speeds out of the garage. giggling at the sensation of your stomach dropping with each turn as the scenery flew by you, you felt so free with the wind whipping through your hair.

a few minutes later, sylus slows down his bike and parks in front of a secluded building tucked away behind the cityscape. taking off his helmet first, sylus gives you an almost gentle smile, helping you out of your own helmet before walking into the hidden building.

upon entering, a man dressed in a pristine suit bows down to sylus before taking both helmets from his hands. “good evening, mr. sylus. your table has already been prepared for you.”

taking a hold of your hand, sylus leads you deeper into what you assumed was a high-end restaurant. the atmosphere was incredibly intimate, with shades of black and burgundy filling your vision as the entire place was lit up by various candles. sylus continues his trek until he reaches a private dining room.

your eyes go wide upon seeing the whole table filled with all of your favorite foods, the scents of it all invading your senses as you could feel your mouth watering in response. your stomach begins to growl, earning a rich chuckle from sylus as he helps you sit down on one of the chairs.

“go on and feast, love. i know you need some calories to prepare you for tonight.”

a flustered expression paints your features, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to protest any further with him, already digging into the food while letting out appreciative moans here and there.

sylus simply remains across from you, sipping at his red wine while basking in your every expression of contentment and pleasure, already anticipating those same expressions once you were finally beneath him while in the comfort of your bed.

upon realizing that the city was caught in a blizzard, neither you nor zayne made any effort to leave your shared home. as the snow piled on, zayne made sure to keep you warm by cooking various soups and stews along with some perfectly toasted bread to help with keeping you satisfied and full.

basking in the intensity of the heater and how comfortable the blankets were while they surrounded your pliant form, it was safe to say that you made little to no effort to get out of bed. and being the kind lover that he was, zayne allowed you to simply bask in the warmth without ever feeling the discomfort of the chilling blizzard.

in ways that zayne would never ever admit to you, he was grateful for the blizzard. since such drops in temperatures were something that you just weren’t quite used to, it made you cling to him (almost greedily), seeking for his warmth while remaining ever so close to him.

it may be a little pathetic for zayne to admit, but, the doctor didn’t get much sleep last night simply because he was basking in the way you were cuddled up so closely to him. eventually, his eyelids began to grow heavier as he fell into a peaceful slumber while dreaming of you (always dreaming of you).

while you slept, you remained oh so warm, safely wrapped up within zayne’s embrace while having the comforters shield the rest of your body from any cold air that dared to disturb you.

however, such feelings of warmth seemed to seep away from you when morning came. as the sun began shining through your curtains, you became achingly aware of how much colder the other side of the bed had become, making you shiver as you immediately opened your eyes. it takes a moment for you to adjust to the sunlight, seeing it paint your shared room in brighter hues.

wiping the sleep from your eyes, you call out to zayne, only to receive no answer in return. feeling like you were missing a piece of yourself without zayne by your side, you scan the room and see your sweater laying across one of the armchairs. brushing the tangles out of your hair, you smooth out your pajamas and put on your sweater, shivering slightly before continuing your search for zayne.

lucky for you, you didn’t have to search for long, for the moment you headed towards the kitchen, you caught sight of your backyard and had to do a double take. settled outside, you saw life sized figures made entirely of snow that was in the shape of all your favorite plushies. there was huggy bear, fleecy, to little narwie and even chubby pig! becoming enamored with such cuteness, you step out into your backyard, bare feet lightly touching at the soft snow as you admired each and every plushie made from snow.

and the more you admired each snowy figurine, the more you realized that these were all plushies zayne had won specifically for you during the many dates you spent at the arcade.

just as you were about to step forward, a powerful arm was felt wrapping around your abdomen. with a hum and a smile, you close your eyes and sway within zayne’s embrace, allowing him to place a kiss against your hair.

“what do you think?” his soft voice was heard whispering within your ear, so filled with longing as he prayed that this little surprise was enough to help with brightening your day. your giggles fill at the air when you turn around to face him, a genuine smile gracing your features when you wrap your arms around his neck.

“i love them…” just as much as i love you, you wanted to say to him, yet held back those words that threatened to bubble against your throat-

yet zayne seemed to understand you all the same, simply letting out a soft whisper of your name (much like a reverent prayer) before leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

it was in the middle of spring, and you were asleep when a series of knocks were heard coming from your window. as you tried to ignore the strange, yet incessant sounds, it seemed to get louder, making your once deep slumber slip away from you.

you groan upon being woken up. your eyes, still sensitive to the light, you reach over to blindly grasp at your phone, unlocking it to see the time read 02:00am along with a text from xavier:

hey, r u awake??

wiping the moisture from your eyes, you let out a yawn before replying back to him:

what do you think i’m doing?? i’m sleeping xavier. are you okay? do you need help?

look outside ur window.

filled with confusion, you draw back the covers and get out of bed, your bare feet meeting the carpeted floors as you followed xavier’s text and look out your window. upon doing so, you were shocked to see xavier himself waving at you while throwing another pebble at your window.

your eyes go wide when you open your window. “xavier? why are you here?”

he shrugs before stepping closer to you. “jump down, i want to take you somewhere.”

your mind was spinning, wondering why your boyfriend couldn’t be normal just this once. “what? babe, it’s late. can’t this wait-“

“absolutely not.” a rare smirk graces his handsome features as he keeps his hands outreached to you. “come on, there’s no time to waste. just jump in my arms and trust me.”

with a roll of your eyes, you straighten your shirt and shorts, climbing over the ledge of your window before making your descent down towards xavier. within seconds, he captures you in his embrace, smiling down at you while giving your forehead an audible kiss.

“see? that wasn’t so bad, right?”

you giggle and playfully shake your head, “no, it wasn’t too bad.”

xavier keeps you within his embrace, carrying you to what you assumed would be his destination. a comfortable silence falls between you and your beloved hunter, and you became curious upon seeing a large blanket spread out on a grassy hill. a lantern was seen lighting up the area as xavier gently settles you on the soft blankets.

you meet his gaze, watching xavier’s every movement when he suddenly shuts off the lantern, painting the area in complete darkness. you felt a little anxious with the lack of light, but feeling xavier wrap his arms around you while bringing your body on top of his lap makes your fears disappear into thin air.

“look.” he points a finger at the skies, and you follow his gaze before letting out a gasp. surrounding you were what seemed like millions of stars twinkling across the night sky, captivating you completely as you drink in the sight.

wishing to burn this moment into your very memories, you look back at your beloved and call out his name. letting out a hum, xavier meets your gaze, and from this lighting and angle, it appeared as though his very eyes were reflecting the stars. with your own gaze filled with adoration for him, you lean closer to him, slotting your lips against his in a perfect kiss as you burned this moment into your memories.

when rafayel places a blindfold over your eyes, you knew you were in for quite a treat. trusting your boyfriend completely, you follow him, never once letting go of his hand.

“almost there.” rafayel’s voice was heard reassuring you, and when you found that your sandals began to sink into the sand, you visibly relax while giggling. your beloved artist joins you in your laughter, his rich chuckle further providing comfort for you. a few minutes later, rafayel stops walking and lets go of your hand. humming your name, he gently unties the blindfold and takes the simple cloth away from your eyes.

it takes you a moment to adjust to your surroundings, but it was clear from the fresh scent of the ocean and the sensation of sand on your feet that you were at the beach. once you could finally see, you let out an awed gasp, seeing that you were indeed, on a beach, but with not a single person in sight.

you meet rafayel’s playful gaze and ask, “d-did you book this beach all for ourselves or something?”

yet he refuses to elaborate, simply giving you a playful wink before stating, “it’s a secret.”

he beckons at you to take off your sandals before helping you sit down on the blanket. with you both settled down, rafayel brings over the picnic basket, feeding you several servings of your favorite sandwiches along with some chips and a simple salad. as you bask in this perfect weather, you continue enjoying your lunch while looking out at the sea.

once you had your fill of food did rafayel make his move. watching as you finished taking a sip from your bottle of water, your boyfriend grabs a hold of you, taking you in his arms as he carried you bridal style towards the ocean. your giggles were heard echoing throughout the area when rafayel steps into the water.

he allows the gentle waves to surround your forms, with your laughter turning louder each time the water was felt soaking into your shirt and shorts. after spending some time jumping with the waves, rafayel carries you back against the shores, purposely landing against the shallow waters. your squeals of delight were all that could be heard as rafayel leans down to kiss you deeply, swallowing your laughter while delving his fingers into damp hair, pulling you even closer to him.

and with your lips locked with his in a searing kiss while surrounded by the ocean waters, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend this day with your beloved lover.

end notes: i’m long overdue to write fluff for all the lads men, so have this ♡ not edited yet, but i still don’t trust tumblr drafts!! i’ll make any changes once this is posted ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[gubsbuubs]

Friendly Cupid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, slow burn? smut, creampie.

Summary: Despite their closeness, Y/N and Spencer's relationship always stayed within the bounds of friendship. That's until a very fateful Valentine's Day, when a friend decided to play cupid.

A/N: Hi my loves! The "Friends to Lovers" trope won the poll, thanks to your votes. Any thoughts or suggestions for what's next? I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

My requests are open!

English is not my first language.

The team basked in a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as we settled into our seats on the jet, heading back home after successfully closing another case. The subtle hum of the engines seemed to echo the collective satisfaction that enveloped us.

We had just finished a case where the unsub targeted individuals with a deep passion for books. Each victim was chosen based on their preference for a particular literary work. The killer orchestrated scenarios inspired by famous novels, challenging us to decipher the connections between the crime scenes and the literary references.

From my seat across from his, at the meeting table in the Nevada police department's, I observed Spencer in awe. His deep concentration, the way his fingers danced over the pages, and the thoughtful furrow of his brow—he looked so handsome, absorbed in the task of perusing a pile of books that would have taken me at least two years to read.

I cherished watching Spencer at work; his intellect, passion, and dedication were captivating. There was an undeniable admiration that had grown within me as we spent countless hours in shared pursuit of justice.

I vividly recall the first time our connection became something more. After a grueling case left him drained, slowly succumbing to fatigue, his head found refuge on my shoulder during the flight back. It was an unexpectedly intimate encounter—his tousled hair brushing against my neck and the faint scent of lemon shampoo lingering close to my nose. Though innocent, the closeness left an indelible mark, and often I think about the weight of his head resting against me.

Fast forward to another sweet moment; it was forever engraved in my mind when I first noticed that he cared for me. Spencer and I were staked out in a park that an unsub used to frequent in Boston. The autumn winds whispered through the colorful foliage, and the chilling breeze made my arms shiver. It was getting cold, and I scolded myself for not bringing my jacket. Spencer, ever observant, noticed how I hugged myself for warmth and asked, "Hey, are you cold?"

"What? No, it's just a bit chilly, but I can take it," I chuckled, my teeth almost clacking against each other as I shivered.

"I can clearly see you're cold, Y/N."

"Okay, fine. I may be a little bit cold; we left in a hurry, and I forgot my jacket," I admitted.

Without hesitation, he took off his FBI jacket and handed it to me. "No, Spencer, I can't accept this. If it's cold for me, it will be cold for you too," I protested.

"Compared to men, women have less muscle, which is a natural heat producer. They also have 6 to 11 percent more body fat than men, which keeps the inner organs toasty but blocks the flow of blood carrying heat to the skin and extremities." He started to ramble while holding the jacket in front of me.

So I gave up, not wanting to hear him talk about this for the rest of the night, and accepted his offer. As the jacket touched my body, I could still feel his warmth, and the scent of his perfume enveloped me. His tall stature made the jacket too big for me, and I struggled with the oversized jacket's zipper. Looking down as I tried to zip it, I felt his hand on mine. "Hey, come here! Let me help you." I looked up to meet his beautiful brown eyes as he held his gaze on mine. His gentle hands zipped up the jacket. "There you go; now you'll feel warm," he added with a sweet smile.

We had a connection—an undeniable force drawing us together. For example, with Spencer and I, the casual "sorry, Y/n, passing through" was never just a phrase; it accompanied the gentle press of his hand on my side.

When shared laughter ensued, it almost always led to a playful nudge against my shoulder, a light and affectionate gesture.

And there were times when Spencer would reach out with a reassuring touch on my arm during tense discussions or a challenging moment. His fingertips, feather-light yet grounding, conveyed a silent reassurance that we were in this together.

I’d like to think that our connection extended beyond the realm of solving cases and catching serial killers, finding roots in those quiet spaces between words, because unspoken sentiments resonated louder than any conversation we had.

These simple and innocent touches left me curious, especially considering Spencer's general aversion to physical contact, often sidestepping handshakes. Each touch, though understated, carried a significance that lingered, prompting me to ponder the depths of our friendship.

Yet, somehow, we were never more than friends. Perhaps because of the lingering fear of disrupting the delicate balance we had, I hesitated to act upon the emotions that quietly blossomed within.

So, Spencer and I stayed comfortably within the boundaries of friendship, keeping the unexplored depths of our connection confined to the realm of what-ifs and maybes.

Rather than risking it all, I chose the simplicity of silent observation and opted for the quiet intimacy of just watching him while he worked. There was an unspoken fascination with witnessing Spencer's mind at play.

The breakthrough came when Spencer uncovered a pattern in the victims' book preferences, his face lighting up at the realization. The Unsub, it seemed, orchestrated his killings based on the ominous narratives found within these chosen novels. Each victim unwittingly acquired a literary prelude to their tragic end as the killer turned the pages of their lives into a haunting script of their own demise.

With this knowledge, we were able to predict the next target and swoop in just in time to prevent another tragedy. The final confrontation took place in an abandoned library, where the unsub attempted to stage his twisted interpretation of a tragic love story. With swift and coordinated action, we thwarted his plans and brought justice to the victims.

So, with the unsub's twisted plans foiled, we found solace in the fact that we had saved the couple from his dark intentions.

Amidst the chatter on the jet, the mood shifted to a more relaxed and celebratory tone. The weight of the case had dissipated, replaced by a comforting conversation and shared laughter.

"Hey, Prentiss, any hot plans for Valentine's Day? Morgan teased, giving Emily a mischievous grin.

"Valentine's Day? Seriously, Morgan? After all the chaos of this week, I just want a quiet night with a good bottle of wine," Emily responded, leaning further into her seat.

"Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I completely forgot! Will and I will have to just stay at home," JJ confessed, sounding a bit bummed.

"Well, Beth and I will be taking Jack to the cinema to watch a movie. Would you like us to also take Henry so you and Will can have a date?" Hotch offered.

"Oh, Hotch, that’s very sweet. If you don't mind, yes! We would really appreciate it," JJ replied gratefully.

"What about you, pretty boy? Got any plans?" Morgan playfully mussed up Spencer's hair.

"Well… I…” He cleared his throat. "I, um… I actually do have a date," Spencer stammered, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"A date, Reid? Come on, spill the details. What's her name?" Morgan proceeded to probe.

“It's a blind date, so I'd rather not jinx it by talking about it.” Spencer spoke with a faint smile.

As I learned about Spencer's date, I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the sheer coincidence—both of us had blind dates on Valentine's Day. What were the odds?

Then it hit me, and as much as I tried to dismiss it, there was a subtle pang of envy that Spencer also had a date. I understood the irony of feeling jealous while I was also going on a blind date this weekend.

Earlier that week, my friend from the previous division I worked in—International Affairs and Counterterrorism—set me up with a guy. According to him, this guy was perfect for me—smart, kind, and seemingly attuned to my taste. So, I've decided to give it a shot and go on this date. It was Valentine's Day after all. So yes, I was also going on a date, and I acknowledged how contradictory it sounded to feel envious of Spencer's date. Nevertheless, a twinge of jealousy lingered.

Yet, in the grand scheme, I genuinely wished for Spencer to have a fantastic time this weekend. After all, we were nothing more than friends, and his happiness was something I truly valued.

Morgan, with a playful glint in his eye, turned his attention to me and chimed, "Alright, Reid's stepping into the world of romance, so what's the deal, Y/N? Any Valentine's plans on your agenda?"

"No, I don't really have plans. It'll be a normal weekend for me." I spoke with a smile, gently sidestepping Morgan's inquiry. I preferred to keep certain aspects of my life private, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Saturday night came around pretty quickly.

I chose a simple red dress and black stilettos for the occasion—it was Valentine's Day, after all, and opportunities for dates were not a frequent occurrence for me. Since joining the FBI, I haven't had many opportunities to look like this. Typically reserved for pantsuits and white shirts, it was refreshing to see myself look so put-together.

What awaited me on this evening could be a mistake or, just maybe, the start of something unexpectedly wonderful. Despite the flutter of reservations in my stomach, I resolved to push through the uncertainty.

Before stepping inside, I paused at the entrance, reminding myself to take a deep breath; it was just a date after all—no need to be nervous. The restaurant, my absolute favorite, bore the name "Bella Luna," renowned for its delectable pastas. It had become my go-to spot for a delightful meal, offering a perfect blend of cozy ambiance and culinary excellence.

My friend, the mastermind behind this blind date, had given the gentleman a specific directive: reserve the table with a view of the river—my favorite spot in the house. This strategic move not only catered to my preferences but also had the practical benefit of simplifying the identification of my date.

As I stood by the entrance, lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped, caught by surprise, as someone bumped into me. "Hey, where were you goi..."

“Y/N! Hi!” His eyes were widening with surprise as he recognized me.

“Spencer! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing. Didn’t you say you didn’t have plans?” He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah!" I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I, uh, decided to give in to the Valentine's Day spirit, I suppose." Spencer chuckled softly, his warm demeanor putting me at ease.

"How are you anyway, feeling good about your blind date?" I inquired, genuinely curious about his well-being.

"To be honest," he admitted, "I'm actually kind of nervous."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated before sharing, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't she like you?" The words left my mouth so fast, a testament to my incomprehension of how someone could not like the guy standing before me.

"Because I'm weird. I slouch; my hair's too long; my tie's perpetually crooked." His words were almost a whisper, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

I smiled softly, reaching  my hands to fix his crooked tie. "Here, your tie is now straight. And Spencer, you're not weird; you look really good tonight. I think you'll do very well."

He smiled softly, thanking me, and said, "Well, you do too! You look very beautiful tonight, Y/N.” My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He blushed slightly before adding, “I should really get going. I don't want to be late for my date.”

“Go get him, tiger,” I encouraged with a smile as I stayed behind, watching him leave.

Fuck, he looked so good; his dark blue suit fit him in all the right places. Though not a radical departure from his usual attire, the effort put into his appearance fueled my jealousy. The realization that he was heading on a date with someone else lingered in my thoughts, intensifying the sting.

To make matters worse, we´re at the same restaurant, and I would have to endure the evening watching him, attempting to engage in my own date while inwardly yearning for his company.

The challenge would be to keep my eyes from straying towards him, wishing the girl by his side was me.

Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of Spencer, I took a deep breath before entering the restaurant. I traversed the restaurant, consciously keeping my head down until I arrived at the table with the view of the river, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look around.

To my surprise, when I looked at the table, I found Spencer sitting there.

Confusion clouded my mind as I stood there, staring at Spencer, seated at the table, facing away from me. Disbelief hung in the air like a heavy fog. This had to be a misunderstanding; it couldn't be Spencer. My friend John specifically directed the blind date; he arranged for me to sit at this table, but Spencer was here.

The possibilities raced through my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Did the receptionist make an error? Could there be another table with a view of the river where they seated my actual blind date? Could this guy look a lot like Spencer from behind? My thoughts spiraled into a maze of questions, each more perplexing than the last. I was caught in a web of doubt, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Could Spencer and John know each other? How would they even know each other? Although we all work at the FBI, they work in totally different divisions.

As I approached the table, just a few feet away, I confirmed my suspicion: it was him—Spencer. Even though he wasn't facing me, I recognized his curls, almost catching a whiff of his distinctive perfume. It was undeniably him. How did this happen?

My heels clacked on the ground, a sound that drew Spencer's attention. His gaze shifted, expecting another woman, preparing for a polite greeting. "Hi, nice to meet y…” His words now caught in his throat.

As I pulled the chair and sat down in front of him, he halted his movements, confusion etched on his face. It seemed like he was ready to stand up, perhaps shake hands, and greet another person. But as he realized it was me, his expression transformed into one of utter bewilderment.

"Y/N, what is going on?" Spencer asked, his face a mix of confusion and concern as he settled back into his chair.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "How do you know John Watters, Jonathan Watters?" I questioned, peering at him with an intense gaze.

"What? What do you mean, Y/N?" Spencer replied, clearly confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Spencer, how do you know John?" I repeated, my eyes locked onto his, seeking an explanation for the unexpected twist in our supposed blind date.

"John Watters and I play chess in the park. We met a couple of months ago, and now we play together regularly," Spencer explained, his confusion still evident in his expression. “Y/N, what is going on?” he added, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Spencer…” I began, a faint smile creeping onto my face as it reddened, my hands immediately meeting my face. It dawned on me; John had set us both up, and it seemed he might not have known Spencer and I already knew each other.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes widening. He seemed to have a eureka moment. "Do you know him?" he asked, his tone still a little unsure. I only nodded, my faint smile hidden behind my fingers, covering how embarrassed I was.

Then Spencer fired questions left and right. "What? How do you know John?” He set you up with me. Like… did you know? You wanted to have a date with me and asked him to do it? I mean, I have talked…." He was blushing like crazy, so I decided to interrupt.

"No, No... I mean, yes, but..." I stumbled on my words as I tried to answer. "I do know John, yes, but I didn't know he set us up... But yes, I wouldn't... I wouldn’t mind a date with you." The last part slipped my tongue way too quickly, the confession escaping my lips.

"Are you serious? A date with me?" He sounded excited but mostly surprised.

"I mean, we're already here, so we might as well do it. He clearly thought we were a good pair," I offered, keeping my head down. My face felt hot, and I was smiling like a stupid little kid.

“I can't believe this; I can't believe this is happening. You don't know how long I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out, and now this is happening." His head fell back as he inhaled deeply. “Is this real? Can you pinch me, Y/N? You look so pretty, so beautiful. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must be dreaming." His excitement was palpable, and his gaze was fixed on me with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You're definitely awake; this is real!” I reached out my hand to him and held his hand. “See, this is real—a very strange coincidence, but undeniably real.”

The evening unfolded gracefully. Spencer took my recommendation, and we ordered the Carbonara, complemented by a shared bottle of Cabernet. I couldn't help but savor the moments when our laughter harmonized, creating a melody of shared joy. A subtle warmth spread across our faces, not just from the ambiance but also from the wine. Our laughter became a touch more carefree, perhaps a little tipsy, adding an extra layer of delight to the evening. The restaurant seemed to fade into the background as we continued to enjoy each other’s company.

As the plates were cleared away and the restaurant emptied out, Spencer's gaze remained locked on mine. We sat in silence for a little bit as a warm feeling settled, enjoying the lingering aura of the evening. Spencer smiled softly, leaning closer to me and taking my hands in his. "Let me walk you home," he suggests. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd love to spend more time with you."

As we stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights played on the surface of the river, casting a gentle glow on our path. Spencer and I began to stroll along the riverbank towards my apartment. The soft murmur of the water provided a soothing background to our conversation, and amidst our banter, our attention was drawn to an old lady with a basket of roses.

"Hello there," the old lady said, greeting Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you like to buy a rose for your beautiful girlfriend?"

"Oh, but I'm not his girlf..." Before I could clarify, Spencer, wearing a confident smile, chimed in, "Yet..." He told the sweet lady "So yes, I would love to buy her a rose." He turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

The old lady chuckled warmly. "Here you go, young man, a rose for your not-yet-girlfriend. May your love bloom as beautifully as this rose," she said, handing the vibrant flower to Spencer.

I thanked him as he handed me the rose, appreciating the beautiful gesture. We then continued our walk, the soft glow of the city lights guiding our way.

"So, a rose for the 'not-yet-girlfriend'," I teased, a playful smile on my lips.

"Well," he began, "I thought a rose might be a good start, but who's to say what the future holds?"

"Fair enough," I replied, a teasing glint in my eye. "A rose is a good start but what's your plan for the rest of our 'not-yet' journey?"

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about this," he began, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I won't disappoint you, that's for sure."

I felt a subtle warmth spread—a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "Is that so?" I replied with a playful glint in my eye. "I guess I'll have to wait and see what surprises you have in store.”

As we continued our walk to my apartment and reached my doorstep, the night seemed to invite us to linger a little longer.

"I had a lot of fun, Y/N. I regretted every moment we weren't doing this sooner," Spencer confessed.

"I loved this night too, Spencer," I began, a genuine warmth in my voice. "This is not how I imagined my night ending at all; I definitely never expected you to be my blind date."

"I just can't believe this happened. Who would have thought you would go on a date with me?" His soft hand reached for mine; his touch was warm and inviting.

"Well, Jonathan apparently did," I laughed, the surreal nature of the evening sinking in.

"Of course, he thinks I want to date you. I talk about you all the time..." Spencer shyly admitted, his gaze avoiding mine.

"Wait! You talk about me?" My voice lifted with happiness.

"Well, I just tell him about my day... and how I love being by your side. You're so understanding, always listening to me. Your attentive gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and your eyes, Y/N, they sparkle so beautifully. And your smile—oh, it's the prettiest I've ever seen." His words were tender, and his brown eyes never left mine. "Jonathan never told me he knew you; I guess he sensed I was too scared to act upon my feelings and took matters in to his own hands." He chuckled. "And now you're here, and we went on this date—a wonderful date, may I add—and you look absolutely stunning."

As Spencer's words lingered in the quiet night, I felt a soft warmth enveloping us and an unspoken connection deepening.

"I would really to kiss you." He whisperd. His gaze held a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability, mirroring the sentiments that resonated within me.

"You know what, Spence?" I began, a gentle smile playing on my lips. "I'd really like that too."

His eyes brightened with joy, and as if a shared understanding passed between us, he leaned in slowly. His hands cradled my face, creating an intimate connection as he closed the remaining space between us. The world around us faded into a soft blur as our lips finally met.

The kiss was tender, his lips warm and inviting, and the sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

As we pulled away, a shared smile painted across our faces, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of quiet closeness.

"Wow," Spencer whispered.

"Wow indeed," I replied, my heart echoing the sentiment.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he said, kissing me again, this time with more force and desire.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against mine with a newfound intensity, fueled by the longing we had both harbored for so long. It was a fusion of heat and tenderness, with each movement deliberate and purposeful.

His hands, which had cradled my face so gently before, now moved with a purpose, exploring the contours of my back and waist. The taste of him was intoxicating—a blend of warmth and desire that left me breathless.

"Spencer," I began, feeling our breaths mingle. "Would you like to come in?

Spencer's eyes darkened in response, his nod signaling his agreement.

As the door shut behind us, I carefully placed the rose he gave me on a small side table by the entrance, wanting to preserve the sweet gesture. Spencer, without saying a word, pulled me against him again.

I guided us through the familiar space of my home with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires. As we reached the bedroom, our bodies entwined again.

I laid back on the bed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. Spencer's body was right above mine, and our lips met in a hot, messy kiss. It was like everything else melted away, and all that was left was us in this moment. I could feel the heat of his body on top of mine, and the rush of intimacy was palpable. I wanted this moment to last forever, clinging tight to his every touch.

Spencer's hands glided along the curves of my body, caressing me with an intimacy that left me wanting more. His lips left mine to roam lower, descending slowly towards my breasts. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my chest.

Spencer's voice broke through the intensity. "Are you sure?"

A smile played on my lips as I whispered, "Yes, please Spence."

The sudden touch of his finger on my skin sent a shiver down my spine as his hand slowly drifted down my shoulder and pulled the strap of my dress down. As my nipple became exposed, he kissed it gently, sending a wave of arousal through my body.

He looked so pretty like this; his smooth hand cradled my breast as his lips left soft kisses. His slow hums of satisfaction were accompanied by the thrusts of his hips against my clothed core.

Sensing the escalating desire between us, Spencer then took the initiative, smoothly pulling my dress off. I felt exposed as his hands traveled down my body, lowering himself and planting soft kisses on my stomach.

"You look so beautiful and you smell so good." His whispers of admiration filled the air. "I bet you taste even better." He placed a soft kiss where I wanted him the most. I moaned at his words, not expecting them.

He then proceeded to slide my panties to the side, slowly licking a long stripe. The warmth of his tongue against my skin sent shivers through my body, and the anticipation built with every teasing touch.

“Fuck, it's even better than I imagined." His words were muffled as he spoke from between my legs, looking into my eyes. My moans filled the room, joined by the sound of his mouth devouring my wetness. My hands met his hair as I pulled him closer by his curls.

"Spencer..." My voice caught in my throat.

"What, baby?" The enduring name leaving his lips made my heart flutter.

"I need you," I pleaded.

"Need me to what, baby?" His middle finger breached my entrance. "Use your words," he said, caressing my opening. The sensation of his finger chills of pleasure down my spine. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel a rush of arousal building inside me. "I need you inside, please," I begged, moving my body against his.

Sensing my urge, he stood, undressing me and then himself. "Since you asked so nicely," he lined up and slowly sank in, his head resting on my shoulder, and his soft moan muffled on my neck.

Our kisses were slow and passionate, our lips brushing against each other with every movement of our bodies. His hands caressed my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me that only increased with every thrust.

Each rhythmic movement brought us closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each caress and whispered word. "You feel so good, Y/N; it’s like you were made for me." Spencer's voice was laden with desire as I moaned into his lips.

The intensity grew with each passionate thrust, and we were both lost in a world of pleasure. Our bodies were tightly intertwined, pressed up against each other as we let our emotions take over. Our moans filled the room, and our breathing became shallow and fast. We both wanted this moment to last forever, clinging to each other with all the strength we could muster.

"Spencer, I can't,” I cried out.

"Can you hold it for me, just a little, pretty girl?" he said, looking into my eyes. My eyes fluttered, closing at the words.

"No, no, no, keep your eyes on me," he said. "Yes, just like that." He kept thrusting with force, and I couldn't take it anymore. “I want to see your pretty face as you cum, baby.”

"Spence... please inside." I begged him, and that was all it took. I didn't have to wait any longer. The tension in the room reached its peak, and I could feel him release, his climax echoing mine.

Our bodies trembled together in the aftermath, the shared intensity of the moment lingering in the air. The room was filled with the sounds of our rapid breaths and the soft rustle of sheets as we came down from the euphoric high.

As we lay there, a playful smile crossed Spencer's lips. "So, about that 'not-yet-girlfriend' situation..." he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled, tracing circles on his chest. "Well, it looks like we just fast-tracked that process."

Spencer grinned. "Guess we skipped a few steps."

I gave him a playful look. "Steps? Who needs steps when you have Jonathan playing cupid?”.

Spencer gave a playful shrug. "Well, I'll be sure to thank the man.”

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[sinswithpleasure]

You Can Watch, But You Can't Touch [At Least, Not Yet]

Tokyo, a city that never sleeps. 

You've been a regular participant of the bustling nightlife for years, being a bartender for one of the most famous bars along Golden Gai. Many famous patrons have come and gone—you've hosted not only Japan's best, but Hollywood's best as well, and with the way you conduct your business—sweet talking the patrons whenever they strike your fancy—you're no stranger to bedding some of these celebrities. However, you may have just gotten yourself the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Hngh, my God~!"

"Mmf, aah, fu~ck~."

"Oh fuck yes, yes…"

You have no idea how you'd managed to sweet talk your way into the situation you were in now. You're in the suite of five-star Park Hyatt Hotel, in front of TWICE's Myoui Mina, Minatozaki Sana, and Hirai Momo. All three women are naked in front of you, and you're not wearing any clothes either, all of you having discarded your clothing on the way in. 

"Come join us here, Takagi~." Sana's saccharine voice, dripping with sexual desire, calls you forth to get on the massive bed, where all three women lie side by side. You don't know where to look—all three beautiful Japanese goddesses have their hands between their legs, fingers plunging deep into their dripping pussies. You field a glance towards all three women, and your cock twitches when Sana returns you a wink, Mina licks her lips after staring at your hard cock, and Momo blows you a kiss. Precum drips from the tip as you watch Mina fondle her breasts, soft moans escaping her lips as she tugs at a nipple between her fingers. 

Wet squelches echo around the room, mixed with the varying sets of moans. Sana is unabashedly loud, her sweet whines and moans music to your ears, going straight to your cock. Momo's pleasure is vocalized in her low sultry voice, every thrust of her fingers into her dripping cunt punctuated by a low hum. Mina is the softest amongst the three, just as she would be, but she sounds no less sexy—her angelic voice is something you've enjoyed whenever you listen to TWICE's music, but here, that same voice conquers your mind through soft, breathy moans. 

"Takagi~," Mina's moan of your name has you twitching once more, your cock at its stiffest. You shift closer to the three idols, and Mina stares intently at your cock as you move, her fingers plunging faster into her cunt. 

"Takagi, please join us, mmf~... Join us and stroke your cock for us, please~!"

There was no way you were denying yourself the relief you needed, and neither would you deny Mina the pleasure of having her request fulfilled. You grab your cock and slowly lather your precum across your length before gently stroking your cock for the idols to watch. You softly grunt as the pleasure seeps into your system, and you watch as the eyes of all three women burn with lust at your display. 

"Takagi, who's your favourite out of the three of us?" Momo's signature low voice cuts through your pleasure, and you turn to look at the oldest of the three. The oldest girl has one hand on her left breast, and she kneads it gently, the flesh spilling from between her fingers. You're momentarily stunned by that display—to see Momo's huge breasts like that so intimately, you'd be an idiot not to enjoy it for as long as you can

"Answer me, Takagi~. Momo-onee-chan's waiting~." 

"I— I…" You're unable to even formulate any coherent sentence—Sana chooses that moment to moan your name, which draws your attention to her. She flashes you her million-dollar smile, ever full of mischief, promising nothing but seduction in this instance. You're fully aware you're being toyed around by the three Japanese megastars, but you're powerless to protest, and neither do you wish to as well. 

"Ta. Ka. Gi. Answer Momoring's question, please~."

"I…, oh God, fuck—" You partially moan out of pleasure, and out of indecision—not on who's your favourite, but on whether your answer would have any repercussions. Tonight could go anywhere—the only thing you'd known was that you were chosen by MiSaMo to be their sexual partner for tonight, but you weren't sure about the details. Even on the extremely short drive here to the Park Hyatt from the bar, all you were allowed to know about tonight's experience was that you would "enjoy tonight thoroughly and fully", or so Sana said. 

"Please tell us, Takagi?" You have no idea how Mina manages to look cute as she puts on her aikyo (愛嬌) for you even as she's fucking herself, pouting and whining while her fingers plunge deep into her pussy and draw more and more of her arousal to stain the sheets below. You nearly cum at the sight, and all three women giggle when you rip your hand away from your cock, your hips jerking as a few drops of hot, thick semen drip from your tip. 

"Oh, Minaring, look at what you've done!" Momo giggles in amusement, bumping the youngest of the trio with her elbow. "You've just made Takagi cum a little."

"Guess we know who's the favourite now, Momoring~."

You're absolutely embarrassed—you thought you'd be able to edge yourself, but Mina just being herself has you unable to control yourself fully, and you'd just lost a bit of your precious load you were saving for them. Sana must have sensed your disappointment. 

"It's okay, Takagi. Minaring has this effect on people. I'm sure you have more cum in those big balls for us, don't you~?"

"Y-Yes!" Eager to prove, to please, you begin to stroke yourself again, this time reaching below to fondle your balls as well. The low groan you let out draws giggles from the stars opposite you, and you open eyes that you'd closed in pleasure. In front of you, Mina has changed her method slightly—she rubs circles on her clit, her pussy still leaking and dripping. Next to her, the whirr of a vibrator starts up—Momo holds a Hitachi wand to her clit, and she throws her head back, moaning, her free hand on Mina's leg now after letting go of her breasts momentarily. Now, you get to look at the oldest girl's breasts without any obstruction—she arches her back at a particularly strong burst of pleasure, and you gawk at her heaving breasts jiggling as she bucks her hips, deep moans serving as vocal evidence of the sexual relief she enjoys. Sana is the only girl still fingering herself, but now she has three fingers in her, her eyes switching between you and her group mates, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she whines and moans in pleasure watching everyone else masturbate together with her. 

"Takagi…" Mina's call for you is breathy, shaky from the pleasure coursing through her veins. You're forced to rip your hand away from your cock again, lest you tip over the edge. This does not go unnoticed—Sana and Momo are giggling again at your obvious weakness for Mina. Mina continues, unfazed. "Let's—mmf~—strike a deal." 

"W-What?" You're dying to hear what Mina has to say. It'd probably be worth it, but you know that it'd probably be difficult, considering your current situation. 

"If… If you—oh~!—you last… l-longer than the three of us, we'll—fuck—I…" Mina trails off as she pushes her fingers back into her cunt again, before pulling them out. 

"What she means, Takagi…" Sana takes over for their youngest. "...is that if you manage to edge yourself until all three of us have enjoyed our orgasms, you'll get to fuck the three of us."

"A—Are you sure?" You can't believe your ears—this sounds too good to be true. 

"Are you calling me a liar?" Sana's grin promises she isn't offended—she's just teasing, as usual. "Of course we're sure. If you last long enough, we'll fuck you. One by one, in any position and hole you want."

"We'll even go again, if you can keep up." Momo adds on as she winks, her vibrator turned off for this negotiation. "Something tells me you can."

"Takagi." Mina's soft call gets your attention. "If you finish last, I'll fuck you first."

You'd have been a fool not to agree. The three idols grin, and Momo's vibrator clicks on again as you begin to stroke. This time, a second and third whirr join the first—Sana has another Hitachi wand in her hands, and a dildo in the other. She pushes the dildo in her as the toy comes into contact with her clit, and she lets out a long moan at the pleasure. Next to her, Mina also now has a vibrator—a dildo with a clit massager—and she toys around with it, stimulating herself with different angles. All three women moan your name, staring at you, blatantly displaying their desires and fantasies as they pleasure themselves, and you jerk yourself hard and fast at the sight in front of you. Precum coats your tip, and you spread it all across your cock as you jerk, eyes locked on the idols in front of you. You feast on the sight of Sana and Mina with their arms pushing against either side of their breasts, squeezing them together, before looking at Momo's massive chest jiggling as she writhes in pleasure.

"Takagi, oh God~." Momo calls for your attention. "I want your cock in me so bad, fuck…" 

"Oh yeah?" You can't help but indulge in the dirty talk. "What else?"

"I need that cock shooting into me, Takagi. I love the feeling of it, the warmth of semen filling me up." Momo begins to finger herself again as she turns up the vibrator. "Especially when these two watch me take it."

A blush spreads across Mina's face at Momo's words, whereas a smile spreads across Sana's. 

"That's right, Takagi. Momo lo~ves being bred by thick hard cocks like yours." Sana grins even as she fucks herself, her sentences punctuated by the occasional moan. A pout forms on her face at the next sentence. "And she always wants us to watch, because she loves making us jealous." 

"Don't lie, Sattang. You love watching me cum on hard cocks as much as you love cumming on them too." Momo's rebuttal has Sana giggling, and your brain is filled with the thought that this was a regular occurrence. You groan at the thought, your cock twitching as more precum bursts from the tip. 

"Oooh, Takagi liked that, Momoring~." 

"Mmm, of course. Bet you he's wondering how many men we've fucked like that."

Your eyes betray your curiosity—something all three girls pick up.

"We're not kissing and telling, Takagi~." Sana's quick to tease. "But I'm going to say… the most we've had was sex with three different men at the same time each, one after the other." A wink accompanies the reveal, before Mina moans again. She is clearly revisiting the experience—

"Oh yes, those three…" Momo joins in to add further context, just to rile you up further. "Their cocks were just as long and thick as yours, Takagi. They fucked us so good that we weren't able to get up for a while."

The image of Mina, Sana, and Momo next to each other, semen dripping from their used pussies, naked bodies glistening with sweat as they are right now, nearly has you cumming. You once again edge yourself, whimpering at the denied orgasm. 

"I think you'd be happy to know that our Minaring here…" Sana fields Mina a glance, "...liked it the most. Every time she came…"

Sana's voice drops low, as if to let you in on a secret.

"She squirted all over her partners."

"Oh f—, no, no!" Your cock visibly twitches at the imagery of Mina's squirting orgasm, and to both your pleasure and disappointment, you're barely able to finish your speech before spurts of semen burst from your tip, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Shot after shot of semen sprays through the air, with your first five shots spray onto Mina's body, and the next five spraying all over the bedsheets, more semen firing from the tip.

The moment your hot semen sprays all over Mina's breasts, tummy, thighs, and ass, the youngest Japanese girl shudders, eyes rolling back in her head in a picture-perfect ahegao. She orgasms hard—the toy in her pussy is expelled out of her body onto the bed as her hips buck hard, and a long gush of squirt showers everyone on the bed. Burst after burst of Mina's juices rain over you, and your cock twitches again, just a little painfully after that intense orgasm. The Japanese girl writhes, shudders, and bucks as her orgasm takes her, and when she falls still, a panting, exhausted, sweaty mess, you can see the satisfied grin on her face, her eyes meeting yours. 

"Takagi, you failed." Momo's the first to get up, and Sana follows after. Both girls stop pleasuring themselves, and they share a look to each other before grinning. 

"I see you're still hard." Sana licks her lips at the sight of your cock, strings of semen clinging to the tip. "A pity we're not going to be able to help you with that…" 

You must've looked so pathetic and lost that Sana and Momo end up giggling at your predicament. All is lost, you think, until Momo speaks. 

"We'll give you one more chance, Takagi. Would you like that?"

"Y-Yes, please, anything!"

"Hehe, so eager and needy for our pussies…" Momo bites her lip, eyes raking over your body. "You're lucky we want to fuck ourselves on that cock as much as you want to pump our tight cunts full of cum."

Both girls give their youngest member a look. Mina is at her sexiest right now, her wanton body spread open for everyone to see. Her pussy clenches on nothing, slick dripping from her hole, semen staining her thighs, ass, and body. The afterglow of her orgasm is evident—she looks so fucking hot like that. 

"Since Mina offered…" Sana turns back to you with a bright smile, not unlike those you'd see on variety shows, or in TWICE TVs. "If you can show us how well you can fuck her, we'll fuck you."

You need no further invitation. Mina welcomes you eagerly when you crawl over—she spreads her legs wide for you, and she begs you with her eyes and hands. The look she gives you is of pure submission, and you look below to see her spreading her pussy open to welcome your cock. Both Sana and Momo crawl up to either side of you, and they watch you rub your hard cock against Mina's pussy, drawing soft moans from her. 

"Takagi, in me, please~!" Mina's quick to beg, the desperation eating away at her patience.

"Put it in, come on." With a soft push on your back, you penetrate Mina for the first time. Mina loudly moans as you stretch her walls—she's a tight fit, but you slide in with not much resistance, with how wet she is. Inch after inch, your cock disappears into her, and you swear you're in heaven. The pleasure you derive from her walls squeezing you, mixed with the natural scents of Sana and Momo beside you has you almost delirious—you can't believe this is truly happening. When you hilt, you groan loudly, and Mina whines as your cock twitches deep in her. 

"Go on, fuck her. Show us how a man like you fucks a woman, Takagi."

You're unable to keep your groan soft when you pull out of Mina's cunt and thrust back in. Mina joins you in vocalizing her pleasure, and she pulls you in to plant her lips on yours. You're surprised, naturally, but you adapt quickly—soon enough, her tongue is against yours in a hot, openmouthed kiss. You begin to pick up the pace—slow thrusts grow quicker, though you're still ensuring to keep it soft to let Mina adjust to the stretch. 

"Faster."

At Momo's command, you begin to increase the strength of your thrusts. The claps of your pelvis against Mina's ass are steadily getting louder, just as Mina's moans do as well.

"Takagi, fuck her. Make her scream." Sana crawls next to you, her low whisper next to your ear. The hot breath against your skin has you shuddering. "Look at Mina, moaning like that whenever you stretch her. She loves it, wants it, needs it, even craves for it." Sana's smile is audible in her speech. "So fuck her."

Momo is next—you feel her breasts press against your back, and she grabs you on your hips, her lips just right next to your other ear. You're starting to get dizzy with the pleasure of all three women being this close to you. Sana nibbles your earlobe, and Momo kisses you on the neck, leaving little hickeys trailing. 

"Look at her, look at how you're bulging her tummy. Look at how wide she spreads her legs for you, how much she begs you to fuck her. Come on, fuck her like you mean it."

You finally give in to your baser desires. You send thrust after thrust into Mina, the strength of each snap of your hips only increasing. The young star beneath you cries out in pleasure as she writhes, shakes, trembles at the sensations that course through her. 

"So big, so good, Takagi~!"

Mina's name might as well have been a mantra, with the claps of your body meeting hers keeping the tempo. You're not able to do much of anything else—her tight walls squeeze you just right, the warmth of her body wrapped around your shaft only enhancing the pleasure of sex with her. You only fuck her faster and harder when you have bursts of energy, and when you hear both Sana and Momo join Mina in moaning, you open your eyes to feast on the sight of all three women in pleasure, be it through toys, or you.

"Yes, just like that, fuck her, yes!"

"Mmf, Takagi, keep going~!"

Mina's call for you comes a second later. 

"You heard what Sattang and Momoring said, Takagi. Please use me, fuck me, make me scream!"

With these final instructions, you begin to pound Mina. The other two women clearly appreciate this—they finger themselves harder, moans more drawn-out, and Mina, most of all, loves it. You feel her walls tighten and get wetter around you, and her moans grow in frequency and pitch as she draws closer and closer, the claps of sex louder and louder—

"TakaGI, I'M—!!"

Mina never finishes her sentence—she wails in pleasure instead as she hits her peak. Her hips buck hard, and squirt gushes into the air as your cock falls out of her, twitching hard. You were close, so close, and you grip Mina forcefully by the hips to hilt back into her. The feeling of her squirt gushing against your body paired with the tight squeeze of her walls as well as the friction of penetration causes you to explode deep within her. You freeze as your thick, hot semen paints Mina's walls and womb white, blast after blast of your cum shot deep into the youngest's body. At the same time, Sana and Momo orgasm right next to the both of you, twin jets of squirt showering both you and Mina as you ride out your orgasms. 

When you pull out from Mina, exhausted, you fall onto the stained sheets, uncaring of where you lie. Immediately, your semen bubbles out of Mina's freshly-used cunt and drips down her skin, and both Sana and Momo reach between their youngest's legs to taste your cum. 

"Mm, Takagi, you're delicious…" Sana licks her lips as her eyes twinkle, and Momo only grins at you, her stare just as lustful. 

"Good job, Takagi…"

Both Japanese women tug you, and they lead you to a drier part of the bed. They both take turns making out with you, and you're ready to go in a matter of minutes. 

"I see you're ready~." Momo takes her position as she straddles you and lines your cock up to her cunt. Sana swings a leg over your face, and you know you're in for even more fun. 

The last you remember is Sana and Momo sinking down on you, and at that moment, you swear that Heaven is a place on Earth.

[lev1hei1chou]

Run Away

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 653 Synopsis: Your daughter wants to run away from home Masterlist

In the Gojo household, chaos was just another member of the family. Amidst the battles and the trials, there was a slice of normalcy: your child.

Little Yuki was the light of your life. She looked like the carbon copy of Gojo, but somehow inherited your calmer personality. Like any child of her age, she had her moments of defiance. And today was one of those days.

"Mommy, Daddy!" Yuki's voice pierced through the silence of the household like a tiny arrow. You and Gojo exchanged a glance, accustomed to such interruptions.

"What's up, kiddo?" Gojo asked, a grin already spreading across his face.

"I want ice cream for dinner!" Yuki declared, crossing her arms over her chest, her pout matching her father's all too well.

You exchanged a look with your husband, silently communicating that it was a battle neither of you were going to win. "Sorry, sweetheart," you began, "but ice cream isn't really a dinner food."

Yuki's face fell, her disappointment evident. But instead of the expected protest, she surprised you both with a declaration. "Well, if I can't have ice cream for dinner, then I'm running away!"

Gojo's laughter echoed through the room, and you couldn't help but chuckle at your daughter's dramatics. "Running away, huh? Where to?" he teased, kneeling down to her eye level.

Yuki's tiny brows furrowed in concentration as she pondered her escape plan. "To the park! I'll live on the swings and under the huge elephant slide!"

You exchanged another glance with Gojo, both of you struggling to contain your laughter. "Well, we'll miss you, little adventurer," you said, trying to keep a straight face. "But don't forget to pack your teddy bear!"

Yuki's resolve wavered for a moment as she considered the logistics of bringing her favorite plush companion on her great journey. "Okay!" she exclaimed, dashing off to her room to fetch her teddy.

As she disappeared down the hallway, Gojo turned to you with a amusement in his eyes. "Should we let her go through with it?"

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "Of course not. But let's play along for a bit. It'll be good for a laugh."

Agreeing to the plan, you and Gojo followed Yuki to her room, where she was diligently stuffing her teddy bear into a tiny backpack. "All packed and ready to go?" Gojo asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Yuki nodded solemnly, her expression a mix of determination and excitement. "Yep! I'm gonna live at the park forever and ever! And I'll have a lot of fun!"

As she made her way towards the front door, backpack bouncing with each step, you exchanged a knowing look with Gojo. This was going to be one for the family scrapbook.

With exaggerated solemnity, you and Gojo followed Yuki out the door, watching as she marched purposefully down the sidewalk, her tiny frame filled with determination.

But as she reached the end of the block, her resolve began to waver. The park seemed much farther away than she had anticipated, and the weight of her decision started to sink in.

You and Gojo watched from a distance, hidden behind a tree, as Yuki paused at the corner, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.

"I don't think I want to run away anymore," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible from your vantage point.

With a silent nod, you and Gojo emerged from your hiding spot, unable to contain your laughter any longer. Yuki's face lit up at the sight of you both, her momentary distress forgotten.

"I'm sorry for trying to run away," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gojo scooped her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart. We know you were just upset. But next time you want something, just ask nicely, okay?"

Yuki nodded, her tears replaced with a wide smile. "Okay, Daddy."

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 — biting

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: secret relationship. mentions of penetrative sex.

"What is that? Have you gotten into a fight with a werewolf?"

"Huh?" Steve was still half asleep when he picked Robin up that morning. As his best friend got into the passenger seat of his car, already speaking in a volume that would surely wake him up in no time, it didn't really register what she was talking about.

She scoffed. "Those bite marks, dingus. Didn't know you had a date with a feral animal last night. That's a new low for you."

He felt the blood drain from his face, but covered it up with a playful scowl. "Whatever. You're just jealous 'cause I have a pretty girl who is willing to give me all of these hickies."

"A pretty girl, yeah? Who's the lucky one of the week?"

Knowing himself to be a terrible liar, Steve looked forward, taking his car out of park and into the street. He was blushing, though, and that he wasn't able to hide. 

"No one you know." He mumbles.

As Robin protested, reapplying her mascara through the passenger seat mirror, Steve blushed harder as he remembered the night before — and he would love to tell her all about it, except for the fact that she couldn't know it was you.

She couldn't know that it was you that he had on his bed almost every night, and that this has been happening for weeks. She couldn't know that it was you that was on top of him, telling him to keep his hands on the headboard while you ravaged his skin with your mouth, biting and sucking red and purple bruises all over him.

She couldn't know how much he liked it, begged for it. How he looked at you as you sunk your teeth into him with a strange kind of adoration, the thrill of being marked — owned — by you. The way his hands roamed your bare skin, the glittering sheen of sweat that made you glow, and how he left his own mark on you with how his hands gripped the supple flesh of your hips when you sat yourself on his cock.

He couldn't tell her about the noises you made, how your moans echoed through his room and spurred him on, the roll of your hips meeting his own, the slick sounds that came from where your bodies met. How you couldn't keep yourself up with how good he made you feel, laying on top of him and letting him fuck you from underneath you, setting a cruel pace as you whimpered into his neck.

She couldn't know about all the ways he made you cum, or about how obsessed he was with you. You'd made a deal — keep your little relationship a secret until you're sure about what you really want. None of your friends could know, you'd tell them when the time was right.

Steve wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he agreed that there was a certain appeal in hiding in plain sight. Your bite marks on his neck, you going to work wearing his sweaters, sneaking out to fuck whenever you hung out. The world didn't need to know you were his, not yet — you knew, and that was enough.

They were still bantering when he stopped at your driveway, and watched you walk to his car with a bounce on your step. You opened the backseat door, threw your bag in first, and sat right in the middle.

"Did you see that Steve got mauled by a wolf last night?" Robin turned her body around to see you better. All you did was snicker, and throw your hair over your shoulder. If you weren't jeans, they would be able to see Steve's own marks left on your thighs.

"Really, Steve? Did you at least win?"

The two of you shared a look. The curve of your smirk, the defiant rise of his chin. Tension that would be resolved later, surely.

"You know me. I never lose."

As he started the car again, you rolled your eyes. "Maybe the wolf should have gone harder on you."

Your eyes met through the rearview mirror. "Maybe I'd like that."

[wheeboo]

run to you | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which your best friend picks you up in the middle of the night. PAIRING. biker!best friend!lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, lil angst, best friends to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, implied that reader lives in a troubled household, lil description of a twisted ankle, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.7k

notes: finally have something written for dino!! i haven't written anything for him in a HOT min that this almost feels out of character for some reason 😭 anyways enjoy <3

Chan doesn't understand why simply the sight of your name lighting up his phone has his heart quickening, head spinning, and adrenaline rushing all in a single moment. But he doesn't give it much thought, his hand instinctively pressing the answer button as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

He brings his phone up to his ear, calling out your name, "Y/N?"

"Hey, um..." Your voice is shaky on the other line, barely above a whisper, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like pain, and it sends a snake of worry up his back. "...can you do me a favour real quick?"

Chan glances at the time on his phone for a brief second, brows furrowing at the late time displayed on the screen. He sits up in bed, already somehow feeling more awake than just a few seconds ago. "Yeah, uh, what's up?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air, heavier than the late-night quiet pressing against Chan's window. He can almost hear your nervous inhale and picture the hesitant frown on your face.

"I left my... well, actually my entire skateboard bag... at your place," You admit quietly, sheepishly. "Could you possibly... drop it off at my door? It's really late, I know, but𑁋"

"Where are you?" Chan asks frantically and seriously that it cuts you off. He hears the way your breath hitches in your throat at the tone of his voice, and it only makes him more apprehensive and his heart hammering against his ribs anxiously. "Are you at the skate park?"

Crap, he knows. He always knows. "Look, I just... needed to clear my head and took a little fall. I'm fine, can you just𑁋"

"Stay put," he commands, leaving no room for argument. "I'm coming to get you."

"What? No, Chan, it's fine𑁋"

He cuts you off, refusing to hear your protests. "Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

He hangs up before you can utter another word, quickly tossing a shirt on and grabbing his keys, helmet (and a second one), and of course, your skateboard bag. As Chan throws the bag over his shoulder, a sharp pang of worry hits him. He knows you're downplaying the fall and everything else going on, but the tremor in your voice paints a different picture in his mind, and he seems to be listening to his heart more than he ever thought he would.

All he could think about is you.

Chan knows not to pry, but it isn't the first time this has happened𑁋where you 'clear your head' in the middle of the night and run away from home for a few hours. But the thought of you alone and hurt gnaws at him more than he cares to admit.

Pushing aside the questions and worries for later, Chan rushes out the door, the roar of his motorcycle echoing through the hushed night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. As he speeds towards the familiar silhouette of the skate park, a million scenarios play in his mind, each one twisting his gut tighter. He forces them down, focusing only on one𑁋getting to you and making sure you're okay.

The wind whips past Chan's helmet, carrying with it the sting of the cool night air and the echo of your shaky voice. He rounds the last corner, the skate park coming into view, bathed in the dim glow of a streetlamp. He catches a single glance of your figure leaning against wall with your skateboard abandoned not that far away, and his heart jumps into his throat.

He throws the bike into a skid that leaves a dark streak on the pavement, the gravel crunching beneath his tires and the engine sputtering to a halt just beside you. You flinch at the sudden noise, looking up with wide, surprised eyes. Before you can speak, he's already hopping off and jogging towards you.

Something jumps in your stomach when he takes off his helmet, the streetlamp above illuminating the worry etched on his features and windswept, messy hair. Chan kneels before you, the gravel biting into his knees as his gaze takes note of the way you're gingerly clutching down at your ankle.

The concern in his eyes makes your defenses crumble. You open your mouth to explain, but he silences you with a gentle hand on your knee.

"Don't talk," he murmurs, voice surprisingly soft. "Let me see."

He gently pushes your hand away, his touch sending a spark through your already jittery nerves, calloused fingers lightly brushing against away the dirt clinging to your slightly swollen ankle. You wince at the contact, breath hitching at the unexpected touch. It's not painful, but it's strangely electrifying.

"It looks swollen," he states, carefully brushing his thumbs over the affected area. "Can you put any weight on it?"

You hesitantly try to wiggle your toes, wincing when a sharp pain shoots up your leg.

"Fuck, ow," You whisper, biting your lip. You feel the shame and embarrassment burn at your cheeks, making you want to sink into the cool concrete beneath you.

He's always right; you weren't fine. You hadn't been fine for a long time, but admitting it to yourself felt like opening a dam of emotions you weren't sure you could contain the longer you stay here, and you aren't sure if Chan being in front of you was helping with that or not.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Chan asks, voice a low rumble that vibrates through the gravel where he kneels. You can't help but meet his gaze, searching for judgment, but finding only concern and a hint of something deeper you couldn't decipher, or didn't want to acknowledge.

You shrug, hating how weak the gesture feels, pulling back your leg away from him slightly. "It's okay, just a twist."

Chan's jaw clenches, the concern on his face morphing into something else, something you couldn't quite place. "Just a twist? Y/N, it's the middle of the night, you're alone at the skate park, and you can barely stand. It's not okay."

You feel your chest tighten. "I told you I just needed to get some air. You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I'm fine."

His eyes narrow, and you catch a glimpse of something raw and intense flickering in them.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks, coming out a bit harsher than intended. "What if you... what if something bad happened and you couldn't call for help? Do you think I wouldn't want to be the one to find you?"

His words hit you like a physical blow. You flinch, the vulnerability you'd so carefully guarded threatening to spill out. God, you hate that he could see through you, hate that he cares so much, hate that you couldn't hate it no matter how much you tried.

"No," You mumble, swallowing back the heat threatening in your eyes. "I don't think you're stupid. It's just..." Your voice trails off.

"It's just what?" Chan demands, voice tight. "Just another night where you disappear and leave me wondering if you're okay? I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."

His words suspend heavy in the air, the only sounds coming from the occasional crickets and the rhythmic thump of your heart echoing loudly in your ears. You could only stare at Chan, his intense gaze boring into you, and feel a dam within yourself start to slowly crack.

Chan lets his eyes roam over you, and a twinge of guilt seems to twitch at his lips, his eyes softening noticeably, but barely. He lets out a sigh.

"Come on," he says firmly. "I can't let you stay here alone, not tonight. Let me take you back to my place, okay?" His eyes hold yours for a beat longer than necessary, a silent plea struggling beneath the surface.

He rises from the ground and offers you his hand. The heat radiating from his skin sends a familiar jolt through you. Hesitantly, you place your hand in his, his fingers warm and calloused as they intertwine together clumsily, like you're testing some type of waters. Then he lifts you with surprising ease, the sudden movement sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through your ankle, making you tighten your grip on his hand.

"Sorry," he murmurs, concern flickering in his eyes. "Let me know if it's too much."

You shake your head, unable to find your voice. You're a tangled mess of emotions𑁋relief, embarrassment, and a fluttering nervousness that you can't quite explain. He helps you onto the back of his motorcycle and secures the extra helmet around your head, before stepping away to collect your skateboard from the ground. Then you feel his hand cup over yours, bringing it to secure around his waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours sending shivers down your spine.

"Hold on tight," he instructs. As the engine rolls to life, you feel the vibration through your body, and you scoot yourself impossibly closer to him, tightening your hold around his abdomen even more.

The ride to his apartment is a blur of streetlights and rushing wind. You cling to him even more, not entirely sure if it's for balance or something more, but it's awfully comforting and... intimate.

You lean your head on his back and breathe in the familiar scent of leather and warmth that seems to calm you more than it should. Shifting your eyes up, you steal a glance at Chan, the moonlight casting long shadows across his determined jaw and windblown hair. You can feel his muscles tense and relax with every shift of the bike, and a strange sense of safety washes over you. You feel a slight tug at your lips at the thought.

As the motorcycle comes to a stop outside Chan's apartment, you linger for a moment, the gentle rumble of the engine fading into the quiet night as he puts it into park. The warmth of his body still lingers onto yours as he takes off his helmet and hops off the bike, before turning around to help with yours.

The brush of your hands against each other sends a jolt through the two of you. Chan quickly pulls away, his hand hovering awkwardly by your helmet, but the heaviness in the air lingers. You look up at him, his gaze flickering between your face, before he fully slips the helmet off your head, hand lingering in the strands of your hair for a moment.

He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"I, uh... should get you inside," he finally says.

You only give a nod. But as you attempt to step off the bike, the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg, bringing a wince to your face.

"Here," Chan says quickly, kneeling before you again. "Let me help."

He carefully scoops you up in his arms, the familiar scent of leather and warmth enveloping you once more. This time, you don't try to pull away, your heart pounding against his chest as he carries you inside.

He takes you to his kitchen, helping you sit on top of the counter, and you can't help but let out a quiet, soft sigh of relief. As he draws away from you to rummage through the drawers, you glance around his kitchen, noting the small stack of dishes in the sink, the motorcycle magazines scattered across his little eating area, and an empty bowl of cereal𑁋a glimpse into his life you hadn't seen before.

It's silent when it all happens, almost too silent it's suffocating. But as Chan comes back to you with an ice pack and a bottle of pills, you could only watch him. The soft light from the hanging lamp above bathes his face in a warm glow, and you catch the way his gaze lingers on your face a moment too long.

He reaches out, gently placing the ice pack on your swollen ankle. His touch is light, almost tentative, yet the cold feeling makes you flinch, but Chan's hand rests gently on the skin above your ankle, the other cupping at your knee. There's a part of you that wants to pull away from him, from everything happening right now, but you don't. You don't want to. You can't. He's worried, frustrated, and maybe even a little hurt, and you understand why. You've pushed him away again, and he's tired of it.

"I..." You start, a tremor betraying your words. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Chan glances up at you. "But you did," he replies lowly. "You always do. And it scares the hell out of me."

The tension hangs thick in the air as Chan's words sink in.

"I-I'm sorry, I really am," You mutter, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "It's just... things are hard at home, and I don't know how to deal with it. Being away just seems to... clear it all up a little bit, you know?"

"Then why run away when you can run to me?" He's standing right in front of you at this point, one hand still on your knee.

"Why do care you so much?" You counter almost defensively, feeling yourself tense right under his gaze.

"Because the more this happens, the more I realise I don't want to be your friend anymore," he answers simply, then lowers his voice. "I can't be... just your friend anymore when I want to be the person you run to."

The world freezes. Everything freezes, and you could only stare at him with widened eyes and a pure look of shock. Nothing but silence stretches between the two of you, and the hammering in your chest only grows stronger by each passing second.

Chan lowers his gaze to the floor, taking his hand off your knee and running it through his hair. "Fuck, I shouldn't have..." He catches a glimpse of the bottle of pain medication right next to you. "Let me get you some water𑁋"

"No, wait." You grab at his hand, causing him to halt, and he looks back at you. "Don't... go yet, please?"

Chan hesitates, before giving in, finding himself standing right back in front of you, the two of you almost eye-level. Except you shoot a quick look at his lips, then up to his eyes, before letting the hand wrapped around his wrist pull him even closer to you, to the point where he's almost standing between your legs.

His breath hitches from the sudden closeness, but he shouldn't be like this right now. Not when you're hurt and vulnerable. He can't tell you that he wanted you the moment you met two years ago when you rolled past him one day on the way to the same skate park, can't tell you that he would choose you over everything else in a heartbeat.

But all those thoughts are pushed away the moment he feels your lips on his, and his hands come naturally to your waist, as if afraid you might slip away. His lips seemingly mold perfectly with yours, and you can feel the longing in the way his fingers seem to tighten its hold on your shirt.

Your lips part for a brief moment, and there's a long moment that passes before Chan leans in again, capturing your mouth a bit more fervently, a bit more passionately than before, yet nonetheless still sweet and tender. The world outside disappears, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the gentle glow of the kitchen light above.

When you both pull away, there's a breathless pause.

"Are you... are you okay?" he asks cautiously. "I'm sorry, it just..."

"No, I'm... I should say sorry for... everything," You cut him off. "I shouldn't have made you worried or... pushed you away. I'm sorry."

"All I ever want is to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His hand is back at your knee again, finger tracing reassuring shapes, easing the tension out of your body.

You let out a nervous, light-hearted chuckle. "We're not even together yet and I'm already causing you so much trouble."

Chan's expression softens, and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Who said I wasn't yours yet?" He leans back in, teasing his lips back against yours. "I can be, if you want me to be."

another note: ending is a lil rushed im sorry oops i wrote this rlly late 😭

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

[fafnir19]

I’m just about ready to graduate from college, but I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to be one of the muscular, fratty freshmen in our baseball team. I heard they all had their heads shaved into a buzzcut as part of their hazing process. Is there a chance you can help me join them?

The sun was warm on your face as you sat on a bench in the park, watching the baseball team practice. It was just a few days before your graduation ceremony, and you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension about the future. Beside you was your best friend, with whom you shared a laugh, enjoying one of your last moments of care-free student life. "I'm just about ready to graduate from college," you said, a hint of nostalgia and uncertainty in your voice. "But I've been thinking, what if I'd taken a different path? What if I were one of those muscular, fratty freshmen on the baseball team? I heard they all had to get their heads shaved into a buzzcut as part of their hazing process." Your friend laughed. "You? A jock? That's a funny thought." You smiled at the idea, knowing it was a bit far-fetched. "Yeah, I know. It's just a fantasy, I guess." Your friend checked the time and stood up. "Hey, I've got to run. See you later." You waved goodbye, your eyes drifting back to the baseball field. You sighed, a mix of emotions washing over you as you contemplated the future.

That's when you noticed Jason, the team captain of the baseball players, standing in front of you. He said nothing, simply staring into your eyes with an intense gaze.

Your nervous laughter faded, and you shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Jason... I don't understand..." you stammered, your eyes flicking around, unable to hold his intense gaze. "Shh, just look into my eyes..." Jason's voice was low and hypnotic, his sharp blue eyes boring into yours. Your heart raced as you felt yourself becoming entranced, your body relaxing despite your mind's feeble protests. "I think you'd look better on the floor," he said, his voice reverberating in your mind. Before you could react, you felt his fingers under your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. "No, Jason... I... I should..." you moaned, your resistance fading. "No need to resist... just listen to my voice... follow my eyes..." Jason's deep chuckle filled the air, his fingers caressing your jaw. Your body betrayed you as you moaned in response, your cock throbbing within your pants. "Mmm... fuck... Jason..." You sank to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. Your mouth hung open as you panted, your lips slick with drool. Jason stepped closer, his tight baseball pants straining to contain his bulging cock.

"You ready for the real thing?" he asks, and before you can respond, his pants slip away, revealing his massive cock. Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel yourself being pulled closer, your face inches away from his length.

As you opened your mouth to speak, to ask him to wait, you felt yourself being pulled forward. Toward him. Into him. It was as if you were being sucked into a vortex.The world darkens as you are pulled into the void. You feel your body shrinking and yourself being pulled into the tip of his cock. Your surroundings darkening as you're enveloped by his flesh. "Oh, fuck, yes..." Jason hisses, his eyes rolling back in his head as he feels you shrinking inside him. "That's it, boy, swim down to my balls. That's where you belong." The ground falls away, and you are falling, tumbling head over heels through the darkness. You cry out, your voice echoing back to you, but it is too late. You are enveloped in warmth, a sticky, wet heat that slows your movements and muffles your screams. You realize, with a start, that you are inside Jason's balls. The space is tight and confined, the soft yet resilient skin pressing against you from all sides. You are encased in a sticky, slimy substance that makes it hard to move. The thick, creamy fluid surrounds you, seeping into your pores and clouding your mind. You try to move, to orient yourself, but your body feels heavy and sluggish, your movements slow and dull. "Awww... it must be very musky down there, boy." Jason's deep laughter echoes through the sac, the sound vibrating against your skin. "I can feel you moving around in my cum tank. The scent must be driving you wild, huh? Making you all fuzzy and pliable. Hey, are you still with me, boy?" You try to respond, but your mouth feels full, your tongue heavy and unresponsive. You manage a feeble groan, a sound of surrender and submission. "Good... because Daddy is going to infiltrate you with my superior genes. Just relax and let it take effect. Soon, I'll rebuild you, and you'll be my obedient creation. My legal son, molded in my image as a fratty baseball player. Does that turn you on, boy? Knowing you'll be my little teen desperate to be just like Daddy." 

As Jason speaks, you feel the soft, resilient membrane of the sac pressing against you from all sides, constricting your movement. The surface is slippery and slick, offering no purchase for your flailing limbs. You are completely at the mercy of the powerful athlete. "Inside this sac, my body will produce a special gunk, a seminal straitjacket, that will cocoon you and ensure your transformation. It will merge with your very being, corrupting and assimilating you until you are reduced to the size of a mere sperm cell. You will be one of my boys, a part of me, and I will decide when and how to release you." You squirm and writhe, your movements growing weaker by the second. The gunk Jason mentioned begins to seep into the membrane, a warm, viscous fluid that coats your skin and penetrates your pores.

You let out a frustrated moan, your voice now little more than a whimper. "Mmm... ohhh... Jaaason..." "That's it, boy. Squirm for me. Groan for me. Your pleasure is mine to control, and your transformation is already well underway." You feel yourself being pulled deeper into the gunk, your body contracting and shrinking further. The membrane squeezes tighter, and your movements become more and more restricted. "Enjoy the ride, boy. Before long, you'll be a part of me, and I'll shoot you out when I'm ready to impregnate some lucky girl. Until then, just know that you're mine, and I own every inch of your being." You whimper, your mind clouding with pleasure and submission. Before long, you're nothing more than a sperm cell, ready to be wanked out and reborn under his control.

Days turned into an eternity of existence as a sperm cell, until finally, Jason fucks a hot girl and you're shot into a condom. The condom lay forgotten on the bedroom floor, a testament to Jason's post-coital carelessness.

You were aware of your existence as a mere sperm cell, shot into the condom during his release. The latex prison seemed like your final resting place as you hadn't fulfilled your purpose of impregnating an egg. "This is it," you thought, bracing for the end. "I'll fade away, and my consciousness will be lost forever."  But then, something unexpected happened. You began to absorb the cum that surrounded you, feeling it nourish and restore your body. 

"What the—?" Jason's voice cut through the room as he noticed the condom on the floor, twitching and pulsating. You continued to grow, your form taking shape within the condom. The rubber constricted around you, tight and confining, but you pushed against it, desperate to break free. "Oh fuck..." Jason's eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. "I never expected this." You grew, inch by inch, cell by cell, until you were human once more. With a final, powerful surge, you burst out of the condom, naked and transformed. Your body was younger, more supple, and resembled Jason's athletic build. You were now 18, a fresh-faced teen brimming with potential. As you ran your hands through your hair, you noticed it was shorter, styled in a buzzcut like Jason's.

You stood there, dazed, your mind foggy but filled with new thoughts and desires. "Baseball..." you muttered, your eyes landing on the bat leaning against the wall. "Frat..." You looked down at your body, flexing your muscles, and then at Jason, admiration and devotion shining in your eyes. "You... my role model." Jason's voice cut through the air as he picked up the shredded condom, a look of surprise on his face. "How is this possible?" You tried to speak, but your mouth felt strange, as if you were forming words for the first time. "I... I don't know," you managed, your voice sounding like a stranger's. "Amazing," Jason whispered, a smile spreading across his face. "My own minion." You looked at him, and your mind felt cloudy. Thoughts of admiration and loyalty filled your head. This man, Jason, was your role model. You wanted to be just like him—a confident, charismatic leader. Jason's eyes narrowed, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "Well, my little creation, it seems like we're bound together now. And I think it's time to put you to good use." You nodded eagerly, your mind now singularly focused on pleasing Jason and embracing the life he had bestowed upon you. "Yes, master. I'm ready to serve. Tell me what to do." "First, we need to get you geared up. You can't go around naked all the time." Jason laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made you feel safe and excited. "Then, we'll initiate you into the frat. You're going to be the freshest pledge they've ever seen." As Jason began to dress you, you marveled at the feeling of the fabric against your skin and the sound of Jason's laughter filling the room.

Weeks pass, and you fall into a routine with Jason. You train with the baseball team, your body responding to the rigorous exercises with ease. Your skills improve daily, and the team accepts you as one of their own. You became a star player, all thanks to the power Jason had given you.

"He's doing great, Coach," Jason says, a hint of pride and astonishment lacing his voice. "The perfect fratty baseball player. But I can't help but notice his singular focus on baseball and, well... fucking." He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his buzzed head.

The coach's eyes narrow, a spark of interest flashing in their depths. "Ah, I see. And what do you make of this behavior?" Jason shrugs, his broad shoulders rising and falling. "I'm not sure, Coach. I thought maybe it's just a phase, but it's been a few weeks now. He's always been a bit of a horn dog, but this feels different." A slow, satisfied smile spreads across the coach's face, creasing the corners of his eyes. "That's to be expected, Jason.  It's because he hasn't impregnated an egg when he was a sperm. He's grown from your cum, and that process has left him a horny breeding stud, pure and simple." Jason's eyes widened, a mix of shock and concern on his face. "So, that means..." Coach's hand caressed Jason's cheek, a sinister smile playing on his lips "Don't worry, Jason. After your baseball career, I'll make sure you become a dumb breeding stud too. You and your minion will be the start of something big: The breeding of the perfect baseball player... it's an art, a business, a passion. Much like the breeding of racehorses, this could become a very profitable business." Jason's eyes widened, the realization sinking in. "So, this was your plan all along? To create the perfect baseball players?" "Exactly," the coach said, stroking Jason's cheek.

Jason swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You mean... I'll be... livestock?" The coach's eyes glitter with an unspoken power dynamic. "In a manner of speaking, yes. But you already knew that, didn't you, Jason? You knew the score when you agreed to this." "Y-you can't be serious..." Jason stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "Shh, don't worry. You'll be a dumb breeding stud soon enough. Led by your instincts, you'll be the perfect livestock." Coach's eyes glint with a dangerous mix of excitement and power. "No... I don't want to be a... a breeding stud." Jason's voice is strong and determined. On Coach's lips is playing a smile and he steps closer to Jason, his presence dominating the room. "Oh, but you will, Jason. You will. It's already begun, can't you feel it?" Jason swallowed hard, "I-I guess I have been feeling... different lately. More focused on baseball and..." he trails off, his cheeks flushing. "Your body and mind are already changing, becoming more pliable to my will. Soon, you won't be able to resist." The Coach's voice is low and hypnotic, his eyes boring into Jason's. "And by then, you'll be begging to be my livestock, begging to be used for breeding, to be owned, and to pass on your genes to create more athletes.” Coach's eyes narrow as whispers into Jason's ear. "Or should I turn you into breeding stock now? Make you dumb and led by your instincts?" "No, Coach, please," Jason protested, his voice cracking. Coach's hand reaches out, caressing Jason's cheek, then trailing down to his lips. "Relax, Jason. You'll be dumb as a rock, led by your base desires. Perfect breeding material." Jason screams, "No...", his hands reaching up to clutch at his head as if in pain. "Please, no... I can't... I can't think..." The thought of becoming Coach's livestock stirs a strange, primal desire within him. "Shh, it's already done, Jason. Your fate is sealed." The Coach chuckles, his eyes glittering with amusement. "But don't worry, you'll enjoy it. The power, the pleasure, your steadily dumbing mind... it will be unlike anything you've ever experienced before." Jason whimpers, his body trembling, and you realize that he is getting aroused, his pants tenting with the evidence of his desire.

 "Now, now, no need to be embarrassed." The Coach's voice is soothing, his hand reaching out to stroke Jason's bulging crotch. "Embrace your new nature, Jason. Let it consume you." "Y-yes..." Jason moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as he surrenders to the pleasure. "Oh, Coach... it feels so good..." You watch, transfixed, as Jason succumbs to the Coach's will, his body becoming a slave to the pleasure coursing through him. You wanted the same. To be a mindless, obedient jock, devoted to baseball and being used for breeding. "Good boy," Coach purrs, stroking Jason's now-pliant body. "You'll be my perfect little breeder. Now, go and practice. We have a game coming up, and I expect nothing less than perfection from my team." Jason nods, his mind clouded with desire and obedience.

He knows his fate is sealed. He will become the coach's breeding stud, and somehow, horny thoughts of being Coach's livestock excited him.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Authors choice! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

a continuation of 1

Gus is going exactly eight miles over the speed limit when the sirens start.

This is Shawn’s fault, since he’s the one that had agreed to meet Gavin right before they were supposed to be at Henry’s. When he glances up to see the large, white cop heading towards him, he decides that if Shawn’s gotten him into this mess, he can get him out.

Shawn is very, very serious about keeping his work and personal life separate, but this is the one instance that he encourages Gus to break that barrier. If more major cities had a diverse police force, he wouldn’t feel like it was necessary quite so often. 

Unfortunately, since Shawn has yet to get the appropriate stationary, he’ll have to go back a generation with this trick.

“What’s this?” the officer says, staring at the back of his license.

“Oh, that’s my father in law’s old police business card,” he says. Shawn reaches out for it back when he does this, but Gus keeps his hands on ten and two. “Apologies, sir, I’ve been carrying that thing around for years. Can never be too careful, as I’m sure you know.”

His eyes flick to Gus’s hand and the gold band on his ring finger. “You’re Henry Spencer’s son-in-law?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers evenly. “I’m actually headed to his place now. You know how he is about punctuality.”

That gets him half a chuckle and the tension in his shoulders starts to ease, up until the officer asks, “I thought Henry had a son?”

It can be a delicate balance, weighing the potential racism against the potential homophobia, but this isn’t Gus’s first time doing this either. “Lots of people think that. It’s the unfortunate name choice.”

That gets him some more sounds of amusements, then his license is being handed back to him. “Tell Henry and the missus that old Kingfisher says hello.”

“Of course, thank you, sir,” Gus says, pleasant smile firmly in place until old Kingfisher is back in his car.

He carefully pulls back onto the road and stays five below the speed limit the rest of the way.

There’s a lack of rusted piece of junk motorcycle out front – Gus would prefer it if Shawn would just buy a decent bike, but he likes tinkering too much for that – and he wishes he was surprised. Henry’s grilling in the yard and he waves a hand in greeting as soon as he steps out. “Gus! What the hell are you driving?”

If only Shawn was here right now, because he’d said the exact same thing when he’d pulled up in the blue Echo and he was still valiantly fighting against the very real truth that he and his father can be uncannily alike. “It’s a rental.”

Henry wrinkles his nose, but any further commentary is cut off by an obnoxiously loud engine as Shawn turns the corner and parks next to him, kicking down the stand and pulling off his helmet in one motion. He clocks the look on both their faces immediately and holds up a hand. “I know, I know, don’t be the moldy grape at the bottom of the bag about it. I’ll fix it this weekend. I’ve already put in the order for some of the parts.”

That’s sort of the truth. They’re going to the junkyard on Saturday so Shawn can play Frankenstein, but there are a couple things he buys new every time because one motorcycle accident due to a worn belt was one too many for Gus.

“Can’t you two just get a couple of normal cars?” Henry sighs.

“This is a normal car!” he protests, holding the gate for Shawn to walk ahead of him. He really hopes that he didn’t meet with the mayor in jeans and a flannel, but he also knows better. Shawn slaps his ass as he walks by, and he’s tempted to yank him back into a kiss, but Henry hasn’t seen them since he picked them up at the airport and he figures they can be on somewhat good behavior for at least one dinner.

“I have dubbed it the Blueberry,” Shawn says, using the same voice he does when giving stupid names to chess pieces.

Henry rolls his eyes even as he pulls Shawn down to ruffle his hair, causing him to yelp and pull away, even though the helmet had flattened it enough that he’s probably doing Shawn a favor.

It’s all normal and familiar and they eat dinner on the porch, the weather a welcome relief after the last couple of years on the East Coast. Gus is thinking about how nice it is to be back in Santa Barbara and how much happier Henry looks than when he was in Miami, and that’s probably only partly to he and Shawn moving back too, when Henry says, “What are you boys doing for work now? Gus, Shawn said something about you working on some sort of drug trial?”

Which is when he realizes that Shawn hasn’t told Henry why they’re back like he promised he would and Gus should have known that he would chicken out, but now he’s trapped at this table. He considers simply fleeing and locking Shawn out until he talks to his father. Henry’s seen him do worse.

There’s really no such thing as impressing the in-laws for him. Well, maybe with Madeline, but Henry knows him too well and has known him too long for there to be any of that. Shawn’s mother has too, technically, but he saw her a lot less than Henry.

“Yeah, he’s an executive at Middle Earth Pharmaceuticals,” Shawn says, as if Gus hasn’t frozen with the fork halfway to his mouth. Henry is frowning. It’s too late.

“It’s Central Coast Pharmaceuticals, Shawn,” he says, lowering his fork. Henry’s steak is his favorite and now he can’t even enjoy it because it’s a steak built on lies.

He shrugs. “I’ve heard it both ways. They want him to revamp their internal systems and rearrange some routes. Plus they’re hoping they can use his contacts to make more sales.”

That last part had been more implied than listed in his job duties, but he’s not wrong. “More or less.”

“Alright,” Henry says slowly, now aware that there’s something wrong but not having yet figured it out. He still has time to run. “What about you, Shawn? Surf instructor? Ballon animal operator? Sommelier?”

“Dad, please, you know I’d never cheat on Gus,” he answers. Gus can feel his knee bouncing underneath the table against his own, the only sign of his anxiety.

Gus clears his throat. “I know you know what a sommelier is, Shawn. You’ve worked at two different wineries.”

“Well, neither of them were French,” he says, as if that doesn’t prove that he knows exactly what it is.

Henry leans back in his seat, staring them down in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of their childhood. The line between Cop Henry and Dad Henry had always been thin and retirement hadn’t really done much to change that. Gus stares at the space over his head while Shawn continues eating with faux obliviousness. Finally, Henry says, “Alright, just tell me. It has to be better than Boston. I hated you working out there with those assholes.”

Gus slinks down in his seat.

Henry frowns before straightening. “You’re not working in Los Angeles again, are you? Shawn, you made enemies there, a lot of them, you can’t just waltz back in, and Karen isn’t there anymore-”

“It’s not Los Angeles,” Shawn interrupts.

His frown deepens. He knows if it was another stupid, casual job then Shawn would have told him already. “This isn’t like Argentina, is it?”

God, Argentina. That had sucked. It was supposed to be legit, and had been, up until Shawn had gotten involved in – well, Gus does his best not to think about it, since he’s not supposed to know anything about it. Neither is Henry. As far as they’re supposed to know, Shawn worked at an Argentinian winery for a year.

And he did! At least on paper.

“Nope,” Shawn says, popping his mouth on the last syllable.

“Alright, enough,” he says, “this is ridiculous, just tell me…” As he trails off, his eyes get wider. Gus doesn’t whimper, because he’s a grown man, and because of exposure. He’s nearly immune to Henry’s temper after all this time.

Nearly.

“Shawn!” he shouts. “You are not working at the SBPD!”

Gus stands abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. Shawn reaches out to grab onto his shirt, but Gus hops back. “I’ll just get started on the dishes, shall I?”

“Traitor,” Shawn hisses, but Gus refuses to feel bad about this.

As much as he doesn’t want to be a widower, he knows better than to get in-between Shawn and his father.

[jxwl4k]

Maybe This Time

Plot: Bakugo and Y/N are childhood friends in Musutafu, sharing dreams of becoming heroes together. When Y/N's family relocates overseas due to a job opportunity, they promise to keep in touch.

A/N: this story is kinda inspired by the Filipino song called Maybe This Time by Sarah Geronimo, also while reading I recommend listening to the song.

In the bustling streets of Musutafu, Bakugo and Y/N were inseparable childhood friends. They spent countless afternoons chasing each other around the neighborhood, sharing secrets under the old oak tree in the park, and dreaming about their future as heroes. Bakugo, with his fiery determination, and Y/N, with her unwavering kindness, formed a bond that seemed unbreakable.

But life had other plans. Y/N's father received a promotion that required the family to move overseas. Tears flowed freely as Bakugo and Y/N stood on the familiar street corner, their hands tightly clasped together.

"I don't want to leave," Y/N whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Bakugo clenched his fists, struggling to hold back his own tears. "I'll miss you, idiot."

They promised to stay in touch, to write letters and call each other whenever they could. As Y/N's departure date approached, the days seemed to blur into a whirlwind of packing boxes and tearful goodbyes. On the eve of her departure, Bakugo stood alone on the rooftop of their favorite hangout spot, staring at the city lights below.

"I won't forget you," he vowed silently to himself.

Years passed. Bakugo threw himself into his hero training, his fiery determination only burning brighter with each passing day. He became known as one of the top heroes in Musutafu, his explosive quirk matching his explosive personality.

Meanwhile, Y/N adapted to her new life overseas, but thoughts of Bakugo never left her mind. She kept her promise, sending letters whenever possible, sharing stories of her adventures and asking about his hero exploits. Each letter felt like a lifeline, a connection to the boy she had left behind.

One fateful day, a letter arrived for Bakugo, the familiar handwriting bringing a rush of memories. Y/N wrote about returning to Musutafu for a short visit, her father's work bringing them back to Japan temporarily. Excitement and nervousness gripped Bakugo's heart as he read her words.

The day of Y/N's return finally arrived. Bakugo waited anxiously at the train station, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. And then, amidst the bustling crowd, he saw her — Y/N, her smile just as radiant as he remembered. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

"I knew you'd come back," Bakugo muttered gruffly, his voice betraying the emotions he had kept buried for so long.

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promised, didn't I? I couldn't stay away forever."

They walked together through the streets of Musutafu, catching up on lost time and sharing stories of their separate lives. The park where they used to play was their first destination.

"Remember how we used to climb that old oak tree?" Y/N asked, pointing to the tree that had witnessed their childhood adventures.

"Yeah, and you were always scared to jump down," Bakugo teased, a rare smile gracing his lips.

"I was cautious!" Y/N protested, laughing. "Unlike someone who jumped without thinking!"

Their laughter echoed through the park, blending with the rustling leaves and distant chatter of other visitors. As they sat under the oak tree, the conversation turned more serious.

"Do you remember the first time we talked about becoming heroes?" Y/N asked softly, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.

Bakugo nodded, his gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Of course. We were just kids then, but even back then, you believed in me."

"I still do," Y/N said earnestly, her eyes locking with Bakugo's intense stare. "You're going to be an amazing hero, Katsuki."

Bakugo looked away for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. "And you, Y/N? Are you happy where you are?"

Y/N hesitated, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I miss home. I miss everyone. But I'm making the most of it. My dad's job keeps us moving, but Japan will always be my home."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Bakugo spoke, his voice softer than usual. "Promise me something, Y/N."

"Anything," she replied without hesitation.

"Don't forget about me," Bakugo said, his eyes intense and searching.

Y/N reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I could never forget about you, Katsuki. You're a part of me, no matter where I go."

And as they walked through the park once more, hand in hand, Bakugo realized that some bonds are truly unbreakable, no matter the distance or time apart. Maybe this time, their childhood promise would lead to a future filled with shared dreams and endless possibilities.

[st4rfckerz]

alley | anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: MDNI 18+, dubcon, no foreplay, exhibitionism (if you squint), choking, hair pulling, slight dumbification, mild degradation, unprotected sex, anakin has a very short temper, just pure filth :)

summary: after acting out for attention, anakin gives you the attention he thinks you deserve.

a/n: happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! i'm expressing my thanks by giving you all this little fic i've been conjuring up these past few days. eat up!!!

you’ve been feeling neglected all day, craving anakin's undivided attention. so, being the little brat you are, you decided to act out to get his focus on you. you playfully pouted, sighing loudly every now and then, and occasionally making snarky remarks just to provoke him. unsurprisingly, your antics didn't go unnoticed by the easily frustrated anakin. he finally snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"angel, what is up with you today?" anakin asks, trying to disguise the annoyance in his voice.

"nothing." you respond dryly, crossing your arms and turning your face away from his gaze. you know you've been pushing his buttons all day, and a part of you enjoys seeing his frustration build.

you take a quick glance of anakin again, his eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and you could tell he was biting down on his tongue to suppress his irritation.

"put your shoes on." anakin demands. without giving you a chance to protest, anakin grabs his leather jacket and motions for you to follow him. he leads you out of his room and down the stairs.

outside, you see his sleek race car parked on the street, the engine purring with anticipation.

with a flicker of irritation still present on anakin's face, he held the door of his race car open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. anakin's hand lingered on the door, his grip turning tight for a brief moment. then, with an exasperated huff, he slammed the door shut. the sound echoed through the car, punctuating the tension that laced the air.

for a moment, silence enveloped the vehicle as anakin took his place in the driver's seat. his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white, revealing the depths of his annoyance. the engine roared to life, but the once-eager excitement seemed to be tinged with a tinge of frustration.

as the car pulled out of the parking lot, the atmosphere between you both filled with an unfamiliar tension. the silence became a heavy weight, the unease palpable. you glanced at anakin, watching the turmoil play across his features. the furrowed brow, the tense jaws, and the distant gaze all made it clear that your behavior had taken a toll on his usually patient demeanor.

anakin didn't take long to exit the vehicle once it stopped in front of the bar. he swung the car door open with a bit more force than necessary and stepped out onto the pavement. anakin swiftly made his way to your side of the car, holding the door open for you. his hand reached out to you, and he murmured a cold "come on," more of an order than an invitation. you understood the underlying frustration in his actions, and without hesitation, you followed closely behind him. anakin handed his keys to the valet driver and instructing him to park it around back.

the moment you and anakin stepped into the bustling bar, the atmosphere enveloped you both. the low music and laughter filled the air, creating a gleeful energy that was impossible to ignore. warm toned lights adorned the walls, casting a comforting glow on the patrons and adding to the relaxed ambiance of the place.

anakin guided you through the crowd, his hand warm and reassuringly firm in yours. the occasional brush of hips against yours made excitement stir within you. you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he led you through the bar, scouting for an empty booth.

the low hum of conversation and the quiet music formed a backdrop to your conversation. anakin took a seat across from you, his expression showing a mix of concern and curiosity.

leaning forward slightly, anakin's piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. with a deep sigh anakin speaks again.

"baby," although his stern expression hinted at lingering frustration, he mustered a softer tone as he spoke. "i can't help you if don't tell me what's wrong."

you look at him for a moment before finally speaking.

"there isn't a problem anakin."

anakin's jaw tensed ever so slightly, his stern expression firming as he leaned back in his seat. while you rarely used his full name, choosing instead to affectionately address him as "ani," it was clear that your deliberate use of "anakin" had struck a nerve.

"no problem, huh?" he retorted, his voice tinged with annoyance. anakin's mind was racing with thoughts as he studied your face, his gaze focusing intensely on you.

it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head, illuminating the reason behind your recent behavior.

you were just about to reply when anakin suddenly grabbed your arm and started pulling you away from the bar into a dark alleyway. he continued to walk deeper into the alley, pulling you along with him.

your eyes widened in surprise as anakin's lips covered yours, his tongue searching for your own. he pushed you against the wall of the bar, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

your breathing became heavy and you closed your eyes, his lips sending shivers down your spine.

"is this what you wanted?" anakin growls, his large hand tightening around your throat. you feel his sharp teeth against your neck and you can't help but let out a small moan.

"acting out just because you wanted my cock, hm?" as anakin continues to tease you, he roughly turns your body around so that your face is pressed up against the dirty wall.

the pressure of his touch causes your body to tremble slightly. you feel the heat rising in your face, but instead of pulling away, you continue to let anakin touch you. you're embarrassed about how needy you are, but you don't want him to stop.

"you're just so needy, aren't you?" anakin's warm breath hits the back of your neck. the way he speaks to you is filled with playful sarcasm, but underneath it you catch a glimpse of his true feelings. anakin does think you're needy, but not in a bad way. this fuels his ego; your neediness is what he craves.

"needy little girl," anakin hisses. anakin's grasp tightens around your waist, sending a rush of anticipation through your veins. with a swift, demanding motion, he flips your little skirt up and yanks your panties down, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air.

without wasting a moment, anakin unbuckles his jeans and positions himself behind you, his hands firmly gripping your hips. the roughness of his touch and the feeling of his hard cock poking at your bare ass sends shivers down your spine, intensifying the raw desire that courses through your body. you can feel his prodding erection press against your flushed skin.

anakin teases your throbbing clit with the tip of his cock while you steady yourself by holding onto the edges of some random boxes and bins.

feeling your hips push back slightly in anticipation, a thrill shoots through anakin's body. he grins before grabbing a handful of your hair and forces your head back, admiring the way it makes you arch your back. an added tingle of arousal runs through your scalp when your hair is tugged, intensifying the connection between you.

"look at you, just begging to be fucked in a dirty alley," anakin purrs. his hips snap forward, driving himself deep within your core. a broken moan that escapes your mouth echoes through the alleyway as anakin's thrusts increase in pace. your walls eagerly welcome him, enveloping him in a tight, warm embrace that sends ripples of pleasure cascading through your body.

"it's almost like you want everyone to see how much of a slut you are," anakin's grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back more. "is that what you want?" he speaks through his teeth in a harsh, but teasing tone.

your senses are overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that crash over you, leaving you unable to form coherent words. with each deep, forceful thrust, a pathetic moan escapes your lips. your mind was was in a complete haze that made you unable to create any coherent words.

"poor girl, too cock dumb to speak." anakin tsks, his voice laced with fake sympathy, all you could muster was a faint sob that got stuck in your throat.

"i know angel, i'm almost done." anakin presses a rather sweet peck to your bare shoulder. unable to verbalize a response, you convey your readiness through the way your body quivers, your breath hitching in your throat. he reaches down and his nimble fingers find your swollen clit, circling and caressing the sensitive bud.

soon enough you hear a guttural groan escapes anakin's lips, reverberating in the air, as he spills his warm cum deep within you. feeling the pulsating throb of his release inside you, your own orgasm hovers at the edge, just waiting to be let go.

"come on baby, give it to me." anakin, still sheathed inside you, works his fingers vigorously against your clit. unable to contain it any longer, your walls clench around him as you feel an electrifying surge of bliss flood throughout your body. you swear you saw flashing lights as you clench your eyes shut.

when the last traces of your orgasm fades away, fuzzy tendrils of relief creep through your body and leave you falling deep into subspace. anakin carefully withdraws himself out of your dripping cunt and adjusts his own pants before pulling up your panties, and bringing you in for a tight hug. the feeling of his cum trickling down your leg goes completely unnoticed once anakin's arms are wrapped around your shivering body

"there you go," he coos, stroking the back of your head. anakin pulls your head from his chest and holds your sweet, flushed face in his hands. "you ok now?" a small smile creeps onto his face.

all you respond with is a soft nod and a quiet "mhm" before returning your head back to his heaving chest.

"come on angel, let's get you home." anakin's hand finds yours, and you both begin to walk around the alleyway in search of his car. the night has been long and now you want nothing more than to go home to rest in each other's arms.

[wileys-russo]

Well you already know what we want bestie….

blurb based off vics comments about Less’s driving AND the beautiful suggestions from @wonder-kid-pugh @lessilover and you PLEASE i am down so bad for being less passenger princess and viccy p best friend

reckless II a.russo x platonic!viccy p

"less. less. less!" victoria shrieked as the blonde slammed on the brakes, looking like she was about to speed through the red light but changing her mind last minute.

"stop shouting you're throwing me off my concentration!" alessia groaned, shoving the dutch girls shoulder who let out an angry string of her native language. "what did she say?" alessia turned to glance at you who knew more dutch than she did having begged viv and lotte to teach you.

"nothing you want to hear baby, trust me." you smiled knowingly causing alessias scowl to deepen as she glared at the shorter girl beside her. "you drive like a crazy woman!" victoria accused, grabbing her seatbelt tightly as alessia shot off again once the light went green.

"you panic like a grandma!" alessia shot back, the two of them bickering back and forth as vic jumped every ten seconds, cursing under her breath and grabbing the handle of her door with wide eyes.

"how do you do this every day! how!" your friend now turned to look at you with panicked eyes, head popping over the back of her seat. "because she doesn't carry on like a numpty and grab the oh shit handle every three seconds!" alessia angrily answered for you.

"numpty. what is numpty? you have not learned me that one." victoria frowned, looking between you both for an answer. "taught. not learned." you corrected gently, the dutch girl nodding and repeating the word a few times.

"less that is too close, less, less, alessia!" victoria returned to her panicked yelling as your girlfriend sped into the drive through of your favourite coffee place, stopping right behind the car in front. "honestly you are so dramatic victoria!" alessia groaned, rolling her window down to order.

"baby. usual?" her eyes flickered to meet yours through her rearview mirror with a lovesick smile, tone of voice much softer as you nodded happily. "

i will have-" vic started but a bark of laughter cut her off. "why should you get anything! all you've done the whole time is yell and panic and scream and insult me. when i am doing you a favor!" alessia protested as the car moved a little closer.

this again started their back and forth arguing as you chuckled to yourself at their expense. "lessi, its your turn to order." you leaned forward to squeeze your girlfriends bicep to gain her attention, their argument pausing for a moment.

"she is crazy!" vic mouthed to you with a scowl as you grinned and playfully rolled your eyes, a loud smack echoing through the car as alessia hit vics leg and gestured for her to order.

"hey no stop that." you put your hands in between them as vic was quick to retaliate and your girlfriend wound up to smack her again.

"and a large almond milk cappucino with one sugar and no chocolate on top pleasee." you held their hands in yours and called out the final coffee, having gone out for coffee enough with vic to know her usual.

"when i let go, neither of you hits one another." you warned, looking between them both as they begrudgingly nodded and you did so, alessia moving the car forward.

"i like this. this is good safe speed." vic sighed in relief as alessia slowly crawled through the drive through, paying for your coffees with a polite smile, murderous glare shot to the midfielder beside her.

"next time your car has any issues you can take a bus. or a long walk off a short pier!" alessia mumbled moodily, ignoring vic questioning of what she meant, accepting the tray of drinks with a grateful smile and pulling into a parking spot as she exited the drive through as they balanced on her lap.

"here baby. kiss?" alessia withheld your coffee from your outstretched hand as she puckered her lips expectantly causing a soft smile to cross your face.

"give her the coffee!" vic shoved her, ruining the moment and almost spilling the drink everywhere as you quickly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the blondes mouth, swallowing the angry remarks directed at the dutch girl beside her before she let them fly.

"one more." alessia captured your lips in her own again with a soft smile as you attempted to pull away, eventually handing you your coffee as you settled back into your seat. "is it like this all of the time?" vic gagged as alessia pulled out of the parking spot she'd stopped in.

"normally she sits up front but no i had to pick you up first didn't i!" alessia grunted with a frown, her car making all sorts of noises at her as she backed out. "less there is a car!" vic shrieked grabbing her hand as alessia slammed on the brakes and narrowed her eyes.

"i know you idiot! thats why i have a camera." she shoved the shorter girl away with a roll of her eyes. your hand slipped forward to gently massage the older girls shoulder, sensing her thin remaining veil of patience was very close to snapping entirely.

"stop looking at her in the mirror! eyes on the road less!" vic smacked alessia's thigh rather harshly as the striker stared at you adoringly through the rear view mirror.

"you do not need a nice car. you are too clumsy!" vic scoffed, again grabbing the 'oh shit' handle in her spare hand as alessia flew over a speed bump with a roll of her eyes.

"shut up!" alessia snapped, zooming around a corner causing vic to shriek again as the two of them started to argue once more.

having long given up on trying to break it up the bickering already having commenced as you'd gotten in the car once alessia picked you up, having offered to drive vic this week while her car was being fixed after someone rear ended her.

instead you just sipped on your iced coffee and stared out the window, laughing to yourself at the childish insults they slung back and forth at one another as alessia pulled into colney, flashing the security guard at the boom gate a smile and pinching vic's leg as she pleaded with him to take alessia's license off her.

finally alessia pulled into her usual parking spot, a few of the other girls wandering through the lot toward the training centre. you didn't bother to try and intervene as your girlfriend killed the engine, her entire focus now on her argument with vic beside her, neither backing down.

with a shake of your head you grabbed your gym bag off the back seat and slid out of the car, the other two following suit. "don't slam my door!" alessia warned with a filthy look as vic re-opened and re-slammed the door to prove her point, the two girls grabbing their own bags as the argument followed the three of you inside.

"woah woah woah!" leah was the first to step in once you entered the cafeteria, yelling over the two of them to settle down as you wandered off to sit down for breakfast. "have a lovely calm mornin drive in then?" katie grinned as you slumped into the seat beside her and caitlin.

"you have no idea."

"vic, vic, victoria!" kim yelled over the top of the younger girl, silencing her with a firm glare as leah dismissed alessia to try and ease the mounting tension between the two.

"hi baby." you smiled as your girlfriend stormed over, dropping into the seat beside you and pulling you off your own to sit on her lap instead as katie and caitlin disappeared to grab breakfast.

"we are never driving her anywhere ever ever again." the taller girl mumbled into your hoodie, face pressed into your back as her long arms wrapped tightly around your torso.

"i didn't get to kiss your cheek, hold your hand, talk about how your night was, listen to your new songs of the week. none of it!" alessia frowned grumpily at the break in her usual routine, slumping back into her chair still holding onto you tightly as you turned slightly to face her better.

"okay first of all you know how my night was less, we were on facetime for like five hours!" you teased, pressing a few short but sweet kisses to her lips. "secondly, i'll ask if viv and beth can drive her for the rest of the week since laura's allowed to drive herself again now." you smiled, arms looping around her shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the base of her neck.

"thirdly, you can come over and cook me dinner tonight and i'll show you all my new songs." you smiled softly, alessia nodding in agreement, pulling you even closer to her and pressing her face into your arm, quite touch starved from the drive over making you laugh.

"-and look at them. if you think less would ever let any sort of harm come to that girl you're joking, she practically kisses the ground she walks on vic!" leah chuckled nudging the midfielder to look at you and alessia.

"they are so cute it is disgusting." victoria agreed, watching on as you and alessia stayed wrapped up in your little love bubble, exchanging soft kisses as alessia tickled your sides for something making you laugh and smack her shoulder as she grinned and stared up at you adoringly.

"fine. but i am still never ever getting in a car with her again!"