#i imagine they use he/him for her off screen trust me i was there

[kritterjitter]

trans squirrelflight is something that can be so personal

[moonlightwritingf1]

First Time | LN4

❤︎ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds out Y/N is a virgin.

❤︎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❤︎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.3k

❤︎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f receiving)

Based on this request.

Friday night settled over London with a quiet hush, the city lights flickering in the distance and the occasional sound of cars passing below Y/n’s apartment building. Although the night was still and cool, a charged warmth filled the cozy living room. She sat on the edge of her couch, legs tucked beneath her, trying to focus on the movie playing on the TV screen. But it was impossible. Not when Lando Norris was sitting just inches away from her, his presence like a magnet pulling at every nerve in her body.

It had been two months since they’d officially started dating, and yet, the tension between them still crackled like a live wire. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh—it all felt charged with something unspoken. Something waiting to burst free.

Lando leaned back into the cushions, one arm casually draped behind her. His fingers traced lazy patterns along the fabric of the couch, dangerously close to brushing against her shoulder. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It made her stomach twist in the best possible way.

Lando studied Y/N’s features in silence, his gaze lingering as if he were trying to decipher a puzzle. He noticed the subtle tension around her eyes, the delicate way her lashes fluttered as she blinked, and the gentle parting of her lips with each soft breath. The slight flush on her cheeks hinted at something more—nerves, maybe, or a thought she wasn’t sharing.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, as if afraid to break whatever spell she seemed to be under. “You doing okay? You seem a little distracted.” 

Y/n swallowed. “I’m fine,” she replied quickly. She noticed her own voice sounded defensive. “Just… I was thinking about work. It was a long week.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Meetings, calls, deadlines… not as glamorous as I used to think a normal nine-to-five would be.” A teasing spark lit his eyes. “At least you’re off the clock now,” he added, his lips curving into a soft smile.

Y/n found herself smiling despite her nerves. There was something about his tone—soft and playful at once—that disarmed her. This was why she had let him in, despite all her reservations. His earnestness, the puppy-like devotion in his gaze. He was so unlike the rumors—so unlike how she once imagined him to be.

She stood up abruptly, the need to put a little distance between them overwhelming her for a moment. “Want some tea? I can put the kettle on,” she offered, forcing herself to sound casual.

A small frown tugged at Lando’s brows, but he quickly covered it with a smile. “Sure, I’d love some.”

While she busied herself in the kitchen, Lando took a moment to look around her apartment. It was modest—comfortable and intimate, with personal touches here and there: books carefully arranged on a shelf, a photograph of her parents near the TV, soft throw blankets on the sofa. He couldn’t help picturing how often she might curl up under those blankets, reading a novel after a long day. He yearned to be there during those quiet moments, to share them with her, to make her life a little less lonely.

The clink of the kettle switching off caught his attention. Y/n returned shortly, two mugs of steaming tea in hand. She handed one to him and then sat back down on the couch, leaving only a cushion’s width of space between them. The delicate scent of chamomile filled the air.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking a slow sip. “You’re too good to me.”

“Trust me,” she said with a small laugh, “I’m not. You just make it so easy to want to do something for you, seeing as you’re always doing things for me.”

Y/n’s mind wandered briefly to the memory of him sending her all those gifts—flowers, perfumes, expensive clothes that made her squeak in shock when she saw the price tags. She had been torn between excitement and embarrassment, but also a bit of suspicion. There was this question that kept haunting her: Could Lando be serious? She needed more than sweet gestures and pretty words. She needed true depth, true commitment. And if he wasn’t that kind of man, she’d rather know now than be hurt later.

Lando watched her expression shift, as if lost in thought. Ever perceptive, he set his mug down. “Y/n,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I can see it in your eyes that something’s bothering you. Is it us… or something else?”

She offered him a tentative smile. “I’m just… still adjusting to us, I think. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

He couldn’t hide the relief that seemed to soften his features. “I understand,” he said, reaching out and gingerly placing a hand on her knee. “I know I might come on strong, but you have to believe me—I’m in this. No matter what.”

She placed her hand over his. His words chipped away at some of her armor, and she felt a stirring of warmth that had little to do with the tea. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting her thumb brush over his knuckles.

Time felt suspended. The city noises outside turned into nothing but a faint backdrop. In the hush of her living room, the only sounds were their breath, their quiet laughter, and the hum of electricity in the background.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to lighter topics: a fun memory from Lando’s last race weekend in Europe, a comedic mishap at Y/n’s office that had everyone trying to fix a computer glitch that turned out to be user error. The atmosphere grew playful again, but a current of tension remained, rolling through the space between them like a gathering storm.

They inched closer until their shoulders touched. Lando placed a finger beneath her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his. His voice was a whisper in the stillness. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Y/n’s lips parted, a bashful chuckle escaping her. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he murmured, leaning in, close enough to brush her ear with his breath, “I’m not.”

And then he kissed her. Gentle at first, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the feel of her lips. She responded softly, her heart fluttering. The warmth of his mouth against hers turned every cell in her body alive.

His hands drifted from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer so that no space remained between them. She could feel his heartbeat thrumming against her own. Every time their lips parted, he whispered her name, as though it were a plea and a prayer all at once.

The kiss deepened. His hand went up, tangling in her hair, and a soft moan she couldn’t restrain slipped from her lips. Sensations flooded her: his warmth, his scent—a mix of clean soap and the faintest cologne—his unwavering focus on her and only her.

It wasn’t long before the passion of their kisses caused them both to shift. Lando’s palm skated gently over her waist and up toward her ribs. His lips traveled along her jawline, down her neck, tasting the soft skin there. She clutched at the fabric of his hoodie, eyelids fluttering shut.

The moment felt too perfect, too intense. A fierce desire blossomed in her chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She could feel Lando’s heart racing, or maybe it was her own.

His mouth found hers again, deeper, hungrier this time. When she felt his right hand cup her breast over her sweater, an unexpected jolt of panic mingled with excitement. The swirl of emotions—desire, fear, anticipation—was suddenly overwhelming.

She let out a quiet gasp and quickly placed her hand over his, stopping him in the motion. It wasn’t intentional, the way her body stiffened, the way her breath caught in her throat. Instantly, Lando pulled back, eyes wide and full of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and rough from the heat of the moment. “Did…did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, her cheeks burning, unsure how to explain. She felt her entire face glow with a complex mix of longing and worry. “Lando…” she began, biting her lower lip. She slid her hand into his for a moment, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t rejecting him, but the intensity. “I just…maybe we’re moving too fast right now.”

He nodded, pulling away a little more to give her space. “It’s okay,” he whispered, gently brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “We can slow down, I promise. I don’t ever want you to feel rushed.”

She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. A fresh wave of nerves welled up in her chest—but this time it wasn’t just about caution, it was about her own decision, a burgeoning sense that maybe she was ready to take this leap with him. She’d been holding onto her secret for so long that it almost felt easier to keep the status quo. Yet tonight, something had shifted inside her. She had been convincing herself that her wariness was purely about trust, about not wanting to rush. But if she was honest with herself—truly honest—she wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone.

“There’s… actually something else,” she said in a voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her.

His eyes filled with anxiety. “Talk to me, love. Please.”

She swallowed. “I’m…still a virgin.”

For a moment, the air left the room. Lando stared at her, silently processing, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his face. He exhaled slowly, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re…a virgin?” he repeated quietly, the disbelief evident in his tone. “Wow, I—I’m sorry,” he quickly added, holding up his hands as though in surrender. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just… I’m surprised.”

She nodded stiffly, her gaze fixed on the space between their knees. “I know we’re the same age. I know how it sounds. You probably had…way more experiences than I ever have.” She tensed, voicing the insecurity that had haunted her for months. “I just, I never met someone I trusted enough. Or maybe I was too busy convincing myself I didn’t need it… didn’t need them.”

Lando, still coming to grips with her revelation, took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “Hey,” he said softly, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. And what she saw wasn’t judgment or disinterest—it was gentleness, acceptance… and maybe even awe.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.” He lifted his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “And please don’t feel embarrassed about it.”

She let out a shaky breath, tears threatening to form. “I thought you’d think it’s weird,” she confessed. “You’re so… experienced. You’ve had so many women and—”

“Let’s not talk about them,” he interrupted gently. A slight sadness flickered across his face, as though all the old choices he’d made suddenly seemed trivial or even shameful. “They don’t matter. You do.” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “And I don’t want you to feel any pressure from me.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “Lando, this is… important. But I—” She paused, feeling that swirl of fear in her stomach again. It was now or never. “I think… I’m ready. To be with you,” she admitted, voice barely audible. It was the first time she had truly spoken the words aloud. The admission sent a flush of heat through her entire body.

His eyes widened at her confession. “You’re… ready?” he echoed, as if carefully testing the meaning of those words. Hesitation and tenderness mingled in his expression. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you to do this if you’re not one hundred percent.”

She swallowed, nodding. “I’m sure,” she whispered. A small laugh escaped her, colored by nervousness. “I can’t believe I just said that. But… yes. I—I want this, with you.”

Relief, joy, and something deeper flooded Lando’s features. He reached for her hands again, clasping them between his own. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, though the excitement in his voice was clear. “Just because you’re ready doesn’t mean—”

“It’s my choice,” she interjected softly. “I trust you. And it’s taken me a while to let myself feel this way, but… the truth is, I’m tired of being scared. Of holding onto my hang-ups. I want to share this with you.”

Lando exhaled, a million emotions running across his face—gratitude, longing, protectiveness. “Y/n,” he said, voice thick. “I promise I’ll be gentle. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

She offered him a trembling smile. “I know you will.”

He stood then, carefully pulling her to her feet. They stood close, the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other. Lando dipped his head so that his eyes were level with hers. He could see the mix of courage and trepidation in her gaze.

“Do you want to move to your room?” he asked, the question laced with quiet anticipation.

She nodded, sliding her hand into his. They walked slowly toward the short hallway that led to her bedroom. Every step brought a new spike of adrenaline and longing. The overhead lights were off, leaving only the faint glow from a small lamp on her bedside table. The walls were painted in calming, muted colors—soft grays and blues. The bed itself was made neatly, a plush duvet folded at the end.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. A whirlwind of thoughts chased each other through her mind: He’s here, he wants me, I want him, I’m ready, no turning back… Yet overshadowing all of it was a sense of quiet determination. She had chosen him. After all the months of hesitation, she was certain.

When they reached the bedside, she paused, turning to face Lando. The uncertainty still flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t come from doubt in him—rather, it came from the enormity of the moment. Her first time. Something she had guarded for so long.

He noticed. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go slow,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin.

She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Slow,” she repeated, as if the word itself were a grounding tether.

Carefully, they leaned in for another kiss. This one was warm and tentative, a promise rather than an urgent demand. Lando’s hands drifted to her waist, and Y/n reciprocated, sliding her arms around his neck. The heat between them was more controlled now, more intentional, and yet somehow even more intense. She felt safe—reassured by the unspoken vow in every gentle touch.

After a while, their kisses grew deeper, more confident. He guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the bed. They sank down together, lips never losing contact. Soft gasps and hushed whispers began weaving an intimate tapestry of sound around them. Even the hum of passing cars seemed distant, as though the outside world had fallen away and left them in a private universe.

The warmth of their kisses lingered, slow and deliberate, as Lando hovered above her on the bed. His lips moved from her mouth to her jawline, trailing soft, featherlight kisses down the column of her neck. Every touch was a promise, every sigh a silent reassurance. Y/n’s breath hitched when his tongue flicked against her pulse point, sending shivers cascading down her spine. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, her fingers trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His lips continued their journey downward, skimming over her collarbone before settling at the hollow of her throat. He paused for a moment, his breath warm against her flushed skin, and then gently tugged at the hem of her sweater.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, dark with arousal but still filled with tenderness.

She nodded, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s hands slid beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing against her waist as he slowly lifted the sweater over her head. The cool air kissed her skin, and she shivered—not from the temperature, but from the way he looked at her. His gaze was reverent, almost worshipful, as he took in the sight of her bare torso. His eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, encased in delicate lace, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands already moving to cup her through her bra. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from her. She arched into his touch, her body betraying how much she craved him.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the slope of her breast, just above the edge of the lace. His kisses were slow and exploratory, each one sending jolts of pleasure radiating through her. When his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra, she reached behind her to help him, her hands shaking slightly. The bra fell away, and his breath caught as he took her in completely.

“Y/n…” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. “You’re stunning.”

His hands caressed her breasts, his palms sliding over the soft flesh before his mouth followed. He captured one nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak while his hand teased the other. Y/n gasped, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Her moans spilled freely now, no longer restrained, and each one seemed to spur him on. 

“L-Lando,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders. “That feels… so good.”

He responded by sinking his teeth gently into her nipple, eliciting a sharp cry from her. His hands squeezed her breasts together, his lips moving back and forth between them, leaving her a trembling, moaning mess beneath him. He worshipped her like this, his touch and his words making her feel cherished, adored.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Please what, love?” he teased, his fingers pinching her nipples lightly, making her gasp again.

She shook her head, unable to form the words. He laughed softly, kissing her lips briefly before sitting back on his heels. His hands drifted to the waistband of her leggings, his thumbs hooking under the elastic. “Can I take these off too?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with anticipation.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. But… take your top off too.”

His grin was irresistible as he tugged his hoodie over his head, revealing the toned planes of his chest. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He was breathtakingly handsome, his muscles defined but not overly bulky, his skin smooth and warm.

He returned to her, his hands sliding her leggings down her legs slowly, peeling the fabric away inch by inch. She lifted her hips to help him, her heart pounding as she lay before him in nothing but her underwear. His gaze lingered on her, heat and adoration burning in his eyes.

“God, you’re stunning,” he said, his voice rough with want. He knelt between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs. “Are you sure about this? We can stop anytime.”

She nodded, her voice steadier than she expected. “I’m sure.”

Lando leaned down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as his lips traveled higher, closer to the apex of her thighs. He nuzzled the thin fabric of her underwear, his breath hot against her already soaked core.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. He kissed her through the fabric, dragging his tongue over her clit in a slow, teasing motion. She cried out, her hips lifting instinctively toward him.

“Lando!” she gasped, her thighs trembling as he continued to tease her, his lips and tongue driving her wild. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

“Patience, baby,” he purred, his hands sliding her underwear down her legs. He tossed them aside, settling back between her thighs. For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression reverent. “Fuck, Y/N. You have such a pretty pussy.”

Her face burned, but before she could say anything, his tongue was on her, lapping at her folds with long, slow strokes. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

Lando devoured her like a man starved, his tongue circling her clit, dipping inside her, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from her body. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her hands fisting the sheets as she writhed beneath him.

“Oh my God, Lando,” she whimpered, her thighs shaking. “That feels so good…”

He groaned against her, the vibrations making her cry out. He slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right against her walls as his tongue continued its relentless assault. She swore she saw stars, her entire body tensing as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her. Just when she thought she might scream, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you really want this?” he asked, his voice ragged. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She nodded, her eyes glazed with need. “Yes, I’m ready. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he reached for the waistband of his trousers. In one swift motion, he stripped them off, along with his boxers, leaving himself completely bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in—hard and flushed, his length straining toward her.

He settled between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell me if it hurts.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. “Okay,” she whispered.

He pressed forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable—and mixed with the pain was an overwhelming sense of closeness, of being connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, staying still to give her time. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” she admitted with a shaky laugh. “But… good. Really good.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “You’re doing so well, love,” he murmured against her lips. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Lando began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts. Each glide of his length inside her was met with a soft gasp from Y/n, her body still adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness. He kept his pace gentle, rhythmic, almost teasing, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment with her. His eyes never left hers, searching for any sign of discomfort—but all he found was desire, trust, and a growing need.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered in response, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, where she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Her own heart raced in tandem, her breath coming in shallow bursts as arousal coiled tighter and tighter in her core. She arched instinctively, her hips rising to meet his next thrust, and Lando groaned low in his throat at the sensation.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “It’s… it’s so much.”

He paused, concern flickering across his face. “Too much?” he asked, his tone laced with worry. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head quickly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “No… no, don’t stop. It’s just… overwhelming. In a good way.” Her fingers traced the muscles of his chest, marveling at the way they flexed with every movement. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

The relief in his expression was palpable. He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips slow and sweet, before whispering against her mouth, “Then let me show you how good it can be.”

His thrusts grew slightly firmer, the rhythm steady but unhurried. Y/n’s moans grew louder, each one sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Lando’s cock. He ground into her deeper with every push, angling his hips so that he brushed against a spot inside her that made her gasp and clutch at him desperately.

“There…” she whimpered, her nails lightly scratching his back. “Right there, Lando… please…”

A groan rumbled in his chest as he obeyed, focusing on that spot with relentless precision. Her reactions were intoxicating—every sigh, every shiver, every desperate plea only fueled his own need. But he refused to rush, determined to make this first time unforgettable for her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes dark with adoration. “Watching you like this… hearing you… it’s driving me insane.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his gaze with equal intensity, her eyes clouded with passion and something deeper—something that made his chest ache with emotion.

“Touch me,” she begged softly, her hand sliding down to guide his. “Please…”

Without hesitation, Lando reached between them, his fingers finding her swollen clit with practiced ease. He circled the sensitive nub gently, watching as her entire body jerked in response. Her moans turned into breathless cries, her hips rocking against his hand and his cock in a frenzied rhythm.

“Fuck, Lando—oh god—” she gasped, her back arching off the bed. “I’m… I’m close…”

“Let go, love,” he urged, his voice thick with passion. “Come for me.”

The combination of his hand and his cock pushed her over the edge. She cried out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her inner walls clamping down around him in a vice-like grip. Lando groaned loudly, his thrusts faltering as her climax overwhelmed him. He clenched his jaw, fighting to hold on just a little longer—to give her every last drop of pleasure she deserved.

When her tremors finally subsided, she looked up at him with dazed, unfocused eyes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. She was utterly breathtaking.

Still buried deep inside her, Lando kissed her again, his lips tender and reverent. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Absolutely fucking incredible.”

Y/n smiled shyly, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Not yet…”

He nodded, his own arousal still burning hot and urgent, but tempered now by the reverence he felt for her. He resumed his slow, deep thrusts, each one deliberate, each one meant to draw out every ounce of pleasure she could take. Her soft moans filled the room, a melody that made his chest ache with something deeper than desire—something tender, something sacred.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with adoration. His hands cradled her hips as though she were fragile, precious. “Anything, love… just tell me.”

Her fingers brushed through his hair, her touch featherlight yet electric. “You,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Just you.”

Those two words shattered him. Not in the way of losing control, but in the way of surrender—to her, to this moment, to the depth of what they were sharing. He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. His pace quickened, not out of urgency, but out of a need to give her everything he had, to make her feel how much she meant to him.

Her body arched beneath him, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Her hands roamed over his back, not clawing, but caressing, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of him. She clung to him, not out of desperation, but out of a need to be as close as possible, to erase any space between them.

“Y/n…” His voice was strained, but it wasn’t just from the physical strain. It was from the weight of what he felt for her, the intensity of it threatening to spill over. “I’m not gonna last much longer…”

She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure began to crest. “Neither—“ she managed, her voice breaking. “Oh god, Lando—“

He felt her tighten around him again, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cry was raw, unfiltered, and it echoed through the room, a sound that would forever be etched into his memory. Her nails dug into his skin, not to hurt, but to anchor herself as she rode out the blissful aftershocks.

That was all it took for him. With a final, shuddering thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his release tearing through him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his ragged breaths hot against her skin as he whispered her name over and over, like a prayer, like a vow.

For several long moments, neither of them moved. Their bodies remained tangled together, sweat-slicked and spent, but closer than they’d ever been. Gradually, the haze of pleasure began to fade, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction and an overwhelming sense of closeness that went beyond the physical.

Lando was the first to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before pulling back to look at her. His heart swelled at the sight of her—flushed, disheveled, and utterly spent, but smiling up at him with such tenderness that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice husky but filled with genuine concern. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin.

She laughed quietly, the sound warm and content. Her fingers trailed along his jawline, tracing the curve of his face as though committing it to memory. “Like I just discovered heaven,” she admitted, her smile widening. “And you?”

He grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes held hers, dark and full of emotion. “Like the luckiest man alive,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Because I get to call you mine.”

Her smile softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch achingly gentle. “You already had me,” she whispered. “Long before tonight.”

His throat tightened, and he kissed her again, slower this time, pouring every unspoken word into it. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the room.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. They weren’t planned, but they were true—so true it hurt.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes wide and searching. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the tears pooling in her eyes.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as though he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with her head resting on his chest and her heartbeat echoing his own, he knew—this was where he belonged. With her. Always.

[illubean]

NSFW warning; reader discretion advised

imagine riding Nerdjo while on the phone with his best friend; the one and only lady killer Suguru

The three of you were pretty close friends, and you had slept with Suguru before, but poor virgin Satoru only recently just worked up the courage to confide in you about his problems

Despite being attractive enough to get any girl he wanted, Satoru often turned down the attention of any other women. He feared that his hobbies would scare them off sooner or later, and even if they didn't, he wanted to lose it to someone he trusted.

He knew that someone had to be you, but since you and Suguru were pretty consistant FWB, it felt slightly wrong to him.

you should only be sleeping with one person at a time, right?

So when he finally told you about his qualms, he didn't expect you to strip him, push his back onto his digimon bedsheets, and give him the ride of his life

No woman in her right mind would fuck a man who still had digimon bedsheets in his late 20s, but Satoru was just so cute asking you for help that you couldn't say no to him

Satoru whimpered and whined beneath you, your weepy pussy clenching around his length feeling better than his hand ever could. The poor guy couldn't keep his hands to himself, pawing and groping any and every inch of skin he could reach

You cooed at him while he babbled nonsense, before your phone went off and you picked it up from the bedside table. Suguru was facetiming you. Without as much as a second thought, you answered.

"Hey pretty. What are you up to?"

"Mm, not much. Just hanging out with 'Toru" you responded as if you weren't currently bouncing on the aforementioned man's cock. Satoru slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to muffle his own pleasured cries while his skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his neck.

"I didn't know you guys were hanging out today. I just got off work, should I come over?"

"Sure! Y'know, he actually asked me-"

"Mnnooooo, don't tell himm!"

Your eyes widened at Satoru's whiny protest, looking at him past your phone to see a fucked out, embarrassed expression on his face. You let out a breathy laugh and smirked down at him, slowing your hips in order to grind your pelvis against his.

"Aww baby, why not? I'm sure he could help you too," you teased, turning your attention back to the blackette on your screen. "Why don't I just show him then?"

Before Satoru could protest, you flipped your camera around to show Suguru the position you currently had his best friend in. Satoru used the back of one hand to cover his face and the other to try and shield the camera from where the two of you connected. His entire body felt hot, head turning to the side while he felt tears prick at the corners of his blue eyes.

You swatted the hand he was using to block Suguru's view away before resting your own against his abdomen, caressing soothing circles against his skin.

"Isn't he just the cutest? Hurry Sugu, come join us!"

[greengoblinswifey]

i loved "Shattered" although i would have loved for her to keep the baby and have the same success as in the original ending, would you consider writing something like that? as an alternative ending

Alternative Ending to Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

warnings— cheating, mature language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of abortion, happy ending, mentions of birth.

Shattered

When Nicholas told you to get an abortion, you felt a flash of anger surge through you. “No,”you said firmly. “You can’t force me to do that.” Nicholas looked shocked, then furious. “I have a girlfriend, and a kid on the way to raise,” he argued, voice hard and unyielding.

A surge of pain mixed with rage bubbled up in you. “I’m your girlfriend, Nicholas,”you shouted back. “And this is your child. You should be here for us, helping raise them, not running off to hide.”

Without another word, Nicholas stormed out, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding as you clutched your stomach protectively. You weren't showing yet, but the weight of the choice before you felt heavy. “Screw Nicholas”, you thought, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I’ll raise this baby on my own if I have to.”

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy but hopeful heart, you decided that you were going to keep the life growing inside you. Thoughts raced through your mind, layering one worry after another. How would your career hold up with a pregnancy? The industry wasn’t always kind to young actresses, especially not ones who suddenly had a child in the picture. You imagined the directors and producers who’d invested in your rising stardom questioning your ability to maintain the same dedication once you had a baby to care for. The idea of managing both a career and motherhood alone felt overwhelming.

Filming the rest of the season with Nicholas suddenly seemed like an impossible task. Every scene together would remind you of how easily he had turned his back on you both, his other life casting a shadow over every word he’d said to you. But you’d have to keep it together, remain professional, pretending there wasn’t a storm beneath the surface whenever you shared the screen with him.

And then, there was the question you dreaded most: Who’s the baby’s father? Interviews, press conferences, appearances, the media would demand answers eventually. How could you admit the truth? How could you tell the world that you’d trusted him, fallen for him, fucked your co-star raw, and now were left to handle the responsibility alone because he had a life, another girlfriend and another baby, in his hometown? The thought of admitting you’d opened your heart and legs to your co-star, only for him to abandon you, made your stomach twist. You couldn’t bear to let the world see that vulnerable side of you.

But despite it all, you rested your hand on your stomach and felt a strange sense of resolve. This baby was a part of you, forget being a part of him, and you knew you’d find a way to raise them, no matter how many obstacles lay in your path.

The next day on set, you were barely holding it together, trying to keep the morning’s nausea from spilling over into the day's work. Nicholas approached you quietly before filming began, his expression tense.

“So, did you take care of it?” he asked, his voice cold.

You looked him right in the eyes. “No, Nicholas. I’m keeping this baby. That’s final.” You could see the frustration in his face, the way he clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue. He only nodded, his gaze shifting away.

Soon, you were called onto set to film a scene, and as you moved into the frame, you felt the weight of your reality pressing down. The scene called for a romantic kiss, but as you leaned in, all you could think was, How could he do this to us? Every touch felt hollow, each moment of pretend affection a painful reminder of his betrayal.

Still, you held it together for the rest of the day, determined to protect yourself and, more importantly, the little life growing inside you. You’d give them all the love they need, you thought, so they wouldn’t feel the absence of their father.

As days turned into weeks, filming continued then the season wrapped, and you noticed subtle changes, how your clothes fit a bit more snugly, the quiet flutter in your stomach that grew stronger with time. You poured your focus into auditions for roles scheduled to film after the baby’s birth, crafting a new life plan that prioritized their future as much as your own.

Finally, when you went to the doctor alone, you learned you were having a baby girl. The news was bittersweet. Part of you ached for the weight of responsibility, raising a girl, teaching her strength and self-worth under such circumstances. Yet, you held onto a fierce determination to make the most of it, to show her resilience and love, no matter what lay ahead.

The night of the premiere, you walked onto the red carpet in a breathtaking gown that hugged your figure, showing off a noticeable baby bump. As you made your way through the crowd, congratulations poured in from all directions, and you felt a mixture of pride and nerves. Then you spotted Nicholas, standing nearby with his girlfriend, who was visibly pregnant as well. For a moment, his eyes met yours, and he did a double-take, clearly taken aback by how radiant you looked with your growing belly.

His girlfriend approached you, offering her congratulations with a polite smile, and you returned the sentiment, fully aware of the irony, that you both carried a piece of him, each in your own way. Nicholas lingered close by, watching intently, as if afraid you might reveal something.

As you spoke to the press, questions about your pregnancy inevitably came up. When asked about the father, you simply smiled, deflecting with comments about your happiness and excitement for what lay ahead, both as a mother and in your career. You radiated confidence, making it clear that your future was only beginning.

Later, you received the incredible news that you’d been cast in a new movie, and the production team was willing to accommodate your new role as a mother. Filming was set to begin after you'd had time with your baby, and they even offered a nanny and daycare on set. Knowing this support was there, you accepted the role, feeling your career blossom alongside your journey into motherhood.

When the day finally arrived, you gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl, the spitting image of you. Holding her for the first time, you felt an overwhelming relief that she looked nothing like Nicholas—she was purely yours. Your sister stood by, sharing in the joy, and as you looked down at your daughter, you felt stronger and more certain than ever.

Motherhood suited you well, and as the months passed, so did the fascination with your personal life. Though speculation about the baby’s father lingered, it eventually faded. Fans and the public were captivated by your story, a young mom balancing stardom with raising her baby girl. As offers poured in, it was clear that your future was bright, your daughter by your side as you continued to captivate the world.

Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for. You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The night of the Oscars was monumental. Walking the red carpet, you held your baby girl close, basking in the awe and admiration from all around. When the ceremony began, you took your seat, unaware that Nicholas was there, too, until he approached you during a break, nervously glancing at your daughter.

“She looks just like you,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft.

You looked at him coldly, replying, “Yeah, and I'm fucking grateful for that”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I’m so sorry for everything. I miss you, I really do. I was an idiot. Please, give me another chance.”

You took a steadying breath, keeping your tone calm but firm. “Nicholas, we’re done. The moment you cheated, lied and then told me to abort my child, you lost any future with me.” You glanced down at your daughter who was playing with your hair not sparing her father a glance, feeling the strength in your decision. “If you want to be in her life, that’s up to you. I’d prefer it if you weren’t near us, but I won’t deny you the right.”

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. It was clear he hadn’t come to build a relationship with his daughter, he was more interested in your newfound fame.

“That's what I thought,” you said, voice sharp. “Stay out of our lives. Don’t speak to me again.”

With that, you walked away, feeling lighter than ever. When your name was called for Best Actress, you took the stage, holding the Oscar with pride as the crowd erupted in applause. This was your night, a celebration of everything you’d fought for, a testament to your resilience and talent, with your daughter’s future in your hands.

[starkeyisthelastname]

you got me obsessed with trailer park rafe now ugh i can imagine any time he gets into it with her dad over rent he’d take it out on her later by having her pinned to his dingy couch with a hand on her neck and her tits spilling out of her little dress from his brutal thrusts 😩

thank you angel! im obsessed with him too 😩💦

Your father had added on a late fee to Rafe’s rent, meaning he had to come up with an extra $50, when he just spent the last of his money on a case of beer and a pack of cigarettes. He was pissed to say the least, certainly not in any mood for company. Which is why when he heard a few delicate knocks to the torn screen door, he snorted as he saw your sugary self standing there. You really were a man’s dream, so beautiful and too damn innocent for this world. Not knowing the struggles a man like him had to deal with. He grumbled, his massive frame striding over to the door as clearly you weren’t leaving.

It creaked open, his blue eyes peering down at you with a stoic expression and cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You didn’t know your favorite person was in a bad mood due to your father’s actions. In fact he had just given you some money to go to the town’s carnival tomorrow and to take one of your little friends. He just didn’t know you were going to ask the older man that he had thrown a late fee on for being past due on rent.

“Get outta here, kay babydoll. Not in a good mood.” Rafe’s voice mean, despite using your favorite pet name he called you.

Your glossy lips frowned, playing with the hem of your little summer dress, unknowingly letting your bouncy tits sway as you rocked back and forth. “B-but, my daddy gave me some money to go to the carnival tomorrow and i.. wanted you to go with me.” You said, long lashes fluttering at him.

The blue eyes that had been staring at your tits, went back to your face as you said your daddy gave you money. The same daddy he had cussed out for being a cheap bastard earlier in the day for charging a late fee all of a sudden. He took a long drag of his cigarette, his height imposing and darkened irises nearly staring into your soul. “Why you tell me that for, sugar?” He finally spoke, blowing the smoke towards you. “Cause you know your old man pissed me off.” He laughed, tapping the side of your forehead, to get your dumb little brain to understand what was about to happen.

He’d have you pinned on the torn and tattered couch, his massive palm wrapped around your throat. He could easily snap your neck if he wanted to, but enjoyed the sounds of your pretty cries too much as he brutally pounded into you. “Told you I’m a bad man, little slut. Don’t you ever come round’ here and tell me that shit again.” He spat, voice gruff and breathless as he rammed you.

You squeaked, soft hands coming out to grab anything as he fucked you into the couch. Your poor little self should have been scared, but you still put all your trust in him and were too far attached to him to ever think he was a bad mean man. You thought you were doing something nice, inviting him to the carnival but now you just wanted to show him that you could be good. Oh you were so far gone, letting him use you exactly like he said he was. Like his little fuckdoll.

“Shhh, babydoll. I know..” Rafe murmured, watching your eyes start to roll back and gorgeous tits bounce as he laid into you. “Gettin’ your cunt ruined by a big cock, huh?” He laughed, assumed that you to him so well. His hand that was around your neck, came up to roughly cup your jaw, making your eyes snap open. You could feel that funny feeling come over you, this time a new pressure hitting.

“You should have just stayed away. But you just couldn’t help your lil’ self could ya? Now your fuckin sweet baby self is stuck with me.” He breathed out, watching your pretty face come undone as you began squirting and soaking the torn couch underneath you.

[wildrangers]

In the Blink of a Crinkling Eye // Matt Smith

Word Count: 2.8K

Fem Journalist x Matt Smith

{This is truly just the longest meet cute because they’re my favorite thing to write}

Warnings: None besides cursing and use of Y/N; smut in part two

“Clover, no!” you chastise, rushing to grab the puppy who’d somehow escaped the holding pen your team built. You’d wanted to be a journalist for as long as you could remember but this wasn’t quite what you’d imagined yourself doing–wrangling puppies while waiting for your interview subjects to arrive. 

“She’s a clever one, isn’t she?” you hear a deep, amused voice say from behind you. 

“I wouldn’t give her too much credit, I’m sure Daisy and Willow helped her out” you reply, your eyes unexpectedly meeting curious hazel ones. “Is everything okay?”

His brows furrow, “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

You glance down at your phone, holding the wriggly puppy closer to your chest to avoid a kamikaze situation. “Because no one’s due on set for another half hour.” 

“I can leave if you’d like,” he offers, his smile turning uncertain. 

“No, of course not” you shake your head, offering your free hand to him, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Matt, lovely to meet you. I couldn’t resist coming out to get some extra time with these little guys” he grins, releasing your hand only to hold his palms up. “Clover, right?”

“Yes, she’s litter mates with Willow and Daisy,” you reply, pointing them out in their pen after handing Clover to him. “And then there’s Leo, Frankie, and Gertrude. They’re all from different litters, the last of their siblings in the shelter.”

“Poor little things” Matt coos, gently placing Clover back where she belongs before reaching down to grab one of the strays.

“Wait, no not her” you jump in, scooping Gertrude into your arms before Matt can. 

“Is she nippy or something?” he asks, head quirking in confusion. 

“No, I think I might be taking her home today. I wouldn’t want you to get too attached.” 

Matt throws his head back in laughter, “Hazards of the job I suppose?”

“Kind of” you shrug, gently stroking Gertrude’s soft fur. “My roommate’s been begging for a pet for months now and little Trudy here is just too sweet.” Seemingly in response, the little dog lifts her head to briefly lick your chin before settling in for a nap in your arms. 

“Now that is too precious,” Matt says, smiling softly and retrieving his phone from his pocket. “Want me to take a photo?” 

“I’m sure I look a mess, I’ve been running around all morning” you laugh.

“Nonsense, you look great. Trust me, you’ll want this–smile!” he cheers and you laugh looking into the camera. “Gorgeous” he compliments and you ignore the swoop of your stomach. 

“Let me see” you request, moving to his side as he angles his screen towards you. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that while you look flushed from running around, your hair and makeup have miraculously stayed in place. “Aw, doesn’t she look too cute? All tuckered out already.” 

“What’s your number? I can forward you this if you’d like” he offers and you do something you’ve never done before–flirt with a guest.

“If you wanted my number you could’ve just asked from the get go” you tease, eyes flicking up to meet his.

His smile curls up higher on one side, “Well you see, now I’ll have your number and this beautiful photo for your contact.”

“Well played then” you reply, listing off your number for him. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket but don't move from his side. 

“How long have you been working with Buzzfeed?” he questions, turning to face you directly. 

“A little over a year, it’s certainly a unique place to have landed.” 

“You don’t like it” he replies instantly and your eyes widen.

“I didn’t say that…”

“But it’s what you mean, no?” he pushes, not breaking eye contact. 

“Why, are you aiming to take my job?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, not offering you a way out except to answer the question. 

“I’m a writer. So, ideally one of my books or screenplays end up in the right hands. Or, if not, I’d really like to do print work. Spending lots of time with someone, or a group of someones, and writing a more in depth piece about their process, the work, whatever. Like, we got the screener for the first half of this season, right? You know how many questions I want to ask about the cinematography or an acting choice, or a certain shot? Instead, we have these cutesy questions prepared.” 

That makes him laugh but you feel vulnerable, exposed after offering so much to a stranger, especially one you’re meeting at work. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t professional of me. I really do appreciate this job.” 

“Hey, no apologies. I’m the one that asked, aren’t I? I appreciate your honesty.”

You nod, a slightly awkward silence descending between you. Matt breaks it by leaning down to pick up Leo who promptly bites his finger. 

“Shit, are you okay?” you ask, biting your lips to repress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. Matt’s face is the portrait of shock and outrage even though you can tell Leo’s teeth barely broke his skin. 

“I think I’m alright” he replies, seriously inspecting his finger and a little giggle escapes your mouth. His eyes leap up to yours and his frown deepens at the amusement he sees on your face. “Well, go on then.”

At his begrudging permission, you burst into laughter settling a now grumpy Gertrude into her pen. You make your way back to where the first aid kit is, your sides turning sore from laughter that won’t cease. You wave Matt over and he morosely makes his way to you, plopping down in the seat you direct him towards. 

“I’m sorry” you offer as you sit opposite him, unzipping the bag. “It’s really not even that funny but now I just have the giggles.” 

“You’re forgiven, if only because your laugh is the most joyous sound I’ve heard all day.”

His compliment does what his annoyance couldn’t–rips the laughter from your throat. You gaze into his eyes, expecting to see jest but find none. “That’s kind of you.”

“It’s the truth.”

A different kind of tension simmers in this silence. “May I?” you request, reaching for him. His calloused hand lands in yours and you lean closer, inspecting the tiny cut on his pointer finger. You pull an alcohol wipe from the kit and wrap it as gently as you can around his cut before quickly replacing it with a bandage. “Good as new.” 

“You could look into nursing you know” he responds gently and you meet his intense gaze. The moment seems to stretch eternally with you lost in the green and brown shades of his eyes. A door slams open, jarring  you two apart and making you realize you’d been holding onto his hand just as it slips away. 

“Looks like it’s show time” you force a smile as you stand. “Think you can manage with this grievous injury?”

He returns your smile, nodding, “I think so but have the medics on standby just in case.” 

***

Luckily, the interview goes smoothly, jokes being made all around at Matt’s injury and another round unleashing when he’s nipped again while filming. As you drive home, Gertrude beside you, you work to convince yourself you’d been imagining things. That Matt had simply been friendly and naturally charismatic, not that there’d been any kind of spark. And that he most definitely hadn't lingered after you’d thanked him and his castmates, eyes boring into your back, before finally following them out onto the New York City streets. And you certainly weren’t still lost in those thoughts as you placed the wiggly puppy in your roommate, Sage’s, arms. 

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” 

“She almost got swept up by Matt Smith” you joke and her eyes widen.

“I forgot that was today, how was it?”

“Good, everything went smoothly.” 

“...but?” 

“But what?” 

“But why does your face look like that?”

“Fuck you, it was a long day.” 

“Bullshit” she argues and you glare at her. “I’ll wait.”

“I was just deluding myself that’s all.” She waits expectantly and you sigh, throwing up your hands. “I had myself half convinced that Matt Smith tried to sweep me up.” 

“Tell me everything.” 

And you would have, if your phone didn’t buzz in your pocket. Sage pointedly rolls her eyes as you pause the conversation to check your phone just in case it’s a work issue. Your heart drops which must’ve reflected on your face because she’s beside you, reading over your shoulder, a second later.

Hi it’s Matt

Well, you know that obviously. 

I mean to ask, are you free tonight? 

“Tell me everything right the fuck now Y/N/N or I swear to God.” You quickly fill her in, all while attempting to decide what to do. “Just answer, see why he’s asking.”

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?”

The look Sage shoots you could melt steel, “Respectfully, you primarily do puppy interviews at Buzzfeed. Answer him.” You couldn’t argue with her logic even though you wanted to.

I just got home but have nothing in the books. Why do you ask?

Would you want to meet with us at a pub near our hotel? Everyone loved working with you. 

Who’s everyone? 

You do love questions, don’t you? 

Emboldened by having a screen between you, you allow him to see you’d read the message on What’s App but don’t type a reply. Within a moment, he begins typing again:

All of us, but especially me. 

One condition

Anything. 

I can ask you about the Harrenhal sequences

Off the record of course

That’s all? You shouldn’t be thinking so small. 

I want to make sure I have you in my thrall a bit more before asking for your banking information. 

Can we compromise with drinks on me?

Text me the place and time and I’ll see if I can make it

***

“I knew you were bullshitting us.” Fabien cackles from beside Matt, who rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time already tonight.

“Lay off him, Fabs, he’s about to be stood up after all” Olivia replies, doing a terrible job of hiding her own laughter. 

“It’s only half past. She’s a New Yorker, it’d have been weird if she showed up exactly at 9…maybe she’s nervous?” Emma offers. 

“What, about meeting up with the Great Matthew Smith for drinks?” Fabien retorts and even Emma can’t fight their smile at his expense. 

“Thank god I have you lot to keep me humble” Matt grumbles, getting up and stalking over to the bar to get another round. He sighs to himself, scrubbing his hands down his face as he waits for the bartender to mix his drink. 

He knew it had been a bad idea to text you. You were simply being professional and he’d unfairly pushed you into meeting up for a drink. It had been Emma’s idea to have the whole group there so it felt less like a date, sensing his unease about asking you out directly. Their advice was much more helpful than Fabien’s goading and Olivia enthusiastically endorsed Emma’s plan if only to be able to snoop.

He grabs his drink and begins heading back to the booth when your distinctive laughter makes his steps briefly falter. Nerves flood his system and he rolls his eyes at himself. You're acting like a schoolboy, he chastises but he can’t help himself. He feels drawn to you in a way he hasn’t felt to anyone else in a long, long time. As he rounds the corner, his eyes find yours immediately. Unsurprisingly, his friends have placed you right beside his vacant spot which he is both grateful for and exacerbated by–again, so secondary school of them all. 

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaims as he sits beside you. 

“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, Sage took far too long at the petstore getting Miss Trudy’s supplies. Oh, wait, how’d you know I love vodka crans? What a gentleman” you grin, plucking the drink from his hands and taking a deep sip. 

“Just another thing we have in common, it appears.” 

“In addition to?” 

“Our love of dogs, of course.”

“Ah, if only the dogs loved him back” Olivia goads and you let loose another glorious giggle. 

“How are your wounds doing?” you tease, eyes sparkling in the dim light. 

“Fine for now but I may need a skilled medic later to assist with bandage changes.”

“I suppose I could help if you can’t find anyone with the proper training.” 

“Very generous of you, Y/N.” 

“I aim to serve. Also, here, I wouldn’t want to actually steal your whole drink” you acquiesced, sliding the drink into his waiting hand. He lifts the glass to his mouth, taking a long sip while your eyes bore into his. You have such an unflinching way of appraising people, remaining present even while nothing’s being said, and he’s entranced by this. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” he replies quietly, gently grasping your hand and easing the glass back into it. He doesn’t release your hand or your gaze and, for once, his friends around the table are silent which he would’ve previously believed to be impossible. He faintly hears Emma and Olivia excusing themselves to the restroom as Fabien chugs his beer just to go refill it. 

“We really cleared the table, huh?” Your faint words barely reach him despite your closeness. 

“All the better if you ask me” he replies, heart thumping at the grin his comment earns. 

“Do you do this often?” you ask, head tilting and eyes sharp. 

“Do what?”

“Charm women you meet in your line of work?” 

He can’t fight the smile that splits his face–he could banter with you for eternity, he fears. “No, of course not. I have a reputation to uphold after all.” 

“What reputation?”

“Are you implying my gentlemanly reputation doesn’t proceed me?”

“Are you implying you’re of such stature I looked into you before today?” 

“I’d assumed you were good at your job but you can correct me if I’m wrong.” 

“I am excellent at my job” you retort, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“Well, then what’s my reputation?”

“You’re a classic Scorpio.”

“What?” he asks, genuinely perplexed. He notes the smirk that quirks your lips–you’d intended to throw him off his game. Well played, then.

“Scorpios are charming, easily pulling people into their orbit. But they also tend to be deep thinkers who hide behind that charisma to keep everyone at a distance despite being surrounded by people.” 

He could hardly catch his breath–have you truly seen through him so easily? “Meaning?”

“Meaning that despite being in this business for decades, not much is actually known about you. Glowing comments from everyone who’s ever worked with you, surface level reporting on a few previous public relationships, but nothing of much substance despite the countless interviews and press junkets you’ve done over the years.” 

“Does that bother you?”

“No, it intrigues me. But it also makes me weary.” 

“Why’s that?” he questions, heart sinking. 

“I may not be doing groundbreaking work right now but I value my career. So much of this business, and publishing, is based on word of mouth, having people speak well of you from previous projects. I’d hate to think this was a fun game for you when it could ruin my credibility.” 

He chuckles to himself and your eyes flash. “They had to convince me to ask you out.”

“What?” you recoil at his words and he desperately wants to pull you back to him.

“I knew from our conversation earlier today you have ambitions and I’d never want to come between you and them. You’re insightful and have a sharp mind, I’m sure your writing reflects that. But they convinced me I was just giving myself an out so I wouldn’t have to risk your rejection.”

Your head tilts at his words, eyes appraising him in a way that lays him bare before you. “I think you were right,” you acknowledge. “But so were they.” 

He couldn't tear himself away from you if he tried. He can only guess what’s going on in your head but your eyes reveal how countless thoughts are flowing behind them, calculations being drawn up, quick decisions being made. 

“I love this song” you say quietly, throwing back all but a swallow of your shared drink, which you then offer to him. “Dance with me?”

He holds your gaze as he slowly consumes the last bits of vodka before extending his hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

So, I clearly am incapable of writing a brief meet cute but I can’t help myself. I have loads of ideas where this could go so any feedback would be much appreciated! I’ve never written for actors before but I hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

Part 4

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Casual intimacy

a/n Cracks knuckles… let’s go… 🙃 I loved writing this so I hope you will enjoyed reading it. Cause this one cracked something deep within me. 🫧🤭

request: Hiii! I absolutely love your work I think you're so talented. If you have time can I request an angsty Ruhn x Reader, maybe he gets jealous or something because she has such a bubbly personality and guys flock to her?

warning: a bit suggestive here and there, alcohol, drugs, smoking.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ruhn was tired. Playing pretend always drained him. For the most part, he bit back at his father, but even there were limits. And when his father wasn’t at the center of his headaches, the fact that he was a crowned prince was. Ruhn flicked the cigarette out of the open car window as he waited for the light to turn green. “Be on the bed when I get back," he typed out quickly. A slight smile tugged at his lips.

Ruhn imagined that crimson haze creeping onto your cheeks. You had been an angel when you two first met. More like a caged bird. And while the world saw him as a devil who made a good girl go bad, in reality, he had freed you from the chains that had bound you to the dark cell for eternity. And if everyone was having a fright at the sight of a cigarette or a shot glass in your hand, they could all go fuck themselves.

A ding had Ruhn glancing at the screen in his car. "Unfortunately, I won’t be able to oblige," the message read, and Ruhn frowned. He blinked a couple of times. It was usually “you’re an idiot” or a nice picture that sent him pressing his foot just a bit more on the gas. What was the reason for this? Did you get your period? But that wasn’t very likely. Ruhn could sense when the red flow was coming. And you weren’t talking about cramps. He was about to fire out a quick “because?” when another ding sounded. And a picture appeared on the dash. A growl ripped through him. Here you stood. An innocent smile, still in the dress Ruhn had watched you put on this morning. By your side stood Flynn, who looked like a lost dog, glancing at the half-made sandwich on the counter. No, this wasn’t happening. Not tonight.

Ruhn quickly dialed your phone, gripping the steering wheel tightly. You didn’t even get a chance to breathe on the other side as he huffed, “What the fuck?” The music was almost deafening. So was the sea of voices. That scraped like a nail against his mind. “Hey, hotshot, this wasn’t my idea," you chirped, and as much as Ruhn was frustrated, the sound of your voice alone made his shoulders ease. “Tell them to fuck off," he hissed. He should have moved out long ago. Gotten you two an apartment and called it a day. “I can’t do that; I don’t live here." You chuckled softly, giggling at something Flynn said. Ruhn frowned. “You are my girlfriend; you are entitled to do what you want there," he pointed out. You had refused the title. Refused any benefits dating someone like him brought. The doors it opened. It was one of many reasons Ruhn loved you. Because for the very first time, he felt more than his title. More than just a pawn in someone’s game.

"Ruhn, I am not ordering two grown men around," you said, and while Ruhn didn’t agree, he didn’t get to voice his opinion because his words got overshadowed by someone calling for you. “Oh yeah, you can find that upstairs," you said, Ruhn could hear the smile on your face. "Babe," he called out, not loving the idea that someone had managed to steal your attention from him. “Oh, no, it’s okay. Call if you need anything." From the way your voice sounded, he could also tell that you had the phone away from your ear, so he used other methods. Trusted kind.

Y/n. He spoke within your linked hearts. Feeling the fluster in your heart at his call. But his hope got crushed as soon as it bloomed. Give me a moment, Ruhn. Ruhn not even a hotshot, not a babe. Ruhn gritted his jaw. “No, liquor is on the right shelf," you said, as he listened to you try to get through the crowd of people. “Get your legs off the counter, you freak," you hissed, followed by the sound of a chair being dragged back. "Yeah, sorry, the house is full," you muttered slightly under your breath, and suddenly he was back to hating that party. Because you had woken before the sun had even been up. Studies and work keep you busy. Even if Ruhn had told you many times that you didn’t have to work,

“I am sending them to Urd and then fucking back," he grunted, making you let out a chuckle. The sound of it still made his stomach warm. “Light up, they brought shit to smoke," you sighed, and while he enjoyed a good smoke, especially if you joined him, and even more so if you both rode the aftermath together, he just didn’t want that today. “I don’t...", Ruhn had started when a loud bag came from somewhere in the house, and the place erupted in gassing shouts and angry grunting. “Fuck, got to go," you breathed. "Drive, save, baby," you muttered. “Y/N, don’t go near...”, but the line went dead. "Fuck," the princeling hissed. Oh, he was going to hang both Dec and Flynn by their balls, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

You were nowhere to be seen when he stepped into the madness of the house. Ruhn felt you, so that had to be good enough for now. You were in the house. The question, however, was where exactly that was. "Man, this is sick." Some guy clasped a hand over Ruhn’s shoulder, making the crowned prince bat the touch away stiffly. “Yeah, dude, you’re dope!" the other shouted, his eyes red as fire. There was too much substance in his body. Ruhn frowned, trying not to show the disgust on his face. “Get your shoes off my fucking carpet," he hissed in dismissal, walking past them. His frustration only grew the more he looked around for you. If not for the music, he would reach out through the bond once again. But his head was pounding, and he knew there was no way for him to concentrate enough.

Then Ruhn’s eyes fell on a small group forming near the kitchen. It wasn’t usual. If people did drugs or mixed drinks, they usually went in groups of two. Not a whole fucking sea of them. An itch inside him flared up, and he didn’t even realize it when he started walking towards it.

“So how did you do it?”, a lazy voice asked as Ruhn approached. “I just painted, silly," and that was all it took for his body to ignite. No one even matched the power your light voice had on his body. “Yeah, but that’s one big canvas," another voice slurred. Ruhn licked his lips as he stepped through the arc, and the sight was far from what he had hoped for. There you stood, a white angel in a sea of hacks. Pouncing on you for a nibble.

“I didn’t sleep, I mean," Ruhn watched as a blush on your cheeks. “Colors just guided me. It sounds insane, I know, and no, I was not high," you said sheepishly, making everyone in the room chuckle. But Ruhn saw it. The way they looked at you. They didn’t care about this. Didn’t care about your passion. Didn’t care about the spark in your eyes as you spoke of the things you loved. You were a spectacle. A pretty thing to look at. But it’s when one of them reached out to tuck the hair that had slipped out of your silk bow that Ruhn stepped forward, yanking one of the guys by the back of the shirt as he shouldered past them.

He only managed to catch a glimpse of you inhaling before his hand wrapped around your neck as he pulled you closer to him. Crashing his lips against your red-painted ones. You melted against him. He cared little for anything else as he bent slightly to grab at your thighs, lifting you and guiding you onto the counter as he spread your legs, stepping in between them. Before his fingers found your hips, he pulled you against him. "Ruhn." Your voice was breathy and weak as you wrapped your legs tighter around his middle. “Want to moan that louder?”, he teased, his lips hovering over your neck as he pinched your bum, making you squeal. “I leave you for a day and come to find you in a sea of men," Ruhn hissed with a shake of his head. You knew that it wasn’t anger. It was more lust and that sparkle of possessiveness.

“Jealous much?”, you purred, smirking as you ran your fingers over his jaw. “Don’t play with me, woman," he muttered, his hand once again wrapping around your throat as he inched closer. "Oh," you coo, “I forgot that you’re just a baby." You sighed, cupping his cheeks, but that was short-lived. One moment you were still on the counter, the other in the air and over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Ruhn Danaan, put me down." You wiggled in his hands. Tried to hit his chest but for nothing. If anything, that only earned you a slap on your bum and another gasp as your cheeks flared to life with red. “You...", you hissed out, but Ruhn only settled his hand on your ass, keeping the dress over your exposed bottom. Not too keen on others getting a glimpse at what lay underneath. “Don’t finish that unless you want me to spank you again," he mussed, smug as a cat as he moved through the crowd of people.

Whistling met you right by the stairs. One that Ruhn recognized, considering that he stopped. “You two are in deep shit," the crowned prince hissed, throwing a glance at his two best friends. But all they did was laugh. “Fuck it out of him, Yn, please," Dec mussed, grinding his hips in the air. “Suck one-off for the team," Flynn saluted as you three burst into laughter. It appeared that only Ruhn didn’t find that appealing. And something told you that if you weren’t over his shoulder now, friend or not, they might just taste the back of Ruhn’s hand. But he only cursed under his breath. “I will leave you two dickless," he threatened, reaching for the railing as the two man-children moaned and growled downstairs.

Ruhn was breathing heavily when he finally closed the door of his bedroom. It wasn’t from your weight. It just all started to cave in on him as he lowered you to the ground. You nibbled against his neck, pulling away to reach for the hem of your dress, but Ruhn caught your wrist, guiding you closer to him. "No," he muttered. A slight shake of his head told you that he was dead serious, too. “Did you just say no to...", You had started in a teasing tone, but there was something in his eyes that made you stop. "Ruhn," you called out way softer now, brushing your fingers up and down his arms. “Come here, darling," you said, wrapping your arms around him. He wasn’t fully open and vulnerable often. And when he was. That meant that whatever you two were doing, you were the ones who would have to carry the heavy load. Just for a bit. until he finds his footing again.

“If this is about the males, I didn’t even for a second…," you muttered against his chest, but Ruhn only grunted, “I know you weren’t interested. It’s just…” he took a deep breath, “a long day." You knew how much more those three words implied. How much more complex it was. But you also knew that the last thing he needed was you trying to drag it all out of him. “Why don’t you lay down?”, you asked softly, brushing your fingers over his lower back.

“I’m okay here," he said quietly. The hold on your body didn’t ease. “Come on, we’ll lay naked; I’ll roll you a blunt," you poked at his chest, shooting him a loving smile as you wiggled your eyebrows. Ruhn let out a slight chuckle as he reached for the buttons on his shirt. You helped him drag the material off his body, kneeling to undo his shoes. Ruhn caught your chin, pulling your head up so you would look at him through your lashes. "Fuck, it never gets old," he grunted, brushing his finger over your slightly smudged red lip. You only grinned up at him, leaning in to kiss his thigh as you pushed his pants off him all the way.

Ruhn watched you in a daze before you pushed at his chest, sending him sprawled out on the mattress. He drank every movement you made. You reaching for a bag of mirth-root, licking the edge of the paper as you finish the roll. Lighting it up and taking the first hit before handing it to Ruhn. He watched the cloud of smoke flaring around you as you reached for your dress, pulling it over your head. He could very easily die here right now. And go to Urd as a happy man if the last sight he saw was you in nothing but a black thong.

It was this exact casual intimacy that had him running at first. He was frightened to feel secure with someone like that. To have someone trust him like that. Ruhn reached out, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you over onto him. A blunt burning between his teeth. You straddled his naked body with ease. The movement was second nature by now. “What do you need?”, you asked softly, brushing some of the hair away from his face. Ruhn found himself opening his mouth but shutting it closed once more. He didn’t know. He was only aware that he needed you but was not sure how. Bent over the counter? Seated on his face? Snuggled up against him? With you holding him instead? “That’s okay, we will figure it out." You leaned in and pressed a kiss on his chest, leaving feather-like brushes over his exposed skin. “You’ll tell me when you’ll know," you breathed, pulling back up to look into his purple eyes. He didn’t answer, wrapping an arm around your back as he pulled you closer to him. Skin to skin. There was nothing between you two. You rested your face on the crook of his neck, feeling him take another drag of the cigarette in silence. His silence. One that you threaded for him. Painted it. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ruhn realized that there was no other sound around him, just a steady beat of your heart.

[mercy-burning]

A Weekend In Paradise (Summer of Sin Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: A couples' weekend vacation with Y/N, her fake boyfriend, her mom, and her real boyfriend, who also happens to be her mom's boyfriend... What could possibly be more relaxing? Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, cheating, female masturbation, kinda non-con (previously mentioned masturbation is happening while an unaware party is asleep in the same bed), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, omorashi/piss kink, daddy kink, "little girl" nickname, car sex, grinding, brief handjob, praise, biting/marking. (This one is pure fucking filth, y'all, buckle UP LMAO) Word Count: 7k

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know summer is literally over and we're all in autumn mode, but better late than never, right? ANYWAY, it's been an absolute pleasure re-reading this series and finishing it out with more shenanigans. These two and their messy asses are always so much fun to write, and I think about them all the time. In the timeline, this chapter takes place between parts 2 and 3 of “Your Favorite” if you want to put it in sequence with the other parts :) Have fun, and thank you for being patient with me. I hope this was worth the wait!

**********

FRIDAY

The only thing warmer than the blazing sun above me, the only thing that could burn me to the greatest extent until I was nothing but a pile of ash, is the way Spencer is staring at me right now.

Mom is reading a book quietly, laying her legs over his lap as they lounge on the loveseat, and Andrew is with me on the patio, rubbing sunscreen on my limbs. Even though we're far enough apart so no one can hear any conversation from the other party, the unspoken jealousy radiating from both Spencer and I is loud enough to drown out an entire concert venue.

Maybe it's cruel, and I'll probably catch shit for it later, but I can't stop smiling. It's easy for me to imagine that it's his hands gliding over my skin while I'm staring directly at him, and he's returning said stare with so much intensity that it might as well be magically willing my bathing suit to come off. Andrew's deft fingers tease the thin string at the edge of my hip and I laugh, playfully reaching back to swat at his hand.

"They're right inside, you know..."

He gets up to look, but still feeling Spencer's red-hot gaze, I quickly turn Andrew around and kiss him deeply, cradling his face in my hands and pressing into him with a laugh.

He pulls away just enough to speak. "Well, then let's go somewhere they aren't..."

"Mmm... Might be too obvious. He's smart, he'll know something's up if we're quick to run off."

"If you're quick to run off, you mean..."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just an innocent bystander..." Andrew leans in and pecks my mouth sweetly, his voice just as gentle when he speaks. "Your only goal this weekend is to taunt him, and he knows it." Another peck. "If you run off with me this easily, you figure he'll be onto our little scheme." And another. "But if you play it right and act all inconvenienced by my... urgency..." Another kiss, this one a bit longer and definitely more sensual. "He might just feel bad enough to make it up to you later."

"You think?"

"I don't actually know. Probably." He reaches for my hands and helps me off the lounge swing, and I feel wobbly. "But what I do know is that you think too much. That man wants you so bad, he's going to find a way to spend time alone with you this weekend, whether we're making out in front of him or not. Just... Loosen up. Have a little fun."

The two of us are attached at the hip as we sneak out of eyesight from the patio screen door, and from Mom and Spencer.

"Loosen up? Do you realize how serious this situation is, Andy? One wrong move and my life is over."

"Look. I'm not judging you, and it's none of my business. But you put yourself in this situation on your own. And I'm happy to help you out, but you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

He's not wrong. I could stop this at any point, and I could've from the start if I wanted to... But I don't want to, and that's just it. I've dug the hole, and if it means getting to spend time alone with Spencer for even the smallest amount of time, I'd gladly lay down and die in it.

So. 'Loosen up and have a little fun' it is.

I take a deep breath and smile up at Andrew, patting him on the shoulder. "Yes. I can do that."

———

"I can't do it."

"Mmmmm, you and I both know that isn't true. You've come much faster under more stressful circumstances. Should be easy for you."

He's not wrong, yet I can't help but frown at Spencer's request anyway. I've been in a shitty mood all day, despite my discussion with Andrew earlier on. It's nearing nightfall, and with hardly any attention from the person I wanted it from, to say I'm now desperate is a severe understatement. There's still some time left until the two of us can properly sneak away, but even so, we have a moment alone and all he wants is to watch me get myself off in the bathroom upstairs while Mom and Andrew set the table out on the porch for a small, late dinner.

"Yeah, but you usually help me with that..."

Spencer only grins at my whining, tilting his head as he stands at the sink with his arms crossed, watching my hand at work. "If you're going to flaunt your boyfriend at me all weekend, then you're going to deal with the consequences."

"You're fucking my mom, Spencer, and you flaunt it at me every fucking day of my life... Cut me some slack."

"Aw. You're grumpy."

"Fuck you."

"You wish, don't you?"

I huff and get up off the edge of the bathtub, flipping my skirt back down and shaking my head. "You know what, forget it. If you wanna be difficult, then you can suck my dick."

"I'm not giving you what you want until I watch you come."

"Whatever."

I breeze past him and shut the door, hoping he'll follow and pull me into a bedroom and just fuck me anyway, but deep down I know he won't. He's a man of his word. It's simultaneously the best and worst thing about him.

The rest of the evening passes by slowly, which only sours my mood even more every time I look at my phone and realize that only a few minutes have passed.

I'd thought at least maybe Spencer would ease up and take the role of "Eve's Loving and Devoted Boyfriend" to the bare minimum, however that's promptly not the case. I don't know if he's doing it to piss me off and get me to cave, or if he's just over my bullshit and being his genuine, caring self to the woman he's in a relationship with... Either way, I practically feel my insides boiling over and my face burning red. I'm jealous, I'm grumpy as he so eloquently put it, and I'm so sexually frustrated that I'm seriously considering just running off to my bedroom and pulling out a vibrator, Spencer be damned. Fuck his rules, fuck his 'consequences', and fuck this whole damned weekend straight to hell.

My eyes wander to the lounge swing where Spencer and Mom are almost falling asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, and an inordinately evil image etches itself into my brain. Evil might sound harsh, but it's truly the only accurate word I could use to describe the feeling as it runs its course through my bloodstream. And when the breeze picks up and cools me off, within a mere second I realize just how insane I'd be for even entertaining it.

Even as our two groups say our goodbyes for the night, and I recount the day's failure to Andrew just before he falls asleep, I'm still going back and forth.

Loosen up. Have a little fun.

The situation at hand is decidedly not fun.

That being said, the possible look on Spencer's face after I'd do what I'm thinking? Taking his rules and throwing them in his face? That sounds fun.

My mind is already made up by the time I reach their door, gently pushing it open and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, which isn't terribly bad to start with. There is a giant open floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the beach, and subsequently the moonlight reflects off the water and into the bedroom. It's still dark, but not enough to where I can't see where I'm going.

Each soft step I take sends my heart rate higher and higher until I reach my destination at Spencer's side of the bed. Call it what you want, but I figure it's damn lucky that he's facing towards the room and not towards my mom, otherwise waking him up would have been a much more difficult feat.

I brush strands of hair away from his forehead and then tap him gently on the nose. I almost think it won't work, but then he shakes his head and flutters open his eyes, and that's when my heart leaps straight out of my chest.

This just became real.

There's no going back now.

He's shocked to see me standing above him, obviously, and before he can say or do anything, I put a finger to his mouth and imitate a shh with my own.

I wait for his eyesight to adjust and for him to realize what my intentions are, and right before it happens, my finger lifts from his mouth and rests on his bare chest as I balance myself, lifting my right leg to the pillow, right next to his head.

There's a deep, concerned warning in his eyes, but it dissolves the second he glances down to see that under my thin silk nightdress there's no tangible barrier between himself and my slick cunt. Even if the darkness prevents him from getting the best look, it's not a secret what I'm doing. My right hand drapes down as I start to touch myself gently, and fortunately it doesn't take long to start feeling that familiar sharp ache of desire pulsing through my lower half. Spencer's wide eyes and heavy breathing tacked on to the sheer danger I'm putting myself in to do this have made me wet in an instant.

I force myself not to think about the sleeping woman next to him and instead keep my eyes locked with his. It feels almost like a dream, like if I get distracted and lose his gaze then I will be doomed to lose it for good, and no matter how hard I try to remember it when I wake, it will be nothing but a distant feeling. The stakes right now have quite literally never been higher.

Now, there are a lot of things I'm not proud of. Helping my mom's boyfriend cheat on her is probably the biggest offender for obvious reasons. But as I've learned, sometimes those things end up being totally worth it.

Faking an orgasm also happens to be one of those things.

It's risky, I know. Spencer is the smartest person I know. It's not a stretch to believe that he could call my bluff. I also happen to be unfortunately seasoned in the art of faking orgasms (thankfully due to my time seeing men before sleeping with Spencer). The determination I have to get him to fuck me before this first night of our vacation is over is the cherry on top of my evil scheme.

So, I rock my hips into my hand, lock eyes with Spencer, and fake the fuck out of it. And thankfully, faking being quiet in this particular situation is ten times easier than faking being loud. It's a fool-proof plan.

I barely 'finish' before Spencer grabs my wrist and softly sits up in the bed. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, because his face doesn't even twitch. It almost looks like he's angry, but I have a hard time believing he would be. It could also be the concoction of desperation and anxiety coursing through my nervous system making me make that up. Either way, I know I'm going to find out very soon.

Spencer gets out of bed quietly, dragging me behind him. He shuts the bedroom door with barely any sound, and it's impressive considering he'd just woken up a few minutes ago. I suppose though, a man on a mission is a man on a mission no matter how drowsy; The moment we're down the stairs and out the back door to the porch, he's backing me up to the table where we'd eaten dinner, my legs nearly buckling before he lifts me up and sets me down on top of it.

"You're insane," he whispers, closing the gap between us just a millisecond after.

I welcome his kiss and melt into him, snaking my arms over his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his waist. He tilts his head hungrily, deepening the kiss, and I can't help but groan at the inclusion of his tongue.

"Insanely irresistible," I finally counter back when we part for air.

He kisses me again, quickly, adding, "Insanely bratty," and then he reaches down to touch the heat between my legs. I've gone long enough without it that I involuntarily drop my head back with a sigh of relief at his touch, breathing out, "Fuck, I need you..."

I half-expected him to keep bantering with me, but instead he leans forward and latches onto my neck, surely leaving hickeys behind as his fingers work inside me. It feels good, but it's not enough. I need more.

More...

I hadn't even realized I'd been breathlessly chanting the word into the air until Spencer groans and removes himself from me to pull his lounge pants down far enough to free his erection and slide into me with ease. He swallows my moan with his mouth, holding himself inside me and kissing me so deeply I can barely breathe. The cool night air sends a blanket of chills over my limbs, and for a moment in time, it's just me, him, and the ocean crashing beside us.

It's almost like we become a part of it, wave after wave of pleasure and relief passing through us with each harsh crash of water over sand. Skin against skin, tongue over lip and tooth.

We could have been out there for hours, and I wouldn't have known any different. All I know for sure is that it's me and Spencer. Just as it should be.

Even after we both reach our end, we remain still in our embrace, my limbs weak but still wrapped around him. Safe. He strokes the back of my head and kisses me lazily, drawing out every last ounce of happiness from my body and soul until he pulls away finally and I remember where we are. The situation at hand. How horrible I feel at what I'd just done in front of my sleeping mother.

God, you are so fucked up...

"You're right. I'm insane."

Spencer tenses at my words, then sighs. "I'm not any better."

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this," I confess. "I wish it was just me and you. I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I know, Y/N..."

He doesn't say anything after that, and I don't either. Part of me wants him to reassure me that everything will be okay, but the rational part of me knows deep down that I don't deserve it. Also that it probably wouldn't even work anyway.

I'm too far into this pit of hell for any kind of redemption, and I'm just going to have to deal with it.

Which is why, when Spencer walks me up to my bedroom and gently kisses me goodnight after helping to clean me up, I simply slink away to bed and will myself to sleep, feeling completely numb despite getting exactly what I wanted.

SATURDAY

"Pancakes are done!"

I feel miles better than I did yesterday, maybe because Spencer had padded into my room early this morning to uh... Pay me back for the stunt I pulled last night. I couldn't deny the smile on my face when I woke to his body standing over mine, palming himself through his pants as Andrew slept soundly next to me.

Rather than watch him though, I quietly sat up and lent him a helping hand.

And mouth.

Whatever negativity we'd encountered yesterday had magically vanished, and now I can't help but feel like it's going to be a good day.

It also helps that Andrew made pancakes and bacon.

"These look great, Andy," Mom compliments, sitting down at the head of the table. "Better than mine."

"Nonsense," I tell her. "Yours have confetti sprinkles."

"Yes, but they're always burnt." Spencer kisses the side of her head as he stands behind her, but his eyes are on me, an evil grin on his lips. "No offense, Dear."

I want to strangle him.

"Not all of us can be masters of the frying pan... But I try."

"You do great, Mom, don't listen to him. He may know everything, but he doesn't know everything."

He feigns hurt, putting a hand over his heart and pouting, and I can't help but smile. Mom does, too, and for a moment, it feels like we can all get along without complicated feelings and desires putting a damper on our weekend.

Andrew fixes up his plate last, and when he sits down next to me, his hand finds mine under the table, tapping my palm twice—our signal for "everything good?"

I tap his back, a confirmation that for right now, I'm okay.

Breakfast is enjoyable, and I don't know what the day will bring, but I don't have any panic or dread settling in my bones, and Spencer and I aren't staring daggers into the back of each others' heads, so until that point arises again I decide to stuff my mouth with food and just revel in the calm.

Mom perks up as we're finishing the last few bites of our plates. "There's a big flea market a few towns over today, I thought we could go check it out after breakfast. It's supposed to be a nice half-hour drive along the coast, and they've got live music and tons of food."

"Mmm, sounds great, Mom," I say through a bite of food, swallowing it before continuing. "Maybe on the way back we can stop somewhere and get stuff to finish the patio."

Grandma's beach house is nice, but it's old, which means the patio screens are littered with holes and other wear and tear. Part of the reason we'd decided to come here was to make it look nice and figure out what repairs need to be done before we help her sell it, and that patio needs... Well, it needs a little more than some new screen-doors, but that was the start.

Spencer nudges my foot under the table and speaks up. "I don't do so well in the car after I eat, so I can actually stay back and start working on getting the porch cleared out and take measurements for what you need if you want to go ahead without me."

"Oh, are you sure, Honey?" Mom grabs his hand. "We can wait a little to go if you want."

"Really, it's okay. It's a beautiful morning, you should take advantage of it. I'll take the other car and meet you there in an hour or two."

"Well, okay, if you're sure. I just feel bad leaving you behind..."

He nudges me under the table again.

"I can stay and help," I offer then, suddenly feeling my chest warm up from the inside at the opportunity. Then it's my turn to do the nudging. I tap Andrew's hand under the table and look at him. "I mean, you don't mind hanging out with my mom for a bit, do you?"

I'm so glad he's quick at catching on. And I will love him forever for what he's doing for me. I make a mental note to send him gift baskets for life when he nods and gives my mom his best smile. "I don't mind at all."

I turn to Mom. "Yeah, I'll call you when we've got everything handled and then Spencer and I can just meet you guys down there." I turn to him then, hoping to make it seem more like a natural development of a last-second plan rather than an evil scheme. "If you want the company, that is. I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

He smiles. "I don't mind the help at all, but it's totally up to you and your mom."

Mom practically fawns over her boyfriend and grabs his hand with a lovesick pout, which makes me feel really bad for what we're probably about to do the second she leaves. "No, I think it'll be good for you two to spend some time together. It makes me happy to see my two favorite people getting along."

"Then it's a perfect plan for me," Spencer beams at her, kissing the back of her hand.

———

We wait until we can't see the car anymore, until it's so far in the distance that we're positive we won't be seen. Spencer wants to wait longer in case Mom decides she forgot something and needs to come back, but I know that Andrew will text me if anything happens. Spencer is right here next to me, his hand steady on my lower back as he guides me through the house.

We're alone, not doing anything yet, and it feels like torture.

So on the way to the bedroom, I squeeze his hand and depart, hoping to kill some time—to ease his mind as well as my anxiety.

"I'm gonna pee quick and then you can have your way with me, yeah?"

Spencer reaches out for my hand again, pulling me to him and not letting me go, a glint of something mischievous in his eye. It shocks and excites me simultaneously. "But I want my way with you now."

His lips are on mine, and he's backing me into the wall, picture frames gently rattling in the hallway once my back is flush to the drywall. I melt into him with a laugh.

"We have time," I tell him between kisses, trying to get away. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"No," he grunts, kissing me again, deep and earnest.

I whine at the excitement that burns in the pit of my stomach, but I also do really have to pee. "Spencer, please."

"Hold it," he demands through gritted teeth, kissing my neck and then slotting his knee between my legs.

I clench instinctively, and I can't help but test the waters. "Or what?"

"Or I can tell your mother what a bad girl you were today. So unhelpful, wasting my time and giving me back-talk. She'll be so disappointed in you."

"Wow, Spence. Threatening me with my mother, how kind of you," I retort, even though his words are undoing me. I grind down on his leg and feel my bladder pulse with need. My teeth grit when he bites down on my shoulder.

"I'm a kind man."

"Kinda mean, maybe," I whimper.

"Not really. All you have to do is hold it, pretty girl. That's all I ask."

His knee lifts higher and I moan to the air. "Fuck. Spencer, I don't think I can."

"You will."

I have a brief moment of reprieve when he drops his leg, but it doesn't last long because he brings his hand down in its place, deft fingers slipping under the band of my shorts and toying with my clit.

"That's not fair," I sigh, weaving my fingers through his hair.

He smiles, nipping at my jaw. "Aw, poor thing."

His fingers are relentless, rotating between flicking at my clit and plunging into me and spreading me apart, and it's making it extremely difficult to do what he's asking. I feel an orgasm building rather quickly, but I can't quite tell if that's just because I'm so turned on, if it's my bladder, or both. My thighs are trembling and the pressure is getting tighter.

"Fuck, I— I can't... I'm g—onna..."

The orgasm rips through me beautifully, a brand new feeling that I have to sort-of subside to keep from completely letting go all over his hand, but I can't help it. My hips cant back and forth, and I feel my shorts warm a little as I come down, and suddenly I clench my legs together, whimpering and stopping myself from continuing. The pressure hasn't let up at all, and now it's even harder to hold back.

"I'm sorry... I'm... I'm still trying."

Spencer captures my mouth in a tender, teasing kiss as he coos, "I know... You're trying so hard." His fingers glide through me softly, and then they're gone and taking my bottoms with them. The fabric falls to the floor, and soon his pants are gone, too.

"Can you hold it a little longer, sweetheart?"

"I can try," I sigh out in one quick breath, looking down and already feeling overwhelmed at the sight of his erection.

I'm not going to last long.

Spencer turns me around and bends me at the waist, using one hand to wrap around me and rub my clit as the other guides himself into me from behind.

I yelp, then groan as he fucks me hard.

My face is pressed flat against the wall, and I try to focus on that feeling instead of this new angle and all the pressure it's putting on me. I'm clenching so hard, and Spencer is loving every second.

"God I love how tight you are, trying to be good for me..."

I want to tell him to stop talking, because his words always push me over the edge, but I have to focus so hard on nothing but this goddamn wall in front of me to keep from making a mess. And with each searing thrust he throws my way, that just becomes harder and harder.

He shifts a little and hits a particularly good spot, making me yell again as I relax and start to lose control— but only for a second. I still want to try, so I clench again and whine as I feel the warm liquid roll down my leg and the beautiful burn I'm feeling.

Spencer groans and goes harder then. He wants me to break, and honestly, it might not be long until I do.

"I know you want to, little girl," he tempts, sliding his hand up to press on my bladder. "Am I making it harder for you? Huh?"

If I could punch him, I would, but I'm afraid all I can do is beg him for release, the pressure almost too much. But because I still like to make things difficult and I'm not completely fucked dumb yet, I decide to add some flare.

"Please, Daddy, can I let go?" I whine, and he pauses with one of his own. I feel his hand slide off my stomach and weave through the roots of my hair instead, pulling me up to meet him.

He whispers hotly in my ear, "If you want to act like a greedy little slut, then by all means. Go right ahead..."

It's hard to tell what his intentions are after we move on from this position, but right now, I don't really care. Because no matter what consequences come with it, it's still permission all the same, and I'm not going to last much longer anyway.

"But I'm not going to keep fucking you through it. That's on you."

There it is.

So, what?

He stays inside me, hard and pulsing with need anyway, so I rock myself back and forth on him and reach down to rub my clit as I bring myself to the edge again. I keep trying to hold it until I'm ready to orgasm, and thankfully that doesn't seem to take very long.

Within seconds, I'm coming. I feel it all with a shout, letting my body tense and release, and Spencer grabs my hips to keep me from falling over. His blunt nails digging into my skin only add to the insane pleasure that courses through my body, and then the dam breaks not long after.

I let go in small spurts, still trying to have some control over how I do this, because I still want to drive him mad. So I turn my head and try to look at him, throwing his words in his face.

"I know you want to fuck me through it, Daddy... I'm still trying to hold it for you, so you can. Please..."

"Fuck," he hisses, giving up and pushing me to the wall again. He snaps his hips back and then forward, and it takes all I am not to scream at how good it feels.

This time I really let it all go, allowing myself to relax and revel in all the sensations coursing through me. Just like I wanted, Spencer fucks me through every second of it, until I have nothing else to give but mindless whimpers of over-stimulation and gratitude.

I don't even realize I'm coming again until my body jolts with the sensation, and then Spencer follows, running his hands along the backside of my body anywhere he can reach as he does.

Once we're both tired enough, he pulls out and gently turns me around to face him. I almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but he's pressing me to the wall again and kissing me before I can protest.

I don't know how long we stand there and make out, but eventually I shiver, feeling cold and... dirty. Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't regret it, because it was hot as fuck, but... Now? In this moment, after the fact?

I pull away from him and sigh. "You should have just let me go to the bathroom. Now we gotta clean this up."

Spencer ponders for a moment, looking down between us and then back up at me before shrugging with a shit-eating grin.

"I told you to hold it. Maybe you should work on listening to me."

I punch him in the arm, and he laughs.

"In your dreams, old man."

———

Evening comes in the blink of an eye, and I swear it's the happiest I've ever been. Sneaking out of the house like a teenager in love with someone she knows is fundamentally wrong for her is probably the most accurate way to describe what's happening, though Spencer is only wrong for me in a completely different way.

All the same, no matter the reason, he makes it hard to remember why.

It feels so good—so deliciously right—after all.

And how couldn't it; I'm absolutely elated, heart beating wildly as I race down the highway with the windows all the way down. Spencer squeezes my hand, trying to let loose, but I can tell he's utterly terrified by my speed. It makes me laugh.

When I finally pull over into a small clearing some miles down a random side-road and put the car in park, he sighs. "Where are we?"

"Dunno. But it's secluded. Moonlit. Romantic."

Each word that escapes me is punctuated with a kiss on each of his fingers.

"It's... Unsettling."

I can't help but laugh again, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing over to his lap. He shifts uncomfortably but helps me straddle him anyway, rolling the seat back as far as it can go as I tease him with neck kisses.

"Are you afraid of the dark, old man?"

He groans my name in warning when my teeth bite down on his shoulder. I know I can't mark him. It upsets me greatly, but I have to at least give myself a little taste.

So, when his hands tighten around my waist, I whine and settle for his lips. I kiss him eagerly, and by the way he's responding, any qualms about being in this "unsettling" location seem to have vanished. His hands roam my body reverently and eventually help guide my hips as they rock into him with desperate conviction.

I welcome his tongue with my own and thread my fingers through his hair, already feeling the heat of the summer air cling to my body as the air conditioning dissipates. The windows are already starting to fog.

Spencer notices my urgency and breaks apart with a hum of amusement. "What's the matter?"

"I want out of these damn clothes."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

I don't even have the energy to tease him back. He's giving me what I want with no obstacles other than the fabric between us, and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

It's a little difficult in such a cramped space, but eventually I am completely bare in front of him, save for my underwear. I've removed Spencer's shirt, but his slacks are still on, and I'm in the process of helping him out of them when he laughs again.

"What?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing... I'm just surprised you even wore any underwear to begin with. Surely you knew what was going to happen tonight..."

I roll my eyes, but my smile never wavers. "Do you or do you not remember how this whole thing started? You love my underwear, and you love taking them off of me... I did this for you."

In agreement, he tenderly slips his middle finger under the seam and pulls the fabric to the side, and I nearly whine as he looks me over, the corner of his bottom lip pinched gently between his teeth. He's so fucking hot it physically hurts me. It makes me pathetic.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he finally offers, dragging a careful finger through my seam. I gasp at the sensation and feel myself start to tremble when he gently flicks at my clit. It's so featherlight, barely a touch at all, but still enough to drive me mad.

I need him. Now.

"Anything for you," I breathe, lunging forward to kiss him again. He welcomes me with fire instead of the amusement I'd almost expected from him. Usually, it's a dig at my eagerness, but tonight he's just as eager, just as needy, and the equal reciprocation has me in shambles.

It doesn't take long to find my way to him. I've finally managed to free his erection from fabric confines, and instead of fully sitting on him, I slick him up with my arousal, grinding along the length of him as he leans his head back and curses to the air. The friction is low-simmering and beautiful, and nowhere near enough to get myself off, but that doesn't matter to me right now. It just feels so good, and seeing Spencer tensing and twitching beneath me, feeling his hands tighten over my breasts as I rock back and forth... Reveling in this tension before truly giving into our carnal desires is honestly just as good as the sex itself. If I could etch this feeling, this erotic slow-burn of a moment, into my soul for all eternity, to remember in vivid detail for as long as I was alive and breathing, I would.

I'm so wet, so hot with sweat and aching with desire for this man, I can barely stand it.

My hand reaches down between us and takes him in a firm grip. I stroke him slow and tight, to which Spencer hisses, forcing himself to look down as he shakes his head.

"Fuck, you're perfect..."

The genuine praise makes me tremble again, warmth flooding my bloodstream. I start to quicken my pace, but his hand reaches down to grab my wrist.

"We have to get out of this damned car."

Before I know what's happening, he's opening the door and exposing us to the open air. He leads me outside, then opens the back door and guides me to the back seat, laying me down on my back. I lean up on my elbow to watch as he towers over me, sliding his pants all the way down and watching me with hungry eyes.

I can't help the urge that overtakes me then, readjusting my underwear again so that I'm exposed to him. Ready. Still, no teasing from him about how ready I am. There is only fire burning behind his gaze and a determination to make me feel every single flame as it dances brightly over my skin.

I can tell just by looking at him right now, barely illuminated by the moon in the open sky above us, Spencer is going to absolutely ruin me.

He comes forward and reaches down, both hands tugging at my underwear until they literally tear at the seams. The sound is so jarring and unbelievably hot that feels almost pornographic. I've never been so turned on in my life. He knows it, too, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he tosses the tattered cotton away like it's nothing at all, then proceeds to adjust me to his liking, folding my knees up to my chest and giving himself the deepest angle he can possibly get.

"Ready?" he asks, that fire in his eyes telling me he already knows the answer.

"Always," I tell him, pulling him down to connect our lips.

He pushes into me then, a steady full movement that doesn't falter even once. I take it happily, humming into Spencer's mouth as he starts to move his hips. The car gently rocks underneath me, the smallest of creaks sounding under the upholstery. Between that and the snapping of his skin to mine, the crickets chirping in the background, and the thick, heavy whirring of our breathing being so close together in this small space, it truly does feel like the perfect summer night.

This is what summers are made for. Passion. Heat. Want. Wildfire. Pure sin...

That's what it is. Spencer's teeth leaving unashamed marks on my skin when I'm not allowed to return the favor as he fucks me in the backseat of my mom's old car, nothing around us but the moon, the stars, and the sweltering summer heat... There would be time for guilt later, when we return to the beach house, and possibly even along the drive there. But for now, I don't feel guilty. I'm completely aware of my surroundings, of my situation, and yet there's not an ounce of guilt to be found anywhere in this car.

That alone is the biggest sin of all.

SUNDAY MORNING / 2 A.M. / SPENCER

My limbs are barely awake when I shuffle down the hallway and sigh heavily at the sweet promise of a deep sleep. I feel tense, but I know that's only because I have to keep my departure a secret. I won't fully know peace until my head has hit the pillow and my consciousness has drifted away for the night.

Eve is an early riser. I won't get much sleep, but the few hours I will manage to round up will be worth it. And I'll go to sleep happy.

Y/N is still all over me, which is dangerous. Her aura, her smiles and her laughter, her sighs and her pleas, her fingernails trying not to leave marks on my back even thought it's all I want—All of it is such an enormous part of who I am now, that every second I'm in Eve's presence, I start to wonder if she can feel it. I hope not, but as a man who has proudly worn and reflected the attributes of every woman he's ever loved, it's a scary thought.

So scary, apparently, that it seems to have manifested a near-heart attack. I know I'm not actually having one, but the sharp pain I feel in my chest when I open the bedroom door and find Eve, awake and sitting in bed with a distant look in her eyes, for a split second, could have fooled me.

"You're up early," I say, closing the door and walking to my side of the bed. My heart is beating so fast, my nervous system working on overload to keep up with the amount of signals and sirens that are blaring in my brain.

Eve doesn't look at me, but responds somberly. "So are you."

How long has she been awake? "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. I wanted to take a drive..."

She hesitates for a moment as I climb into bed and nudge her leg with my own.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

No.

"Yes. I'm sorry if I worried you." I take her hand in mine, but she still can't look at me. It frightens me. "What's wrong?"

"I don't... I don't know... Something just feels weird, and I don't know what or how to explain it."

"Like... With the house?" I feign confusion, easily disguising the fear that lies underneath, and it seems to work; Eve concedes.

"No," she sighs, turning to finally look at me. Her eyes are tired, and she looks like she's embarrassed. "I don't know... I've been getting this weird feeling lately, and then you disappeared for a couple hours tonight, and I guess I just..."

She trails off, and I sigh, hoping to put her mind at ease. "Eve... You know I love you, right?" They're the right words to say, but they feel evil coming out of my mouth. They're... I don't want to say they're not true, because in some way I still do love her. But... Not how she wants me to. Not how she loves me back.

"I know," she cries apologetically, falling her head onto my shoulder with a dramatic thump. It's a mannerism that reminds me so much of her daughter, I feel another sharp twist in my gut. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There is nothing wrong with you," I comfort her quickly, squeezing her hand. "It's okay, I promise."

"No, it's not. It isn't fair for me to just assume you aren't happy in this relationship when you've done nothing to show otherwise, and then act all grumpy and accusatory. It wasn't right. I should have just talked to you about my... weirdness, and gotten it out of the way. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that," I tell her. I'm relieved that she still doesn't know the truth, but my heart is still racing and I can't seem to get those damn warning sirens to quiet in my head. "Still, I'm sorry for worrying you. I wasn't tired, and it seemed like a perfect night for a quiet, mindless drive."

"Mmm, you're right," Eve agrees, leaning into me and glancing out the window. She takes a deep breath and kisses my neck, right where her daughter had been only hours before. "Next time, invite me along?"

"You got it." It's an empty promise, but it makes her happy. It keeps her unassuming.

We fall asleep together, but my dreams belong to someone else.

[parkerluvsu]

ME ESPRESSO! (art donaldson x fem! reader)

say you can't sleep, baby, i know/that's that me espresso

the vibration of your phone on your bedside table causes you to halt your nightly routine, sitting cross-legged on your cozy hotel bed. art was currently paying for you to live there while you found an apartment closer to him in the city. speaking of art, his contact picture flashed on your phone screen, causing you to smile as you pick up. "i can't sleep" art cuts right to the chase, not beating around the bush. "aw why?" you feign ignorance when you respond, you know exactly why, only about an hour before you'd sent art a selfie in nothing but the hotel-provided robe, a payment of sorts for letting you stay in the lavish hotel. "you know why baby.."

holy shit/is it that sweet? i guess so

you can't stop the giggle that escapes your mouth. "you're sweet art.. i only wanted to show you how comfy the robe was!" you lie through your teeth, when art is needy and missing you is when you like him best. "cmon baby you were practically naked.. you know what you do to me.." he almost whines into the phone, you can hear him shifting through the speaker. "what do i do to you?" you can imagine the look on arts face now, as he shifts uncomfortably in the plush chair in the corner of his room, running his fingers through his cropped blond hair.

im working late, 'cause im a singer/oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

most of the time when art calls or contacts you it's at night, you both have busy schedules (his being a little more flexible now that he's retired) and since art is in the midst of a messy divorce, it's better for both of you if you don't live together currently. and maybe it's easier for art to save face a little bit and not drool all over you if he can't see you all the time. as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and art is extremely fond of you. obsessed is a strong word, but it does remind you of arts attitude towards you, it's not an exaggeration to say that he would absolutely jump off a bridge for you.

my twisted humor make him laugh to often/my honey bee, come and get this pollen

art chuckles, an attractive sound that echoes through the speaker. "what do you do to me? baby you make me crazy.. you know i would give a whole lot to be with you right now, yeah?" you sigh, imagining what you would do if he was there with you. "yeah i know.. just wish you could teleport over here with me" art wishes the same, but he can't come and see you now, tomorrow he has to take care of his daughter and whenever he comes over you two always end up sleeping in till noon.

too bad your ex don't do it for ya/walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya

you only knew part of the situation with his ex, tashi, you think her name was. art, by nature is a private person, preferring to keep his personal life personal. he only came clean to you about their tumultuous relationship and the subsequent fallout when he felt that he trusted you enough. simply put, when art decided to retire from tennis, he decided to get a divorce from tashi because he knew she would only come to hate him, and maybe he had come to hate her too. when he met you, you're everything tashi wasn't. caring, nurturing, supportive, loving. it only motivated art to move forward with the divorce, even if it meant that the life he used to live was over. but it wasn't all bad for art.. he finally had a girlfriend that would be there for him no matter what (and put up with his clingyness).

soft skin and i perfumed it for ya/i know i mountain dew it for ya

arts sweet voice brings you back to reality. "did you get that gift i got you?" you remember the sweet gesture with a smile on your face, a couple days ago art had gotten you a basket full of self care products. face masks, body wash, moisturizers and lotions, all in your favorite scents. the note card attached said "take care of yourself for me. -thinking of you always, art <3" you swooned at the personalized details. "yes i did art.. thank you.. ive been using the lotion you gave me and i feel so soft.." you truly don't realize how much art is affected by your words. but you can tell he's smiling through the phone "is that right? im glad you like them.. i have to admit that i had to hold back from stealing a couple things, all that stuff reminds me of you and it really does it for me"

that morning coffee, brewed it for ya/one touch and i brand-newed it for ya

"you know you should really go to sleep art, it's late" you say, trying to test him and see if he'll stop talking to you for just that simple reason. "i know, but like i said, i can't sleep, and i didn't even have any coffee today" he reminds you, making you recall his old addiction to caffeine, one that he still has to fight to this day, but it's easier now that he isn't working so much. "you should just stay on the phone then" you suggest slyly, "i mean if i can't go to sleep touching you i at least want to go to sleep talking to you" you add. arts heart melts, no one had ever expressed interest in him like you do.

now hes thinkin' 'bout me, every night, oh/is it that sweet? i guess so

art agrees to your proposal quickly, both of you settling into your beds for the night as you set your phones next to you. "when can i come see you again?" art asks breathlessly, and he really does feel breathless when he isn't around you, searching for the fresh air that only you can provide him. "in two days, okay? it won't feel too long i promise" you reply, knowing he'll be disappointed, but also knowing the two of you still lead seperate lives. "alright, and we'll do something special together okay? ill try to pull some strings and get us a reservation at that restaurant you love" art, always the eager one, is already planning out the day to the minute detail. you sigh dreamily "that sounds perfect art.. you're too good to me" and it's true, he really does spoil you to his hearts content. "no way, you're so sweet im only giving you what you deserve" he replies quickly, blanketing you in flattery like usual. a few more minutes go by of back and forth compliments before you yawn, art taking notice. "you tired? go to sleep princess. ill be here, i mean- not really there but- you know what i mean" art always stutters over his words when he tries to be suave, a cute habit you hope he never quits. you giggle softly "alright alright.." you let your head sink into the fluffy feather pillow beneath you. "i love you art" the words leave your lips more naturally than anything you've ever said. "i love you more" art replies. well, you can't argue with that <3

[blughxreader]

Speaking of the A/B/O verse and how sexually charged it is...

How would the batfam deal with their omega sister going into heat?

This is under the assumption that the reader is the only omega in the pack.

I prefer the version of heats/ruts that are non-fatal and last a few days each month (instead of menstruation). (Or a week long heat every three months, whichever.)

Prescriptions are readily available for heats/ruts, so people can go years without having them. I think several members of the Batfam are on medicine to make life simpler.

Like, what if Gotham crime spiked during Batman's rut cycle because he disappeared for a few days each month? Gothamites on twitter would have a field day with this information lol.

@ btmnboobies tweeted: "batman horney leave starts on monday. if u jerk off all day then youll be fapping the same time as him"

@ ticklealphauwu tweeted: "batman is getting plowed time to rob a bank"

So, realistically, omega!reader would be on heat suppressants.

BUT IF, for drama's sake, there was no way to avoid a heat, then I can see two options:

1. They rigorously screen and import the best heat companions, then never repeat one. It's common for long-time heat partners to become attached, so you'll never see the same alpha twice.

Of course you'll get this talk: "tell them anything and they die. I programmed artificial intelligence to listen for key words, so I will know." and the alphas will be monitored for a minimum of five years afterwards.

Each member of the batfam would rather cut off a limb than have a stranger fuck you in their own home, but it's better than you being dead (or ruining your relationship by fucking you themself).

2. Or, Batman would go to the JL.

If a JL member has a darling who happens to be an alpha, then I can see Batman considering setting you two up.

Or he'd ask a favor of Clark or Diana.

Can you fucking imagine him asking for a meeting with Wonder Woman in private and it goes

Batman: Your world has similar genetics and rituals as ours. WW: Yes, in some ways. Batman: And casual partners during times of need are commonplace. WW: Quite... Batman, expression darkening: ... My daughter... WW, finally smiling: Oh, I see. You trust me. Batman, looking physically pained: Yes. Her first heat is at home coming and we are looking for long-term solutions. For the time being, would you mind... *grinds teeth*... assisting? WW: I would be honored. :)

Then Wonder Woman plows you all weekend

Damian would be torn between "hm yes a fine arrangement becoming of my cherished sister" and "NONONO YOU CAN'T GET MARRIED YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH US FOREVER"

because DUH you'd want to lock her down. A golden opportunity to escape the batfam shows up in all her short skirt and big muscled glory.

Lol it's a silly thought but probably the only way you'd live a semi-normal life. Until WW turns out to be a crazy yandere too? 👀

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Two Pink Lines

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Pregnancy difficulties, implied past loss.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the window of the bedroom where she sat waiting for the timer to finish counting down. For the past few weeks, she had been riding an emotional rollercoaster. Fear and anxiety mixed together with joy and excitement. Today, though, she felt something she hadn't dared to let herself feel for a long time: Hope. 

The timer on her phone sounded and she looked at the tiny white stick lying on the table, a wave of disbelief washing over her. It was actually real. After years of trying and countless disappointments, it was right there. Two pink lines. Her heart raced as she imagined the little life growing inside her. 

She was able to get an appointment with her OB/GYN a few days later and Dr. Matthews confirmed that she was in fact pregnant. She estimated her to be about 10 weeks along and calculated a due date for the middle of October.

Y/N stared in awe at the screen of the ultrasound machine as the tech pointed out the little bean that was her baby. Hot tears sprang from her eyes as the rapid tempo of the heartbeat filled the silent room. 

With a flutter of excitement, she picked up her phone and texted Bryan, the band’s media director. He was one of the few she trusted with this secret.

Hey, Bryan! I need your help with something! Can I call you?

Minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Absolutely!

Nerves ate at her as she listened to the phone ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” He answered. 

“Are you around any of the guys?” She asked. 

“Noooo, I’m on the bus editing, everyone else is in the venue for soundcheck.” He replied. “Why?”

“Okay. You can’t tell anyone, but I took a test earlier this week and went to the doctor today to confirm.” she explained, excitement filtering through “and well…I’m currently 10 weeks pregnant!”

“WHAT?!” He yelled, before clearing his throat with a cough and continuing with a lower volume of voice. “Holy shit! Congratulations!” 

“Thank You, Bry! I want to surprise Noah with the news and I need your help” She asked. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Bryan replied.

“I have the perfect idea!” 

Y/N and Bryan eventually had to loop Matt and Alana in on the plan as well. They needed them both in order to finalize all the logistics of getting Y/N to the east coast and sneaking her into the venue for the surprise. But they also needed their help to actually pull of the surprise without anyone else noticing. 

The night of the show arrived, the venue was alive with energy and anticipation. She hid backstage in one of the green rooms, heart racing as she watched Noah on stage through the venue's monitor system. She watched him put his heart and soul into performing, the music wrapping around him like a second skin. It was moments like this that made her fall in love with him all over again.

One by one they ticked songs off the set list. Alana quickly and quietly retrieved Y/N from the room and ushered her to a hiding spot back behind the stage risers. 

The final notes of Dethrone rang out and the crowd went crazy as the stage lights came back on for the boys to do their bows. As the boys walked back out to center stage, the lights dimmed again. 

Instead of the regular montage set to a Matchbox Twenty song, a montage of her and Noah’s life together popped up on the giant screen. Noah watched in confusion as the video Bryan made played set to the song they used for the first dance. 

Noah stared at the screen, the smile on his face growing wider with each clip. Y/N took this moment of distraction to quietly slip out onto the stage and stand behind him. 

Bryan had edited together clips from their wedding video, candid videos from when they were dating, and behind the scenes clips of the two on music video sets and backstage over the years. The video ended on the “Now Loading” screen the boys usually use to tease their fans. 

The lights came back up and the crowd erupted into cheers as they recognized who stood behind the singer.

Noah turned around to find his wife standing in front of him with a onesie that said “BABY OMENS” in the same font as the band’s logo. 

Noah’s face, a mix of shock and elation transformed into sheer joy. Nick, Jolly, and Folio jumped and hollered with excitement as they realized what was happening. 

Noah rushed toward his wife and scooped her up into his arms and spun her around a few times before finally setting her back down. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice barely barely audible over the sound of the crowd as he held her face in his hands.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded, laughter and joy mingling in her chest. 

“I’m serious!”

Bryan captured every moment—their embrace, the sparkle in Noah’s eyes, the overwhelming wave of love that surrounded them. In that instant, time felt suspended, and the world faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness.

“I can’t believe it!” Noah said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “We’re going to be parents!” 

The crowd continued to cheer.

As Noah leaned down to kiss her, Bryan captured the moment, the camera clicking away, freezing the pure joy radiating from the couple.

The kiss lingered, sweet and tender, before Noah pulled back, still holding her gaze.

“This is the best surprise ever. I’m so proud of you. You’ve been so strong through all of this.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle warmly in her heart. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve always believed in me, in us.”

Noah turned back to the audience, the light in his eyes bright. 

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” He yelled, raising Y/N’s hand in the air, showing the onesie. 

“We’re adding a new member to the Omens crew!”

The crowd erupted again, a sea of cheers and applause echoing off the venue walls. Y/N laughed, the sound clashing with the post show playlist that started playing through the venue. 

Y/N stood to the side as the band took their final bows before the house lights turned on and the fans began to shuffle out of the building. 

When he walked off stage, Noah wrapped her up in his arms once more. Y/N knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would navigate them together. The future was bright, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like anything was possible.

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Oh, It’s You ~

<<Prev THREE Next>>

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Ex-Sneaky Link!JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

This is an AU set 1 year after s4 however canon plot points won't really be mentioned.

After months of hooking up with JJ in secret, you both began developing deep feelings for each other, but when his friends, Kie especially, learn of your relationship and plot on it's downfall JJ leaves you reeling and confused as he enters a relationship with his best friend leaving you to wonder what you did to push him away so quickly. Unbeknownst to you however. the blonde was struggling more than he let on, wanting nothing more than to go his own path but feeling trapped with those who used to make him feel free. The only person he can think of now that makes him feel as open as he once did is.... you.

Warnings: emotional cheating(they almost kiss), ooc Kie, Depressed JJ but he doesn’t realize, lying and small amount of manipulation on Kie’s part.

~~~~

JJ’s fingers clenched against his phone, knuckles turning white as he waits for your response. Eyes darting between his phone screen and Kie’s angry face in front of him. “Don’t you want a life JJ” She spits at him like venom.

She seemed like such a different person now. JJ remembered when he trusted her with almost anything but whenever he thinks of her now he needs to stop himself from thinking of his dad. He can’t help but wonder if his mother was as easily manipulated by him as he’s beginning to realize he was by Kie.

Nothing he ever does is good enough.

“You said I needed a job and I have an interview, I don’t understand what the big deal is.” JJ sighed, still waiting for the feeling of his phone buzzing in his hand.

“I didn’t mean at some shitty little garage, that’s not going to get you anywhere in life. Working on cars is your hobby, you cannot make a livelihood off of it.” The way she said “you” so full of spite and anger made him feel so small, holding back his own anger as to not snap and make everything worse.

“I’m good with cars Kie, if I get enough legit experience I could open up my own garage.” JJ shrugs, only half enjoying the idea himself but wanting to please her. His eyes fall shut as she scoffs again, arms crossing over her chest while she gave him a disapproving look.

He didn’t want to do this, he hated when she talked to him like this. And when he got your text in the middle of one of their many fights, it felt so right that he should have known it was wrong. But he just couldn’t stay here, and he couldn’t admit to her that he had nowhere else to go after everything. His phone buzzed and his heart jumped, his eyes falling to the screen in his hand trying not to act weird as he read your text.

Y/N🤫💛 Are you sure that’s a great idea?

JJ wastes no time in typing out his response, ignoring the way Kie paces in front of him. She speaks angrily about him getting a job at Rafe’s fancy new nightclub instead, raising her voice with every word and glaring at his phone every second. His eyes roll despite how hard he tried to control them, knowing she hated when he did that but finding it harder and harder to be the perfect boyfriend she had imagined. “Are you seriously ignoring me? If you don’t want to talk about this maybe you should leave for the night.” Kie spat, anger clear on her face and JJ couldn’t blame her.

Jay Not sure if anything is a good idea anymore but ik u feel safe and i have nowhere else to go anymore

It took you much less time to formulate your next text as you read his. Your heart hurts at the pain he seems to be in, he seems so trapped in whatever worries he had right now. He seems hurt and lost, and you know him well enough to know he’s feeling like a burden so you quickly respond, leaving it up to him in the end.

Y/N🤫💛 The window will be unlocked, don’t feel like a burden Jay. I know things are weird between us now and they might always be, but I will never turn you away when you’re struggling. No matter what.

JJ read your text with slightly watery eyes, he felt lost and hurt, he was hurting the people around him just by his existence. He couldn’t be who Kie or John B wanted anymore, it was becoming too much. JB was a dad now and JJ understood why everything needed to become so serious so fast, he really did. But despite how happy he was for him and Sarah and their beautiful baby boy Jackson, he was terrified. The last few years felt like a blur, they went by so fast and JJ ignored it by telling himself he would be free in his 20s.

But he was wrong. It all kept piling on. He felt like in a blink of an eye he would be 30 and still feel absolutely nothing real. With a pang of guilt he bid a stressful goodbye to Kie as he left her house, knowing exactly where he would go, knowing he shouldn’t but knowing he couldn’t resist.

You were the only one that could slow everything down.

The sound of JJ’s bike outside your house had you shooting up from your bed, darting to unlock the window hoping your mom couldn’t hear the sound. She had heard too many tear filled rants about the blonde to ever accept him in her house but you just couldn’t resist him.

JJ quickly scaled the flower trellis on the wall outside your window just as you opened it for him, stepping back and attempting to discreetly watch him. His muscles were on full view from his cut t-shirt, constricting while he worked his way into your room, quickly turning to shut the window before looking back to you, catching you staring with a smirk.

“Hey Princess,” The nickname slips past JJ’s lips without a thought, so easily and smoothly as if he never stopped speaking it, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes train themselves on you, “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You can’t call me that anymore JJ,” You breath out quickly before continuing, “And you don’t need to thank me.”

JJ watches you walk around your bed to retrieve the same blanket and pillow he used last time, handing them to him as you plop down onto your bed, “So what happened? You seemed different when we were texting earlier.” JJ scoffs at your words, sitting next to you, almost too close as he starts speaking.

“Me and Kie got into another fight,” He sighs, his eyes finding yours like a refuge before falling to his feet, “She’s been pestering me to work for Rafe so I got an interview at this garage close to her place to get her off my back but she doesn’t think it’ll be enough.”

“Well she doesn’t get a say, it’s your life Jay, don’t pick a job just to spite her. And I understand where she’s coming from, Rafe has basically become an overnight success in the last year but I agree that you shouldn’t settle for what she wants.” JJ watches you, waiting for you to push him one way or the other, but you dont. You wait for him clearly wanting him to choose for himself.

And JJ can’t remember the last time any one accepted, or even wanted to hear, his opinion.

“I don’t care how much everyone thinks he changed or how easily he can convince people, hell I don’t care if he has actually changed. A Cameron will never be my boss.” JJ states matter of factly and you smile up at him, his reserve and certainty always being some of your favorite aspects of his personality.

“I don’t doubt it Jay, and I personally think you’re too good to work for him anyway.” You giggle, and JJ takes note of the fact that is sounded exactly as it always used to. He almost forgot what it sounded like. JJ found himself reminiscing on every second he spent with you, how happy he was and how happy he could be again if he just took a leap of faith.

“I just don’t know what to do,” JJ averts his eyes from you, feeling lost in his own feelings and wants, “Nothing I ever do is good enough for her and it feels like this just wasn’t right, everything feels so forced.” The way his head falls into his hands almost breaks your heart, and you wish you could hug him even though you knew it was inappropriate.

“I can’t help with everything going on but my boss is hiring,” You grimace, your face twisting slightly, “I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s for a janitor.”

JJ side eyes you with a weak smile making you laugh, turning on your bed to face him fully. “I’m serious JJ, it’s a good idea I swear.” You state with a bit of a giggle in your voice, instinctively gripping at his bare shoulder for only a second before retracting your hand quickly.

“How is that a good idea?” JJ laughs, the warmth of your hand lingering on his shoulder like a burn for far too long.

“Well A it’s not Rafe and B it’s not a random garage with no one you know. Mr.Barnes even grew up in the Cut, he’s way more down to earth than you would expect at first glance and he won’t treat you poorly. ” Your eyes meet his, a smirk growing on his lips at your words.

“So I’d get to work with you, every day?” JJ speaks slowly, words slipping off his tongue like they were somehow sultry. Against your better judgment you smile at his words, breaking eye contact while you try and form words.

“Well not every day, but I would be who shows you around and everything until you get the hang of the place.” You sigh, trying to ignore the excitement running through your body at his close proximity.

“What do you guys even do there?” JJ asks with a small laugh, wanting to hear you talk more than anything.

“Well I just answer calls and fix Mr.Barnes schedule mostly, and y’know take deliveries and stuff but it’s a security company so we more or less just give rich people protection.” Your eyes meet as he watches you talk, JJ can’t think of a better sight than your happy smile while you speak. He could listen to you talk about anything, genuinely. And he knew right then and there that he didn’t care if he was mopping floors and taking out trash, he was gonna take the job just to see you.

Your breath catches, your eyes meeting his again, this time letting them stay locked together. The intensity grows quickly making your chest feel tight, your irises feeling trapped in the strong blue gaze of his. A gasp escapes your lips as he begins to lean in instinctually, making you place a hand on his chest while you put distance between you both by standing.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” JJ stutters, eyelids closing tightly preparing for you to yell at him to leave, that he was a two timing piece of shit that needs to get out of your life for good. Instead you stay pacing in front of him eyes brimming with tears, “I shouldn’t have even thought- fuck I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, lets just forget it,” Feeling bad for him, you stare to his reddening face feeling your own heat up. Knowing he has nowhere else to go, and despite the sense of worry settling deep in your chest as you decide to ignore this moment you let him stay. “We should probably get to sleep anyway.”

“Yeah yeah,” JJ starts, jumping up from your bed and avoiding eye contact as he prepares a spot to sleep on the floor.

~~~~

~ Taglist ~ (ask to be added❤️)

@slut4-gojo @cali-888 @marley1773 @agnxstic @apeachtea @juno2369 @bee-43 @definitelymentallyderanged

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 23 - 'Flowers and Fixing' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.3 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla.  Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage.  You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying. 

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.  

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone. 

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.  

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury. 

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in. 

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed. 

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel. 

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was. 

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties.  "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all. 

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel.  As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more.  “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight. 

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear. 

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. 

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him.  Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away.  “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil. 

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared.  Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself. 

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. 

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow. 

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain. 

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same. 

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside. 

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. 

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance. 

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally. 

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. 

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening. 

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could. 

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response. 

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser.  She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. 

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew. 

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick.  Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover. 

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words.  Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone. 

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. 

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing. 

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. 

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face. 

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered.  Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face. 

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned. 

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him. 

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 23 - Flowers and Fixing xx

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

Can I have a Chrismd or George Clarke fanfic where reader has a young daughter from a previous relationship?

had to scour the internet for decent pics of chris...

Chris was fiddling with the edge of his sweatshirt, a nervous habit you’d picked up on during the past few months you’d been seeing each other. He was sitting on your couch, looking just a little too out of place, like he hadn’t quite figured out where he fit yet. You’d planned to bring this up eventually—the talk, the thing looming over your otherwise perfect moments together—but now that it was here, the words stuck in your throat, as though they’d been dipped in wet cement, and were having trouble coming out.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft. “I know we haven’t really talked about it, but… what’s the deal with me meeting her?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at the threadbare patch on the armrest of the couch like it held all the answers. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to meet your daughter. If anything, you’d imagined it too many times—his easy jokes pulling her in, the way he’d probably overcompensate, trying so hard to impress her that he’d embarrass himself. But that was a fantasy. Real life was so much messier. Real life didn’t have montage music or clean conclusions where we'd all gallop off into the sunset together.

“I just… I don’t want to rush it,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… it’s a big deal, you know? For her. For us.”

Chris nodded, his expression quiet but thoughtful, like he was chewing on your words. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get that. I mean, I don’t get it, because I’ve never been in your shoes, but… I get that it’s huge. And I don’t want to mess it up.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his tone. There was no defensiveness, no frustration, no attempt to smooth things over with a joke. Just Chris, sitting there like a lighthouse in the middle of your internal storm, shining a steady beam of 'I’m here, and I mean it.

“I think she’d like you,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. They felt fragile and heavy at the same time, like glass marbles. “But I need to be sure. For her sake.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice cutting through the swirling anxiety in your head. He reached over, his hand warm and solid as it covered yours. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the tight knot in your chest loosened—not completely, but enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to believe he meant it. What did I do to deserve him, you thought.

-

Two weeks later, you stood in the doorway to your living room, leaning against the frame as you watched Chris and your daughter sitting on the floor in front of the television. They were each covered by her princess blankets, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously between them. The screen flickered with the bright colors of a Disney movie, your daughter laughing so hard she looked like she might vibrate right off the couch.

Chris looked utterly delighted. He wasn’t just tolerating the movie night; he was in it. He was making the worst jokes, gasping at all the right moments, and somehow acting like this was the highlight of his week. And you almost believed it could have been.

You knew he’d been studying for this moment. A few weeks ago, you’d walked in on him scrolling through a list of Disney princesses on his phone. When you asked what he was doing, he’d flushed and mumbled, “Just… brushing up. Can’t meet a Disney fan and not know my stuff.”

Now, here he was, putting all that studying to use. When your daughter mentioned Ariel during their first conversation, Chris launched into a passionate defense of why the mermaid was the ultimate Disney princess. Your daughter, delighted, declared that he “actually knew his Disney.”

You couldn’t stop the smile creeping across your face. The coil of anxiety that had been living in your chest for weeks had finally unraveled, and was replaced by something warmer, softer, and brighter. Hope, maybe.

“You’re missing it,” Chris called out, catching you watching them from the doorway. “Come on, we need backup. She’s trying to tell me Sven’s not funny, and I’m not sure I can handle this betrayal alone.”

You laughed, stepping into the room and settling onto the floor beside them. Your daughter immediately curled up against you, still giggling. Chris handed you the popcorn bowl, his hand brushing yours for just a second before turning his attention back to the screen.

And just like that, it felt like he’d always been there.

-

After the movie ended and your daughter had reluctantly gone to bed, the house felt quieter. The buzz of the evening was gone, leaving just you and Chris on the couch. The air between you felt softer and lighter now, like a sweater that had been worn enough to feel familiar.

“She likes you,” you said finally, breaking the silence, and sipping your glass of wine.

Chris leaned back, his grin crooked, his hair a mess from where your daughter had insisted on ruffling it earlier. “Yeah? She’s not bad herself. Although, I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot for confusing Sven and Kristoff.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s particular about her Disney trivia. But honestly… you were great with her. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

He turned to look at you, his expression serious now in a way that made your heart twist. “I meant what I said before,” he said. “I’m here. For both of you. I know it’s not going to be easy. I know it’s going to be… a lot. But I’m ready for this. For us.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder.

“Anytime,” he said. Then, with a grin, he added, “Although, I might need flashcards for the next Disney round. Your daughter’s a tough critic.”

You laughed again, and for the first time in months, you had hope about a future with Chris.

[blue-sadie]

Take A Breather

Miguel O'Hara x Camgirl Reader

Summary: getting a notification from his favorite adult live streamer let's him get the relaxation he needs.

Warning: office masturbation, kinda short

Miguel/3rd person pov

Miguel's mind was becoming hazey as he stared at mission report on his computer, he let out a frustrated sigh and slammed his fist against his desk hissing out at the sting of pain.

He was stressed and overworked his hasn't had a break in hours? Days? He can't really remember his been couped up in hq only taking forced breaks by his team.

I let out a groan as I rubbed my face I was pent up and didn't really have much time to myself I looked down at the ground closing my eyes trying to regain my thoughts as I took in deep breaths.

My breath hitched as a notification rang through my ears my eyes snapped to my computer screen and I slightly bit my lip my eyes sharpening as I saw it was her.

'NaughtyBunny has gone live come join her: come check out me and my new toy ;)' I swiftly moved to click on the link but I hesitated and looked around briefly and sighed once more.

A quick look won't hurt anyone I spoke internally to myself and nodded before clicking on my link I grinned as she appeared on the screen her famous bunny ears settled in her head, her make up was natural and brought out her distinctive features.

She was wearing black lacy lingerie with a silver chocker tightly around her neck I groaned out and moved one of my hands to rub my bulge through my suit I just want to tug her towards me by her chocker and make her beg for me to please her.

"I got a surprise for everyone" you sang so innocently I wonder if people are surprised what you do for work, you bent down showing off your ass to the camera as you picked up a red box.

I raised my eyebrows intrigued and watched carefully as you removed the lid grabbing the item inside and showing it to the camera my breathe quickened in anticipation.

It was a pink dildo that was almost the same size as my cock it was somewhat normal except for the little bumps that run along the side "I saw it and thought it would be a nice addition to the collection we have" you giggle turning your head to your back wall filled with 'toys'.

A few donations of 5 to 15 dollars popped up on screen of people telling you different things calling you theirs and different names I would be wrong if I said I wasn't jealous that other people got to see you like this.

You laughed at your comments replying to a few of them as you grabbed your bottle of lube drizzling it down the dildo and using both of your hands to rub it in.

I groaned out and finally released myself from my suit grabbing my cock touching it in sync with your movements "it's so big" you murmured nervously and traced one of your finger tips along the bumps.

"I don't think it will fit" you bit your lip harshly "I'll fucking make it fit" I panted to myself my eyes glued to the screen I grazed my fingers over the head of my leaking cock making a shiver run up my spine.

I watched intently as you raise yourself up and slowly sinking onto the dildo your moans and whines only fueling my desire "fuck it's huge" you cried only fitting a quarter of it inside you.

You leaned forward onto your arms and slowly raised yourself up and down on it slowly taking more each time you go down, I could see your lips quiver as you moaned and the tensing of your muscles as you moved.

I let out grunts of my own slightly tightening the hold I have of my cock imagining it was you instead "fuck fuck fuck" I growled quickly my pace as you did too.

I watched as your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you finally fit the whole thing inside you "I think I can feel my insides being rearranged" you laughed breathless and fanned your red face.

"Oh trust me mi amor I could do much worse" I growled, you slowly began to move again this time you quickened your pace as you go your moans getting louder with each bounce "shit i-i think I'm gonna cum" you squealed.

I felt myself to start to pulse "cum with me mi amor" I groaned my jerking movements fultering as I felt myself close to cumming "fuck" we both moaned in sync as we cam, my cum shooting onto my stomach.

"Well guys-" you panted hazely "I hope you- enjoyed my new toy" you smiled lazily your eyes still filled with the daze of climaxing you leaned towards the camera and knocked the live stream off, I sighed happily and quickly turned to my phone calling someone.

"Yn I need you at hq state, I have a- mission for you"