#i had a chuckle have a nice sleep

[wooftphr]

ok unironically that was fun but i have to go to bed now LMAO also you came on very strong and I dont really?? know you?? so i dont want to follow you back yet bc i dont know you and all and shshhsjn but maybe if we talk a bit more n all OK GN

real asf gnnnn

[itneverendshere]

BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party. 

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i  didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely sorry.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,” 

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

 “i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound. 

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body. 

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing. 

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver. 

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into. 

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different. 

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting. 

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe. 

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible. 

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up. 

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough. 

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips. 

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting. 

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed. 

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening. 

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.” 

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control. 

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window. 

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open. 

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body. 

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.” 

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something. 

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch. 

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right, 

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?” 

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind. 

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you want to fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick. 

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can’t take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell. 

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm. 

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone. 

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. 

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else. 

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. 

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes. 

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb. 

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him. 

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you. 

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you. 

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more. 

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this. 

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place. 

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?��

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

[nochepsicodelica]

"All those drinks are gonna do you dirty, ma. You're gonna throw up if you don't get some food in your system, so eat," Toji says, pushing the box closer to you.

You giggle at his serious face, before standing up from your chair for the fourth time, trying to go around him. Toji's used to this by now and stands up, bringing you back down to your chair.

"Stop getting up and eat your food. You literally begged for this. Why aren't you eating it?"

"Why aren't you eating it?" You return, raising your brows at him, seductively. It doesn't come off too sexy when raising your eyebrows makes you immediately squint because of the light going into your sensitive eyes, but it does lure a chuckle out of Toji.

"I'm ignoring that. Just eat. I don't wanna hear you upchucking in a couple hours."

"You won't hold my hair back?" You pout. Your feigned little flash of sadness produces real tears in this state, so it's a little confusing for Toji when you start giggling while wiping at your reddened cheeks.

"Your food's getting cold. I know how you are about reheating fast food, so eat it before it goes to waste."

You smile at him, your eyelids almost completely shut in your drunken daze. Toji can't even lie, it's cute. It's the only reason he's not up the wall about this little situation. Then you decide to drop a bomb on him.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Too tired to eat." You rest your chin on your palm, shutting your eyes. It feels nice. It would take less than thirty seconds for you to fall asleep.

Fuck. Think, think, think...

"Hey." Toji pokes your forehead, lightly, earning a hum and a furrow of your brows. "What if I feed you?"

You laugh, giddily. "Ooo, you trying to romance me?"

"Sure, if you eat."

You laugh again. "Toji, you dog, you. I'm not putting out." You shake your head, eyes closed with a dumb grin on your face. "No, sir. It's food and then goodnight for me."

"You already put out for me, earlier, doll." He smirks at the way you blush, clearly having an 'oh, yeah...' moment. "Eat some more so we can go to sleep."

"Hm?" You hum, rolling your eyes open after your blink of sleep. You crack a grin as soon as you look at Toji. "You wanna kiss me sooo bad. Look at you."

"I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not listening. You think you deserve kisses for that?"

"Uh... yes? I mean no. Pshhh, nooo. Of course, not."

"That's right. So eat, or you'll go to sleep without kisses, tonight."

"Noooo," you whine, dramatically. "Wait! Fine, fine. Look." You take a huge bite of your sandwich, your cheeks puffing up as you chew. "Oh, this is really good," you say, muffled by your mouthful of food.

"Don't choke, doll. Small bites are fine," he says, picking up a napkin and wiping the excess condiments off your face.

You push through it and gulp down the bite. "That was a lot. Got bread stuck on the roof of my mouth." You take a sip of your drink to wash it all down. "Did I look so pretty for the party, today?" You ask, your lips curling as you put the cup back down.

"You did, mama. Stunning. Swept everyone there, off their feet."

You smile, the gesture transitioning into a giggle. "Even Shiu?"

"Yup. Even Shiu said he wanted a piece of you."

You gasp. "No... Did you fight him?"

"Nah, I wanted to, but I kept my cool. If he had put his hands on you, then I might have, but I had my eye on you all night, to make sure nobody did more than look at you."

"I wouldn't have followed him anywhere, anyway." You roll your eyes, suddenly so hostile against the host of the party. "Probably would've kicked him in the nuts and gone to find you."

"Yeah, that's a smart idea, doll."

Toji's elaborate answers to your questions kept you awake long enough for you to mindlessly eat while he talked. You were at the end of the sandwich when you realized how much you had eaten and how full you were.

"Can't... do it..." You groan, lying on the arm you have extended on the table. "Too full." You sigh, heavily, setting the rest of the sandwich down on the scattered fries in its box.

"That's good, ma. You don't have to eat it, anymore. We can go to bed, now."

You let out another heavy sigh, sluggishness washing over you before you force yourself to stand up from your chair, this time with Toji's 'okay'. He looks at your little belly as it protrudes from your dress, proof of how full you actually are, and pokes at it. Your usually soft tummy is temporarily stiff and it's adorable.

You grab Toji's hand so that you don't stumble as you walk. Before leaving the table, he finished the remainder of your sandwich in one bite and threw out the container with the remaining cold fries.

"Damn, you were right, baby. That was good."

"Mhm," you mumble, waiting for him to lead you to the room.

Toji helped you brush your teeth and wash your face, and when you finally made it to the room, he helped you dress down into comfier clothes. Now, you're in bed together and you're in his arms trying to doze off, but you can't with the way he's smothering your face with kisses. It's just kiss after kiss with him and you can't focus, but It is what you wanted. After all, you stuffed your face for this.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[szasfuckingwife]

Singledad!Toji who you kicked out once finding out he had not one, but TWO secret kids and did not tell you. Maybe you were overreacting, but you also took in consideration that maybe if he just, idk, told you?! You’d be fine with it.

Singledad!Toji who begged and pleaded for you to give him a second chance. He never grovels, rarely even asks. But he just needed you in his life.

Singledad!Toji who invited you over for dinner to make up for it. You reluctantly accepted, it was free dinner so!

Singledad!Toji who also forgot that that same dinner day was the same day he had Megumi and Tsumiki as his sister couldn’t babysit. It completely slipped out of his mind that the whole weekend, the kids would be there.

Singledad!Toji who repeatedly apologised when you walked in and was met with a plethora of toys scattered across the carpet floor. “I tried to clean up but…they keep playing-” A chuckle interrupted him. When he looked up and saw it came from you, he smiled.

“It’s fine. Kids are fun.” You say.

He walked you to the sitting room and both the kids halted in their movement. They both looked at you wide eyed, curious and confused. You noticed the boy slowly hide behind his sister as Toji began to talk, “Kids, this is Y/N. Be nice and respectful, okay?

Singledad!Toji who lets his kids talk over the course of dinner. Well, it was more Tsumiki talking and everyone else listening. “And I’m older than Megumi but daddy says I act younger because I talk tooo much! Right, Megumi?”

“Yeah-” “And, also, my mom is not his mom because his mom is in heaven but my mom left. So, my daddy said that if we want you to be our new mom, we have to be kind to you. Right, Megumi?”

Megumi nodded. You looked at Toji to see him try to hide his blush. “And I told dad to make funazushi but he said no because he can’t cook that well. So, we made udon. Is it nice?” She grinned.

Singledad!Toji who held a sleeping Megumi and Tsumiki in his arms as they stayed wayyy past their bedtime. You said goodnight to the two of them dozens of times before they accepted that they had to go to sleep.

When Toji returned from the kids rooms, he a frown had formed on his lips, “Sorry about them. Megumi is really shy and…Tsumiki…” He let out a light chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, Toji. They seem like really great kids, they must have a great dad.” You smiled at him, and for the first time in a while, Toji smiled back.

[xosannie]

Dirty Little Secret

☆Genre: Smut MDNI 18+ only

☆Pairing: sex worker!mingi x afab!reader (best friends to ??)

☆Word count: 7.6k

☆Warnings: Porn, eye contact, praising, oral/face sitting (f receiving), use of sex toys (m receiving), reader records Mingi masturbate, dirty talk, begging, Mingi is pretty soft, fingering (f receiving), you’re both desperate, reader is easily flustered and Mingi is a tease (let me know if I missed any)

☆Summary: Your best friend Mingi stays the night at your place after not seeing each other in a while. When he abandons his phone you decide to play on it, the last thing you were expecting to find was his secret porn account.

—————————————————————————

After a nice shower, you’re lying in bed watching the show you’ve been binge-watching for days. Suddenly, you feel your phone vibrate beside you, getting a text from Mingi.

Loser (Mingi): Yo, I’m here >:)

A smile grew on your face, jumping out of bed and running toward the door. When you swing the door open, you’re met with a smiling Mingi, his sleepover bag in one hand, his other resting on the top of the doorframe.

“Wassup bitch!” You exclaim.

Mingi smiles wide, pulling you in for a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as your hands wrap around his waist. You swear he grew taller from the last time you saw him. 

You and Mingi haven’t been able to hang out much anymore. With your different jobs, your schedules just don’t align. Adult life is lame. Sometimes you wish you could go back to your teenage years, when you both hung out practically every day. After school, during lunch, whenever you wanted. But here you are; you have your own apartment, car, and job, but life is still boring when you can’t see your best friend much.

“Hello to you too,” he giggles.

When you pull away, Mingi steps inside, sliding his shoes off and putting his keys down on the table.

“Oh my god, I’m so excited! When was the last time we had a sleepover? It feels like ages.”

Mingi runs his hands through his short blonde hair, thinking to himself to recall the last sleepover, letting out a sigh. 

“Damn, I don’t even remember.”

His hand dropped to his side, and you watched as his black and white beaded bracelet swung around his wrist. You look down at your matching one on your wrist and smile softly. 

“Aw, you still wear this?”

You reach over, toying with the beads on Mingi’s wrist. This was a bracelet you made for Mingi years ago, and you decided to make a matching one for yourself. It was basically a friendship bracelet, but Mingi never liked calling it that; he thought it was too cringeworthy. (You know he secretly likes it, though.)

“Of course I do; I never take it off.” 

You both make your way to the bedroom. Mingi drops his bag down on the bed, and you plop down on the mattress. He unzips his bag, digging through to pick out his sleeping clothes.

“Before I get settled, I want to shower; I just got out of the gym not too long ago.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like Adam Sandler?”

Mingi snaps his head up, glaring at you with narrow eyes, fighting back a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

You giggle at his reactions, looking him up and down with a feigned disgust.

“Oh honey, you’re wearing shorts, a baggy tee, and flip-flops. If that’s not an Adam Sandler fit, I don’t know what is.”

Mingi rolls his eyes at your comment, secretly thinking it was funny, but he wouldn’t let you know that. Your ego is already too big. He grabs his clothes and washbag, heading toward the conjoined bathroom in your bedroom. 

“I’m going to ignore you and shower.”

Mingi stops in his tracks, pulling his phone out of his pocket to hand it to you. 

“Oh, before I go, can you charge my phone?”

You grab it, still laughing softly to yourself, and plug it in the charger. 

“I got you; now go shower you smelly boy.” 

Mingi chuckles and walks off into the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, you hear the shower running, and you’re laying back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Mingi was only gone for a minute, and you were already bored. You let out a sigh, looking around the room to find something to entertain you. You peek over at the bedside table, glancing at Mingi’s phone.

You grab the phone, laughing to yourself. You used to do this thing whenever Mingi left his phone around: take a bunch of funny photos of yourself and set them as his lock screen. You liked to see his reactions when he finds the photos, and sometimes he would keep it on his phone screen for a long time. You haven’t done it in a while, so why not do it again? It was a harmless prank that always made you two laugh. 

You turn on his phone, the screen shining brightly on your face, almost blinding you. His lock screen was a picture of an anime character from Chainsaw Man. ‘What a dweeb’ you thought to yourself. You put in his passcode, letting out a little victory chuckle when it let you in. Although your laugh immediately died down when your eyes met with a random Twitter account. That’s weird; you follow Mingi on all social media platforms, but you’ve never seen this one. 

You furrow your brows in confusion, Sir Min, the username read. What was this account? And why was Mingi looking at it? Clearly he was just on it; the app loaded up right as you turned on the phone. You read the bio, and your heart pounded.

‘18+ NSFW These videos and pics all belong to me. If you like what you see, sub to my OF;)’

What? 

You spring up, hunching over with the phone inches away from your face. You heard the pounding of your heart in your ears; you were frozen, blankly staring at the words on the screen. There was a voice in your head telling you to stop; this felt like something you shouldn’t be seeing. You should really turn Mingi’s phone off and put it away, out of sight, out of mind. 

Yeah, you definitely should put the phone down... but your curiosity got the best of you. Your trembling thumb slowly scrolled down the page. Your heart dropped when you saw the first video. 

A man sat back in a chair; you were unable to see his face; only his neck down was in view. His sweats were pulled down to his midthigh, and his shirt was hitched up, exposing his soft stomach. Your mouth grew dry when you noticed the way he was teasingly stroking his dick, occasionally slapping it against his abdomen. You watched in awe as a string of spit ran down into view and landed on his pink tip. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You watched the way his black and white beaded bracelet bounced on his wrist as he stroked his (fairly big) cock. Your breath hitched, and you were ashamed when you felt a pant of arousal rush through your body. Your stomach churned when you realized the man on the screen wasn’t just any man; it was Mingi. 

You were so engrossed in the video in front of you that you failed to notice the trickling of the shower ceased. The sound of jiggling from the bathroom doorknob brought you back to your senses, and you immediately turned off the phone and threw it on the bed. 

Mingi walked out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it off. You laid back, grabbing your own phone to look as casual as possible. 

“I feel so much better now.”

Mingi sighed, throwing the towel on a chair in the corner of the room. He looked at you with a small smile, placing his hands on his hips. You’re heart was still racing, and you had to stop your eye’s from wandering down at Mingi’s topless body. His sweats hung low on his hips, and Calvin Klein underwear peaked at the top.

“About time, I almost died of boredom.”

You sit up, internally patting yourself on the back for sounding so nonchalant. Mingi chuckled and crawled in bed beside you. 

“So what do you want to do?” 

You stared at Mingi as he grew closer to you, subconsciously scooting away a bit. It was a little change in demeanor, but Mingi noticed it right away. He decided not to think too much about it, and he leaned in closer.

“You’re not going to put on a shirt?” 

Your tone was a bit more nervous than you anticipated. Mingi looked down at his topless body and shrugged.

“It never bothered you before.”

He reached over, grabbing the remote to scroll through the TV. He’s right, it never has before, so why does it bother you now? You sit back against the headboard, staring at the TV screen. You’re mind kept thinking back at the video; you definitely shouldn’t have seen it... but why are you a bit disappointed you couldn’t see more?

You never thought Mingi would be the type to sell nudes for money. You knew there was a lot of catching up to do, but you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

“Oh my god, I love this movie. Have you seen it?” 

Mingi turns to you, his eyes bright with excitement. You couldn’t seem to stare at him; your gaze stayed on the TV.

“Oh, no, I haven’t. We can watch it.”

“Yes! Okay, I think you’ll like this one a lot; it’s hilarious.”

Mingi smiles wide and plays the movie. He lays back in the bed, turning toward your direction to lay his head on the pillow beside you. His hair tickled your arm, and your body grew hot when you felt his leg entangle in yours. You sit up abruptly, and Mingi looks up at you confused.

“I have to use the restroom. I’ll be back.”

“Ok… Don’t take too long, though. I know you just sit on the toilet watching Tik Toks.” 

You roll your eyes and chuck a pillow at him. Mingi giggles while blocking your attack. You walked into the bathroom, trying to act as casual as possible. When the door closes behind you, you press yourself back against the wall, trying to comprehend everything.

Why hasn’t Mingi told you about this? 

How long has he been doing it for? 

Why did it turn you on? 

All these questions raced in your head. You hate how you’re acting right now. I mean, Mingi is a grown man; he can do this type of work if he wanted to. You never cared when you found out other people were interested in sex work. So why are you reacting this way when it comes to Mingi?

After you pulled yourself together, you stepped out of the bathroom. Mingi laid in your bed, head resting on his hand as he watched the movie. You sat down beside Mingi, keeping a little distance from him.

“Welcome back.”

He smiled, noticing the way you sat a bit farther, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I don’t have some kind of disease; come over here.”

Mingi reached over, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You gasp loudly, feeling your core ache again at the way he can easily manhandle you. You mentally curse yourself for reacting that way. 

It’s not unusual to be clingy with Mingi; you both do it all the time, but for some reason every time he touched you, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have his hands touch other places.

You let out an awkward chuckle when Mingi snuggled his head in your lap; you’re body tensed when feeling how close he was. You couldn’t believe yourself; you’re really thinking dirty thoughts about your best friend, who is innocently snuggled into you.

The whole time you guys were lounging and watching the movie, you couldn’t seem to relax. Your hands stayed glued to your sides, and you keep getting lost in thought, not paying attention to the film at all.

Your unnatural behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He tried to let it slide the first time, but when he saw that your body wasn’t relaxed and you weren’t playing with his hair like you usually do, he let out a sigh. He sat up, pausing the movie and turning to you with a suspicious look.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” 

Your head jerked in Mingi’s direction, not expecting him to ask that. You try to find words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What do you mean?” 

Mingi stares at you with a knowing glance and a small frown. 

“You’re acting weird. It’s like you’re scared of me or something. You won’t relax; you’re hardly talking to me, and you won’t even touch me.”

Your heart aches at his words; you were so shaken by what you saw on Mingi’s phone that you subconsciously started to treat him weirdly. You thought for a moment, debating whether to come clean or pretend like nothing happened.

Mingi stared at you intently, waiting for an answer. You can see the slight worry in his eyes. You already knew he was starting to feel a bit insecure by the look on his face. You let out a small sigh.

"No, Mingi, you didn’t do anything wrong to get me upset.”

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“You’re making that sad puppy face.” 

Mingi smiled softly at your words, looking away as you both chuckled. He felt a small pang of relief but was still worried, wanting to know what’s wrong.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He scooted closer, wanting to wrap his arm around your shoulder, but based on your behavior earlier, he kept his hands to himself. 

You decided to give in; fuck it, just tell him the truth. You take in a breath before speaking in a shaky tone.

“Well, when you were in the shower. I wanted to mess with you, so I took your phone, and when I turned it on..."

Your voice drifted off. Mingi waited patiently to hear you out. Soon he came to realize what you saw; his heart dropped and his eyes widen.

“Oh-“

You turn away feeling embarrassed; you didn’t want to look Mingi in the eyes. You felt so bad; how could you invade his privacy like that?

“I’m sorry; I swear I didn’t mean to see that. I just wanted to take funny photos of myself on your phone. The app was already open when I turned it on.”

Mingi lets out a small chuckle at your nervous rambling. The noise caused you to relax a bit, knowing he wasn’t angry.

“I’m sorry..” 

You say quietly, looking like a sad puppy with its ears flopped down. Mingi coos internally at your expression, ruffling your hair.

“It’s okay”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, leaning back against the headboard and hiding your face in your hands. 

“Did you see anything?”

You can hear the slight shyness hiding under his attempt to sound confident. You paused for a moment, thinking back at the video you watched, and nodded slowly.

Mingi nervously chuckles at your response, trying to sound cocky and playful to lift the mood.

“Did you like what you saw?” 

You sat there in silence, your face heating up behind your hands at his question. Your silence was all Mingi needed to know the answer; he raised his brows and his heart quickened. He mostly said that as a joke, but seeing your reaction ignited a fire in him. 

“Oh…..oh. What video did you watch?”

He smirked, scooting a bit closer. You nudged Mingi away, rolling your eyes at his teasing behavior. 

“Fuck off, Mingi. I already have the sight of your dick in my head. I don’t need to hear your sexy voice.”

Mingi smiles wide, liking the reaction you’re having. To be frank, Mingi was embarrassed at first when you revealed that you saw his secret porn account. Although after seeing your reaction, he has a newfound confidence coursing through him. 

"No, no, just tell me. Which video was it?”

You glared at him wanting to smack the smirk off his smug face (or kiss it off, but let’s not get needy). You roll your eyes, knowing Mingi wasn’t going to let this go.

“It was...the one of you.”

You moved your fist up and down, not being able to say it out loud. You couldn’t meet his gaze; you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking wide.

“Oh that? That’s a popular one of mine.”

“Ugh, Mingi I don’t need to know what gets your fucking fans all horned up.”

You groan, pushing Mingi away. He laughs softly, noticing the small blush creeping up in your cheeks.

"Aw, come on, I know you liked it.”

It’s not unusual for Mingi to talk to you in a teasing, flirty tone. It never used to phase you, but something about this situation in particular makes you ache between your legs. 

You roll your eyes, plopping down on the bed, and cover yourself with the blanket. Mingi chuckled as he watched you hide away. You spoke back in a muffled voice.

“I’m going to bed, freak.”

He patted you on the back, still laughing softly, and turned off the light.

“Good night; try not to have any wet dreams of me.”

You kicked him under the covers; he let out a small groan and forced yourself to sleep. Embarrassing to say... you do in fact have a wet dream of Mingi that night. Not your proudest moments, but you’re only human. 

————————————————————————

Weeks have past since that night. It almost felt like you two grew even closer after finding out Mingi’s big secret. After that night of the sleepover, you both had a deep talk about why Mingi entered this line of work in the first place. 

He explained to you how he was struggling with money and his own body image. At first he didn’t want to resort to that kind of work, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Once he uploaded his first video, he grew an audience pretty quickly; that’s when he learned that he liked making content more than he thought he would. 

It taught him how to appreciate his body and his own pleasure, and after meeting new people in the same kind of work, he realized that he wasn’t alone in his struggles. Also, the amount of money that comes in was very nice; who could complain? 

After he opened up to you, you had a different view on the situation at hand. Knowing the reason for everything, you grew to admire Mingi more, and it never bothered you when he would speak about his "films." He would even ask you for advice or requests on what he should post next. 

What you weren’t proud of, though, was the late nights you spent staring up at your ceiling. Phone in hand, the Twitter search tab open as you fight the urge to search his account again. The amount of times you made yourself cum while watching Mingi fuck a flesh light was embarrassing to say out loud. 

You were on your way to Mingi’s house, a grocery bag of snacks in your hand. You parked in front of his house, pulling out your phone to text him. 

You: “Aye loser, I’m here.”

You gather your belongings, stepping out of the car and walking to his front door. You didn’t get a reply, which was weird. You glanced down at your phone, waiting to see the three dots to indicate he was typing. When they don’t appear, you shoot another text.

You: "I said I’m here 💀"

No reply; that’s weird. 

You jiggle the front door knob only to find it was unlocked all along. Usually when he leaves it that way, he expects you to just walk in, and that you do. 

When you stepped into the living room, it was vacant; there weren’t any games set up for you two on the table. You furrow your brows in confusion and set your bags down, slipping off your shoes.

“Mingi?”

You hear a thump noise coming from his bedroom, and your heart drops. What was that? It sounded like something falling. Without a second thought, you rushed to his bedroom, afraid that maybe he fell to the ground or something like that.

You hear a small groan of annoyance coming from his room; you barged in no hesitation and immediately froze when you saw him. 

Mingi stood at the edge of his bed, pants down and very hard; his tripod lay broken on the floor. When Mingi looked up at you, he frozen for a second, rummaging behind him to pick up a pillow and cover himself up. You quickly shut the door in your own face, walking away from his room. 

Once you reach the front door, ready to drop everything and leave because WHAT THE FUCK MINGI WAS FILMING A PORNO, you hear his bedroom door open and he runs toward you.

“Wait y/n, don’t...”

You stop in your tracks, turning around slowly when you feel Mingi’s hand grasp your shoulder. He was wearing black sweats and nothing else. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was out of breath.

“I’m sorry, Mingi; I texted you but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked, so I came in, then I heard this sound and thought maybe you were hurt.” 

“Y/n, you’re rambling again.”

You shut your mouth, looking away from Mingi. He chuckled softly, moving his hand from your shoulder to his waist.

"Sorry, I didn’t see your message. I thought you would have taken longer to get here, and I needed to film a video.”

You scratch the back of your neck; it took every ounce in you not to look down at his large bulge in his sweats. You clear your throat, feeling awkward and bad for just barging in the way you did. 

“Do you, um, want me to go? so you can..you know.” 

You gestured toward his bulge, trying to maintain eye contact but failing. He looked down, a blush creeping on his cheeks, before covering himself with his hand. 

"Um, I would, but that thump you heard was my tripod falling and breaking into bits, so...”

“Oh, I mean, do you really need that? Just prop it down on the table or something.”

“I can't; it doesn’t get the right angle.”

You roll your eyes at his remarks, scoffing.

“You’re being picky; just put your phone down and jerk it, not that hard.”

Mingi laughs at your words, the tension in the room lifting. Your body finally starts to relax, and you can tell Mingi was feeling the same way. 

“It’s not that easy; when I put my phone on the table, the lighting looks all weird. I want to make good videos for my viewers; that way I get more money.”

He rubs his thumb and index finger together. You smile at him, finding his care for quality videos strangely endearing. 

“Let me see.”

He takes you to his room; when you enter, you see the broken tripod. It was snapped in half on the floor; there was no fixing it. 

“I mean, do you have tape?”

“No.”

You stroke your chin, thinking on how to help this situation.

“Just get a new one; do you really need to film a video now?”

“Yeah, this isn’t just any video; it’s a commission. I need to film it, or else the buyer would be upset.”

You both ponder for a moment; you wanted to help but didn’t know how. Suddenly Mingi looks over at you, a look in his eyes that you couldn’t pin point.

“What if…you film me?”

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps toward his direction. 

“What!?”

Mingi walks closer to you, grabbing your hands with a pleading look.

"Oh, come on, y/n, I need to film this video. You’re my best friend, and I need your help; besides, you’ve already seen my dick!” 

You stood there, mouth open, unable to form words. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your ears heated up. You scoff at Mingi, looking away, not wanting him to see the small blush on your cheeks.

He keeps trying to meet your gaze, eyes desperate and pleading.

“Please? I’m not going to make you do this if you’re uncomfortable, but please consider. Help your bestie make a bag.” 

You laugh softly at his words, looking into his eyes; it was hard to deny that look. After a moment of silence, you thought, Fuck it. Mingi needed your help; you knew you were the only one who could help in this way (totally wasn’t because you secretly wanted to see Mingi touch himself). 

“Fine, okay,” you sighed.

Mingi smiles wide, pulling you in for a hug.

“Thank you! Okay, all you have to do is stand here and record me. Pretty simple.”

Mingi walked your body to the edge of the bed, wanting you to stay there. He gives you his phone after opening the camera app and looks at you excitedly. You couldn’t help but think how cute Mingi looked right now. (Despite the fact that he was going to whip it out in a few seconds.)

“Wait, before I do this, you better promise that we will pretend like nothing happened and move on. Don’t think I’ll be your camerawoman from now on, just this once.” 

“Okay, I promise.” Mingi chuckles.

You let out a sigh, holding up the camera to point it at the bed. 

“Hurry before I change my mind," you huff. 

Mingi scurries on the bed, sitting at the edge. He grips the waistband of his sweats, hesitating for a moment.

“Make sure not to get my face. Wait, sit down. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the chair beside you to take a seat. You were now at eye level with Mingi, sitting a foot away from him. After you take a deep breath, you press record.

“Ok go.”

Mingi moves when he hears the ding of the camera, indicating that you started recording. He reached behind him to grab something; your heart dropped when you saw what it was. 

His flesh light. 

He begins to speak, talking to the person who you presume bought this specific video as a commission. He stands up, rubbing his bulge through his sweats. You gulp, trying not to let your trembling hands mess up the video. 

You look up, locking eyes with him. Mingi twitched in his pants, biting his lip and letting out a small groan. You quickly tore your gaze away, staring at the screen in front of you. 

You swore you saw a hint of a blush creeping on Mingi’s cheeks when you both locked eyes. You watched as his hands ran up his hips, gripping the waistband of his sweats to pull them down slowly. You breathe hitched when his big dick sprung up and slapped his lower abdomen.

You swear you’ve never seen him that hard; from all the videos you (secretly) watched of him, you never saw him like this. His tip was red, leaking cum; a long vein ran down the side of his length. You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself throb between your legs.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi; damn him, why was he so observant? He chuckled softly, taking his cock in his hands and stroking it at a slow, teasing pace.

“You want it?”

For a second, you thought he was talking to you, but you figured he was probably just speaking sexy for the video. He tends to do that a lot (I mean, how would you know that?haha...). 

Mingi sat back down on the bed, slowly stroking his dick and moaning quietly. He reached behind him to grab some lube, lathering it on his length. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. God, he looked so good. You wish you could just drop the phone and take his large dick in your mouth. Then he wouldn’t need the lube.

Your try to shake away the thought, keeping a neutral face as you held the phone in front of you. You watch as Mingi bites his lip, taking the flesh light and aligning his length with it. He slowly pushed the toy down, letting out a low moan. 

You had to bite your lip to hold back the noises that threatened to escape. Holy fuck, you’re watching Mingi fuck himself right in front of you. Not to mention, it’s turning you on deeply. 

Mingi leans his head back, letting out gasps when he moves the toy up and down. Your stomach churned, you watched the screen intently as his hand moved faster, and you noticed the way his hips buck up slightly.

“Fuck, that’s so good.”

You felt his intense gaze, and when you looked over at him, your eyes locked again. You press your lips together, trying so hard to stay quiet. His brows furrowed as he stared at you, fucking up into the flesh light desperately.

You sat there frozen, as if you were hypnotized by Mingi’s pretty noises and desperate eyes. His gasps grew more harsh, and he quickly pulled the toy off him. He panted while his hard dick twitched uncontrollably.

"Fuck, I almost came already,” he groaned breathlessly. 

You take in a deep breath; the aching of your pussy became more unbearable the more you watched. You tried everything to ease the feeling—crossing your legs, shifting in your seat. You couldn’t help it when your hand reached down to press your fingers against your clit through your leggings. 

Mingi watched your movements, moaning softly and taking his length back in the toy. His eyes glued to your hips as he fucked himself. The squelching from the toy shot straight to your core; you can feel your slick sticking to your underwear. 

“Fuck baby…”

He groans, throwing his head back and moaning. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down and his chest heaving. The bed was squeaking from the way Mingi’s hips bounced up and down in the toy. He could feel your eyes on him, and it turned him on more than he thought it would.

“I’m gonna….”

He moaned breathlessly, looking back at you with the prettiest fucked-out face you’ve ever seen.

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

Your heart clenched (and so did your pussy). At this moment, you knew he wasn’t speaking for the video; he was speaking to you. Your hand reached up to cover your mouth as you watched Ming unravel.

His eyes rolled in the back of his head when he ripped the toy off him, taking his cock in his other hands to jerk it off quickly. He whimpered, cursing out loud when his cum shot up, landing on his fist and stomach. You moaned quietly when you watched some of his release land on the beads of the matching bracelet you both wore. 

He sat there for a moment, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He chuckled softly, setting the flesh light down and waving at the camera.

“Thank you for buying.” 

You ended the recording, slowing, moving your hands down to stare at Mingi’s tired body. He plopped down on the bed, panting while looking up at the ceiling. You clear your throat, standing up on your trembling legs, setting his phone down on the table. 

“Well….that was…interesting.”

You stand there awkwardly, hands resting in front of you, trying not to look at Mingi, who was sprawled out naked on the bed. He props himself on his elbows after cleaning himself up, laughing while he looked at you.

"Yes, very interesting; that was good.”

You smiled softly, your throbbing pussy didn’t subside, and looking at a fucked-out smiling Mingi didn’t help. You noticed the way Mingi’s eyes ran up and down your body. 

“Do you think it was good?” He asked.

You bit your lip, walking closer.

"Yeah, it was good; you looked really hot.”

Mingi smirked at you, biting his lip. He sits up, reaching forward to grab your hips. You gasped when you felt him pull you closer. 

“I can tell you enjoyed it; I noticed the way you wanted to touch yourself. And the look on your face... you looked so cute.”

You blushed at his words; you already felt embarrassment creep up from the way you acted. You groaned, looking away and holding onto Mingi’s shoulders.

“Ugh, stop teasing me. It’s not my fault; you looked so….sexy.”

Mingi smirked up at you; the look in his eyes caused your body to shudder in desire. He gripped your hips harder, hands running down to grip your thighs.

“Oh yeah? I was sexy?”

"Mingi, don’t do that.”

Mingi cocked his head to the side, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like you want to fuck me. I won’t be able to control myself.” 

“Then don’t; let me make you feel good.”

You reach up, cupping his face while you look down at him. You knew deep down you shouldn’t do this with Mingi, but damn it, you both already crossed so many lines. Besides, you were desperately horny, and fuck Mingi looked so hot right now. 

You pushed Mingi down on the bed, crawling on top of him while you smashed your lips together. You felt him smirk in the kiss, and his hands reached to grip your waist. The kiss was hungry and needy, tongues darting out to entangle in each other's mouth. 

You couldn’t think about how you were acting in this moment because you didn’t care. You sat up, ripping your shirt off your body, Mingi’s hands instinctively running up to grasp your breasts through your bra. He smiled up at you, and you reached down to stroke his face.

“You looked so unbelievably sexy, Mingi. I can’t take it anymore. I need you to fuck me.”

Mingi chuckles, pulling you down to kiss you again; his hand makes its way in your leggings. His finger grazing your wet panties, he groans in the kiss, pulling away to look down at your hips. You feel his fingers push the fabric of your soiled panties to the side, dipping his finger in your folds. He gasps softly, looking up at you with furrowed brows, his jaw going slack. 

“Fuck baby, you’re already so wet. Did I do this to you?” 

You nod your head eagerly, rocking your hips to grind against Mingi’s fingers. He moans quietly at your reaction, feeling a sense of pride for having that kind of effect on you. 

He circles your clit, pressing down while watching your every expression.

There’s that look again—the same look Mingi gave you while you recorded him. You subconsciously rock your hips faster, getting lost in Mingi’s brown eyes. You whine, wanting to feel more; the slow circling of Mingi’s fingers on your clit wasn’t enough. 

“Baby, please take my pants off. I need to feel more of you.”

Mingi has never seen this side of you, desperate and pleading. He can already feel himself getting hard again, dick twitching when you begged for him.

“Oh god, don’t you worry, baby, I’ll make you feel good.”

He pulled off your leggings and panties; you kicked them off, pushing them to the side. Mingi took in your naked body, staring hungrily at you. His grip on your hips was tight, and the warmth of your pussy hovering over his hard length caused him to shudder in delight.

“Baby, before I fuck you, I need to taste you; fuck please,” he begged.

You whimper at his words, nodding eagerly and moving your body up till you straddled his face. Mingi held on tightly to your thighs, pulling you down. He did not hesitate to stick his tongue out, eagerly licking up your wetness. 

You gasp at the feeling, not fully preparing yourself for the sensation. You entangle your fingers in his short blonde hair, throwing your head back and moaning his name. He groaned the second he had the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Licking slow strips up and down your cunt, he dug his nails in your skin, needing to feel you as close as possible. 

You moaned when you felt his tongue dip in your hole, slurping up all your juices. His long nose bumped against your clit; you couldn’t help but ride his face grinding against him. 

This is something you’ve always fantasized about, sitting on Mingi’s nose while he sucked at your wet pussy. You felt like you were in a state of euphoria, moaning and whining loudly; occasionally Mingi would grunt against your pussy as well. God, you loved the sound—the sounds of his moans and the lewd slurping filling up the room. 

You looked down at him, whimpering when you saw he was already looking up at you. You felt him smile against your core; he shook his head side to side to cause more friction on your clit with the tip of his nose. He licked up, taking your bundle of nerves in his mouth and sucking, massaging the bud with his tongue. 

Your legs trembled around his head, and you pulled his hair, causing him to moan louder. His hands roamed up your body. Holding your waist to grind your hips again this face. He wanted to feel you, wanted you to smear your pussy all over him, make a mess. 

“Mingi…you are…so good,” you gasped. 

Mingi’s desperation turned you on greatly. He was so eager to please you; it was evident that he was just as needy for you as you were for him. Years and years of tension all let out in this moment right here. 

Embarrassing to admit, you were already feeling your orgasm creep up. You were so lost in the pleasure you didn’t even notice when Mingi’s hand snaked down your hips; the feeling of his finger prodding at your hole made your body tremble.

You fell forward, catching yourself with your hands resting on the mattress above Mingi’s head. His index finger pushed inside you slowly; you tried so hard not to let your arms give out beneath you. Mingi pulled off for a second to chuckle, sliding his finger in and out of you with ease. You whined pathetically and clenched hard around Mingi’s finger. Mingi, push your body up so you could sit up right.

“You wanna lay down, baby?”

His finger continued to move inside you at an agonizing pace, running his hand up and down your stomach soothingly. You couldn’t even form words; all you could do was pout and nod. He smiles at you, cooing at your expression before speaking.

"Aw, look at you; you’re so pretty. Come on, lay down on the bed for me.”

You whined when you felt his finger leave your cunt, making you feel empty. He helped you shift on the bed, laying you back against the soft mattress and crawling over to you. You looked down at Mingi, subconsciously spreading your legs wide as if you were inviting him in. 

He chuckled at the sight, his head immediately dipping down back to pussy. He softly licked your clit,  looking up at you and pushing his fingers back into your hole.

“That’s it, pretty girl; you take my fingers so well.”

You whimper, shyly looking away, feeling more vulnerable under Mingi.

"No, baby, don’t look away. Look at me.”

You felt a wave of need wash over you at his command, snapping your head back down to lock eyes with Mingi.

“Keep looking at me, okay? I want to see your face when I fingerfuck you.”

He entered another finger in you, pushing them in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your wet pussy  squelching were music to Mingi’s ears. He moaned softly, dipping his head down to suck on your clit while he fingered your hole. 

Although Mingi’s mouth and hands felt absolutely amazing, you couldn’t help but feel more needy. You needed more; you needed to feel Mingi inside you. You could scream if you didn’t get to feel Mingi’s dick in you right now.

“Mingi baby, please, I need more. I need... to feel you inside.”

He smirked, replying back in a teasing tone.

“Aw, but I’m already inside.”

“Nooo, you know what I mean.”

You squirm under his touch, whining desperately to stop his teasing.

“Come on, use your words.”

You felt a blush creep up on your face, closing your eyes for a moment and taking in a breath. 

“Please….fuck me. I need to feel your cock inside.”

Mingi’s body ignited at the sight of you begging for him; you looked so desperate; how could he say no to a face like that? 

“Good girl.”

He pulled his fingers out, crawling up your body and smashing his lips on yours. You instinctively reached up, entangling your fingers in his hair. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in impossibly closer.

“You’re so fucking cute when you beg for me,” he grunted.

You could only reply with a whimper, cupping his face to keep his lips on yours. You’ve never felt this desperate before, but there was something about Mingi; you just needed him so badly. You felt his length prod at your entrance. Mingi kissed your cheek softly, then pushed in.

The moan you let out was embarrassingly loud, but you didn’t have enough care in the world to dwell on that. Mingi’s jaw went slack; the feeling of your warm pussy enveloping him was almost enough to make him cum. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to hide your face in the crook of his neck. You felt Mingi press soft kisses on your skin, letting you adjust to the feeling of his big dick. Once he felt your body relax, he thrust his hips, his dick rubbing against your slick walls.

Your moans muffled in his neck, and your legs trembled against Mingi’s waist. Mingi let out quiet moans in your ear, sucking and biting marks on your neck.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? You wanted to feel my dick pound in you.”

"Yes, baby,” you whine. 

You moan at his words; the feeling of his hard cock thrusting in and out of you made your head reel. You both held each other closely, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin; it all felt so intimate. 

“You’re pussy is so good; you’re so warm.”

“Mingi, I love your dick; please don’t stop fucking me.”

You felt his dick twitch inside you at your praise. He pulled away, adjusting himself so he could kneel in front of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and he plowed in you even harder and faster. 

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your jaw going slack as silent moans escaped your lips. He moaned at your expression, biting his lip and grunting loud. 

“Look at you, baby; you look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he chuckled breathlessly. 

You reached forward, gripping Mingi’s flexing thigh; you needed to grasp onto something to ground yourself. Your moans grew high-pitched as you clenched around his length. You felt your release approaching quickly; words struggled to form from the way Mingi was fucking you so good.

Mingi threw his head back, moaning; the clenching of your pussy made his stomach churn. 

“So tight,” he whimpered. 

“I’m going…to cum,” you managed to let out. 

Mingi let a wad of spit drip down onto your clit, taking his thumb and gently rubbing the nub in circles while he fucked you. You watched in awe, feeling a pang of desire at the sight. You arched your back, and the way your tits bounced in your bra was too enticing. 

Mingi reached up to push the padding of your bra to the side, letting your breast spill out. Your nipple was now exposed to him, and he leaned down to take it in his mouth. You gasp, holding his head in place as you grind down on his dick. 

“Cum for me, baby, please; cum on my dick, I’m so close.”

That was all you needed to reach your peak. Your moans got stuck in your throat, head throwing back against the pillow as your orgasm coursed through you. Mingi panted heavily, letting out beautiful sounds as he tried so hard not to cum in you.

Mingi’s hips stuttered, pulling out quickly to stroke his dick. It didn’t take long for him to cum for the second time that night. It landed all over your stomach. You lay there, breath heaving, feeling Mingi’s warm seed land on your skin. He caressed your thigh soothingly, moaning softly as he came down from his high.

He plopped down on the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he panted against your neck. You both laid there for a moment, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. The silence was broken when Mingi let out a small laugh, pulling his head up to look at your face. 

“Didn’t expect our hangout to lead to this... I’m not complaining though.” 

He smiled, cupping your face to stroke your cheek. You covered your face in your arms, reality hitting you like a bus. You laughed, your face erupting in a red tint. 

“Holy fuck Mingi, that was…”

Mingi slowly pulled your arms down, wanting to see your expression. He smiled wide when he saw the blush on your cheeks; he couldn’t help but plant a kiss on your burning flesh.

“Amazing?” He asked, almost hopefully. 

You turned your body to face him, cupping his face; your voice came out softer than intended when you spoke. 

“Yes, it was amazing.” 

Mingi pulled you in to kiss you softly on the lips. You didn’t know what this meant for your friendship, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment with that thought. All you wanted right now was to enjoy his affection, basting in each other’s warmth. 

“You’re sending me that video, by the way.” 

He laughs at your request, nodding in agreement and pulling you in so you could lay on his body. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be getting a first preview of all the videos I post from now on.” 

~

a/n: Wow this fic took longer than it needed to. I hope you guys enjoy my first official story. I got many great requests for future stories, so keep an eye out for that ;). If you guys possibly want a small part 2 for this one let me know!

update: part 2 posted here ;)

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just two bookworms arguing about books and having a s3x right after

𝐚/𝐧: please read the note! so it's only a very short part of my upcoming fanfiction that has...25k words...i'm aware no one is going to read it all soo i'm publishing one of my favorite parts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

Maybe it was that one drink you had, but your legs seemed to take you in a certain direction.

You weren’t sure if Spencer was even home. But if you had nothing else to do, why not check? A short walk. You were a little desperate, after all, you didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s how you justified it. You were going to him because you had no other option.

He opened the door, dressed in a wrinkled shirt, trousers, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was in disarray, and you felt an urge to run your fingers through it and style it the way you wanted, but it would’ve been awkward.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

Surprised, Spencer shook his head.

"No... Actually, I was asleep."

"In those clothes?"

"I fell asleep while reading..." he explained, trailing off when he noticed your appearance. To put it modestly, you looked incredibly hot. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on your dress, visible beneath the open jacket and ending high on your thigh. "Very... nice dress. Is it... is it your mom's too?"

You chuckled.

"Can you imagine my mom, a school psychologist, in a dress covering half her ass?"

Embarrassed, Spencer raised his hands in apology and also chuckled softly.

"Sorry, I'm still half-asleep. Anyway... is there something wrong that you're here?"

"My mentally unstable ex-boyfriend of my roommate is lurking under our apartment.” You confessed bluntly “I'm a little scared to go back, and... I didn't know where else I could go."

It seemed like he was suddenly waking up quickly. He swung the door wide open, letting you in.

"Of course, come in. Is he dangerous?"

"He shows up every now and then and then disappears. It's like a lottery. Jude doesn't want to ever see him again, so we just pretend we're not here when it happens."

The inside looked just as you remembered. The lights were off everywhere except the bedroom, where he was probably reading. You allowed yourself to take off your uncomfortable shoes and set them by the door.

"Why don't you report it to the police?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Jude doesn't want to. And I don't want to do anything against her will. But I swear, if this happens again, I'll convince her. Or I'll do it myself."

"You should," he said, and suddenly a silence fell between you.

You weren't sure how to act. You'd barged in on him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his sleep. Not to mention, you hadn't seen each other since that conversation at the bar.

"Let me take your jacket," he said after a moment, as if remembering how to behave when hosting a guest.

You slowly took it off, revealing the full dress. Spencer momentarily let his gaze linger on it, but then he caught himself and turned away to hang your jacket. The glance didn't embarrass you in the slightest; if anything, you expected to catch him looking.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said, realizing you should probably apologize. It was only then that you began to feel a little awkward about the situation.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. And I'm glad I can help," he said, and once again, silence settled between you. Spencer placed his hand on his forehead as he realized you were still standing in the hallway. "Sorry, it's been a long time since anyone's visited, and I don't even know how to act... Do you want something to drink, or need anything?"

"I’m fine," you assured him, walking behind him into the living room. "I don't want you to act like I'm some important guest, Spencer. Or like you need to serve me."

"But you are an important guest," he replied.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on your lips.

"What were you reading?" you asked, leaning your lower back against the kitchen island, the two rooms connected as one. You glanced around the cozy interior, in soft, almost warm hues, where the darkness of the night blended with the orange light of the lamp. "Let me guess, some spine-chilling thriller?"

"I have spine-chilling thrillers every day at work," he snorted. "I was reading... Emma. Jane Austen."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"You fell asleep reading classic literature on a Friday night? Spencer Reid, what kind of man are you?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

He stood across from you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. Your eyes lingered on the first few undone buttons of his shirt.

"Of course, in a good way. Why would I judge someone for reading?"

"I don’t know," he shrugged. "Some people think it’s boring. And weird, especially on a Friday night. And what about you? What were you doing before your roommate’s ex showed up?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded meaningfully toward your outfit. "Were you reading too?"

You lifted your chin high.

"Exactly. I was reading my favorite Shakespearean drama in my favorite dress. And those incredibly comfortable shoes I left by your door."

"That goes without saying."

"I definitely wasn’t at any club."

"I wouldn’t even suspect you of that."

"I was doing what any God-fearing virgin would do," you said, bursting into laughter at the absurdity. "Alright, alright. I’m getting carried away. Now I actually feel like reading something. But nothing too classic—I don’t have the brainpower for it. Do you happen to have any romance novels?"

I'm afraid not."

"Really? You have more books in your home than the library in my hometown, and not a single romance? I’m not talking about dark erotica or anything—just something subtle. Friends to lovers, polite sex..."

Spencer choked on a laugh.

"Sorry, but are you drunk?"

You were just horny. 

"Not a drop of alcohol has touched my lips. I'm just hyperactive. That’s what the night does to me."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"So? Aren't you hiding any sinful books in there?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly amused rather than annoyed by your persistence.

"You're welcome to look," he offered, gesturing toward one of the shelves. "But I’m not promising you’ll find anything like that."

"But if I do, you owe me a drink."

“And if it turns out I’m right, then what?”

You bit your lip, pondering. 

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You know, I won’t enter a bet unless I know what I get in return.”

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner together,” he replied without hesitation. “Or breakfast, if you prefer.”

“Deal,” you answered just as quickly. You weren’t worried about regretting it—your blood was buzzing too much for that.

He extended his hand for you to shake on it, sealing the deal. Instead of letting go, you held onto his fingers firmly and tugged him toward the bookshelf. He stood so close as you examined the books one by one, taking some out to inspect their covers to see if they suggested any hint of romance. When they didn’t, he let out a short laugh, his breath brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t let it show.

“Spencer…” you started after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “It counts if the book has a romantic subplot, right?”

“No, it doesn’t count! We agreed on a romance. A full-fledged, contemporary one.”

“We didn’t say contemporary.”

“I assumed it was implied since I mentioned owning Jane Austen books. Pride and Prejudice is a romance, among other things…”

“Ha! So you do have one. I won!” You raised your hands high in victory.

“…But it’s also a social and domestic novel. Doesn’t count.”

You poked him in the chest with your finger.

“You don’t know how to lose.”

He glanced at the spot where you touched him, clearly trying not to smile.

“Maybe I just care a lot about that dinner,” he admitted boldly.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to look at him confidently, but it was hard to think and maintain eye contact with him at the same time.

“Or breakfast,” you murmured.

“Or breakfast,” he agreed. Realizing how close he was standing, he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “So, are you ready to admit my victory?”

You shot him a defiant look.

“Not a chance. I haven���t even checked all the books yet. I’m only about three-quarters through. Who knows what kind of BDSM might be lurking in the last quarter?”

“Seriously?” he asked with a sigh. “Okay, just look at me. Do I seem like the kind of guy who reads stuff like that?”

“Honestly, you look like the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias. But the one thing I know about people is that appearances can be deceiving. Still waters run deep.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re as stubborn as they come.”

“Maybe I just really want that drink,” you teased.

“I can make you one,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Seriously?” The suggestion caught you off guard.

Spencer shrugged casually.

“I don’t drink much, but some friends gave me a few bottles for my birthday.”

You hesitated, considering.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you admitted. You felt good, even without alcohol. “But I do have another request… Do you happen to have something I could change into? I won’t lie, this isn’t the most comfortable dress… though it’s absolutely stunning.”

He smiled softly.

"You’re right. And yes, I’ll find something for you to change into. Just… it’ll be something of mine."

Following him into the bedroom, you let out a small chuckle.

"You know, I didn’t expect you to have a closet full of women’s clothes. Plus, in my size. Although, who knows what girls leave behind at your place. It’s a tactic, you know? You leave a sock at a guy’s place to have an excuse to come back. Unless you didn’t like it, then you have to accept losing the sock."

He didn’t say anything, opening the wardrobe to find something appropriate for you. You’d been in his bedroom before and didn’t feel the need to look around; nothing had changed inside.

"Do you do this often?" he asked, inspecting a t-shirt. "Use the sock strategy?"

"No," you replied, shrugging. "I’m too straightforward for that. If I like it, I just go back and say 'Let’s do it again' Or I don’t leave at all. I’m a bit of a parasite too."

He chuckled at the comparison and finally handed you some clothes. You didn’t really look at them; you just needed something looser, something you hadn’t danced in for hours at the club.

"You know where the bathroom is, right?"

You confirmed and were about to head in that direction when you stopped.

"Wait," you said, turning back toward him. But then, you turned again, facing him with your back. "The zipper on the dress," you explained, pulling your hair to the front. "I could manage it myself, but I don’t want to risk breaking it. Could you…?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed after a moment, stepping closer.

He stood just behind you, reaching for the top of your back. Before he pulled the zipper down, there was a moment where he simply paused, unmoving. Your knees suddenly trembled, almost impatiently. Then, he tugged at the zipper, unfastening the dress, and the coolness and freedom teased your skin.

You could have said thank you and headed to the bathroom, but you didn’t. Something kept your body rooted in place, right there next to him, feeling the pads of his fingers on the lower part of your dress.

Even his breath, louder and irregular.

When you began to, slightly disappointed, assume that he wouldn’t do anything more, his lips found a spot on your neck, kissing it slowly. You inhaled deeply, your head instinctively tilting back, giving him more access, as if you had been waiting for just that.  He stopped for a longer time in this specific place, pressing on it harder, as you barely hold a groan. 

Your breath was given a free rollercoaster ride.

You reached your hand back, wrapping it around his head and pulling him closer to you. You felt him sigh directly into your skin, leaving another two hungry kisses on an exposed skin on your shoulder. God, why were you still wearing that dress?

You abruptly stopped, turning around and almost hitting the top of your head against his jaw. You didn't care about it, and the thought of apologizing never crossed your mind, just simply pushed him, planting a strong kiss right on his lips.

The clothes he gave you slipped from your hand and fell to the floor, but neither of you were concerned about it, as you were both too absorbed to care. You pushed him again, this time onto the bed, on which he sat, surprised by your suddenness. You saw red marks creeping onto the parts of the neck exposed by the undone shirt. 

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," you said, shaking your head in a mock reprimand. He tilted his head to the side, unsure of where you were going with this, his fingers impatiently brushing your waist on both sides. "You lied to me."

Your hands grabbed his face, positioning just under his jaw and lifting it upward so you could find his lips right against yours. 

“I lied to you?”

"“That's right. You said you don't read romances. But tell me, how does someone who doesn't do that know such practices?”

“Practices?” he repeated again, surprised."

His gaze was focused solely on your lips to which he tried to get closer, but you hadn't allowed him to yet. 

"This whole unbuttoning of the dress. And then, the neck”

With your index finger, you traced along the skin on his neck

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He removed one hand from your waist and took your hand, the one you had been playing with.

“Did I like it?” you scoffed with a genuine laugh.“I’m like half naked now. Answer that for yourself”

Undressing was the element you hated the most. You became impatient and couldn't understand why your clothes couldn't just disappear from you, instead of threatening to burn your already overheated skin. Spencer didn't help, so slow in his movements. You had a feeling he was doing it on purpose. He probably enjoyed watching you struggle to untangle yourself from the dress. He waited a minute before helping you, effortlessly pulling it over your head.

Maybe slow wasn't the most accurate description.The way he touched his body wasn’t slow. It was like rationing a treat, breaking it into small pieces and savoring them one by one. Meanwhile, it gazed straight into your mouth, shouting, eat me!

It required incredible self-control and composure, but it resulted in something more than just pleasure. When he found himself right between your legs, his lips touching gently every single inch of your thigh and refusing to go further despite your pleas, you compared him to the previous guys you slept with. With them, on the other hand, you had to tell them to slow down, to do everything more carefully, and not to focus solely on their own needs.

“Does it feel right?” He asked, briefly lifting his gaze, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your back arched, probably enough of an answer, but you confirmed it with a soft moan.

"I'd rather you said it out loud. Does it feel right?"

"That's edging on sadism, do you realize that?" you whimpered, trying to release the tension by pulling at his hair.

He stopped again.

"Please, do it again."

It wasn't something he had to beg for.

The rest went similarly. You liked how his confidence and courage grew, but you also went wild when, at certain moments, the same gentle and sometimes awkward Spencer returned. It was a perfectly balanced mix.

"Can you talk to me more?" he asked over time, once he was already inside you. "I want to know how you feel about all of this." After those words, your forehead twitched slightly as you felt the onset of pain. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you whispered, accompanied by a faintly tired exhale.”A little. But it's normal I just didn't have sex for a while”

"No, it shouldn't hurt you. Do you want to stop?"

"Just... give me a moment."

He slowed down, almost stopping. You took a breath,pressing your forehead to his. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you in a hurry. After all, where to? Outside, the night still reigned, long and patient, winter’s grip holding steady. You liked having his face so close to yours, joining them together and not speaking. For the first time, you could truly say that you enjoyed the silence.

You had always considered silence overwhelming, incapable of calming the chaos that arose in your mind. You preferred moments of wildness, loud sounds, and fast pace, but it was in that silence, which fell then, that you found a peace filled with intimacy.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

"It's okay, I'm ready."

After everything, you simply lay facing each other, tangled in one another. Actually, you didn’t like that expression "after everything." After everything—after what exactly? Sex wasn’t just about the physical act; it also included the long moment before and the even more significant one after. It was precisely that moment after which revealed the true you both. How much you cared for each other and how much you meant to each other beyond the bed. That was often missing in one-night stands; the perspective of quickly disappearing from each other's lives and being forgotten somehow intensified selfishness in people.

Lying there, you played with the hair on his forehead.

"You know, they say this is the moment when people are the most honest with each other."

"Do you want to squeeze a few secrets out of me?" he asked.

"Just one," you said mysteriously, turning onto your back. Before that, you noticed his eyebrows furrow.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you again.

"Which one?"

You pretended to hesitate before answering. You tried with all your might to keep the smile from appearing on your face, betraying you.

"I'm afraid that even now, you won't be honest with me."

"I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to tell the truth. Give me your pinky."

"What?"

"A pinky promise, you fool."

“O-okay” 

Clearly surprised, he did what you asked.

"Now tell me the truth. You got any romance books at your place you're too embarrassed to admit to?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll find them," you teased. "I’ll get up right now and find them."

You pretended to get up, but he pulled you closer, preventing you from moving.

"You're not going anywhere."

i know some of you were curious about this fanfiction, so I'm tagging it.

@nightfullofparadox @bloodredrubyrose @lillaberry @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[nottsangel]

oh oH OH but i need matteo, theo and enzo to be extremly frustrated and jealous when they noticed that we do bring home some guys!! like they're trying so hard to act nonchalant and like they don't care at all BUT they're secretly seething and plotting how they can stop us from getting any because how dare we?? we have three premium dicks at home, we don't need mediocre dick from the street heLLOOO

new girl au — in which you live with theodore, mattheo and lorenzo

“you gotta be quiet, okay? my roommates are fucking annoying and i really want to avoid them.” you whisper urgently to cedric as you slowly turn the creaky handle of the front door, carefully opening it and swiftly dragging him inside. from the kitchen, you hear theo, mattheo and enzo’s loud voices, overlapping as they chat and laugh uncontrollably, the noise echoing through the apartment.

“go that way.” you whisper again, pointing as you tip-toe nervously toward your bedroom while tightly gripping cedric’s hand to guide him. you hold your breath, tense with anticipation, desperately trying not to make a sound. and you think you’ve succeeded— until you hear mattheo’s nagging voice.

“so you’re not even going to introduce your new friend to us?” you groan in frustration, slowly turning on your heel before forcing a bright, yet clearly fake smile. “oh! i didn’t know you guys were home.” “bullshit.” theo mutters under his breath, making you roll your eyes in sheer annoyance.

“anyway, this is cedric. now, if you guys don’t mind—” “cedric, huh? welcome to our glamorous house. make yourself at home.” lorenzo says in the laziest, most indifferent tone, not even bothering to look at cedric.

then mattheo chimes in, his voice dripping with mocking amusement, “you’re like the fifth guy he’s had to say that to this week, so he’s a bit tired of it already, y’know.” your eyes widen in surprise, and your lips form a thin, displeased line while feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“what!? that— that’s not even true! cedric, don’t listen—”

“yeah, she’s fucking a guy in there like every night. we’re barely getting any sleep these days.” theo adds with a derisive chuckle, sarcastically winking at you as he takes a sip from his drink.

“and she doesn’t just fuck guys from outside these walls, if you know what i mean. but i’m sure she told you.” lorenzo smirks cockily, a self-satisfied and arrogant expression plastered on his face. at this point, you see red as you glare at each of them with narrowed eyes and your jaw tightly clenched, while cedric stands awkwardly by your side, giving you an uneasy and uncomfortable smile.

“uhm, hey… guys. nice to meet you. it’s— it’s a nice apartment you have.”

“cedric, you can go to my room. i’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

it’s dead silent as you’re glaring daggers at the boys, your arms folded tightly across your chest, before you finally hear your bedroom door click shut. “I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD! what the FUCK is wrong with you guys!? oh my god, i’m so done with—”

“relax, baby. it’s just guy banter, alright? you clearly don’t get it, but he does.” lorenzo explains nonchalantly with a smug expression, but you know he’s full of shit, seeing right through him. you furiously storm towards them and slap each of the boys angrily on the back of their heads.

“ow! what was that for?” mattheo asks, wincing in pain and rubbing the back of his head. “are you fucking serious?! you guys are cockblocking me, you dumb fuck.”

“calm down, piccola. you know we love you, hm?” theo comments teasingly, tightly wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, planting a quick, playful kiss on your head.

“this isn’t love! pull shit like this again and i swear to god, i’ll kill each one of you with my bare fucking hands.” “yes ma’am. got it ma’am. please kill mattheo first, ma’am.” “oh fuck you enzo.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[emmyrosee]

shhhhHHHHHUTUPIDONTWANTTOTALKABOUTIT

-

The first time you sleep over Katsuki’s, it’s not long after he’s moved into his apartment with the rest of his friends.

Which is bold, the only one who doesn’t flirt with you any chance they get is Mina -mainly because she has her own place- but she’s always telling Katsuki that the minute you get bored with him, she’s there to swoop in.

But his friends waste no time in making sure to rile Katsuki up with cheesy pickup lines that mean nothing to you, but everything to him. He hates the idea of having his friends hit on you, but you’d be lying if riling him up wasn’t exhilarating.

You smile as you hear bare feet pad along the tiling of the kitchen, a massive presence looming behind you; it’s warm, loving, and you feel yourself relaxing at the closeness.

“Morning,” he rasps, arms wrapping around your waist. You smile and curl against him, tipping your head back to look at him.

“You hungry?”

“You didn’t have to make us breakfast,” he murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to the curve of your neck.

You mewl and bend your arm to wrap around him, “I know, I just wanted to do something nice for my man and his friends for being such good company last night.”

He grumbles, “don’t ever refer to my roommates as ‘good.’ Bunch of fucking menaces and creeps.”

“They can’t be too bad,” you hum, turning off the stove. God knows how long you’ll both be drooling with affection. “After all, you let me meet them,” you coo. “And you’d never let your little baby be put in danger.”

“Fucking hate when you call yourself that,” he snaps, spidering his fingers up your side. You squeal and shrink to the side, only to be met with pokes on the other. “Katsuki!”

“Don’t be a little shit and I won’t have to torment you,” he snickers. You’re quick to flick off the stove with what little movement your arms can give you while protecting you from tickles, and you duck as fast as you can under his caging limbs to escape.

He must like the challenge, because he lets you go, only to barrel after you into the living room. A small coffee table separates you both, and you’re at a standstill as you watch each other.

“Katsuki!” You giggle, making a sudden dart to try and throw him off your trail. It doesn’t deter him, like he’s able to predict what you’re going to do before you do. “Y-You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

“I’m not gonna do a fuckin’ thing,” he snorts. “You’re the one screaming and whining.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Are not-“

“I think it’s bold of you to argue with me instead of sprinting away.” He shrugs, making a dash for you and wasting no time in grabbing you into his big arms. You writhe and laugh in his grip, desperate to not shriek and wake his poor roommates. Giggles bubble wildly over your lips, and he hauls you back into the kitchen before plopping you onto the countertop, distant from the stove. You instinctively move your hands to card his blonde hair, and he leans in to steal the last of your giggles from your lips.

“How much time we got before breakfast burns?” He mumbles, hands smoothing up your thighs. Crimson eyes glimmer with mischief, and he bumps your nose with his.

You chuckle and shake your head, legs wrapping around his thick waist, “it was burning before you came in; I turned off the stove so it wouldn’t burst into flames.”

He snorts, “good.” One of the hands resting on the meat of your thighs comes up to grip your chin, “now I don’t have to rush.”

“Ew,” you giggle, but it dies as quickly as you said it when he connects your kiss, working his lips against yours in this own way, full of passion and love with just enough tease to have you whimper.

The hand on your cheek shifts down to rest on your delicate throat, dangling like a necklace. A subtle act of dominance to make you shiver.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

“I love you more-“

“Ewwwww!!!”

“Who knew he had a weakness?”

“Lookin’ good, Dynamight!”

Immediately, Katsuki’s shoulders hike up as the shrill voices from his friends ring through the air. You let out a string of laughter while the other boys you were visiting peer around the wall of the apartment, Sero with a face of disgust, Kirishima with a playful understanding and Kaminari with a cheesy bite of his lip.

“I’m going to KILL YOU IDIOTS!” He barks, abandoning you to dash over to the trio, mainly targeting Kaminari and Sero, who sprint away as fast as they can. Kirishima chuckles and makes his way over to you, helping you off the counter with a sigh.

“How’s he ever going to keep being Number One if you keep doing this to him?”

You snort and elbow his ribs while somewhere in the house, Katsuki caught Denki, and the screams ring loudly in the walls.

“Shut up and help me remake breakfast, dickhead.”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[tashid4]

Fwb with Katsuki

You were standing in front of the mirror. Final mascara touch-ups, shiny lip gloss. Still only wearing your underwear, undecided about your outfit choice, you suddenly heard a knock on the door. You assumed it was your bestfriend coming to pick you up, you opened the door of your room. But turns out it wasn't her. Katsuki was standing in front of you. Not even bothered by the fact you were half naked in front of him.

Thing is - it definitely wasn't the first time he saw you like this. Definitely not. You and him have been seeing each other in secret for a while now. He would text you when he needed to release some stress. And he would always answer your calls, in the middle of the night when you needed him...

You brought him inside and made him sit on the bed so you could finish getting ready. "What are you doing here?" you asked while applying your favorite lipstick. Dark red. Cherry blood. "I was leaving and I thought I could see my favorite girl before". His comment made you slightly chuckle. Of course he was here for a reason. You had no problem with that. It was a deal. Only sex, no complicated feelings.

Having sex with Katsuki was profitable for you. He was attentive, understanding, open-minded and so fucking sexy. Sex with him was a treat, a blessing.

You put down your lipstick and start walking toward him. Exaggerating every move, swinging your hips and staring at him with big doe eyes. "You also going to the party?" "Yes, Kiri asked me" While you talked you found a place on his lap and slowly started to kiss his neck. Leaving a trail of cherry red kisses on his neck and collar. "You planning on founding a girl uh? Taking her back to your room?" "Yeah probably" You liked that he was honest with you, never hiding anything from you. You knew every one of each others dirty secret. You weren't dating so there was nothing wrong with him sleeping with other girls right ? So why were you feeling this pinch in your stomach ...?

He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Definitely not a soft one. It was rough and passionate like it always was. It was messy and rushed. The expensive Cologne he wore, that you loved so much, filled your lungs and you couldn't resist him anymore. Pushing him on the bed, towering him you start to straddle his lap. "You're gonna find a nice girl uh ? Gonna kiss her on the same bed you fuck me every night ?" "Hmph fuck yes" He stares intensely at your swollen lips, the feeling of your ass rubbing on him driving him insane. He can't help but look at you with admiring eyes. "But I'll always be your favorite right baby? ""Yes my favorite girl"

You knew this was wrong. You knew friends with benefits don't act like this. But you were so obsessed with this man. You were ready to take everything he was giving you. Even if, for the moment, it was just sex.

Hiii it's been so long since i posted smth oopsie but ig we can say im back now. Hope you enjoyed this short fic ^^

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[aceyalonso]

can you stay the night? - CHARLES LECLERC

pairing : charles leclerc x bestfriend!reader

summary : you and charles had always been comfortable with each other, comfortable enough to cuddle, go out on "platonic" dates, and maybe comfortable enough to leave a toothbrush at his place

warnings/notes : swearing, y/n is kinda dense, charles is a simp, sexual innuendos, romantic stuff that they think as platonic, suggestive-ish (??) scene (no actual smut)

word count : 14.2k

song : la vie en rose - édith piaf

a/n : happy 600!!! no angst this time around :p (this fic is a bit long because ik @nepobbylver is gonna love this HAHAHAH)

masterlist

May 26, 2024 - 5:12 PM

Y/n settled against Charles, his soft blond dachshund snuggled comfortably between them as they cuddled on the couch. She ran her fingers through the dog's fur, enjoying the simple moment of comfort in his presence. Charles wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer as they continued to relax in the quiet peace.

As they continued to snuggle together, a thought occurred to Y/n. She shifted slightly, looking up at Charles with a curious expression. "You know," she began, "I have to ask. Is this really how you want to celebrate your home race win?"

Y/n paused for a moment, her fingers still idly stroking the dachshund's soft fur. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this is nice, but I was just thinking...don't you want to go out to dinner or something? You've won your home race, after all."

Charles chuckled softly, drawing her closer. "Honestly, I just wanted to spend time with you," he replied, his voice low and warm. "But if you want to go out, we can do that too."

A small smile curled Y/n's lips. "And leave this little guy all alone?" she teased, looking down at the dachshund. The dog lifted its head, as if sensing they were talking about him, and wagged its tail lazily.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, reaching over to give Leo's head an affectionate pat. "Sorry, buddy," she said, her tone playful. "Looks like it's nap time for you. Go back to sleep."

The dachshund yawned widely, as if in response to her words, before settling back against her and closing his eyes, content to ignore them again.

Charles chuckled, watching the interaction between Y/n and Leo. "Looks like he's already got it figured out," he said, his arm still around her. "A relaxing night in might actually be the perfect way to celebrate after all."

Y/n's smile faded slightly as she looked back up at Charles. "I know, but it just feels like… you should be celebrating more, you know?" she said, her voice softly. "You just won your home race. Shouldn't you be doing something bigger than this?"

Charles sighed, a mix of resignation and affection in his voice. "Alright, alright," he said, giving in to her insistence. "If you want me to celebrate that bad, we'll go out tomorrow. We can even bring Leo along."

Y/n's face lit up with satisfied surprise. She hadn't expected him to give in so easily, but she couldn't help feeling relieved. "Really? You don't mind going out tomorrow?" she asked, almost too eagerly.

He chuckled again, amused by her eagerness. "Yeah, really," he reassured her, his arm still around her. "We can have a nicer celebration tomorrow, with dinner and whatever else you want."

She held up her hand in a prayer gesture, looking upwards as if addressing some higher power. "Thank you, oh benevolent lord," she said dramatically. "For providing me with free food tomorrow, I am eternally grateful!"

Charles rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're ridiculous," he said, a hint of affection in his voice. "You're getting one meal, and you act like it's a gift from the heavens."

Y/n nodded in agreement, her exaggerated gratitude fading a bit. "I mean, you're not wrong," she said, a tinge of resignation in her voice. "Monaco is not exactly wallet-friendly, especially when it comes to food. I'll take what I can get, honestly."

Charles chuckled, his hand absentmindedly stroking along the dachshund's back. "Well, don't worry," he assured her. "I'll make sure you get a proper meal tomorrow. No more scavenging for leftovers for you."

Y/n's smile waned as she gave him a playful glare. "Now you make me sound like some orphan kid begging for scraps during the Victorian era," she retorted, a hint of mock indignation in her voice.

Charles laughed heartily at her comparison. "Oh, come on," he said, his tone both amused and affectionate. "I didn't mean it like that at all. You know I'd do anything to make sure you were never hungry, Victorian era or modern day."

Y/n's mock frown softened into a genuine smile, her heart fluttering at his sweet words. "I know," she admitted, leaning against him. "But I couldn't resist the chance to give you a hard time about it."

Charles chuckled, his grip around her tightening slightly. "Of course you did," he teased. "You never miss an opportunity to give me a hard time, do you?"

Y/n burst into a dorky laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hahah, hard," she echoed, the innuendo in her tone not lost on either of them.

Charles grinned, lifting his hand to gently cover her mouth. "Maybe you should just go to sleep," he teased, pretending to sound serious. "Save the innuendos for later."

Her eyes widened, a laugh muffled against his hand. She playfully wriggled against his grip, feigning protest but not really wanting him to let go.

He chuckled, enjoyed the way she struggled against him, the playful back-and-forth between them. "Careful," he warned, his tone filled with mock severity. "Keep that up, and I might have to keep you quiet another way."

Y/n's eyes widened with mock horror, her expression over the top dramatic as she stared up at him. "Oh, lord," she gasped, in a faux-dramatic voice, "You're not going to gag me, are you?"

Charles' smile widened at her reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Keep up the smart mouth, and you just might find that out," he threatened, his voice low and teasing.

She scrunched up her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Ew, Charlie, ew" she says, her tone overly dramatic. She tried to look irritated, but the playful gleam in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Charles laughed at her reaction, shaking his head at her dramatic display. "Oh, come on," he teased, clearly enjoying the banter. "Don't act like you wouldn't secretly love it."

Y/n shot him a mock glare, refusing to admit that he might be right. "Oh, please," she said, her tone defiant. "As if I'd enjoyed being gagged. I'm too much of a free spirit for that."

He chuckled again, his hand still placed over her mouth "Oh, you're a free spirit, alright," he agreed, enjoying the banter. "A free spirit that could probably use a little lesson in restraint."

Y/n laughed, gently maneuvering Leo off her before standing up. "Get off me, you muppet!" she playfully mimicked, her voice filled with exaggerated indignation. She stepped away from the couch, a small grin still on her face.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at her playful exit. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, his tone amused. "Go ahead and leave, but keep in mind, I now know one surefire way to shut that smart mouth of yours."

Y/n paused for a moment, her eyebrows raising slightly. She tried to maintain her mock annoyance, but the gleam in her eyes revealed her intrigue. "Okay, and just how do you plan to do that, smart guy?"

Charles leaned back against the couch, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You really want to know?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

She shook her head, feigning nonchalance. "Nevermind," she said, her tone dismissive. "I need to use the bathroom anyway."

He gave her a knowing smirk as she made her escape. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, not letting her get away without a snarky comment. "But don't think I won't remember this later."

She rolled her eyes as she walked away, pretending to ignore his snarky comment. "Oh, I'm sure you will," she called back over her shoulder, disappearing down the hall towards the bathroom.

Y/n had just finished washing her hands when she suddenly opened the bathroom door. "Hey, Charlie?" she called out, her tone casual.

Charles, who was still lounging on the couch with Leo, lifted his head in response to her call. "Yeah?" he replied, curious to know what she wanted.

Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, her hands still slightly damp from washing. "Hey, so," she began, a small smile on her face. "Are we gonna order food, or do you think maybe I should make something?"

He sat up a bit on the couch, mulling over the options. "Let's order in," he decided, a lazy grin on his face. "No need to cook when we can get food delivered, right?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, you're paying, right?" she asked, her tone half sarcastic, and half-serious.

Charles chuckled at her question, knowing she expected him to pay (as per usual). "Yeah, yeah," he agreed, not really bothered by it. "I'll pay for it, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Y/n settled back on the couch again, cradling the sleeping dachshund in her arms. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft as she cuddled with the dog. She leaned back against Charles, her hand automatically finding its way to Leo's warm, furry body.

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer. He watched her fondly, enjoying the peaceful moment. "You know, most people would take advantage of my kindness and order the most expensive thing on the menu," he teased lightly.

She chuckled, running her fingers through Leo's soft fur. "Oh, I won't go too crazy," she promised, her voice filled with pretend innocence. "Just a small order of caviar and a glass of champagne, nothing too extravagant."

Charles laughed heartily at her answer. "Right, not too extravagant," he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A small side order of caviar, she says. You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight."

Y/n smiled at his sarcastic response, enjoying their banter. "Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?" she replied, her tone lighthearted. "A little bit of luxury every now and then never hurt anyone."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in mock resignation. "Oh, believe me, I'm all for spoiling you," he assured her, his arm tightening around her. "Just try not to bankrupt me in the process, alright?"

She laughed, snuggling against him, her fingers still idly scratching Leo's head. "I don't think I could bankrupt you if I tried," she teased. "You're a rich F! driver in Monaco, after all. I doubt a little caviar is going to break your bank."

Charles chuckled, his hand lazily running along her arm. "Hey, don't underestimate your powers of persuasion," he warned, his tone playful. "You could convince me to buy you the moon if you tried, I'm sure."

Y/n laughed heartily, shaking her head. "Oh, the caviar was just a joke," she clarified, her tone lighthearted. "I mean, who in their right mind actually enjoys that salty, fishy stuff? It's like eating fancy seawater, if you ask me."

Charles chuckled, enjoying her commentary. "Yeah, that's a fair assessment," he agreed, nodding his head. "I'm pretty sure the only reason people eat it is because it's expensive and somehow considered posh."

She nodded in agreement, a smirk on her face. "Exactly," she said, her tone amused. "it's like a status symbol for the rich and fancy. The more you spend on it, the fancier you are."

Y/n shook her head, her smirk turning into a thoughtful expression. "Alright, enough talk about weird expensive food," she said. "What do you want to order? Pizza, Chinese, something else?"

Charles thought for a moment, considering the options. "Hmm, I'm up for anything," he replied, his hand idly tracing patterns on her arm. "What are you craving, mon ange?

She thought for a moment, her gaze wandering towards the kitchen. "I kind of feel like pizza," she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "But then again, I could go for some old-fashioned comfort food like mac and cheese."

He nodded in agreement, his hand still trailing up and down her arm. "Pizza sounds good," Charles said, his voice casual. "And honestly, mac and cheese isn't a bad idea either. We could get both if you want."

Y/n looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "You'd let me get both pizza and mac and cheese?"

Charles chuckled at her eager expression, unable to resist her excitement. "Sure, why not?" he replied, his tone indulgent. "We can have a bit of everything. No need to limit ourselves, right? Especially when I'm paying for it."

Y/n's eyes lit up, her smile widening at his agreement. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I promise I won't get too carried away. We can get pizza and mac and cheese, and maybe a side of mozzarella sticks for good measure."

Charles laughed heartily at her enthusiasm, loving the way she got excited over food. "Mozzarella sticks?" he repeated, his tone amused. "Now you're pushing it. But, since you asked so nicely, I suppose we can get some mozzarella sticks as well."

Y/n grinned, her excitement growing with each added food item. "You're the best!" she declared, snuggling closer to him. "I swear, you give in too easily. All I have to do is bat my eyelashes and say 'please' and you're wrapped around my finger."

He chuckled, his arm encircling her waist. "I can't help it," he admitted, his tone fond. "You're too damn cute when you get excited about food. How could I resist giving you what you want?"

She smiled slyly, a hint of gloating in her expression. "See? I knew it," she teased, poking him in the side. "You're a softie, deep down. All I have to do is ask nicely and you'll cave."

Charles snorted, feigning offense. "Softie?" he retorted, his tone lighthearted. "I prefer the term 'indulgent' when it comes to you. I just like making you happy, that's all."

Y/n's smirk widened, her hand coming up to poke his chest playfully. "Indulgent, softie, whatever you want to call it," she teased, her voice filled with affection, "the point is, you can't say no to me. And you know what? I love it."

Charles laughed, shaking his head at her teasing. "Yeah, yeah, you win," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I admit it, I can't say no to you. Especially when you look at me all cute and expectantly, begging for pizza and mac and cheese."

Y/n nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "And mozzarella sticks," she added, her tone firm. "Don't forget the mozzarella sticks. I can't have pizza and mac and cheese without some fried cheesy goodness on the side, can I?"

She thought for a moment before turning to Charles. "And can we get some soda?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "You know, to wash down all this unhealthy food we're about to consume."

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Of course, we can get some soda too," he agreed, chuckling at her request. "We need something other than water to balance out all this greasy, delicious goodness."

Y/n smiled victoriously, clearly satisfied with his willingness to indulge her. "Yay, soda!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with childish excitement. "You know, I could get used to this whole 'getting whatever I want when I ask nicely' thing."

Charles chuckled, his hand giving her a playful tap on the head. "Oh, don't get used to it," he warned, his tone jokingly stern. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret spoiling you so much."

She laughed, leaning into his touch. "Oh, come on," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know you love spoiling me. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it when I bat my eyelashes and ask for things."

Charles didn't bother denying her accusations; he knew she was right. He simply chuckled, choosing to indulge her playful banter instead. "You know me so well, don't you?" he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

Y/n grinned, her smile widening as he acknowledged her observation. "I have a sixth sense for these things," she teased, her tone filled with mock self-importance. "I know when you're secretly enjoying spoiling me, even if you won't admit it."

May 26, 2024 - 8:12 PM

Charles groaned, his hand resting on his stomach. "Oh, I'm so full," he lamented, his voice tinged with mock despair. "I shouldn't have had that fourth slice of pizza, but it was just so good."

Y/n sat next to him, her own hand on her stomach as well. "I know what you mean," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. "I swear I can feel my stomach expanding. But you know what? It was worth every single bite."

She laughed heartily, her stomach feeling more and more stuffed. "You're right," she agreed, her voice tinged with reluctance. "We should probably clean up before all this grease and sauce dries up."

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "Ugh, I don't wanna move," he protested, his voice filled with exaggerated laziness. "Can't we just take a little food coma nap first?"

She chuckled at his melodramatic reaction, shaking her head. "As much as I'd love to join you in your food coma, we should probably clean up first," she reasoned, her tone slightly authoritative. "Otherwise, we'll regret it later when everything's dried up and stuck to the plates."

Y/n had just stood up, plates in hand, when Charles gently pulled her back down next to him. She looked at him with a mix of surprise and confusion, her hand hovering in the air where the plate had been a moment ago.

Charles placed the plates back onto the table and pulled Y/n closer to him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, his body relaxed against hers, seeking comfort in her proximity.

Y/n didn't resist his pull, instead leaning into his touch. She reached up, her hand gently caressing his hair, her fingers running through the messy strands. "You know, you're just using me as a pillow now," she teased, her voice soft and affectionate.

He chuckled, his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in his hair. "Can you blame me?" he asked, his tone lighthearted. "You're so comfortable, and I can't be bothered to move right now."

Y/n sighed contently, her fingers continuing to play with his hair. "You're just being lazy," she retorted, her tone fond. "But I guess I can be your cozy pillow for a little while longer."

Charles smiled, his body relaxing even more as her fingers continued their soothing caress. "Good," he mumbled, nuzzling his head further into her shoulder. "I could stay like this forever."

She chuckled as Leo padded over to them, his furry little body weaving between their legs. "Hey, little guy," she greeted the dachshund, reaching down to pet him. "Did you enjoy your food too?"

Leo, his belly full and content, simply looked up at Y/n with his innocent little eyes. He wagged his tail happily, clearly content after his own feast.

Charles laughed, his head still resting on Y/n's shoulder. "Looks like Leo was just as successful at stuffing his face as we were," he commented. "He's got that satisfied, slightly bloated look for sure."

Y/n laughed, her hand still running through Charles' hair. "You can say that again," she agreed, her tone light. "I don't think I've ever seen a puppy eat that much. He's like a little vacuum cleaner."

She scooped up Leo, the dog happily settling on Charles' lap. Then she turned to Charles, her tone more serious. "Actually, I should really get going and start cleaning up all this mess," she said, gesturing to the collection of plates and takeout containers on the coffee table.

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "But I'm so comfortable here," he protested, his voice laced with mock protest. "Can't it wait just a little longer?"

Y/n chuckled at his protest, her tone firm but affectionate. "No, no, you relax," she insisted, standing up again. "You did pay for the food, after all. I'll take care of cleaning up."

Charles watched her as she stood up, a pout on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone reluctant. "I feel bad just sitting here while you do all the work."

Y/n smiled at his concern, her tone gentle yet firm. "It's alright, Charlie," she reassured him. "I can handle this. You just stay put and digest all that food we ate."

Charles relented, his pout turning into a resigned smile. "You're too nice to me," he admitted, his hand rubbing his stomach again. "But alright, I'll stay here and try not to fall asleep."

May 26, 2024 - 8:30 PM

Y/n wiped her hands on the towel, and a satisfied smile appeared on her face. The dishes were clean, the leftover food was packed away, and the coffee table looked presentable again. "There, all done," she announced, her voice slightly tired but content.

She heard a soft, gentle snoring sound as she walked closer to the couch. She chuckled softly, her eyes falling upon Charles. He was fast asleep, his head lolling back against the couch, his mouth slightly open.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight. Leo was sleeping peacefully, his tiny body nestled in Charles' lap. His little paws were tucked beneath him, and his tail was twitching slightly as he dreamt.

Charles, on the other hand, was in a deep sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His chest rose and fell with each slow, steady breath he took. It was a sweet, innocent sight to behold.

Y/n settled down on the floor beside Charles, her elbow resting on the cushion of the couch, her face close to his. She looked at him, her eyes soft and content. The soft snoring filled the room, creating a soothing background noise.

She smiled, her eyes still on Charles. She knew all too well how exhausting race days could be for him. The physical and mental energy he expended was immense. It was no wonder he was sleeping so soundly right now.

Charles stirring in his sleep caught Y/n off guard. Suddenly, his hand moved and accidentally smacked Y/n in the face. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was enough to make her slightly recoil.

"Ouch!" Y/n exclaimed, her hand instinctively going to her face where Charles' hand had made contact. She rubbed her cheek softly, a mix of surprise and confusion on her face. "Charlie, wake up. You hit me in the damn face."

Charles roused from his sleep, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He looked blearily at Y/n, still slightly groggy. "What?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What happened?"

Y/n chuckled, her hand still on her face. "You accidentally hit me in the face while you were asleep," she explained, her tone light-hearted. "Looks like you were dreaming about a boxing match or something."

He blinked, his mind slowly catching up to what Y/n was saying. "I did what?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

She laughed gently, shaking her head to reassure him. "It's fine, I'm okay," she chuckled, her hand still massaging her cheek. "You didn't hit me that hard. But maybe you should watch your hands next time you're dreaming about boxing."

Charles stretched his arms, a tired yawn escaping his lips. "Yeah, I guess I should head to bed," he agreed, his voice groggy. "I'm feeling pretty beat after that food coma."

He rubbed his eyes, then turned to Y/n. "Oh, and make sure you use my bathroom to freshen up," he reminded her, his voice still tinged with sleepiness. "You can use whatever you need in there."

Y/n looked up at Charles, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why can't I use the guest bathroom?" she asked, her tone slightly puzzled.

Charles sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "Right, I forgot to tell you," he mumbled, his voice tired but apologetic. "The guest bathroom's pipes need fixing. Can't use that one. Gotta use mine tonight."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes meeting his. "Alright, no problem," she said, a small smile on her face. "I'll use yours then. I don't want to be without a shower tonight."

He returned her smile, his eyes filled with exhaustion but also affection. "Thanks for understanding," he murmured. "Goodnight, and enjoy my bathroom."

Y/n watched him go, her eyes lingering on his sleepy form as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom. She smiled to herself, feeling a mixture of affection and amusement at Charles' tired but sweet gesture.

May 26, 2024 - 11:38 PM

Y/n sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone in the guest bedroom. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed the time was 11:38 pm. Realizing it was getting late, she decided it was time to get ready for bed. The thought of a relaxing, warm bath sounded perfect right then.

She gathered her small toiletry bag, a fresh towel, and a change of clothes. She quietly walked out of the guest bedroom and headed down the hallway to Charles' bedroom. Upon reaching his room, she gently turned the doorknob, not wanting to wake him if he was still asleep.

Charles' voice came from inside the room, his tone groggy but awake. "You can come in," he mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his pillow. "I'm awake."

Y/n smiled slightly, grateful that he was awake and ready for her. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim lighting in the room.

Charles was lying in his bed, propped up against the pillows, his hair was tousled and his eyes slightly heavy with sleep. Despite his sleepy appearance, he was watching her as she entered. "You're taking a bath?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Y/n nodded, holding up her toiletry bag and towel. "Yeah, thought it would help me relax before bed," she replied, her tone soft. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom for a bit?"

Charles nodded, a sleepy smile on his lips. "Sure, take your time," he reassured her, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep. "You can use the bathroom as long as you need."

She smiled in appreciation, and his kind words made her feel more comfortable. "Thanks," she said, her tone grateful. "I won't be too long. I just want to unwind a little before bed."

Y/n walked into the bathroom, her toiletry bag clutched in her hand. The soft glow of the bathroom lights illuminated the room as she entered, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

She set her things down on the counter, her mind already contemplating the warm, relaxing bath she was about to enjoy. The bathroom was neat and spacious, the fixtures and tiles gleaming in the soft light. The ambiance was quietly soothing, perfect for a late-night dip.

She turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run in the bathtub, creating a soothing, gentle sound that filled the bathroom. Steam began to rise, the room slowly filling with a warm, comforting humidity. The bathroom was now a miniature sauna, perfect for relaxing tense muscles and calming the mind.

After a few moments, the tub was filled to a comfortable level, bubbles foaming on the surface of the water. Y/n tested the water with her hand, ensuring that the temperature was just right. Then, she turned off the faucet and started to undress, her clothes being neatly folded and placed on the counter.

As Y/n stepped into the tub, the warmth of the water enveloped her. She sank into the bubbles, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. The stress of the day, and the tiredness in her body, all seemed to melt away as she immersed herself in the soothing water. Her eyes closed, her limbs relaxed, and her mind started to unwind.

The steam curled around her, the scent of bath oil mingling with the warm, moist air. She lay back, the water lapping gently at her neck. A few moments passed, the only sound in the bathroom being the soft, gentle splashes of water. Y/n felt her thoughts drift further and further away, her body becoming more and more relaxed as she luxuriated in the tranquility of the moment.

Her mind wandered, memories, and thoughts coming and going gently like a light breeze. The rest of the world seemed distant as if nothing could disturb this blissful sanctuary. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowing, and her body utterly surrendered to the comfort of the water. Time seemed to stand still, her mind floating in a contented blur.

The soothing warmth of the water and the tranquility of the room lulled Y/n into a doze, her mind and body completely relaxed. She lost track of time, her thoughts drifting further and further away until she slipped into a light sleep, the bubbles and steam gently surrounding her.

However, the peaceful moment lasted only a few short minutes. The sound of the bathroom door opening gently roused her from her doze, the sound bringing her back to reality. Y/n's eyes fluttered open, blinking away the daze as she focused on the figure in the doorframe.

The bathroom door had opened, allowing a sliver of light from the outside to fall across the tile floor. Charles stood in the doorway, a slight frown on his face. He hadn't intended to disturb her, but his need for the bathroom had grown too great to ignore.

His hair was a disheveled mess, and his eyes were still half-closed with sleep. He tried to look away, to give her some privacy, but his voice betrayed his concern. "Sorry," he muttered, his tone soft and gravelly. "Just really need to go... I didn't mean to wake you up."

Y/n stirred, pushing up from the water. The bubbles clinging to her form, she sat up in the tub, her eyes on Charles. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice still tinged with sleep. "I dozed off for a bit. I'll get out in a minute."

Charles hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away and back to her. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far down, but the sight of her in the tub was a bit distracting. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. "I... I can wait."

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the confines of the bathroom. "No, it's fine," she reassured him, her tone light but firm. "You need to go, I can get out."

She quickly grasped her towel and wrapped it around herself, securing it at her chest. Charles turned his gaze away, respecting her modesty. He kept his back to her, giving her the privacy she needed.

The sound of her getting out of the tub made a slight splashing sound, the water shifting as she rose. She stepped out onto the bath mat, her hair slightly damp, and the towel clinging to her form.

Charles nodded, still facing away to give her some privacy. "Alright," he said, his voice still a bit gravelly, "I'll be done soon. You can wait in there and brush your teeth when I'm done."

Y/n nodded, her grip on the towel tightening slightly. "Okay," she replied, her voice soft. "I'll wait here. Take your time."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Y/n hurried to get changed. Although the bath was relaxing, the knowledge that Charles was waiting just on the other side of the door hurried her movements. She slipped into her fresh clothes, the material cool and comfortable against her still-damp skin.

Within a few minutes, she was fully dressed, her hair still a little damp but tucked away from her face. She checked herself quickly in the mirror, making sure everything was in place before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The silence in the room was broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing on the street outside. Y/n sat patiently, waiting for Charles to finish. Her mind began to drift, her thoughts a mixture of relaxation and anticipation.

Just as she started to feel a bit antsy, the sound of the bathroom door opening broke the silence. Charles emerged from the bathroom, his hair slightly disheveled but otherwise looking much more awake.

He smiled slightly as his eyes met hers, his expression a mix of tiredness and relief. "All done," he said, his voice still roughened by sleep. "The bathroom's all yours."

Charles leaned against the doorframe, still feeling a bit groggy, but also enjoying the sight of her moving around his bathroom. He tried not to look too closely as she bent over to reach for her toiletry bag, the sight of her in his bathroom quite domestic and slightly stirring.

He waited patiently as she rummaged through her bag, her fingers pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste. She started to brush her teeth, the sound of the brush against her teeth and the water from the faucet filling the small space.

Charles watched her quietly, his eyes following her movements. He observed the way she moved, the way the light played across her skin, and the small sounds she made as she brushed her teeth. It was all very mundane, yet somehow strangely intimate.

The moment felt almost surreal, the quiet of the night and the intimacy of the bathroom creating a bubble of comfort and familiarity. Charles's mind was still a bit hazy with sleep, but he found himself enjoying the simple act of watching her brush her teeth in his bathroom.

Y/n continued brushing her teeth, her cheeks slightly puffed with foam. She then remembered the plan for the following day and spoke with a foamy mouth, her words slightly garbled. "Where... are we... eating... tomorrow?" she managed to ask, her toothbrush still swirling in her mouth.

Despite her toothbrush-filled mouth, the question was clear. Charles chuckled softly at the sight of her, her hair slightly messy, dressed in her pajamas, and talking with a mouth full of foam.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he responded. "I was thinking we could go to that new café downtown," he suggested, his voice still rough with sleep. "I've heard they have great pastries and coffee."

Y/n nodded, the toothbrush still in her mouth. The idea of pastries and coffee sounded delightful, especially in the morning. However, the foam made her answer turn into a series of mumbled sounds, leaving Charles unsure of what she was actually saying.

Charles chuckled softly, amused by her foamy response. "I'll take that as a yes," he said light-heartedly, unable to keep a smile off his face.

She tried to respond but ended up sending a few drops of foamy toothpaste sputtering onto the sink. She quickly rinsed out her mouth, spitting the foam out. "Sorry," she sheepishly apologized, her cheeks slightly pink. "Hard to talk when my mouth is full of foam."

Charles chuckled again, the sound echoing around the small bathroom. "It's fine," he reassured her, his voice warm. "It was entertaining to watch, even if I couldn't make out half of what you were saying."

Y/n leaned against the counter, exhaustion beginning to show in her every muscle. Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a weary sigh. "I'm too tired to walk back to the guest bedroom," she mumbled, her tone weary and a bit whiny.

Charles saw her slouched form and sympathized with her fatigue. He knew it was past midnight and she'd had a long day. "You can just sleep here if you want," he suggested, his tone gentle yet practical.

Y/n perked up slightly at his suggestion. The idea of collapsing into the comfort of a bed without having to move sounded heavenly. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a tired murmur.

Charles nodded, his eyes softening at her tired state. "It's fine," he reassured her, a small smile on his lips. "I don't mind. This bed is plenty big enough for both of us."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her cheeks slightly warm. The thought of sharing a bed with Charles was undeniably intimate, but her body's need for rest was so great, that she couldn't find the energy to protest. "Okay," she agreed, her voice barely more than a weary murmur.

She stumbled to the bed, her weary steps almost resembling a slow run. She practically collapsed onto the sheets, the soft, cool fabric feeling luxurious against her tired body. She landed on the bed with a satisfied sigh, the impact sending the sheets billowing slightly.

Y/n sank into the bed, her limbs feeling like lead. A weary groan escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around a nearby pillow, pulling it close to her chest. The pillows felt soft and supportive, the bed molding around her form like a cozy, welcoming cocoon.

Charles watched her with an affectionate smile, amused by her eagerness to be in bed and the speed with which she had buried herself in the pillows. He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and watching as she settled into the sheets.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of her, her body half-buried under the pillows and blankets. Her eyes were closed, the exhaustion of the day evident in the way she had slumped into the soft bedding.

"Comfy?" he teased gently, his tone a mix of amusement and affection. He reached out and ruffled her hair, his fingers briefly touching her forehead.

Y/n mumbled an affirmative reply, her words barely intelligible as she mumbled into the pillows. "Mmmhmm..." was all she managed to get out, her eyes still closed, and her body snuggled deep into the bed.

Charles smiled at her sleepy reply, finding her exhaustion endearing. He continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as she nuzzled into the pillows, almost melting into the bedding.

"You look like you're ready to hibernate," he teased her again, his tone gentle but amused. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair once more, his touch tender but affectionate.

Charles smiled at her lack of reply, amused by her quick transition into sleep. He had barely finished speaking when he saw her body relax further into the bed, her breath evening out into the slow rhythm of sleep.

He chuckled softly, realizing she had fallen asleep mid-conversation. He stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the light switch, flicking it off. The room fell into darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight from outside.

Charles carefully slid into the bed, trying not to disturb Y/n's sleep. Once he was settled, he moved closer to her, gently maneuvering her body so she was pressed against him. His arm curled around her, pulling her close against his chest, and he held her close, her warmth and soft breathing against his skin.

He lay there, awake, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. The soft sound of her breathing was like a lullaby, and he found himself soothed by her closeness.

Charles began to hum softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The melody was slow and soothing, the song a soft rendition of Édith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose." His voice was warm and gentle, the sound reverberating silently in the quiet room.

He continued to hum as he held Y/n close, the sound of his voice mingling with her soft breathing. The melody was a small, comforting addition to the silence, a soothing lullaby only meant for her sleeping form.

As he hummed, his eyes traced her features in the dim light. He could make out the soft curve of her nose, the gentle angle of her jawline, the fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks. She looked peaceful in sleep, her face relaxed and free from the lines and shadows of daytime.

His hold on her was gentle but tight, his arm wrapped firmly around her, keeping her close. The feel of her body against his was comforting, a steady reminder that she was there, safe in his arms.

Charles's voice trailed off as he finished singing the final note of "La Vie en Rose." He let the silence settle for a moment, his breath a soft sigh against her hair.

Then, he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness, "God, if only you knew how much I love you. If only you weren't so dense." His tone was affectionate yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Charles continued to hold Y/n close, his eyes still on her face, even in the dim moonlight. He whispered softly to himself, his words barely a sound.

"One day," he muttered, his voice a whisper. "I'll tell you one day."

His voice was filled with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. He knew confessing wouldn't be easy, and the fear of rejection was a constant gnawing in the back of his mind. Yet, the need to tell her how he felt was growing more powerful by the day.

For now, though, he'd continue to hold her close, appreciating the quiet intimacy of the moment. He closed his eyes, listening to her steady breathing, and willed himself to sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 8:16 AM

Y/n stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open. The room was filled with the soft morning light, and for a moment she was disoriented. Then she became aware of her surroundings, the realization that she wasn't in her own bed slowly dawning on her.

She sat up, her head still fuzzy from sleep, and her eyes widened as she saw not Charles but Leo lying next to her, in the same spot Charles had been the night before.

The sight of Leo sleeping peacefully made her blink, a rush of surprise and confusion going through her heart. A million questions raced through her mind. Where was Charles? Was this a dream? But she quickly became aware that this was very real, and Leo was indeed sharing the bed with her.

Y/n's hand moved almost on its own, gently reaching out to stroke Leo's head. The soft fur felt warm under her fingers, a stark contrast to the cool sheets she had just woken up from.

Leo stirred slightly at her touch, his head nuzzling closer to her hand. He let out a soft, contented sigh, still mostly asleep.

She scooted closer to Leo on the bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep but her curiosity stirring. "Leo," she whispered, her voice soft yet a hint of worry in her tone. "Do you know where Charles went?"

Leo blinked open his eyes slowly, his intelligent gaze meeting hers. He yawned widely, showing off his little tongue before tilting his head to one side, clearly not understanding her question.

Y/n's head whipped around at the sound of a laugh, and her eyes met Charles's form standing in the doorway. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw that he was okay and had not disappeared into thin air.

"You're here," she said, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking the last tendrils of sleep from her mind. "Where did you go? And why is Leo in the bed?"

Charles chuckled at her question, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He walked over to the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I went to get us both some coffee," he explained, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to where Y/n was still sitting.

"And as for Leo," he added with a smirk, "he just wanted to keep you company."

Leo had also perked up at the sound of Charles's voice, his tail thumping softly against the sheets. He let out another soft sigh before stretching out, rolling onto his back and exposing his stomach.

Charles took a sip of his coffee, his eyes watching Y/n and Leo with fond amusement. "Seems like he's quite comfortable here," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of humor.

Y/n yawned and stretched slightly, her eyes still half-focused on Leo's adorable form on the bed. Her gaze then flicked to Charles, a sleepy smile on her lips. "Well," she teased, her voice still raspy with sleep, "who wouldn't be? Your bed is huge."

Charles chuckled at her comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess I have a lot of room to share," he replied, his tone lighthearted. He took another sip of his coffee, savoring the hot liquid.

"It's a good thing," he added, his tone becoming a bit more serious. "It means I have enough space for both you and Leo." He reached out, his fingers gently scratching behind Leo's ear, earning a soft, satisfied whine from the dachshund.

"See? He likes the bed," he said, his tone softening as his gaze met Y/n's again. He put down his coffee on the bedside table, his eyes studying her face. "How'd you sleep?"

Y/n took a moment to consider his question, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I slept well," she answered, her voice still a bit dazed from sleep. "Although, I admit waking up to Leo instead of you was a bit of a shocker."

Charles chuckled at her reply, his shoulders shaking slightly with the sound. "Sorry about that," he apologized, his tone slightly sheepish. "I didn't want to wake you, and I didn't expect Leo to take my place so quickly."

Leo, as if sensing they were talking about him, let out a small, tired 'woof' before rolling over onto his front, his paws sticking out adorably. He let out another sigh, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

Charles bent down and patted Leo's head gently, his smile widening at the dog's adorable display. "Looks like I've been replaced," he joked, his tone playful but laced with a hint of affection.

Y/n chuckled softly, her eyes watching the interaction between Charles and Leo. "Looks like you have," she agreed, her tone light and amused. She reached out a hand, scratching behind Leo's other ear, eliciting another soft whine of contentment from the dachshund.

She pushed the covers off, reluctantly leaving the warm, comfortable bed. With a small groan of sleepiness, she stood up, the cold hardwood floor against her bare feet.

"I'm going to go use the bathroom," she announced, her voice still hoarse from sleep. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning widely as she made her way across the room.

Charles watched her as she moved across the room, her sleepy form padding towards the bathroom. "Take your time," he said, his tone gentle. "I'll be here when you're back."

Y/n nodded, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. "I won't be long," she said, her voice still half-slurred from sleep. She pushed open the bathroom door and disappeared inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, turning his attention to Leo, who was now rolling back and forth on the bed, seemingly enjoying every inch of the large expanse of sheets. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, reaching out to scratch the dog's belly gently.

Charles's hand continued to rub Leo's stomach, his eyes watching the dachshund lazily rolling around. His question hung in the air, the weight of it echoing around in his mind.

His expression softened, and he spoke softly, his voice just above a murmur, "When do I tell her?"

He hadn't expected a response from a dog, but speaking his thoughts out loud helped to somehow organize them in his mind. The sound of Y/n moving around in the bathroom filtered through the door, background noise to his contemplation.

Charles sighed, the weight of his feelings for her seeming to get heavier with each passing day. The need to tell her how he felt was becoming more urgent, the words threatening to spill out at any moment. But the fear of her rejection, the possibility of losing her friendship... it was enough to keep him holding his tongue.

As the moment passed, he shook his head slightly, forcing the thoughts away for now. Y/n would be out of the bathroom soon, and he didn't want her to see him too lost in his own thoughts.

He turned his attention back to Leo, continuing to rub the dog's stomach, the repetitive motion helping to soothe his own restless thoughts.

The sound of the bathroom door opening brought his attention back to the present. He looked up to see Y/n exit the bathroom, her hair slightly less mussed now. She walked back to the bed, her steps a bit less sleepy than before.

"Feel better?" Charles asked, his voice still a soft murmur. He watched her approach, the morning light from the window casting her figure into a soft golden glow.

Y/n nodded in reply, a small, satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, much better," she answered, her voice clearer now, having lost the sleep-induced huskiness. She collapsed back onto the bed, the soft sheets welcoming her tired form back into their embrace.

She scooped up Leo, her hands gently holding the dachshund's small body against her chest. She cradled him against her, his soft fur rubbing against her bare skin. Leo let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling closer to her neck, his warmth and scent offering her comfort.

Y/n looked down at Leo, her fingers gently stroking the soft fur on his head. A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she whispered, "Oh, you're my little baby, aren't you?" she cooed, her tone soft and affectionate.

Leo's ears perked up at her words, his small head lifting from where it was resting at her neck. He let out a soft whine, as if in agreement.

Charles watched the interaction between Y/n and Leo, his heart skipping a beat at her use of the word 'baby'. The casualness with which she used it, the affection in her voice... it made something stir within him.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, a mix of fondness and subtle jealousy swirling within him.

The word 'baby' echoed in his mind. He wanted to hear her say it to him, longed to have that affectionate tone directed towards him. But he pushed the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell too long on his own unrequited feelings.

He chuckled softly, his tone purposefully lighthearted, "Looks like Leo's got a new favorite."

Y/n looked up at Charles with a playful, mock-mean expression, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What do you mean, 'new favorite?' I've always been Leo's favorite," she declared, her voice carrying a hint of playful defensiveness.

Leo seemed to sense the playfulness in her tone. He let out a soft 'woof,' his little tail wagging fiercely as if agreeing with her statement.

She stuck out her tongue defiantly at Charles, her tone playful but laced with a hint of satisfaction. "He loves me more than you," she stated, holding up Leo as if to prove her point.

Leo seemed to know he was the center of their playful argument. He let out a soft whine, his head tilting from side to side as if unable to pick a side.

Charles feigned hurt, placing a hand over his chest in mock-shock. "Ouch," he joked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine amusement. He raised an eyebrow at Y/n, playing along with her banter.

"Traitor," he muttered jokingly to Leo, though his eyes were still on Y/n, the sparkle of humor dancing in them.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, a hand rubbing his chin in thought. "Unfortunately," he said, his tone laced with a slight hint of disappointment, "the café is closed today."

He paused for a moment, mulling over his next words before continuing, "Apparently, the owner is having his birthday party, and he's given all his employees the day off."

Y/n's expression mirrored Charles's disappointment, a small pout on her lips. "That's a shame," she replied, her voice softer, the playful banter from before replaced by a genuine hint of disappointment.

She looked down at Leo, who was now lying comfortably on her lap, his little eyes closing as if falling back asleep. "I was looking forward to their pastries," she added, her tone slightly wistful.

Charles reassured her with a small smile, his tone hopeful. "It's okay," he said, his words gentle, "We can stay here for now, and later we can go out for brunch."

He shifted slightly, turning his body to face her more directly, the morning light bathing them both in a soft, warm glow.

"Besides," he added, his tone a hint more playful, "we can have Leo all to ourselves for longer. He seems quite content right where he is." He nodded towards the dachshund, who was still lying peacefully in her lap, now fast asleep and lightly snoring.

Y/n looked down at Leo with a soft smile, her fingers gently scratching behind the dachshund's ear. "But is it normal for puppies to sleep this much?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

Leo stirred slightly, his little nose twitching as if sensing they were talking about him, but he continued to sleep, his tiny paws moving occasionally in his dreams.

Charles nodded in confirmation, a small smile on his lips as the memories of Leo's earlier antics filled his mind. "Yup," he confirmed, his tone casual. "He had a major case of the zoomies this morning. Running laps around the living room, barking, the whole nine yards."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of disbelief coloring her voice. "I slept through that?" she asked, her tone laced with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Charles chuckled at her reaction, nodding. "Oh, yeah," he confirmed, his voice slightly amused, "You were out like a light."

"You were completely oblivious to all the commotion," he added, a hint of fond admiration in his voice. "Leo was running circles around the room, barking like his little heart was about to burst, and you didn't even twitch."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Charles trying to wrangle a hyperactive puppy while she blissfully slept through the chaos. "I feel like I should apologize," she said between giggles, "but it's also kind of funny that I missed out on all the fun."

Charles chuckled along with her, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the memory. "It was a sight to behold," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Honestly, I didn't know what to do with him. He was like a little tornado, zooming around the room at top speed."

"I tried to get him to calm down a bit," he confessed, "but he was having way too much fun. He was chasing his own tail, running into walls, yipping and barking like he'd just discovered the meaning of life."

Y/n looked down at Leo, her initial shock replaced by a soft, affectionate smile. "Poor baby," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle. "He must be exhausted."

She gently stroked the sleeping dachshund's head, her fingers gently running through his soft, short fur.

Leo stirred slightly in his sleep, his little nose wrinkling as if in response to her touch. His eyes remained closed, but he let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling deeper into Y/n's lap.

Y/n looked up at Charles, a soft yawn escaping her lips. "Can I go back to sleep for a bit?" she asked, her voice still a bit drowsy.

Charles smiled, nodding gently. "Of course," he replied, his tone reassuring. "You can sleep for as long as you want. Leo and I will be right here when you wake up."

Y/n's shoulders relaxed in relief, her tiredness seeming to overtake her. She let out another, wider yawn, her eyelids already starting to droop. "Thanks," she murmured, her words slightly slurred with sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 10:21 AM

He gently shakes Y/n's shoulder, drawing her from the pleasant world of dreams. "Y/n," he says softly, his voice warm and gentle. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's time to get ready."

Y/n slowly opens her eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her. She blinks a few times, her vision clearing, and meets Charles's gaze. "Already?" she mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep.

Charles nods, a small smile on his face. "Yep," he confirms. "I'm all set, and Leo's ready too."

He gestures towards Leo, who is now sitting by the bed, his little ears perked up and his tail wagging as if he understands the conversation.

Charles nods patiently, his smile still in place. "Sure," he replies, "Take your time. I'll wait for you here with Leo."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, and with a last, lingering glance at the duo, she heads into the bathroom to freshen up.

A few minutes later, Y/n poked her head out from the bathroom door, her hair still slightly damp. "Charlie," she called, her voice carrying through the open door, "Can you grab my dress for me? I left it on the bed in the guest room. I had it all ready last night before I fell asleep."

Charles looked up from where he had been playing with Leo, the dachshund now chewing on one of his shoes. "Sure thing," he replied, standing up and heading towards the guest room.

He navigated his way into the spacious guest room, the bed neat and tidy, the dress laid out meticulously on top. He picked up the dress, his eyes running over the delicate fabric and the design that Y/n had chosen.

He took a moment to appreciate the dress before walking back towards the bathroom, the dress safely in his hands. As he approached the bathroom door, he knocked gently, alerting Y/n of his arrival.

"I've got the dress," he called out, his voice soft so as not to startle her. He waited for a moment, giving her a chance to respond before proceeding.

Y/n peeps out from the bathroom door once more, a warm smile on her face. "Thank you, Charlie," she says, genuinely appreciative of his help.

Charles smiles back at her, holding the dress out for her to take. "You're welcome," he replies, his voice gentle. He takes a moment to appreciate the view of her standing there in the doorway, the morning sunlight catching the wet strands of her hair and making them sparkle.

He hands her the dress, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. There's a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Leo's soft panting and the distant hum of city life outside.

Y/n emerges from the bathroom, the soft fabric of her dress falling gently around her legs. She smooths out any wrinkles, adjusting the straps and hemlines until she is satisfied.

Looking up at Charles, she says, "All ready," her voice cheerful despite the early hour.

Charles does a slow, subtle scan of her appearance, his gaze taking in the way the dress hugs her figure and accentuates her curves. He can't help the small appreciative smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Y/n scoops up Leo, the dachshund snuggling comfortably against her chest. She grabs her phone from the bedside table and gives Charles's hand a firm pull, practically dragging him towards the door.

"Let's go," she urges, her tone full of eagerness.

Charles chuckles at her eagerness, allowing himself to be led by Y/n, their hands still linked together, and follows her towards the door. Leo lets out a soft little bark as if cheering them on.

The three of them head out into the hallway, Charles keeping pace beside Y/n as they make their way towards the front door. The soft pat-pat of their footsteps and the occasional squeak from Leo were the only sounds in the apartment.

They reach the front door, and Charles holds it open for Y/n and Leo, a gentlemanly gesture that seems almost second nature to him. "After you," he says, his tone light but filled with affectionate warmth.

Y/n grins at his old-fashioned chivalry, passing through the open doorway with Leo in her arms. "Why, thank you," she says, her words tinged with affectionate amusement.

Charles follows, letting go of the door as it closes behind him. He falls into step beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. "No problem," he replies, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a small, private smile.

She notices Charles's unwavering gaze and asks, a hint of curiosity and amusement in her voice. "What? Is there something on my face? You've been staring at me the whole way down."

Charles's smile widens, caught in the act. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before replying, "No, no, nothing on your face. I was just watching you with Leo. You two are so cute together."

Y/n smiles, her gaze shifting down to Leo in her arms, who is oblivious to the conversation. "Oh, yeah," she says, a hint of pride in her voice, "We do make a pretty cute pair, don't we?"

He nods in agreement, his gaze shifting to both Y/n and Leo in her arms. "Absolutely," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You and Leo are the cutest pair I've ever seen."

His eyes dart between Y/n and the dog, taking in the sight of the dachshund, so completely at ease in her arms. The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby, and he steps out, holding the door open for Y/n and Leo once more.

They step out into the lobby, the world outside the glass doors filled with the sounds of the city. Charles leads them out into the street, the sun warm and bright. As they walk, he can't help but glance at Y/n every so often, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.

The pair walk down the street, crossing intersections and passing by shops and cafes. Leo stays snuggled in Y/n's arms, his little head resting on her shoulder. Y/n and Charles walk quietly beside each other, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by a comment or a soft laugh.

They reach an open-air café, the outdoor seats under a shady tree filled with people enjoying their breakfast. Charles pulls out a chair for Y/n, gesturing for her to sit, his chivalry still very much in play.

"Have a seat," he says, his tone warm and gentle. "I'll go get us some breakfast menus."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, settling down on the comfortable chair with Leo still in her arms. She watches as Charles makes his way towards the counter, weaving through the tables and chairs with ease.

He reaches the counter, chatting with the employee behind it and perusing the menu on the wall. After a few moments, he returns with two breakfast menus, a smile on his face.

He hands one of the menus to Y/n and takes a seat across from her, a small gap between their chairs. He opens his own menu, his eyes scanning over the options. Leo stretches in Y/n's lap, his little arms and legs stretching out as he lets out a soft yawn.

Y/n grins at the sight, her fingers absently running through Leo's soft fur. She looks at her own menu, her eyes darting over the various breakfast items. "So many choices," she muses, her tone a mix of amusement and slight indecision.

Charles glances up from his own menu, a lopsided smile on his face. "Tell me about it," he agrees, a small huff of laughter escaping him. "I don't know if I want pancakes, eggs, or just a straight-up bowl of bacon."

Y/n laughs, imagining the sight of a plate stacked high with bacon. "A bowl of bacon does sound tempting," she replies, her tone jokingly serious. "But it might not be the best choice for breakfast."

Charles laughs along with her, the sound filling the space between them. "True," he concedes. "I don't think I want to start the day with a heart attack waiting to happen."

He looks back down at the menu, his expression thoughtful. "How about waffles?" he suggests, the word coming out slowly as if he's mulling over the idea.

Y/n considers the suggestion for a moment, her lips curving into a small, approving smile. "Waffles sound good," she agrees, nodding her head in agreement. "But only if they come with extra syrup."

Charles grins at her request, his eyes lighting up in amusement. "Extra syrup? That's non-negotiable," he clarifies, his tone still lighthearted. "Waffles without enough syrup are just sad, cold pancakes."

Y/n laughs in agreement, the sound ringing out around them. "Exactly," she says, a firm nod of her head. "Syrup is the most important part of a waffle. Without it, it's just a waste of carbs."

He wags a finger at her in a playful manner, his tone half-serious. "You know, I'm starting to think you just have a thing for sweet things. Coffee with too much sugar, syrup on everything..."

Y/n grins slyly, feigning ignorance. "Me? A sweet tooth?" she replies, her tone innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just like my food to have actual flavor."

Charles gives her a mock-skeptical look, a small chuckle escaping him. "Oh, really now? So that time last week when we shared a cheesecake and you almost went into a sugar coma..."

She laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That was for scientific purposes only," she clarifies, her tone light and playful. "I was testing my body's tolerance to sugar. It's all in the name of science."

Charles rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, his tone equally light. "Right, because science always requires two whole slices of cheesecake to be eaten in one sitting."

Y/n raises a finger in the air, a mock-serious expression on her face. "Science demands dedication," she says, her tone bordering on solemn, though her eyes still sparkle with amusement. "It's not my fault that cheesecake is the perfect medium for testing."

Charles watches her, his expression is fond and affectionate. He's so used to her antics and quick wit that even her playful arguments are endearing to him.

"Alright," he concedes, a small, affectionate sigh leaving his lips. "You win this round, scientific genius."

Y/n grins, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "I win every round, Charlie," she retorts, her tone smug. "It's a curse, really. My powers of logic and science-based reasoning are just too much for mere mortals like yourself to handle."

Charles laughs, shaking his head in good-natured defeat. "I should've known better than to argue with a genius," he admits, his tone filled with amusement. "From now on, I'll just stick to nodding along and agreeing with everything you say. Much easier that way."

May 27, 2024 - 11:42 AM

After they're done with their breakfast, Charles pays the bill and they head out of the café, Leo snuggles comfortably in Y/n's arms. As they walk back to Charles' place, he can't help but steal small glances at Y/n and Leo, his heart swelling with affection.

Leo gives a soft yip of recognition as they approach the apartment building, and wiggles in Y/n's arms, eager to get back to the familiar surroundings.

They enter the elevator, the metal walls gleaming in the harsh artificial light. Charles stands close to Y/n, Leo's weight between them, their arms occasionally grazing against each other.

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival at Charles' floor, and they make their way to his door, Leo's little paws tapping eagerly against the plush carpeted floor.

They enter the apartment, the door closing behind them with a resounding thud. Y/n sets Leo down, and he immediately barrels off, small paws thudding against the floor as he scurries into the living room, a little ball of energy.

Charles shuts the door behind them, his eyes lingering on Y/n for a moment before looking away, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

He clears his throat, the blush on his neck deepening slightly. "So, Y/n, I was wondering... when will you be driving back to France?"

His voice wavers slightly at the mention of her leaving, his heart heavy at the thought of not having her around. But he tries to hide it, maintaining a casual tone.

Y/n glances at her watch, her expression thoughtful. "I should be leaving for France before 5PM today," she replies, her tone firm. "The roads can get busy, so I want to make sure I have plenty of time."

Charles nods, a faint feeling of dread settling in his stomach. "Right, right," he says, forcing a small smile. "Gotta beat the traffic." He tries to match her casual tone, but the tightness of his voice betrays his emotions.

Y/n senses the change in his demeanor and steps closer, her voice softer now. "Don't worry, Charlie," she says, meeting his gaze. "I'll be back before you know it. And we can FaceTime every night until then. It's not like I'm disappearing off the face of the Earth."

She gives him a reassuring grin, her own heart heavy at the thought of leaving him behind. But she knows they need to face this reality, and her determination overrides her sadness.

Charles looks at her, his expression a mix of relief and sadness. "Yeah," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. FaceTime will be great. We'll stay in touch. And I'll plan our next movie marathon for when you're back."

He gives her a lopsided smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Just... promise me you'll drive safe, yeah?"

Y/n smiles, a genuine warmth radiating from her eyes. "You know I will, Charlie. Promise," she assures him. "And we're definitely having a movie marathon the moment I'm back. Just keep the popcorn ready."

He nods, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know I always have popcorn ready," he says, his voice tinged with affection. "And we might as well make a day of it. Pizza, popcorn, the whole nine yards."

Charles glances at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, the hands ticking softly, the rhythmic sound echoing in the small space. "You still have about five hours before you need to leave," he points out, his tone thoughtful.

He looks back at Y/n, his expression hopeful. "How about we watch a movie? Take our minds off the fact that you're leaving for a bit?" He offers her a small smile, the invitation genuine.

Y/n smiles, a bright sparkle lighting up her eyes. "That sounds like a great idea, Charlie!" she exclaims, a hint of excitement in her tone. "You make the popcorn. I'll pick the movie."

Charles nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. "You got it," he says, his tone light. "I'll whip up some popcorn. You get the movie set up. Just don't pick something too depressing, yeah? I don't think I can handle both of us feeling sad."

Y/n laughs, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, I have impeccable taste in movies," she retorts, her tone laced with mock-affronted humor. "I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to a depressing film. We'll stick to feel-good, laugh-a-minute kind of stuff. We can save the melodrama for another day."

She makes her way over to the couch, the soft cushions beckoning her. She takes a seat, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable. The sound of the grandfather clock continues, marking the passing of time, as Y/n scrolls through the movies on the TV, searching for the perfect film to suit the mood.

"Hey, Charlie!" Y/n's voice rings out across the room, her tone light and playful. "I've got two options here: 'Mamma Mia!' or 'Wild Child'. What do you feel like watching?"

Charles appears through the kitchen door, a bowl of fresh popcorn in his hands. He chuckles at her shouts, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, both sound tempting," he muses, his tone light. "But let's go for 'Mamma Mia'. Can't go wrong with some ABBA, right?"

Y/n grins, nodding excitedly. "You read my mind, Charlie. We can't pass up ABBA on our movie night. It's a crime against good taste." She taps a few buttons on her phone, queuing up 'Mamma Mia!' on their streaming service.

Charles hands her the bowl of popcorn, his fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting moment of contact. He settles down beside her, a comfortable distance between them, as the opening credits of 'Mamma Mia!' begin to roll. They munch on the popcorn and lose themselves in the familiar tunes and lighthearted storyline, enjoying the shared moment together.

As the movie plays on, Y/n finds herself singing along to the ABBA classics, her voice light and slightly off-key, filling the room with a contagious joy. Charles joins in too, his tone deeper and more confident, harmonizing with Y/n's vocals. They laugh at the cheesy jokes and dance along to the catchy songs, their worries momentarily forgotten in the shared fun of the musical.

May 27, 2024 - 4:22 PM

As the credits roll, and 'Hamilton' comes to a close, Y/n catches sight of the digital clock on the side table. The bright red numerals read '4:22 PM', and a sense of unease washes over her.

"Four-twenty-two?" she exclaims, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "Damn, how did time slip away so fast? I need to get going soon."

Charles glances at the clock, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. "You're right," he nods, his tone tinged with regret. "We need to get you back on the road soon. Can't have you driving after sunset." He rises from the couch, gesturing towards the guest room. "Let's get your things ready."

In the guest room, Charles helps Y/n pack her clothes efficiently. They work together in a comfortable silence, their movements synchronized. Charles carefully folds Y/n's clothes and tucks them into her suitcase, his touch gentle and efficient.

As they work, the atmosphere in the room is tinged with a sense of nostalgia and a hint of sadness. Although they're focused on the task at hand, they're both aware of the impending separation looming over them.

Y/n's gaze occasionally meets Charles as they pack, the unspoken emotions lingering between them. Charles steals glances at her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. Y/n, too, finds herself stealing glances at him, her heart growing heavier with every item packed.

Once the suitcase is packed, Charles closes it with a gentle click, securing the zipper. He steps back, his gaze meeting Y/n's with a mixture of sadness and affection. "All set?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper as if he's reluctant to break the comfortable silence that has settled between them.

Y/n looks at him, her gaze filled with an unspoken emotion, a mix of yearning and bittersweet acceptance. "Yeah," she says softly, her words barely above a whisper. "I think so. Just one more thing to do."

Without hesitation, she closes the distance between them, enveloping Charles in a tight hug. Charles wraps his arms around her, holding her close. The embrace feels like an unspoken promise, a silent assurance of their connection despite the physical separation that awaits them soon.

They stay like that for a few moments, and the world around them seems to fade away. For those brief seconds, time stands still, and they allow themselves to savor the warmth and solace of each other's presence. Eventually, Y/n pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting Charles's in a silent understanding. It's time for her to leave.

"I should get going," she says, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and determination. Charles nods, understanding the finality of the moment. "Alright," he whispers, his voice a tender caress against the stillness. "Drive safely, okay? And don't forget to FaceTime me tonight."

"Of course," Y/n confirms, her voice steady despite the pang of heartache. "As soon as I get settled, we'll FaceTime. You can't get rid of me that easily." A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a bittersweet expression that echoes the emotions swirling within her.

Charles smiles, mirroring Y/n's bittersweet expression. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says softly, his fingers gently brushing a stray hair away from her face. "Until tonight, Y/n. Drive safely, and I'll be here waiting for your call."

May 27, 2024 - 5:42 PM

Y/n's car pulls into the parking lot of her apartment building in France. As she parks, a sense of familiarity washes over her, the sight of the place she calls home comforting after the long journey. But there's an emptiness, too, a void that she knows will only be filled once she's reunited with Charles.

Gathering her belongings, she steps out of the car, the familiar scent of the French countryside filling her senses. For a moment, she just stands there, soaking in the surroundings, a mix of emotions swirling within her - excitement to be home, sadness at the prospect of being away from Charles.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape. Y/n takes a deep breath, the cool evening air filling her lungs, and she starts walking toward her apartment building.

As she approaches the entrance, a bittersweet pang tugs at her heart. The thought of being separated from Charles for days, maybe even weeks, is daunting, but she knows they can weather this distance.

Y/n dives into her unpacking routine, meticulously organizing her things. However, she keeps getting side-tracked; a stack of books needing proper arrangement, a pile of photos requiring categorization, or a collection of trinkets demanding specific display spots.

As a result, she doesn't notice how time ticks away as she turns her simple unpacking task into a full apartment makeover.

By the time she checked the clock, 4 hours had passed. Her apartment looks spick and span, but she's only unpacked about half of her luggage. She lets out a laugh; it seems unpacking and cleaning were just covered for an impromptu interior design overhaul.

As Y/n finishes up the last of her unpacking, a sudden realization hits her. Her toiletry bag, a staple for any extended stay, is nowhere to be found. She recalls leaving it behind in Monaco. Frustration and disbelief flit across her face, the inconvenience of the situation sinking in.

Y/n stands in her spotless bathroom, torn between two unappealing options: going a night without brushing her teeth or making a late-night trip to the store for a new toothbrush. The thought of sacrificing oral hygiene isn't all that appealing, but neither is the idea of stepping out in the brisk evening air to buy new tooth-cleaning supplies.

Just as Y/n contemplates skipping her evening teeth-cleaning session, a sharp pang of longing for Charles hits out of nowhere. It catches her off guard, the realization of being separated from him sinking in once again. The empty toothbrush holder on the bathroom counter seems to echo the emptiness she feels without his presence

Suddenly, the truth hits Y/n with the force of a freight train. The feeling of having left something behind wasn't about a toothbrush at all; it was the poignant realization of leaving Charles behind in Monaco. Their separation weighs heavily on her heart, and in that moment, she misses his presence more than ever.

Y/n finds herself gazing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a sudden clarity dawning on her. A profound understanding washes over her as she whispers quietly to herself, "I love him."

The words hang in the air, echoing in the silent apartment. The realization brings a flood of emotions: joy, vulnerability, relief, and a sense of finally acknowledging what has been there all along. She loves Charles with a depth and intensity that leaves her breathless.

Without a second thought, Y/n hastily snatches her phone and car keys from the kitchen counter. She dashes through the darkened apartment, hastily flicking off lights and unplugging appliances as she goes.

Within minutes, she's out the door, the cool evening air enveloping her as she steps outdoors. A sense of urgency fuels her stride as she makes her way towards the parking lot, each step carrying her closer to the road that will bridge the physical distance between her and Charles.

Y/n's hands grip the steering wheel as she navigates the darkening streets, her heart beating with anticipation. The night is deep, but the city lights guide her way as she drives towards Monaco.

The prospect of seeing Charles again fuels her determination, her foot growing heavier on the pedal as she presses onward. Every mile feels like an eternity, but she knows that each one brings her closer to the moment when she'll be reunited with the one person who truly matters.

Her thoughts wander, imagining the moment when she'll see Charles. How his eyes will light up, or the warm embrace they'll share. The images fuel her determination to keep driving faster, to bridge the distance that separates them just a little bit quicker. The cityscape whizzes by, but she's resolute in her goal: to be with Charles once more.

May 27, 2024 - 11:09 PM

As Y/n stands outside Charles's door, a rush of emotions washes over her. Her heart races, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before finally knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles against the wood echoes in the quiet night.

Y/n braces herself, unsure of what awaits on the other side. Will Charles be surprised? Happy? Relieved? The anticipation gnaws at her, building with every passing second.

The sound of soft footsteps approaches from inside, and then the door swings open, revealing a bewildered Charles. He stares at Y/n in disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and delight. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" he queries, his voice tinged with both surprise and warmth.

Y/n musters up a shaky explanation, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and slight hesitation. "I... I left my toiletry bag here," she stammers, her words tumbling out in a hurry. "I didn't realize until after I had unpacked and organized my things. And, well, here I am." She flashes a sheepish smile, trying to downplay the fact that she drove all the way back just for her toiletry bag.

Charles stands dumbfounded for a beat, his mind trying to process the situation. But then, a slow grin spreads across his face. "You drove all the way back... for your toiletry bag?" he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. Despite the unconventional reason for her visit, he can't help but find the situation charming in its absurdity.

Y/n gathers her courage and blurts out her true feelings, the words spilling forth in a rush. "I... I missed you," she confesses, her voice filled with a mixture of earnestness and vulnerability. "I know it sounds crazy, but being separated from you, even for a few hours, felt unbearable. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing."

Her words come out in a rush, her emotions spilling over. "God dammit, Charles, I love you!" She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as the words escape her lips, laying her heart bare in front of him. The vulnerability and intensity behind her confession hang in the air between them.

He doesn't waste a moment, pulling Y/n inside and pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. There's a sense of relief and longing in his touch, the realization that their separation was unbearable for both of them. Y/n clings to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, matching his fervor and intensity.

Charles pulls away just enough to meet Y/n's gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. His voice carries a hint of awe as he continues, "You have no idea how long I've prayed for this moment. That maybe, just maybe, you felt something for me too."

His confession hangs in the air, the sincerity in his tone washing over Y/n like a wave of emotions.

Y/n's heart swells with a rush of emotions as Charles's words sink in. The longing she had tried to deny was mirrored in his own confession.

"I prayed for this too," she admits, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and tenderness. "I didn't realize the extent of my own feelings until the moment we said goodbye. The thought of being apart... it was unbearable. And now, here you are, saying what I've been too afraid to put into words."

Charles leans in for another lingering kiss, breaking away just long enough to ask, "Can you stay the night? I don't want to be apart from you any longer. Please." His voice is filled with a mixture of tenderness and longing, silently pleading for a positive response.

Y/n smiles, her heart filled with warmth and anticipation. "Yes," she whispers, the words barely above a breath as her lips brush against his. "I'll stay the night. Nothing would make me happier than being with you, right here, right now."

He gently pulls Y/n towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers as they make their way through the apartment. Once inside, he locks the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

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