#if I say I want to be thrown by one then I want to be thrown by one!

[mggslover]

MORE TO LOVE

In which Spencer proves to you how much he loves your big breasts.

pairing spencer reid x gf!reader genre smut (18+) cw reader has big breasts and is insecure bc of porn standards, just 6k words of tit worship: tit play, tit sucking, tit fucking. lots of teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v, cum play, creampie, reader wears a dress and lingerie, spencer is clingy and horny, spencer and reader are slightly tipsy, soft!dom!spence wc 6,3k a/n for my big tit girls <3 i hope someone can relate to this, and if you don't, i hope you can still enjoy! thank u lovely @esote-rika for proofreading

Everyone who’s had the honor of meeting Spencer Reid in an informal setting is aware of the fact that he isn’t a drinker. You’d score an indefinite amount of points in his book if you have something besides alcohol to offer. And Spencer isn’t picky — some trail mix in a bowl works as a good enough replacement. 

So, being surprised was an understatement when Spencer suggested coming to the bar where you were having drinks with your friends. The case he was on got wrapped up quicker than anticipated. He was about to walk to your apartment to spend the night with you when he remembered you were out with friends. 

It was the plan to pick you up and walk you home, making some light conversation with your friends while he was at it (for the amount of months you’d been dating, he should invest more time in getting to know the people who are close to you). He hadn’t planned on drinking, even surprising himself when he downed the two shots of liquor that one of your friends handed him. But he had no choice. Not when he walked into the bar and noticed you dancing in the crowd. Not when you were wearing that tiny black dress that was on his mind ever since he’d found it in your closet. Not when you turned around, your eyes twinkling and a bright smile tugging at your lips when you noticed him. And certainly not when his gaze had lowered and landed on the cleavage that was close to spilling out of your dress. He truly needed the liquid courage to get through the night. 

Now, standing on the corner outside of the bar, waiting for an Uber, you didn’t even notice the cold of the night as your body buzzed with the warmth of alcohol in your system combined with Spencer’s touches. He stood close to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses to the curve of your neck — acting uncharacteristically clingy now that there’s alcohol in his system. 

“So this is the real reason why you don’t drink, huh?” You ask Spencer in a chuckle, feigning annoyance while actually feeling very flattered by his sudden clinginess, which he rarely displays when sober. 

“You’re just so pretty.” He says in a lack of a better explanation. 

He had his palm placed flat on your stomach, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed the soft skin before his hand moved up your body at a concerningly fast speed.

“Hey there, mister,” you say in a playful warning, placing your hand on top of his to stop him in his tracks. “We’re still in public. Remember?”

He grumbled some incoherent words as his fingers toyed with the underwire of your bra.  “I like this dress.”

You smile, a flush creeping up your neck, glad he can’t see how much you’re enjoying this. “Yeah?” 

He hums in confirmation. “I’d like it even better off of you.”

The flush has now found its way to your cheeks, heating your skin as your heartbeat raced.

He presses a kiss to your jawline. “Bet you’d look so pretty.”

Your cheeks were on fire at this point. The butterflies in your stomach set free. 

“Want to see you naked.”

Then, everything comes to a halt.

“N-naked?”

He nods against your neck, his soft curls nuzzling you. 

Spencer doesn’t notice the way you tense up. To be fair, he’s not noticing any of his surroundings, completely focused on the way you feel in his grasp. 

His statement wasn’t weird. It shouldn’t have thrown you off like it did. He’s been your boyfriend for over three months — nearing the four-month mark — and you’ve had sex a lot of times. Still, he has never seen you naked. At least, not completely. 

All the times you’d had sex, you kept your bra on. They were cute bras, sexy lingerie sets that had cost you a fortune — specifically because the bra sizes you were looking for were like trying to find a signed limited edition of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. (You spoke from experience, having fought everyone on the internet to get a copy for Spencer’s birthday). All this effort was to hide one thing, well, two things really: your breasts. And it worked. Spencer was always hypnotized the second you took your top off. He had asked before if he could take your bra off, but when you rationally responded with, “It was so expensive, it would be a waste to take it off,” he always agreed, cupping your tits through the lacy fabric and forgetting why he ever complained. 

This is a good example that shows how considerate Spencer is. He’d let the subject slide with every weak excuse you made, never asking any prying questions. You knew it didn’t make sense to think Spencer would be turned off by the way your breasts look without a bra. He is obsessed with them covered, let alone when they’re not, your friends had told you. Still, doubt gnawed at you. He was a man. Men watch porn. You knew of his exes, how they have a different body type from yours. You were just afraid you’d shatter the illusion — that he’d be disappointed when he found out that your breasts aren’t as perky without support, how your nipples aren't placed symmetrically in the middle, how stretch marks covered the skin. 

“Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice rattles you out of your thoughts. You swallow. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The knuckle of his index finger tilts your chin, coercing you to look at him. His eyes looked sweet — a little tired, very lustful, but sweet nonetheless. 

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Three simple words, and still it felt like a large weight fell off your shoulders, allowing you to breathe again. “I know,” you respond with a nod, reaching out to cup his jaw. Your thumb grazes his light stubble, then gently brushes against the hidden scar underneath his chin. 

“I love you,” you say back.

The intimate moment is of short duration. Spencer tilts his head, then raises his hand to signal to the Uber, who just drives into the street. 

You mumble a soft thanks as Spencer holds the door open for you. You crawl into the backseat, and he follows behind you, clicking his seatbelt on and giving the driver the address to your home.

“Driver, roll up the partition, please,” you sing under your breath as the Uber driver does so.

“Beyoncé?”

You gasp, placing a hand on your heart to emphasize your surprise. “Wow, I’ve taught you so much.”

“You teach me lots of things,” he says with a goofy grin. 

And he meant it. You did teach the all-knowing genius quite a lot. Whether you’d consider sharing your excessive pop-culture knowledge as impressive as the facts he rambled about was questionable. But the information was useful, nonetheless. 

His eyes flicker from the driver back to you, saying his next words just loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t think it would be a smart idea if you were to get on your knees, though.”

Your lips curl, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. His comment is a reference to the song; still you could tell there was a slight invitation behind his words. 

“You don’t think so?” You tease.

He scootches forward in his seat. His eyes roam over your body, halting on your cleavage, then move up to your pouty lips.

“It’s a pretty cramped space,” he settles on saying, his voice hoarse. “Not even mentioning the fact that partitions are made of polycarbonate — which does absorb up to 34 decibels on average, but that’s not enough for you.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Not enough for me?”

He places a hand on your bare knee, thumbing the skin. “You’re pretty loud,” he recalls, his eyes finding yours. 

You chuckle, your gaze falling down to his hand, which was slowly creeping its way up your thigh. His fingertips were digging into the muscle, massaging it with care. The act is enough to turn you on, though you were already turned on by the kisses that he had left on your neck earlier. The memory is still vivid in your mind. 

“It’s not fair to blame it on me,” you tell Spencer. “You’re the reason for making me scream.”

He breaks eye contact, but not before you could catch the sparkle in his dark irises. He was trying to hold himself together; you could tell. He licks his lips, tucking a loose curl of hair behind his ear, before leaning in. His shoulder brushes against yours, his hot breath leaving goosebumps as his mouth traces the shell of your ear.

“Will you scream again for me tonight?” 

-`♡´-

Spencer’s kisses were all tongue, holding your jaw as he claimed you. There was no fight for dominance — you had surrendered the second he had closed the front door behind you. You had kicked your heels off at the same speed as he had thrown his blazer and tie on the ground. 

Large palms grip your face, connecting his lips back to yours as you blindly stumble through the living room in search of your bedroom. You know you’ve reached your destination as the back of your knees hit the mattress. 

Spencer pulls back. A deep exhale leaves his lips, caressing your cheek with the knuckles of his hand. “So beautiful,” he whispers, taking you in. 

You pull him back in by his collar, kissing him fervently. The lace of your underwear is bundled up between your folds, the material completely soaked. You roll your hips, moaning against Spencer’s mouth because of the slight friction it causes. 

Spencer notices what you’re doing. What you need. He grabs your ass, pulling you flush against him in a swift motion. Another moan escapes your throat as he locks his leg in between yours. Your dress rides up and he sees it as an invitation, rubbing his knee against where you need him most.

You let out a cry, the first one of the night.  

Spencer’s hands make way under the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down your arms, making your skin ignite. He pulls the dress down lower in a slight struggle as he tugs the fabric over your chest. Finally he frees your breasts, still covered with the lacy bra you’re wearing, but visible enough for his mouth to water. 

He pinches your nipples between both of his thumbs and index fingers, making your eyes roll back. “So needy, aren’t you, angel?”

His question isn’t meant to sound condescending — quite the opposite, actually. Still, you feel like he’s enjoying the way you’re all glossy-eyed and fawn-legged, feeling like you can come undone by the slightest of his touches. 

He continues stripping you down, revealing you inch by inch until the dress you had so carefully picked out in the evening is now pooled at your feet. 

Spencer gently presses you on the mattress, pushing your knees open as he takes place on the ground in between your legs. 

He hooks his hands behind your knees, scooting you a bit forward. His hands trail to your inner thighs, making you gasp as his fingertips dance over your skin ever so slowly. 

His touch was a delicious tickle, not one that you wanted to scratch, but one that you wanted to last forever. The heat in your core builds with every swipe of his digits. Your chest is heaving, his fingers so close to your throbbing pussy. 

“These are so damp,” he observes, curving his finger around the string of your underwear. “Think we should take these off, hm?”

A breathy moan leaves your lips. 

Spencer looks up at you, head cocking. He’s waiting for you to answer. You nod your head, hands gripping the bed sheets. “Yes. Want them off.”

He’s satisfied with your response, propping the material to the side to reveal your glistening cunt.

“God, you’re perfect.” He praises in awe. 

Perfect. 

You blink the thought away. There was no room for your anxieties as his tongue made contact with your pussy. You gasp, clenching your stomach and squirming forward, hands immediately finding their way into his hair. 

He uses the flat of his tongue to lick stripes up your folds, then uses the tip of his tongue to add pressure with every swipe against your clit. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he says, letting go of your swollen clit with a pop. 

You’re balancing yourself on the palms of your hands, back arched and head thrown back, giving yourself over to the pleasure. A rough hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. His curls disappear between your legs again. Then that same rough hand… but now around your breast. 

You didn’t notice anything at first — too caught up in the buzz of his hands and mouth on you. That was until he pulled the cup of your bra down, your breast spilling free.

“Spence!” You squeal. 

The sound could pass as a moan to anyone else, but Spencer knows the way you sound. His hands drop from your body, mouth pulling away, leaving you empty but giving you enough time to quickly cover yourself up. His pretty face is etched with confusion. “What is it?” 

“You pulled my bra down.”

“Did I break it?”

You didn’t even think of that. You turn your head to your collarbone, then pull on the strap. “No. It’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?” He repeats, golden-speckled eyes blinking up at you. “I told you that I can buy you some new brassières. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that, Spencer,” you sigh. 

It isn’t fair to get irritated by him. The first step to a good relationship is communication — it’s a sentence you’ve become sick of with the amount of times you hear it, but that doesn’t make it less true.

“Do you…” you’ve now started your sentence. There’s no going back. “You… You like my boobs. Right?”

It’s like watching a mime; the way his eyes widen in surprise, then the wheels in his mind seem to turn, his eyes narrow, and a frown line forms between them. 

“Of course I do,” he says, standing up from his spot in between your legs. 

You’re scared that you’ve ruined it. That the mood is gone now that he’s aware there’s something keeping your mind busy. 

“I thought it was clear how much I like your breasts,” he assures, gently helping you up by your wrists and pulling you into a hug. His arms make you feel more covered, less vulnerable, because he’s still wearing a button-up and pants, while you’re merely clothed in your flimsy lingerie, wetness still coating your inner thighs. 

He presses a kiss to your hair. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t like them.”

You still need to get used to being in a relationship with someone so emotionally mature. He truly had nothing to apologize for. It’s the voices in your head that tell you that he doesn’t like them. He’s never given you any reason to doubt yourself. 

“You haven’t, Spence. I swear. I’m just-“ you’re glad you’re talking to his chest right now, not having to face him as the next words leave your lips. “I’m scared you won’t like them anymore once you see them… bare. They don’t look the same as when I’m wearing a bra.” 

You can feel his slight chuckle reverberating from his chest. “I don’t look the same without clothes on either.”

Yes, he looks even better. His clothes hide the muscles in his arms, the thickness of his thighs, the soft flesh of his tummy. 

“They just… you know. Sag a bit.” You whisper the last words, feeling like you’ve just admitted to a foul crime. The room stays silent, and his hold on you lessens.

He pulls back enough to see your face, a playful glint still shimmering in his eyes. “I have three PhD's, one of them being in physics, and you don’t think I know how gravity works?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that answer.

“I know it’s natural and all,” you shrug. “They just don’t look like they do in porn. I felt like I needed to warn you.”

He cups your face, making you look at him; a sweet smile lingers on his lips. “If I wanted a pornstar,” the word sounded foreign on his lips, “I wouldn’t be here right now. I want you. All of you.”

You nuzzle your face into the warmth of his palm. Words were just words, but you’d never find out if he meant them if you didn’t give him a chance. You swallow, gathering courage as you take a step back, just enough room for him to fully observe you, his tall figure standing over you. 

Your fingers make their way to your back, trying to ignore their shaking as you reach the clasp of your bra. You maintain eye contact with Spencer, trying to see if he’d change his mind, but so far his hazel eyes are just filled with anticipation and need.

You take in a deep breath, then undo all three clasps at once, ripping the band-aid off. The relief is immediate, certain that there’d be marks on your skin because of the biting underwire. 

Spencer’s jaw slackens. His irises grow with every inch of skin that reveals as you pull the cups down. Then — in a quick move of your hand — you fully remove the bra from your body. 

“Jesus,” Spencer says breathlessly. 

Anxiety flashes through you like a sudden strike of lightning. Your hands reach out to cover yourself up. “I shouldn’t have-“

Warm hands lock around your wrists, gently pulling them away. “I didn’t even imagine you could look this beautiful.” 

His voice was tinged with complete adoration as he took you in. Your mind had to do a double take to signal to you that you’ve heard him properly. Beautiful. 

You play with your hands, squeezing the tips of your fingers to keep yourself from hiding the curves that were on display. “You don’t have to say that.”

He took a step forward, his fingers knitting through yours. “I’m not just saying it,” he guides your intertwined hands to his pants; your breath catches as you notice the outline of his cock bulging through the fabric. He places your hands on his cock, squeezing your fingers around his length. A breathy ah escapes his mouth, his head slightly thrown back as you start moving your hands on your own accord.

“This is all for you. This is what you do to me,” his voice rasps. 

Your thumb moves to his tip, circling the sensitive spot until you see a wet patch forming. Spencer’s hips stutter, bucking into your touch. “Let me prove to you how much I love you. Please, angel.”

His plea was one out of pure desperation. Not only was he dying to touch you, but it had been several hours since he’d first seen you in that dress. Several hours of fighting the urge to bury his cock deep inside of you. 

“I need you so bad, Spence,” you mumble back, nails grazing his clothed cock. 

A loud moan escapes from his throat. He doesn’t waste any time, holding you by your waist and letting the two of you fall onto the bed. You squeal, your tits bouncing from the effort. 

“God, look at you,” he groans, making way in between your legs as you lay down. Your breasts have fallen to the sides of your body, framing you deliciously. Spencer leans in, teasing you as he licks a wet stripe right up your breastbone, curls tickling your pillowy curves, but not yet touching them. 

He swallows your whiny moans by kissing you. His tongue hastily meets yours. He can’t help but grind himself against the softness of your inner thigh, seeking relief as his arousal continues to grow. 

Your mind is spinning. The contrast between his fully clothed body and your naked, vulnerable state is stark. His strong hands grip your delicate face as he kisses you deeper. 

With a catch for breath, Spencer pulls back. His dick twitches as he looks at you — eyes full of desire, pouty swollen lips, hard nipples begging to be touched, and your pussy glistening, ready for him to use. 

“You drive me absolutely crazy, sweetheart.”

You reach out to let your hands roam over his chest, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Please, take it off.”

He nods, making a quick effort to take his shirt off, throwing it haphazardly to the ground. With slightly shaky legs, he gets to his knees on the bed, hands fumbling with his belt, too busy staring at you.

You can’t escape the moan that leaves your lips as you see the first dusty brown hairs appear on his pubic bone. He pulls his pants down lower, revealing the thick shaft of his throbbing cock. You’re not even aware of your own hand sliding down your body, gasping as your middle finger touches your swollen clit, the feeling electrifying.

“Getting yourself off just by looking at me? I thought that was my job.”

His slacks and boxers fall to his knees, his cock slapping up against his abdomen. You felt almost guilty for teasing him this long — his tip was just as red as his rosy lips, leaking shiny precum. And his cum-filled balls stood strained, like he could bust at any moment. Your middle finger slips into your warm pussy easily, eyes rolling back as you curve your knuckle, hitting that delicious spot hidden inside of you. 

Spencer takes his pants completely off, then grabs your wrist, pulling your finger out swiftly, the motion making a sloppy, wet sound. You whine, bucking your hips up in the air. He moves your hand to his mouth, connecting his lips around your wet finger as he sucks on the digit.

He swirled his tongue, collecting all of your sweet juices and moaning in appreciation. “You can wait a little longer,” he purrs as he pops your finger out of his mouth. 

All you want to do is touch yourself again, especially now that that finger has been in his pretty mouth, but he doesn’t give you the chance as he holds your wrists together, locking them above your head. 

“You can’t show me your beautiful body and then expect me not to worship it,” he softly breathes, leaning in, his lips ghosting your cheek. 

You wiggle in his grasp, making him squeeze his fingers around your wrist. “Be good for me and keep your hands up like this, okay?”

You could say no. Could decline his proposal and have his cock pounding into your aching pussy with just one word. But where would the fun be in that?

“Okay,” you nodded, anticipation bubbling in your core. 

Spencer let go of your hands, and as promised, you intertwined your own fingers, keeping them in place above your head. For a second he just looked at you, taking you in and not knowing where to start. Like a feast that looked delicious from head to toe. But he was the only guest, so he could take his sweet time savoring all of you.

He eventually made his decision. His thumbs and pointer fingers each cupped a breast from the side, then lifted them up so they pressed perfectly against each other.  

A groan left his throat as he bounced them, tongue darting out as he played with your tits in an adorable fascination. “Is this okay?”

You hum, a soft smile lingering on your face. “Yeah, you can be rougher; I won’t break.”

He displayed his fingers over your breasts, experimentally starting to massage the pillowy, plump skin like he’d do with your thighs. Your nipples hardened under his touch, inducing a moan from the both of you. 

His thumbs swiped over your buds synchronously, causing you to whimper. His brows rose lightly, the same look he’d have every time he’d have an epiphany; he then pinched your nipples, slightly turning them as he pulled. Your back arched on the bed, accompanied by a heavenly sounding moan. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” He muses. “My poor girl, depraved herself for so long.” 

You could only cry, begging for more. 

“That won’t happen again,” he gently reassures, thumbing your nipples, sending electrifying sparks to your clit. “I’ll make sure to give them all the attention they deserve, hm?”

You hastily nod in agreement, your voice a soft whimper. “Please.”

He leaned down, settling in between your legs, hissing when his cock grazed against your soft inner thigh. 

“Can’t wait to taste you,” he whispered, breath fanning your sensitive skin. He stuck his tongue out, and you couldn’t wait to experience how he’d feel lapping on your tits, if it were to feel just as incredible as having his tongue on your pussy.

Your question was quickly confirmed as he licked a wet stripe over the bud. The cool air that followed formed goosebumps on the skin. He cupped your breast tightly in his hand, leaning in again to repeat the motion, then again, until the bud glimmered under the bedroom light. He squeezed your other tit, making sure to give that one the same amount of attention as he swirled his tongue around the same bud. 

The only sounds that filled the space were your longing moans and the smooching of his kisses. You lay still, hands kept patiently up as you let him use you like a canvas, painting your skin with gentle strokes of his tongue.  

It was after a few more teasing licks that he closed his lips around the bud, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. You gasped, not being able to help yourself as your hands shot to his hair. He didn’t mind though, moaning around you as you tugged on the locks. He let go of your nipple, placing featherlight kisses and sucks on your chest before finding his way to your other breast, connecting his lips to it. The feeling was so dizzying, and you swore that you could come by just a single tap to your clit. 

He opened his eyes to look at you, blown wide pupils locking with yours as he continued to suck. His eyebrows were scrunched as if he was waiting for you to tell him that he was doing a good job, that he was pleasing you. 

“God, you look so beautiful,” you say in a moan. “Make me feel so good.” His eyes twinkled at the compliment, and he grinded his length against your leg as if to say the sentiment was mutual. 

He released your nipple from his mouth, hoisting himself up to press a kiss to your lips. His tongue moved around yours in the same way as it had done to your body just a moment ago. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” kiss, “can’t get enough of you,” another kiss, “need more.” 

An idea sparked in the back of your mind. It was something you’d never tried before, not with anyone, but you could imagine it feeling good. He has fucked your thighs before. Your mouth. Your pussy. The only thing that was missing was—

“Do you want to fuck my tits?”

“Oh God, yes,” Spencer instantly groaned in response. You giggled as he made quick work of moving up the bed, placing a knee on either side of your upper body. His hard cock was just inches away from you; a string of precum coated his tip, dripping onto you. You reached out, finger gathering the sticky essence before suckling on the digit.

Spencer’s hips twitched, releasing another thick drop of precum. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Why?” You teased, proudly showing your clean finger. 

He groaned, both in frustration and longing. “Because I will come all over you before I’ve even fucked you.”

You laugh, turning him on even more without it being on purpose. You placed your hands flat against your tits, squeezing them together invitingly. “Come on, then.”

Spencer grips himself by the base, tapping his tip against your soft cleavage before sliding himself in between your breasts. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back. He’s too aroused to start out slow, instantly slamming his hips up in a steady rhythm. His upper thighs slap against your breasts, recreating the dirty sounds he'd make if he were actually fucking you.

“You feel so good like this,” he whimpers. “Always so good to me, angel.” 

He reaches out to pinch your nipples, making sure to bring you pleasure as well. Not like you weren’t enjoying this — Spencer was so, so pretty; you could stare at him for hours: his jaw slack, moans and groans spilling from his swollen lips like a song sung just for you, his chest and neck covered in red splotches from the heat of your bodies, his slick, pink tip rubbing against your chest, his veiny hands playing with your tits as he kept looking at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration… You couldn’t get enough. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he pants, his cock twitching, using the wetness that had gathered between your breasts as lube to move his hips faster against you. 

“That’s okay,” you encourage breathlessly, pressing your tits closer together, creating more friction for him. “Let go for me, Spence.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. One of his hands clasps around your shoulder, the other kneading the soft flesh of your breast as he thrusts his hips forward once more. His muscles tense, and you catch that look on his face — the look that tells you he’s right on the edge. Your prediction gets confirmed as a throaty whine escapes his throat, followed by warm spurts of white shooting onto your neck and chest. You’re able to catch a few drops by sticking out your tongue, swallowing, and sticking it out again to show him the proof.

“You drive me absolutely crazy, angel,” he says awestruck, climbing off of your body and staying seated beside you. 

You hum as you take in the way he has painted your chest, tracing your skin with your index finger, creating small drawings. He looks at you mesmerized, then blinks. “We should clean you up.”

“I got it,” you announce, cupping your breast up to your face and licking a firm stripe across the skin. 

A gasp sounded beside you, and you couldn’t help the sly grin that formed on your face as Spencer looked at you in pure surprise.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

You giggled, placing your lips around your nipple as you gave a gentle suck while focusing on your boyfriend, whose cock was hardening again. 

“Acting so needy when you’ve been pleasing yourself all this time,” he tsked. “Such a dirty girl.” 

He matched your smile, cupping your face and bending over to lightly caress your lips with his once again. You moan in satisfaction, licking his bottom lip to be invited in. Your lips acted in a familiar play, experimentally moving around each other until you figured out each other’s moves, able to feel the urgent need in the way his tongue stroked yours, signaling back to him that you’re feeling the same by biting down on his bottom lip.

He groaned in response, his hands sneaking around your waist to hoist you up. “You’ve done enough hard work; you deserve to lie down now,” you joke as he gently makes way onto the soft bed sheets, holding onto your even softer thighs as you straddle him. 

His cock feels heavy in your hands as you position it underneath your throbbing pussy, shuddering as you tease your walls with the slick head. 

“You look so beautiful,” he praises, moving his warm hands up and down your hips, easing the strain you feel when you slowly sink down onto his length. You gasp when his thick tip disappears between your folds, but his sweet moans calm you down. Oh, you’re so tight. Just a little more, just like that. You’re doing so good for me, angel. 

“Oh my God, Spence,” you moan as your hips make contact with his. The stinging has eased into a delicious sense of being full, placing your hands on top of his tummy to keep yourself steady as you start rocking your hips. Spencer gives a firm squeeze, fingertips digging into the curve of your ass, sure it’s going to leave marks. 

You move your body up and down, breasts swaying with every one of your movements, the act completely hypnotizing Spencer. His head feels fuzzy and his throat dry as he watches you, not being able to believe how lucky he got. 

You up your speed, moaning and whimpering as you use his cock as your personal toy, his voice and face working as porn as he shudders in pure bliss underneath you. 

“Taking me— fuck — so well, baby,” he whines. Spencer places the soles of his feet flat on the bed, holding you tightly by your waist as he lifts his body up.

“Spencer!” you cry as his cock drives deeper into you. 

“Hm, I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs in apology. “Just want to help you out.”

You nod — because even though you’re very much enjoying taking the lead, you know how good it feels when Spencer helps you out by pounding into you. So that’s what you do: sinking down onto him, meeting each of his thrusts as he bucks his hips up.

“Is it painful?” he asks considerately, nodding toward the way your heavy breasts bounce with each push of his hips.

You shrug, “Just a bit.” To be fair, you’re way too focused on the way your core tightens every time he buries his cock in your pussy, hitting that sweet spot inside of you as the veins decorated around his shaft tease your inner walls — to even care.

His large hands find their place on your breasts, squeezing them once, then twice, then looking back in your eyes. “I can work as your personal brassière.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Ah, how civil.”

“Did you know brassières were only invented in 1893? It’s fascinating because technically the first brassières dated back to ancient Greece. Actually, in Book 14 of Homer’s Iliad, there’s a reference to Aphrodite’s embroidered girdle.”

You hum, leaning forward to catch his lips. “And did you know that you talk too much?” You tease as you press another kiss to his mouth. “And did you know that no one uses the word brassières anymore?”

“But it’s the correct term!”

There’s only one other way to shut him up. You cradle your hands underneath his head, bending while tilting his head up to press his face against your tits. 

“Hmpf,” he mouths against your breasts, before easily finding your nipple to latch on. 

You hold onto the headboard, relishing in his touch as you pick up your rhythm again. His cock hits even deeper inside of you in this position. There’s something so electrifying about the stimulation of your breasts in combination with the pleasure against your G-spot. A feeling so electrifying you doubt you can hold on much longer. 

“Getting close, Spence,” you cry as his hands cradle your ass, holding the cheeks open as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Wait on me.”

His hot breath fans against your wet nipples, and you cry loudly, gripping the headboard until your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t, Spence. I can’t — feels so fucking good.”

“Yes, you can. Just a little longer. Make me proud, angel; I know you can.”

You tighten your walls around him — maybe it can be considered as cheating — but it works. Spencer groans as he bites down on your breast, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you squeal.

Spencer holds you tight against him, chests pressing together as he moves his hips with force. “That’s it — Oh, I’m close. Let go for me.” 

With one more jolt of his hips, you come undone. You cry incoherent words in the crook of his shoulder. Your legs are shaking from the strain of holding them open for so long. Your pussy flutters around him repeatedly until Spencer’s legs quiver in the same way as yours, filling you up with his warmth.

He groans in satisfaction, pushing his hips up a few more times to make sure his release is buried deep inside of you. The round head of his cock slips out of your folds. You let out a sharp gasp, still feeling the print he had left inside of you. You can feel the way your pussy twitches as his cum drips out of you and dribbles onto his thighs.

Spencer pulls some hairs out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as you settle your head down on his sweaty chest.

“It's okay,” he soothes you. “You did so good.”

You smile sheepishly, drawing figures on his chest. “Yeah?”

He mirrors your smile. “Yeah. You did perfectly.” Another kiss to your face. “My beautiful, brilliant girl.”

Your heart does a leap out of joy. It’s easy to say afterward, but you can’t believe how you were ever scared to show yourself to him. Now only regretting not having done it sooner as you see the physical proof of how enamored he is with you. Maybe you didn’t fit the ideal you’d been forced to fit in all of your life, but if anything, there’s only more to love.

[tsunodaradio]

everyone wants him (that was my crime) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE 📀 if you're gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

♫ starring: lando norris x reader. ♫ social media au. ♫ includes: romance, fluff, angst -ish. profanity, hate towards lando/reader, suggestive jokes. @opastries81 requested slut! by taylor swift. <- (another warning: a lot of the lyrics will be scattered throughout this one! lol.) ♫ commentary box: maira, the amount of good requests you've thrown my way.. i am indebted. this one grabbed me by the neck and wouldn't let me go, sooo 🤷 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others paddocktea 🕵️ Is lando seeing someone new?! Fans allegedly saw him with a girl on his back near Plague de Pont de Fer and this is the pic they snapped. Side by side with a pic of Lando from the same day. That black hoodie and white shirt... 👀

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user1 oh paddocktea this is a reach even for u user2 That fuckass first pic... is lando in the room with us rn??? user3 lando norizz 2025 sry user4 His Ass CANNOT Carry Anyone Like That 🤣🤣🤣 user5 Isn't Lando's dating history like 80% models anyway lmao. ⤷ user6 CLOCK HIMM. Pretty sure he's learned his lesson

Liked by carlossainz55, quadrant, and others lando 📷

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user1 The film photo aesthetic!! Okayyy king user2 can u pls revive lando.jpg pls pls pls 🥺 ⤷ user3 AND land0.mov WHILE YOU'RE AT IT. user4 Is this a tease for smth new??? Merch??? PHOTOBOOK??? user5 me zooming into the mirror selfies 😜 b/c i'm #insane user6 Whoever took that 2nd slide: Thank you so much for my new lockscreen!

Liked by yourbestfriend, notl4nd0, and others yourusername flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard

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yourbestfriend that last slide... GIRLLL is there something you're not telling me ⤷ yourusername :) notl4nd0 simply lovely x ❤️ Liked by creator

Liked by user1, user2, and others ln4updates lando in NYC today! 📷 by landodotcom & ln4wdc

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user1 he looks sooo good 🤤 user2 THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELET user3 why are ppl on tiktok saying he was on a date ⤷ user4 People on TikTok js be saying shit tbh. 🤷‍♂️ ⤷ user5 i think there would also be pics if he was w/some1 user6 Where can I cop that cap ? user7 congrats to whoever's bouncing on it!

Liked by yourbestfriend, user1, and others yourusername wrong place / right time

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yourbestfriend "it's pretty casual" ⤷ yourusername 🤫 user1 THE WAY THIS SHOWED UP ON MY EXPLORE PAGE AND I-- IS THAT LANDO FUCKING NORRIS ⤷ user2 I THINK SO TOO??? LIKEEE CHECK HIS NEWEST IG STORY

lando posted a story.

Liked by user1, user2, and others yourusername lovelorn and nobody knows

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user1 Hey are you dating Lando?? user2 okay non-oomf u slayed with olivia rodrigo 💜💜💜 ⤷ user3 Having a fellow livie date LN? This is how we take over the world!!!!!!!! user4 is that last pic NOT lando omg ⤷ user5 I thought so too!! I would know that bracelet from anywhere. ⤷ user6 do we have any official confirmation yet or user7 waht's lando's favorite olivia song pls respond it's for science ⤷ user8 bet it's all-american bitch. 🇺🇸 user9 Gliter hand?? Lando's too?? Need someone to be all detective up in this sh*t pls

Liked by maxfewtrell, danielricciardo, and others lando being this young is art smth smth

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user1 PEAK summer break content! hope you're having fun lando!! xoxo user2 If I can't have Lando, can I just have one of his friends? Lol. user3 can we pls talk about the concert venue with the olivia rodrigo confetti HELLo. ⤷ user4 oh so this is confirmation yourusername went with him ??? INSANE. ⤷ user5 This breadcrumb trail is crazy 😳 ⤷ user6 Try Not To Speculate About Driver's Private Lives: [FAILED] user7 king and queen of soft launching yourusername

Liked by lando, lando.jpg, and others yourusername taking my time in the tangerine

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user1 Oh! Alright! user2 AAAND there it is folks user3 Does she even know what a DRS is??? lilymhe Sooo loved meeting you x ⤷ yourusername thank you for being so nice ❤️ ⤷ user4 yourusername now a WAG #confirmed ⤷ user5 lily being like "hey me and my boyfriend saw you across the room and liked your vibe" ⤷ user6 lily >>> yourusername user7 okay but... lando liking this post with his main account, .jpg, .mov, quadrant, lnracingkart, AND lnfour? ⤷ user8 boy is down BAD. 😮‍💨 ⤷ user9 It's sooooo over. Everyone pack up. ⤷ user10 Went to the alex albon school of yearning iktr user11 so now that yourusername you've gone to a race, you're done with lando right?? kidding kidding user12 Do you have any more pics of/with him :( Please share with the class

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX 🏆

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user1 LANDO NORRIS OP user2 let's fucking GOOOOO 🐐 mclaren One of our own user3 No more LandoNoWins!!! user4 mans had a girl in the stands and was MOTIVATED ❤️ Liked by lando ⤷ user5 WHAT DO YOU MEAN LIKED BY LANDO ⤷ user6 We need yourusername at EVERY race now actually,, user7 Absolutely ELECTRIC, Lando!!! ⚡️⚡️⚡️

Liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and others lando they might as well be looking at us. thanks everyone. better words when i'm not buzzin 🧡

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user1 brb still crying user2 WHY DO I FEEL LIKE A PROUD MOM oscarpiastri love wins ⤷ user3 I Know What You Are. ⤷ user4 oscar seal of approval?! ⤷ user5 broo idk why but she gives off gold-digger vibes or smth user6 bet the trophy isn't the only thing lando will be kissing tonight ❤️ Liked by creator ⤷ user7 LANDO LIKED THIS. WHAT. ⤷ user8 I'm going to be sickkk. he's a SIMP 🤢 ⤷ user9 get a room wtf ⤷ user10 can we not make this win about his relationship??? he worked his ass off and you're all just making dumb jokes user11 No pic of/with yourusername tho.. Guess it's not that serious lol ⤷ user13 #real. bet she's gone by the next race ⤷ user12 he's litchrally liking comments left n right about her but go off ig

Liked by lando, maxfewtrell, and others yourusername love sick all over my bed

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user1 That hint of lando in the very end ahhh user2 flowers from lando??? Or user3 No offense but this soo does not look like Lando's type of girl ⤷ user4 he must b bored out of his mind out there kekekeke user5 girl. if i was dating lando norris i'd b hard launching him every two working days. pls give us more. ⤷ user6 GIVE IT TO ME RACHEL 🙏🙏🙏 ⤷ user7 No thnx I might throw up user8 The domestication of Lando Norris. We Loveee to see it

Liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and others lando hand prints in wet cement

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user1 MY SHAYLA. user2 blocking out his gf's face in the bereal bec even HE knows she's ugly like that's insane work ⤷ user3 How could you say something so controversial... but so true... user4 the pottery class and bouquet snaps matching up <3 cuties! user5 You're gettin soft mate!!! Stop dating and focus on driving. user6 lando i promise i can treat you wayyy better give me 5 mins in a room and a hair tie user7 Oh they're still a thing? Lmaoooo. 🫣 ⤷ user8 i give it four more months ⤷ user9 That's generous. *Two months

Liked by notl4nd0, user1, and others formu1agossip lando in yourusername's recent Stories!

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user1 Can we study why she keeps soft launching him like this? Like bae we know who that is. You're not slick. user2 Alexa, play break up with ur girlfriend i'm bored 🎵 user3 i don't get the negativity in this comment section :(( he's allowed to have a life! user4 yourusername can you fight user5 she's such a slut sorry 🫠 ⤷ lando jesus fuck do you have nothing better to do with your life ? ⤷ user6 O H MYGOD ⤷ user7 SHOTS FIRED!!!!!!!!! ⤷ user8 mclaren this y'all's driver? ⤷ user9 serves you fucking right assholes ⤷ user10 Wowww. Lando is NOT happy.

Liked by lando, notl4nd0, and others yourusername in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

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user1 ANY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST lando AND yourusername SHALL FALL user2 His smile :( Ohhh he loves her so much user3 i'm a convert (that first photo where he looks at her.. ok this shit is real real) 💕 user4 still not convinced user5 The hard launch to end all hard launches!!!!! user6 may a love like this find me pls. preferably with yuki tsunoda user7 Betting pool on the breakup, anybody? lando looks like a loverboy ⤷ yourusername is a loverboy ⤷ user8 DECORUMMMM?!?1?!?! ⤷ user9 Can I be adopted pls pls pls ⤷ user10 my new fav wag !

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others lando worth it 4 once yourusername

yourusername pretty casual ⤷ lando not today, not ever

Comments on this post have been limited. ⛐

[stardustquills]

thinking about sylus making you be on top, despite your protests. currently giggling and kicking my feet like a schoolgirl with a crush. 18+ mdni. wc; 1.5k

-

“come on, sweetie,” sylus teased, half-lidded eyes and a smirk cast your way. his hand lazily pumped his hard cock, head thrown back on the pillows behind him. “you’ll be fine-”

“sylus.” you cut him off with a whine. you hid your flushed face in your hands. he thought that was pointless. you’re naked in his bed. “i’ve never been on top before. i don’t wanna. why can’t you-“

“i’m always on top.” now it was his turn to cut you off. he didn’t mind always being on top - he was just being a prick because you were the one who initiated. sylus grabbed one of your wrists, pulling you closer to him. “you’ll be okay. i’ll help you through it.”

you let him pull you towards him, apprehensive and hesitant. he guided one of your hands down to his cock, his hand encasing yours as he helped you pump. sylus’ eyes closed as your hand moved under his. you watched his adam’s apple as he swallowed, a soft moan escaping his parted lips.

you didn’t even notice when his eyes opened again, garnet iris’ flickering all over your body. your own eyes were fixated on his pretty pink lips, still parted as he let out a melody of sighs. your gaze slipped down to his neck, where you could see the marks you’d left a few days prior, then down to his chest, hard muscles tensing as you stroked him, a light sheen of sweat on his abs.

finally, your eyes went further south, landing on the veiny cock in your hand. pearls of precum leaked from the angry tip and you could feel your own pool of arousal building. you couldn’t take your eyes off of it even if you tried. it was just too pretty - just like every other part of sylus.

his laughter snapped you out of your trance. “see something you want, kitten?”

“perhaps…”

“get on top, then.”

another whine left your throat. you shot him a pointed look, but he could see through it, see the hunger that laid just past that layer of annoyance. he could always see through you, no matter what irritated glance you sent at him.

maybe he’ll let it go if you give him a treat? so you leant down, licking your lips. you only managed to kiss the tip before his free hand dug itself into your hair, yanking your head up away with from his cock.

“ah ah,” he chided, raising an eyebrow. “being nice won’t get you out of this, sweetie.”

“sylus-“ you pleaded with a pout.

“it’s either you on top or nothing.” his eyes stared into yours, his tone leaving no room for your pathetic arguments. “what’s it going to be?”

when you didn’t say anything, only glaring at him, he knew what the answer was. but still, he decided he needed to hear your words be.

“well?” his rich voice purred. he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your face towards his. “i need words, kitten.”

a beat of silence, then, “fine.”

“fine, what?”

“…i’ll be on top.”

sylus smirked, letting go of your chin and lightly tapping your cheek a few times. “good girl.”

you found yourself on top of him, letting yourself leisurely sink down onto his dick. sylus was still being a jackass - he didn’t help you at all! just kept his hands resting on your thighs, watching with hungry eyes as he disappeared into you. your hands were splayed on your chest, bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you ever so slowly sat on him. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once your hips connected with his, a sigh of relief escaping you.

you felt awkward being on top. you didn’t know how to move, didn’t know how to do anything as you just stared at the spot where you and sylus connected. you like that for a moment too long, causing sylus to speak up.

“you gonna move?”

“i-“ you cleared your throat when you heard how meek you sounded. “i don’t know how,”

“just roll your hips,” sylus whispered, surprisingly gentle and soft compared to the last time he spoke. his eyes landed on your face, taking in the blush on your cheeks that began to grow. “like you do when you sit on my face.”

“sylus-!”

“what?” he laughed, fingers tapping your thighs. “maybe if you’re good, i’ll reward you.”

“you’re mean.”

“should i take away the offer?”

“no!” you responded almost too quickly, shaking your head and earning a chuckle from the man underneath you. you loved sitting on sylus’ face, but he cherished it more than you did.

he was a giver, after all.

you rolled your hips like he said, shakily exhaling as he reached a new depth in you. you weren’t used to the deep penetration from the get go - he’d always ease you into it, starting with slow, shallow thrusts before they blurred into hard and fast ones.

but still, it felt so wonderful. continuing to rock your hips against his, a pretty string of moans and sighs of sylus’ name left you. you took what you wanted, eyes closing as you threw your head back, and sylus watched proudly as you finally were on top of him, doing all of the work.

you started gaining confidence as you heard his own sounds of pleasure, soft murmurs of “there you go, kitten,” and “atta girl, you got it,” as his own eyes closed. you decided to start bouncing in his cock, a darling whine as you felt him ram into your cervix violently.

only a handful of bounces later and your thighs started burning, so you went back to rolling your hips against him. sylus noticed, of course, another demeaning snicker leaving him as his eyes opened.

he reached towards your face, brushing the strands of hair away from your face while your hips worked against his. “does it burn?” velvety and caring voice making your eyes snap to his. his hands moved up your thighs, settling nicely on the curve of your hips. “do you want some help, kitten?”

he already knew the answer before you nodded. his hands helped you up and down, his own hips bucking up to meet yours. tits bouncing in front of his face, your fucked out expression, and you on top of him - sylus thinks he’s at the pearly gates of heaven.

if he died, this is what he’d see in the afterlife. his perfect, sexy girlfriend riding his cock, absolutely losing herself. he thinks he’s enjoying this more than you are!

“s-sylus, h-ahh!” you lifted your head to look at him, hands still splayed on his chest. his dick absolutely ruined you, even more so with this new angle. brushing against that spongy spot, you let out a loud noise. “fffuck!”

“mm-yeah, you like being on top, don’t you?” he groaned when your nails dug into his chest, leaving crescent-shaped indents. “you’re doing so well, too.”

his hands wrap around your waist, pinning you against him as he starts slamming his thick cock into you, unable to hold back any longer. and just like all the times before, you took it like the amazing girlfriend you were. “hah, squeezing my cock so good,” he moaned into your ears.

his moans were much more musical than when he was actually singing.

only a handful of thrusts later and you’re coming undone quicker than you ever have - sylus has strong suspicions it’s because you’re on top, riding him like you fucking own him. he follows soon after, releasing his own pleasure into you. the sound of skin slapping skin slowly subdues as his tempo came to a halt, his face falling forward onto you chest.

he stayed like that for a few moments. just catching his breath as he buried his face into your tits.

sylus is a man of his word. so obviously, he kept his word - slipping himself out of you with a whine from you. he shifted so he laid on his back, his hands on your thighs encouraging to move up his body.

“wanna eat this pretty pussy,” he practically purred, eyes trained on your cunt. he grinned happily as you complied, thighs on either side of his head as you lowered yourself down onto him.

out of habit, one hand seized a fistful of his hair as the other held onto the headboard, steadying yourself as he ate you out like a man starved. a long lick, from your gaping hole to you clit, before he moved back to your slippery slit, greedily lapping up your combined fluids. he deliberately shook his head against you, making sure his nose rubbed against your puffy clit.

it was a nasty sight - your boyfriend’s mouth working wonders on you as his laughs were muffled by your cunt. he drank up your combined come as his hands wrapped around your thighs, immobilizing you against him.

with hearts floating in his red eyes, he looked up at you so lovingly, watching your every expression and reaction to his ministrations. sylus thinks he could stay like this for hours; eating out his girl after coming in her might be his favourite pastime. but fuck he can’t get the way you looked on top of him out of his head. next time, he thinks he’ll make you tie him up so you’d really have to do all of the work.

he’ll make you be in top more often from now on!

-

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated:)

[moonstruckme]

Hello icon ✨Could we have a poly!wolfstar x reader where she thinks that they are mad at her for something (or they could actually be a bit miffed) and it just a bit of hurt comfort with cuddles and kisses at the end😔🙏🏻

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re being weird. 

The three of you are doing a puzzle, which usually captivates your attention but never Sirius’, which is how he’s so very aware of how little attention you’re actually paying to the puzzle. You keep glancing at Sirius, at Remus, like you’re nervous about something. You’ve been like this all day. It’s in and out, sometimes waning like you’ve forgotten to be anything but normal, but Sirius has a keen gauge for tension. He can sense it every time it ticks back up.

You’re pretending to look for sky pieces, though Sirius suspects you forgot what color the sky in your puzzle was a while ago. He feels like you’re building to something, and it makes his skin itch. Remus is too absorbed in his tree bark pieces to notice—the nerd—so it’s up to Sirius to get it out of you. Luckily, James has always said that Sirius is a master of tact. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You were halfway to sneaking another glance at him, and you react as though you’ve been struck, jumping a little where you sit on the rug by the coffee table. “What? Nothing.” 

“Well, that was very believable.” Sirius smiles to take some of the bite out of it. “Come on, you have me on the edge of my seat. What’s got you all worked up?” 

“I am not worked up,” you insist, though your expression says otherwise. 

Remus appears confused, but he notices your guilty eyes as well. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say again. 

“Clearly something,” Sirius counters. 

Your lips press together, corners downturnt. You’re not looking at either of them.

“Hey.” Sirius softens his voice. “What is it? You’re freaking me out, babe.”  

This only seems to distress you further. “I wanted you not to freak out,” you say.

“Sweetheart, about what?” Now Remus sounds worried too, though the look he gives you is more patient than anything Sirius could ever manage. He ducks his head to catch your gaze. 

After a moment of looking at him, your shoulders droop. “Okay.” Your voice has quieted. “Just a second.” 

Sirius’ anxiety ratchets as you stand, going down the hall towards your room. 

“Why does it feel like she’s going to bring us back a school report?” he murmurs to Remus. 

Remus shakes his head, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No idea.” 

When you return, it is with papers, though Sirius doesn’t at first know what they are. 

“This came this morning,” you say in that same resigned voice, laying them down on the coffee table as you sit back down next to Sirius.

With Sirius and Remus on opposite sides they can’t both read the text at once, and Remus picks them up first. Sirius spots you bringing your hand to your mouth and reaches for it silently, drawing it away before you can start chewing your fingernails. Your nervousness is making him nervous. He pushes his thumb up the lines of your palm. 

“Oh,” Remus hums. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, in a tone that clearly communicates if somebody doesn’t start talking I’m going to throw a wobbly. 

“It’s the gas bill,” says Remus. He’s making his old man face, where he leans away slightly and squints like he needs glasses. Ordinarily Sirius would tease him for it, but he’s not in the mood. “Bit high.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. 

Sirius looks at you. Frowning, your hand still trapped in his. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Is this…” One glance at Remus, and it’s clear Sirius is now the one lagging in understanding. “Is this because you left the oven on?” 

Your expression says enough. 

Oh, well. In fairness, Sirius had thrown a bit of a wobbly over that. 

It was weeks ago. You made cookies just before bed. They were warm, gooey, the perfect precursor to sleep and an excellent excuse, in Sirius’ opinion, to trade chocolate-flavored kisses until all three of you were snoozing on your pillows. It hadn’t been until he and Remus were making breakfast the next morning that Remus smelled the gas. You’d come out of the bedroom, confused, to find them throwing open windows and calling the fire department for advice. Your gas oven had been left on all night. 

You felt awful. Your boyfriends gave you an appropriate amount of shit for it, but it was only thoughtless, not malicious. Your apartment hadn’t blown up. The smell drifted away within a few minutes, and in all honesty Sirius was left feeling a bit bad that what began as you trying to make them all happy had resulted in you being so thoroughly chastised. But it had been let go. 

Until now, evidently. 

“I can pay it,” you offer meekly. “The difference, or all of it.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his brow. “Dove…” 

“Let me see that.” Sirius reaches with the hand not holding yours. Remus gives it to him. He finds the total quickly. “This isn’t even that high.” 

Okay, it’s a bit high. But genuinely, Sirius was expecting worse. 

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. 

“Baby, is this what you’re all wound up about?” Sirius sets the papers down to gawk at you. “Really? I thought something happened.” 

You’re shrinking, your hand tense in his. “Something did happen.” 

“Yeah, a whole month ago!” 

“Sirius,” Remus murmurs, in a tone Sirius knows to mean you’re not helping. He asks you, “Did you think we would be angry with you?” 

Spiderweb cracks spread through your expression. Your mouth wobbles. 

“Oh, you absolute moron.” Sirius grabs for you with both hands, hauling you into his lap. 

“Pads.”

“You ridiculous, sweet idiot.” He kisses your head. Once, twice, three times. “Why’d you have to go and get all worked up? You got me worked up, silly thing.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly. 

“Alright, that’s enough apologizing,” Remus says gently. Underneath the coffee table, a socked foot bumps into Sirius’ leg before presumably finding yours. Sirius grins. Remus is tactile in the oddest ways sometimes. Like a cat. 

He loves you both so very much. God, you really had him going. He feels liable to squeeze the life out of you. 

He satiates the urge by kissing you all over your face until you look significantly less upset. You look at Sirius with tentative relief, the beginnings of a smile curled up in the corner of your mouth. 

He’s about to ask you again how you could be so stupid, but Remus speaks first. Probably for the best. 

“It really won’t be so much more for each of us once we split it,” he says, looking again at the bill. 

That guilty look is back on your face. Sirius gives you a squeeze in hopes of banishing it. “I can get it,” you say. “It wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t been so…if I hadn’t left the oven on.” 

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Remus tells you. “It’s all right.” 

You fidget. “I feel like you should probably be angrier with me.” 

“We already have been angry with you,” Sirius points out. “We got over it. Time to move on, babe.” 

“It was a mistake.” Remus’ gaze is steady. Knowing. “It was scary, but it happens. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for us, lovely.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

Sirius scoffs. “I can be angry without anyone’s help, thank you.” Then, at your wary look, “But I’m not angry about this.” 

Slowly, the tension Sirius has been sensing seeps out of you. You relax in a way you haven’t all day long. 

Remus notices, too. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, in a soft, fond voice. “Talk to us next time, okay?” 

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sheepish look. “I was going to. I just really thought you’d be upset.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius kisses your head, sharing an eye roll with Remus. “Shows what you know.”

[vivwritesfics]

Celebrity Crush

"Carlos says you're a fan," Pedro said and she nodded again, unable to find the words.

Carlos settled his hands on her hips, squeezing slightly. He loved having her on his lap, as close to him as she could possibly get. The way she grinned down at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"What movie?" He asked, comfortably laying back against the sofa cushions.

"Kingsman," she answered, trying desperately to hide her smile. "We watched the first one the other day. I thought we could watch the second one together."

Laying her head on his shoulder, she managed to hide her smile by kissing his neck. Carlos tightened his grip on her, holding her against him. "Who is in it?" He asked.

She swallowed. Busted. But, no, she could recover. He didn't know anything. "You remember the first one, right? The guy who keeps swearing, Coilin Firth and Mark Strong?"

He released a hum. "The one where their heads explode?"

"That one, yeah," she answered and kissed his cheek.

It was a fun film, if Carlos remembered rightly. So, he had no problem watching the second one. If that's what his love wanted to watch, that was what they would watch.

She moved onto the sofa beside him, laying against him with her legs thrown over his lap and her head against his shoulder. Carlos kissed the top of her head as the movie began, not suspecting a thing.

For the first little bit of the movie, it was smooth sailing. He had no idea what was coming, and she kept her lips shut as they watched the movie. His thumb brushed over her calf absentmindedly, keeping part of her attention on him.

But then he came on screen. Him. That fucking guy.

The second he stepped in front of the screen, Carlos turned to her.

She wasn't looking at him, keeping her expression on the screen. But, by the way her lips turned up, he could tell she knew. She knew he was watching her. And he knew exactly why he was watching her.

"Mi Vida," he said and tapped her calf. "What's this?"

Pedro Pascal. Her celebrity crush. Carlos knew this, she didn't exactly hide it. As much as she loved Pedro Pascal, she made it clear that she loved Carlos more. But she couldn't wait until his gorgeous hair started getting those mouth watering greys (couldn't wait, but she would take her Carlos however she could get him).

He went to move for the remote (with no intention of turning the movie off), but she grabbed his arm. "Carlos, please," she mumbled with a pout. "He's not in much of it."

He held her chin and stared down at her. His gaze so intense, but she was loving it. He glanced at her lips, oh so aware of where her mind was going. But he didn't kiss her. His small form of revenge for seeing Pedro Pascal on his screen.

"You're horrible," she mumbled and got closer to him. Carlos simply laughed and held her closer.

***

F1 stuff. That was where Carlos said he was. She left him alone, texted him back when he texted her

So why the hell was he calling her?

Not even calling her, but facetiming her. Laying against her pillow, squinting at her screen, she slid her finger across the screen.

It wasn't just her boyfriend that stared back at her.

Actually, Carlos wasn't there at all.

It took her tired brain a moment to realise what was going on, who's familiar face filled her screen. "Hello," she said quickly, eyes wide as she sat up. Fuck, she couldn't quite believe it.

Pedro Pascal said her name.

Holy shit, this was real!

"Oh my god, you're Pedro Pascal!" She cried. He released a chuckle at her. "Oh my god," she said again. "You're Pedro Pascal! Why does Pedro Pascal have my boyfriend's phone?"

Pedro pulled the phone away from his face, revealing Carlos and the red carpet going on around them. A premier. The premier for the Gladiator II movie, she realised.

"Cariño," Carlos said, standing side by side with the man of her fantasies. (Fuck, that was her dream threesome right there). "I thought you'd want to meet Pedro."

Her mouth was dry as she nodded.

"Carlos says you're a fan," Pedro said and she nodded again, unable to find the words. She'd dreamed of this moment time and time again, but never had it had her unable to speak.

But that was fine, because Carlos was there to help her. Even with his "competition" (she was never going to leave him for Pedro Pascal, even if Pedro was on his knees, begging her), he was doing all of the work for her.

Before they had to go, she had one favour to ask of Pedro. "Could you show me my boyfriend?" She asked sweetly, and Pedro was happy to do so. He stepped back, flipped the camera, and let her take in all of Carlos.

Yeah, that was her man.

That was her man!

Thanking Pedro, the phone was passed back to Carlos. "I love you," she said immediately, before he could say anything. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too, Cariño," he said, unable to take his eyes off of the screen. Him, all dressed up in his suit and her in her pyjamas, in the bedroom they shared.

She was utterly beautiful.

"You're gonna get it so good when you get home, Carlos Sainz."

"Oh yeah?" He challenged, eyebrows going up.

"Fuck yeah."

[thepitlanepress]

THE HEART WANTS WHAT THE HEAD HATES –

↳ lando norris + ex!gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: i've had this one sentence running around in my head and decided to write an entire fic off of it so enjoy! (also the last part of the smau will be out soon!!)

the tension between you and your alarm clock right now is something the poets could write about.

it was set to go off at six am and you accordingly had woken up at five-fifty-eight.

so the last thirty seconds of your life has been filled with unimaginable tension. who will cave first, you or the alarm clock? the alarm clock obviously, you were happily content to sleep through it - which wasn't going to go down well, seeing as you'd be late for work.

but maybe that would be good too, so you wouldn't have to see him.

you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face or his hair or his smile as he walked through the halls of the mclaren hq, blissfully unaware of you and your inner turmoil.

you hadn't seen lando norris in person in two years, which is surprising seeing as you both worked for mclaren.

you hadn't seen him ever since you walked out of his apartment and left your life and heart in tatters as you did so. since the night he watched you leave, when he didn't stop you, when he let you walk out of his life, leaving him in pieces.

you had thrown yourself into work, making your way around the globe for races but putting yourself in every situation where lando wasn't, ignoring your stupid heart, and living with your head. if you had listened to your heart, you would still be fighting that day.

wishing he called.

wishing he stopped you.

wishing you hadn't walked out.

wishing you understood what you had done.

but you're not, because you've moved on.

you had moved on.

lando had run away from the situation as much as you had, not showing up to hq unless absolutely necessary and if he did always taking the long route, same in the garages. at that point in your lives he had memorised your schedule as much as his own and used that knowledge to avoid you at all costs.

you couldn't blame him though, it was your fault.

he wanted to tell the world you were together and you didn't, your solution? don't be together. in retrospect it was the worst decision you'd ever made but you like to pretend it wasn't and focus on moving on.

clearly you did well... adjacent. you didn't want to burst into tears whenever you saw him anymore but you also couldn't shove down the burn that wraps around your heart every time you think of him.

today's terrible moment, as you liked to call any interaction you couldn't avoid with lando, was when you stepped into the boardroom and crashed into a wall.

okay it wasn't a wall. it was oscar, who also stumbled and tripped over the leg of a nearby chair causing an array of limbs to hit faces and a shit tonne of paper work strewn across the room.

of course it ended with you on the floor next to oscar groaning and wincing as you sit up.

"i am so sorry," you say turning to the driver still on the floor.

"don't worry about it, it was only an accident," he reassures and accepts zak's outstretched hand getting up. that only brings your attention to the hand in front of your face-

lando's.

you look up at him for a moment noticing the concerned look on his face that is quickly wiped with humour. "you alright?"

quickly bracing yourself for his touch, you take his hand and get off the floor, offering him a quick "thank you," before turning around and collecting the paper everywhere.

you try not to think of the tingle in your hand and how that was the first time in two years you had talked or touched, instead worrying about how much paper you need to pick up.

the paper thats what you think of.

not the hurtful - but true - words lando said that night.

not the awful - and wrong - things you said.

not how you hurt him.

the paper.

not how you wished you could take it back.

the paper.

"y/n."

"shut up lando."

the paper.

"don't go please, we can work this out."

"how? how can we?"

the paper

'i'll wait, i'll wait, i'll-"

"i won't. you can go back to your fuckboy life without me."

the paper.

"please, y/n."

"no."

the paper.

"you're just scared. you're acting like a pathetic child because you're scared."

"i'm brave enough to walk away right now."

"you dont have to though, you're taking the easy way out. you're acting like a child. grow up."

the paper.

tears burn in your eyes, threatening to overflow and yet you keep a stoic face clearing your throat and pasting a bright smile on your face, turning around and cracking a joke about how you can never seem to stay on your feet.

you don't talk to lando again in the meeting, eyes skimming over him and focusing mostly on oscar and zak and the discussions going around the boardroom.

you feel his eyes on you though. you feel his stare and you hate it. you hate it because you want it on you more.

after the meeting you leave the room like your ass is on fire getting out of the building and heading home before any one decides to look at your face and see that you're about to cry.

"wait, y/n."

you stop still on the edge of the road refusing to turn around and acknowledge the voice. you've already stopped so thats pointless, he knows you've heard him.

"wait," you can hear him approach, his footsteps thudding on the ground. "hey.," he says slightly out of breath, "are you okay?"

sighing you turn around to face him. "i'm fine," you smile, the tears threaten to start falling again. "really, i fall down all the time, you remember-" you cut off and look up sighing again.

"i wasn't asking about that," lando says his eyes trying to search for yours. "you looked like you're about to cry in there. i was asking if you were okay."

and you're stupid heart is done.

"i'm fine lando."

"are you sure?"

"i'm fine."

the same fine you were when less than a week after you walked out, lando was pictured with a girl hanging off his arm. the same fine you were when he was rumoured to be dating a supermodel a week after that.

the same fine you've been for the last two years.

the supermodel rumours were false, they were disproved when she came out and hard launched her boyfriend. lando on the other hand has been in his - as the fans call it - "bachelor era" since then, girls after girls, the rumours never ended.

"you're not fine, y/n."

"i've been fine for the last two years without you lando, i dont need your help now."

with that you turn and walk away, walk away just like you did two years ago, getting in your car and sitting in the silence, basking in your own personal torment. its your own pain, your own hurt and its your own fault. you can't blame anyone other than yourself.

so you're stuck.

you're heart breaks every time you walk away from lando but your head clears, the inner turmoil eases for a moment.

your head and your heart.

you're over it.

you're over it.

you're over him.

right?

[dollbrbie]

michael kaiser ʚ ɞ never getting rid of him

cw. bratz!reader , ex!kaiser , mentions of alcohol use , make up sex , rough sex , possessiveness

kaiser (do not reply) :

who’s that guy ur talking to??

1:02 am

kaiser (do not reply) :

don’t play w me yk i’ll come over and kick his ass

1:03 am

you roll your eyes at the texts that light up your phone screen. how unbelievably childish. kaiser has always been the type of guy that seems to believe you’re still his when you’re most definitely not. besides, you had been broken up for two months now, it was about time for the both of you to start moving on.

that’s why you found yourself talking to some guy at the club, drunk out of your mind, the one kaiser was conveniently also at. you wouldn’t even put it past him if he came only because he found out you were. he was a little crazy like that.

“yeah, but anyways as i was saying..”, you say, putting your phone on silent and back in your bag, smiling back up at the stranger.

you suddenly feel an arm snake around your waist, the hold way too familiar, “hey, baby.”, your ex boyfriend smiles, a hint of irritation in his eyes.

you scoff with an eye roll, “what do you want?”

“just wondering why this guy is talking to my girl is all.”, he shrugs nonchalantly, like he was really still your man.

“i’m not your fucking girl, kaiser.”

“uhh.. yeah i think i’ll head off.”, the guy you had previously been talking to says awkwardly, pulling a straight smile before wandering off into the crowd.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i was talking to him! you can’t just show up whenever you feel like.”, you yell against the loud music echoing through your ears.

“y’still my girl whether you like it or not. you think i’m gonna let these loser guys think they have a chance with you?”

“i’m not your girl for fuck sake!”, you yell in frustration, “we broke up, don’t you get it? we’re done.”

you sigh in pure frustration before attempting to storm off, kaiser’s hand quick to grab your wrist to prevent that, “alright, hold on, please. just hear me out.”

you turn around, looking at his defeated face, causing your heart to thump, “why should i, though? it’s not like you deserve it.”

“i know, baby. i know.”, he admits, pulling you closer, “but can’t we just talk?”, he adds, “cmon?”

“fine. where?”

“oh- fuck.”, you whimper out as you feel kaiser bottom out inside you, “baby, please.”

“yeah? what is it, beautiful? use your words.”

you knew this would happen. it always does whenever you and kaiser go to ‘talk things out’. you always end up underneath him, fucking you like he’s never fucked you before. i guess that was one good thing about this.

“too much-”

“nah.. you can take it baby, cmon.”, he coaxes, seeing the way your body squirmed, knowing you were close to reaching your peak.

kaiser knew you and your body too well. the way your legs would squirm and your back would arch when that knot of pleasure would build up in your stomach. the way your nails would claw his back and your legs refused to stay still when it was getting too much.

he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew exactly how to tip you over the edge.

and just like his predictions, you arch your back as you mewl out, “m’gonna cum..”

“already, baby?”, he asks through a breathy laugh to which you nod frantically, your legs wrapping around kaiser’s waist, your pleasure so close to tipping over.

“go on then, cum for me, pretty.”, he coaxes once more, your orgasm spilling over the edge and shooting down your body, your head thrown back against the pillow as your eyes screw shut and your legs tighten around your ex’s waist.

kaiser continues fucking you through your orgasm, your beautiful whines sending him over the edge as he overstimulates your pretty pussy, “what? y’think i’m done? i’ve not even come yet.”, he adds, “and we have a lot of making up to do, don’t we?”

he kisses away your tears of pleasure, smiling to himself as he has you exactly where he wants you. he let you have your time believing you were standing on business. but you had always been his and he certainly won’t be letting you escape from his grasp again.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[ekybrini]

I love you, I'm sorry | Jack Hughes

— ⟡ summary | After the breakup, you spend the summer at the Hughes' lake house, trying to move on while Jack lingers in the background, never pushing but always there in small, unspoken ways. Slowly, the anger fades into something more complicated, and as the summer stretches on, you’re forced to confront the one thing you’ve been avoiding .

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I am aware of)

— ⟡ word count | 10.6k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!! since many people requested a part two here it is!! in all honestly I don't know if I like this or hate it, but oh well. hopefully you guys like part two as much as you liked part one ! <3 I apologize if this seems a little rushed.

part one | jacks pov (to part one)

It’s been almost two months since that weekend in New Jersey. Two months since you stood in Jack’s apartment waiting for him to say something, anything, while he stood there arms crossed over his chest face guarded and let you walk away.

He hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. And you haven’t either.

At first, it hurt so badly you could barely breathe. The quiet was unbearable. You kept expecting your phone to light up with his name, to see a message “I’m sorry or Can we talk?” but nothing ever came. He’d let you leave after that fight, and the silence afterward felt like proof that he never really cared as much as you thought.

But the worst part, the part you hate admitting even to yourself is that you miss him. You miss him so much it’s a physical ache in your chest. You catch yourself thinking about him at the most random moments when you hear a song he used to like, or when you see someone wearing a Devils hoodie at the store. Your hand still twitches toward your phone when something funny happens. Your brain is so used to telling Jack everything that it hasn’t caught up to the fact that he isn’t there anymore. Even after two months.

Quinn’s checked in a few times. He hasn’t pushed, but you can feel the weight behind his questions. You know he’s talking to Jack about your conversations, but he hasn’t said much about it to you, which makes you think it’s probably bad.

You’re trying to move on. You really are. You’ve thrown yourself into school and work, into hanging out with your friends, into finding some sense of normalcy without him. But sometimes, it feels like you’re just going through all emotions. Because for the past nine years, Jack was part of your normal day life and now you don’t know how to exist without him.

It’s a Monday night when Quinn calls.

You almost let it go to voicemail, but your chest tightens, and you swipe to answer at the last second.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Quinn says. His voice is steady, but you can hear the hesitation underneath it. “How are you?”

“Fine.” The word tastes hollow. Quinn doesn’t say anything, and you sigh. “Okay, not really. But it’s fine.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah.” Quinn sounds like he’s bracing himself for something. “Jack’s in Michigan.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“He flew home this morning.”

Your heart starts pounding. You sit up straighter, curling your hand around the phone. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, but you can tell he’s lying.

You close your eyes. “Quinn”

“I’m not saying you have to talk to him,” Quinn says. “But I think he wants to.”

You bite your lip. Your chest is tight. You hate how much you want to see him. You hate how much hope is curling around the edges of your heart, even though you know better by now.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whisper.

“I know,” Quinn says quietly. “Just think about it.”

You don’t sleep much that night. Your mind keeps spinning, replaying every word of that last conversation with Jack, every look, every moment that led up to it. Him ignoring you at any given chance. You’re still awake when the sun rises, and your chest feels raw and aching as you get through the day.

Jack is here. Jack is in Michigan. Of course he is, it's all star week which means some of the players have a break. How did you forget?

You keep expecting to see him turn a corner and find him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes wide with regret. You don’t know what you’d do if that happened. Run? Scream? Pretend you don’t see him?

You wouldn't give him the chance.

For the next few days, you avoid every place he might be. You don’t go to the coffee shop you used to go to together. You don’t go to the dock outside of your house even though it’s a ritual for you. When Luke texts, asking if you want to hang out, you hesitate because what if Jack is there too?

Your answer is shorter than usual. “Not today. sorry.”

It’s exhausting, constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the inevitable. But part of you, the part you don’t want to acknowledge is waiting for it. Because Jack will always find his way back to you.

But what if he doesn't? 

Two days pass. Then three Days. Then another. And you didn't see Jack nor did he never shows up.

Maybe we are really done. 

The thought makes your stomach twist, but you shove it down, focusing on work. You pick up extra shifts at the restaurant, filling your schedule so there is completely no room to think about him. It works, mostly.

Until the night he walks through the door.

It’s a Friday. You’re busy clearing a table when you hear someone call your name from the kitchen, asking you to run a drink order to one of the booths. You grab the tray without thinking, slipping through the crowd, already moving on autopilot.

And then you see him.

Jack is sitting in the booth near the window, fingers tapping anxiously against the table. His head is down, like he’s lost in thought. Like he doesn’t quite know why he’s here, only that he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

For a second, you think about turning around running back to the kitchen and pretending you didn’t see him. But it’s too late he looks up at the exact moment you freeze, and his gaze locks onto yours.

His expression shifts instantly. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flicker with so many emotions at once shock, relief, regret, and guilt.

You grip the tray a little tighter. Your heartbeat is so loud it drowns out the chatter around you. You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Jack stands slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.

You should. You want to. But you don’t.

Your grip tightens around the tray, fingers pressing into the smooth surface like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The noise of the restaurant fades into the background, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears.

Jack takes a step forward, hesitant. “I-”

Your manager’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and direct. “Hey, can you get that table?”

You blink, the moment snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. Jack’s standing in front of you now closer than you’re ready for, but you force yourself to move past him stepping around his outstretched hand like you don’t even see it. Like he’s not even there.

Jack turns, his voice softer this time. “Wait-”

But you don’t.

You drop the drink order at the booth without looking back, without acknowledging the way your chest is threatening to cave in and disappear into the kitchen before he can say another word.

Your hands shake as you set the tray down exhaling sharply. The kitchen is warmer than usual the air thick with the smell of sizzling food and fresh bread, but you still feel cold your skin prickling with something too close to panic.

“Hey.” One of the other servers looks over at you, frowning. “You okay?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just just need a second.”

They don’t push, but you can feel their eyes on you as you turn away, bracing your hands against the counter.

Jack is out there. Jack is here.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Get through your shift. That’s all you have to do.

But the thought of walking back out there, of seeing him again makes your stomach twist.

You suck in a breath and grab water from the staff fridge forcing yourself to focus. You’ve handled worse. You can handle this.

But when you finally step out of the kitchen again, Jack is still there.And he’s waiting for you. He hasn’t left. You knew he wouldn’t.

Jack is still standing by the booth hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. His drink sits untouched on the table, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. He hasn’t looked away from the kitchen door since you walked through it, and when your eyes meet again something inside you clenched tight.

You force yourself to move to pretend like your legs aren’t trembling as you walk past him to check on another table. You don’t stop. You don’t slow down. But you can feel his gaze on you heavy, like he’s hoping you to look back.

You don’t.

You take another order, bring out another tray clear another table, throw yourself into work like it’s enough to drown out the storm raging inside you. But it’s impossible to ignore him when he’s still there, lingering like a ghost a constant presence in the corner of your vision. Just as you’re starting to think he might give up you hear your name.

"y/n"

Soft. Almost unsure. But you hear it.

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn.

Jack is closer now, standing just a few feet away his expression raw like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Can we” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightens. No. That’s the answer. That’s what you should say.

But nothing comes out.

Jack waits, shifting slightly, like he’s bracing himself for you to say no. Like he’s already expecting it.

And maybe that’s what makes you hesitate.

Your fingers curl into your apron heart slamming against your ribs. You should walk away. You should tell him you’re busy. You should say something that will make him leave.

But instead, you whisper, “I’m working.”

Jack exhales nodding quickly like he was stupid to even ask. “Right. Yeah. I just” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “I just wanted to see you.”

Well, congratulations. You’ve seen me.

You don’t say it. You don’t say anything.

Jack glances down rubbing the back of his neck then looks at you again. “I’ll wait.”

Your stomach twists. “Jack-”

“I’ll wait,” he repeats, softer this time. “I won’t leave until you talk to me.”

You exhale sharply, your chest tightening as you glance toward the clock. Two more hours. Two more hours of him sitting there, of feeling his eyes on you, of knowing he’s just waiting.

You don’t know if you can do this.

But it doesn’t seem like you have a choice.

For the next two hours, Jack keeps his word.

He doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t even try to talk to you again.

But he stays.

Every time you glance toward his booth whether it be on purpose or by accident he’s still there. His drink sits untouched, ice melted into the soda. He barely touches his phone, only looking at it in short, distracted glances, like he’s waiting for time to pass. But mostly, he watches you. Not in an overbearing way, not in a way that demands your attention, but in a way that feels like he’s just there. Present. Waiting.

And it makes your skin crawl. Because he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be sitting in your restaurant, watching you like this, like he’s hoping for something you can’t bring yourself to give him.

Your chest feels tight the entire time you work. Your hands shake a little as you punch in orders, your voice wavers when you ask customers if they need anything else. You can’t focus. Can’t think straight. Because Jack is still there.

When your shift finally ends, you take longer than usual in the back, wiping down counters that don’t need cleaning, refilling sugar dispensers that aren’t empty. You stall because you know what’s waiting for you outside.

And yet, when you finally push open the back door, stepping into the humid air, you’re still not prepared to see him standing there.

Jack is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, foot tapping absently against the concrete. The parking lot lights cast a dim glow over his face, catching the shadows under his eyes, the sharp cut of his jawline. He looks different than the last time you saw him. More tired. More worn down.

Your heart lurches despite everything.

Jack straightens as soon as he sees you. His shoulders tense like he’s expecting you to keep walking, to brush past him without a word.

And for a second you think about it.

But then he says your name. Soft and hesitant like a question.

Like a plea.

And you hate that your feet stop moving.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms. “You waited.”

Jack nods. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “You know why.”

You do. But you still don’t want to hear it.

Jack hesitates, then takes a small step closer. “Can we just, can we talk? Please?”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say. Maybe you were waiting for an apology. Maybe you thought he’d make some excuse, some weak attempt to downplay what happened.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you, his expression open and raw.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

Your fingers tighten against your arms. “I don’t know if I have anything to say to you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. But then he exhales, nodding. “Okay.”

That’s it no protest no but or please. Just okay.

You shift uncomfortably, glancing away. It would be easier if he were angry. If he fought you on this. But he doesn’t. He just takes the rejection, lets it settle between you without trying to force something you don’t want to give.

You should leave. You should get in your car and drive away.

But you don’t.

And Jack doesn’t either.

The silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable. The night hums around you cars passing in the distance, the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead, the muffled voices of your coworkers still inside but it all fades against the weight of him.

Jack shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickers to the pavement, then back to you. “I didn’t come here to make this harder.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Jack exhales, closing his eyes briefly like he expected that. Maybe he did.

When he opens them again, they’re softer, something aching in them. “I don’t know what to say to make this right.”

You stare at him, fingers digging into your arms. Good. Because there is no magic fix for this. There’s no sentence that can undo the months of silence, the gutting way he hurt you, the way he let you walk away without fighting for you.

Jack swallows hard, stepping forward just enough to bridge the space between you, but not enough to make you feel trapped. “I know I messed up. And I know I probably don’t get to ask for anything from you anymore, but” He hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I just explain?”

You shake your head, looking away. “Jack-”

“Please.”

That one word pulls something deep in your chest. It’s quiet and desperate and so different from the last time you spoke, from the sharp edged way he threw his words at you like knives, cutting you open and then leaving you there to bleed.

This Jack, the one standing in front of you now isn’t the same.

But does it even matter?

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Why now?”

Jack flinches, like the question physically hits him. “Because I’m not” He exhales sharply, jaw tightening. “Because I should’ve told you everything back then. And I didn’t. And I hate myself for it.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, your arms falling to your sides. “And you think telling me now is going to change anything?”

Jack hesitates. “No. But I can’t keep” He stops, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words. “I can’t let the last thing I ever say to you be that.”

Your heart twists.

Because neither can you.

But you don’t know if you’re ready for this. You don’t know if you can stand here and listen to him tell you things that should have been said back in New Jersey. months ago.

And yet, you don’t move.

Jack watches you, waiting, his hands clenched at his sides. And for the first time since you left New Jersey, it actually looks like he’s scared.

Not losing you.

But because he already did.

The night air feels too heavy, pressing against your skin as you stand there, caught between the past and whatever this moment is supposed to be. Jack looks like he’s waiting for you to run, like he wouldn’t even blame you if you did.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should turn around go back inside pretend this never happened.

But your feet stay planted.

Jack shifts again, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits quietly.

You huff out a breath, crossing your arms. “You should’ve figured that out before you” Your voice catches, the words cutting into you as much as they do him. Before you pushed me away. You can’t say it out loud. You won’t.

Jack flinches anyway like he heard it.

“I know,” he says, and it’s not defensive not sharp. Just raw. “I know I handled everything wrong. I know I hurt you.” He swallows hard. “I just, I thought if I could just get through the season, if I could just push through everything, it would get better. That I’d get better.”

You frown, your arms tightening around yourself. “And you couldn’t talk to me about that?”

Jack laughs, but it’s empty. “I don’t know. I think I convinced myself that if I said it out loud, it would make it real. And if it was real, then I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I just shut down.”

You blink. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Jack talk about his own feelings like this before, at least not with you, not with anyone. He’s always been the one to feel everything and let it explode out of him in frustration or impulsiveness. Not like this. Not measured and painfully aware of how much damage he caused.

Jack’s hands clench at his sides. “And then when you came to Jersey” His voice drops lower, like he doesn’t even want to say it. “I knew I was losing you. And I didn’t know how to stop it. I was mad at myself, and I was mad at you for” He stops, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even know what. But I took it out on you, and I hate myself for it.”

Your breath catches.

Because this is what you needed back then. An explanation. An admission. Something other than the cold, cutting way he pushed you away.

But it’s been months. And you don’t know if hearing it now makes a difference.

Jack steps forward not enough to crowd you, but enough that you can see the way his eyes shine under the streetlight. The way he looks wrecked.

“I love you, I'm sorry. I just miss you.,” he breathes. “Every day.”

Your chest tightens so painfully you think it might break you in half.

You look away, blinking hard. “Jack”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “I just” He lets out a slow breath. “I just needed you to know.”

The words hang in the air between you.

And for the first time since you walked away from him, you have no idea what to do.

Your fingers tighten around your arms, nails digging into your skin. “You don’t get to just say that,” you whisper. “You don’t get to show up at my job and” Your voice catches, breath hitching. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “And tell me you love me and that you miss me like that means anything after everything.”

Jack flinches, but he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t run. That’s the worst part. You wish he would. It would be easier if he stormed off, if he got frustrated, if he did something that made it easier to hold onto your anger. But instead, he just stands there, taking every word you throw at him like he knows he deserves them.

“It means everything,” he says, voice rough. “It always has.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “Then why did you treat me like I didn’t?”

Jack’s face crumples, and he lets out a slow, unsteady breath. “Because I was a fucking coward.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “Because I thought pushing you away would hurt less than letting you see how much I was struggling.” He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “But it didn’t. Losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as your vision starts to blur. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You refuse to cry in front of him. Not after everything.

Jack steps closer not enough to touch you, but enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says. “I don’t expect anything. But I had to tell you the truth. You deserved that.”

You stare at him, breathing shakily. His face is open, vulnerable in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. Like he’s laid everything bare, like he’s put his heart in your hands even though he knows you have every reason to drop it and let it shatter.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jack Hughes is standing in front of you. Your old best friend. Your ex boyfriend. finally talking, finally telling you everything you wanted to hear months ago.

The weight of his words presses down on you, threatening to crack the walls you’ve spent months building around yourself. You force yourself to stand taller, to steel yourself against the way he’s looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as blinks.

Maybe you already have.

“You don’t get to do this,” you say again, voice steadier now, but your hands are still trembling. “You don’t get to walk away, to break me like that, and then show up months later acting like you care.”

Jack’s expression twists, pained. “I never stopped caring.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Just stop.”

Jack drags a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I know. I fucked up. I know I did. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it every single day.” His voice shakes, raw and unfiltered. “I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve let you in. But I was scared, and I-” He stops, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “I don’t have an excuse.”

The worst part? You believe him.

You always believe him.

But that doesn’t mean it’s enough.

“I spent two months waiting,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the restaurant around you. “Months wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Jack’s face falls. “It was never about you not being enough.”

“Then why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you stop me before I walked out of that door?” Your voice cracks on the last word. 

Jack looks devastated. “Because I was drowning,” he admits, and the honesty in his voice is almost unbearable. “And instead of reaching for you, I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to see me like that. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being a selfish asshole.”

You shake your head, trying to will away the lump forming in your throat. “You don’t get to decide what protects me, Jack. That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I know,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

You inhale sharply, looking away, because if you look at him any longer, you might break right here in the middle of your shift, in front of all these people.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” you admit.

Jack hesitates. “I don’t expect anything. I just” He trails off, his hands clenching at his sides. “I just needed you to know that I never stopped caring. That I still-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to reel himself back in.

Like he’s about to say something he can’t take back.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

Jack clears his throat, stepping back slightly, like he’s giving you space. “I won’t bother you again if you don’t want me to,” he says quietly. “But if, if there’s even a chance that I haven’t lost you completely-” His voice breaks, and he looks down, swallowing hard. “I’d give anything to fix what I broke.”

You stare at him, your breath shaky.

The worst part is you don’t know if you want him to leave or stay.

All you know is that, despite everything, you still love him.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Jack’s still standing there, waiting, hands curled into fists like he’s bracing for you to tell him to leave. Like he already knows he deserves it.

And maybe he does.

But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“You should go,” you finally say, forcing the words out past the tightness in your throat.

Jack flinches, just barely, but he nods. “Okay.” His voice is quiet, rough around the edges.

He hesitates for a moment longer, like he wants to say something else, but then he just exhales sharply, turns, and walks away.

You don’t move. You stand there, gripping the tray so tightly your knuckles ache, staring at the spot where he just was.

He actually left.

You should feel relieved. You should feel proud of yourself for standing your ground.

Instead, your stomach churns, and your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You force yourself to move, heading straight to the back of the restaurant to get your stuff before anyone can see the way your hands are shaking. You press your palms against the counter, inhaling sharply, trying to push down the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to drag you under.

You hate this. You hate that he can still make you feel like this.

And worst of all, you hate that some part of you wanted him to stay.

⟡

You don’t see him again for a few days.

And then suddenly, he’s everywhere.

You see him at the grocery store while you’re grabbing coffee. You turn a corner, and there he is standing in front of the dairy section looking just as caught off guard as you. You don’t even think.You spin on your heel and walk straight out of the store leaving the coffee behind.

A few days later, you spot him at the lake standing at the dock, your dock his hands shoved in his pockets, staring out at the water like it holds all the answers he’s been searching for.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

It happens again. And again.

At first, you think it’s just bad luck. Michigan is only so big, after all.

But then Luke starts to text you

“Jack’s been asking about you.”

You stare at the message for a long time before typing out a response.

“Tell him to stop”

Luke doesn’t reply right away. When he does, it’s just one word

“Okay”

You don’t know if he actually tells Jack.

But for a while, it seems like he did.

Because you don’t see Jack after that. Not at the grocery store, not at the lake, not anywhere.

It should be a relief.

So why does it feel like an ache settling in your chest?

Did he go back to New Jersey? 

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you wanted this. That you told him to leave you alone. But the words feel thin, like paper that might tear with the wrong touch.

 Luke texts you again after a few days.

“Jack’s still here.”

Your stomach twists.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

“Why? Isn’t all starts over?”

It only takes Luke a few seconds to reply.

“I don’t know. But he’s not leaving.”

You stare at Luke’s response, your heart pounding.

Jack should be gone by now. He should be in Jersey practicing. He has no reason to still be here.

Unless he's still here for you. You shake your head, pushing the thought away before it can settle. You can’t do this again. You can’t let yourself hope.

Your phone buzzes again.

“Have you seen him?” Luke asks.

You swallow hard.

“No. And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. 

Luke doesn’t call you out on it, but his next message lingers on the screen, making your chest ache.

“I think he’s waiting for you.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know how to.

Because you know Luke’s right. Jack wouldn’t still be here if he wasn’t waiting for something.

You shut off your phone, but it doesn’t stop the way your thoughts spin. The way your stomach twists at the idea of Jack still being here, waiting.

For days, you’d been looking over your shoulder, avoiding places he might be. But now, knowing that he hasn’t left, knowing that he’s lingering in the same town, waiting for something, you. makes it worse.

You want to be angry. You want to be relieved. Instead, you just feel exhausted. Because if Jack is waiting, it means this isn’t over. And you don’t know if you have it in you to face him again.

After a few days on Monday night, Luke texts you again.

"Jack left."

You stare at the message for a long time, reading it over and over again like maybe you’ve misunderstood. But it’s right there, plain as day. Jack is gone.

Your chest tightens, and you don’t know if it’s relief or something closer to disappointment that settles in your bones. You should be happy. This is what you wanted, right? For him to leave you alone?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

"Back to Jersey?"

Luke replies almost immediately.

"Yeah. He flew out this morning."

You don’t answer. You don’t know what to say.

For the next few weeks, life goes back to normal. Or at least, as normal as it can be when there’s still a Jack shaped hole in your life. The weight in your chest doesn’t fade, but you learn to live with it. You stop looking over your shoulder. You go back to the places you avoided before. You try to move on.

But it’s not that easy.

You still reach for your phone sometimes, instinctively, before remembering there’s no reason to. You still think about him when you pass by the lake, still catch yourself wondering what he’s doing, if he ever thinks about you, if New Jersey feels as lonely for him as Michigan does for you.

But you don’t let yourself ask.

⟡

summer comes around

Its been six months without jack in your life. 3 months since you last talked.

It starts the way it always does long days, warm nights, the kind of stillness in the air that makes everything feel slower. You throw yourself into work, trying not to think about how different this summer feels without Jack.

It happens on a quiet summer evening.

You’re sitting on Luke’s dock, legs dangling over the edge, the warm air thick with the scent of the lake. It’s one of those nights where the water is still, the sky is streaked with soft orange, and everything feels suspended in time.

Luke sits beside you, tossing small rocks into the water. It’s easy, comfortable like it always has been with him. No pressure to talk, no need to fill the silence.

For the first time in a long time, you almost feel okay.

And then you hear it.

The crunch of tires on gravel. The low hum of an engine cutting off. A car door slamming shut.

Your entire body tenses. Luke shifts beside you, tossing one last rock into the water before letting out a sigh.

You don’t turn around. You don’t move at all. Maybe if you stay still, if you pretend you didn’t hear it, it won’t be real.

But then you heard. Footsteps.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Luke is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“You’re back,” he says, voice unreadable.

Your fingers clench against the wood of the dock.

And then Jack’s voice.

“Yeah.”

Luke exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week.”

Jack shrugs, shifting his weight. “Changed my flight.”

Luke doesn’t say anything for a moment, just glances at you before shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the edge of the dock. Your heart is pounding, but you force yourself to keep your face neutral.

Luke lets out a sigh, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m gonna head inside,” he says, his voice careful, like he already knows you’re about to protest.

Your head snaps toward him. “Luke”

He just shrugs, backing away. “You should talk.”

Fuck you luke

And before you can argue, he’s already walking up the dock, leaving you alone with Jack.

The air feels thick with something unspoken as Luke disappears into the house, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoing across the quiet lake.

You don’t look at Jack. Not right away. Instead, you stare down at the rippling water, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

Jack shifts on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says after a long moment. His voice is quieter than you expected. Careful.

You swallow hard. “Yeah, well. I didn’t think you were coming back today.”

Jack exhales, and you finally force yourself to glance at him. He looks tired. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, his usual easy posture stiff, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

“I was gonna wait,” he says, his gaze flickering to yours before dropping to the dock. “But I just I don’t know. I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Your fingers curl against the wood, nails pressing into the grain. “For what?”

Jack lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “For this,” he says. “For seeing you.” He stops, his throat bobbing. “For whatever happens next.”

A lump rises in your throat. You want to tell him nothing happens next. That it’s too late. That he made sure of that months ago.

But the words won’t come.

Instead, you stare at him, your chest tightening with something you don’t want to name. Something fragile and painful and real.

Jack takes a small step forward. “I know you don’t want to see me,” he says. “And I get it. I do. But I just I couldn’t stay away.”

You let out a shaky breath, looking back at the water. “Maybe you should have.”

Jack flinches, just barely. “Maybe,” he admits. “But I didn’t.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. The lake laps gently against the shore, the summer air warm around you.

Jack shifts again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you’ll ever want to talk to me again,” he says, voice rough. “But I had to come back. Even if it’s just to tell you I’m sorry.”

Your throat tightens. “Jack-”

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he interrupts, holding your gaze. “I swear. Just say the word.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t trust yourself too.

Because for months, you thought you wanted him to stay gone. But now that he’s here, standing in front of you, looking at you like that.

You’re not sure anymore.

Jack watches you, his breathing uneven, like he’s waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you can’t give him one. Not yet.

Your chest feels too tight, your mind racing through everything at once. The months apart. The silence. The way he shattered everything with a few careless words. And now he’s here, standing on the dock like he belongs, like he can just step back into your life because he decided he’s ready.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you want it to be.

Jack runs a hand through his hair, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Nothing,” he says. “I just don't want to leave things like this.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Like what, Jack?”

“Like I broke everything and never tried to fix it.”

Your stomach twists. You stare at him, searching his face for the version of him you used to know the boy who used to feel like home. But all you see is the space between who he was and who he’s become, and you don’t know if you fit anywhere in between.

“You did break everything,” you say, and your voice wavers despite your best effort to keep it steady. “And then you let me leave”

Jack’s jaw tightens. “I know,” he murmurs. “And I hated it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He looks away, out at the lake, like the words are stuck in his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because I was scared I told you this.”

The confession hangs between you, thick with regret. You should be angry. Maybe you are. But beneath it, there’s something else, something raw and aching, something that feels dangerously close to understanding.

Jack exhales, shaking his head. “I messed up,” he says. “I know I did. And I don’t expect you to just forget it, or forgive me, or anything like that. I just, I needed to see you. Even if it’s just this once.”

Your fingers curl against the wood of the dock. You should tell him to leave. You should walk away first. But you don’t. It’s his dock after all.

Because for all the hurt and anger and unanswered questions, for all the ways he’s let you down. Jack has always been the one person you could never quite let go of.

Jack shifts, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, looking down at the worn wooden boards of the dock. “I don’t know if it means anything,” he says, voice quiet, “but I never stopped thinking about you.”

Your breath catches, and you hate how much those words stir something inside you. “Thinking about me didn’t stop you from ignoring me and pushing me away when all I wanted to do is be there for you. you stopped letting me in Jack."

Jack flinches. “I know.” His voice is hoarse, raw, like he’s forcing the words out. “And I don’t expect you to believe me, but I hated myself for it.”

You shake your head, looking back at the water, your hands gripping the edge of the dock like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “Hating yourself doesn’t change anything, Jack.”

Jack exhales, long and unsteady. “I know that too.”

Silence stretches between you again. The lake ripples gently against the shore, the air thick with humidity and something you can’t name.

Then, he moves. Just barely. A half step closer. Not enough to bridge the distance, but enough that you can feel it his presence, his hesitation, his regret.

“I won’t push,” he says after a long moment. “I just needed you to know. That I never stopped caring. That I never stopped-” He exhales sharply, cutting himself off before the word loving can leave his lips.

You close your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to breathe.

When you finally look at him, he’s already watching you, his expression open in a way it never was before. Vulnerable. Honest.

You don’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t know jack.”

Jack nods once, like he expected that. Like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable. But then, instead of walking away, instead of saying goodbye he just says, “I’ll see you around.”

And then he does walk away, up the dock, back toward the house, leaving you there with nothing but the echo of his words and the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

You don’t move for a long time.

Because you don’t know what you want anymore.

You don’t move until the sound of the screen door clicking shut fades into the stillness of the lake. Even then, your muscles stay locked, fingers clenched against the dock, breathing shallow like if you breathe too hard, everything will come crashing down again.

Luke was right. You should talk.

But what does talking even fix?

What does this fix?

The summer air is warm, but you feel cold. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze rolling off the water and everything to do with the way Jack just looked at you like he was still searching for something in you, something familiar, something that maybe isn’t his to find anymore.

And yet. You should’ve felt relieved when he walked away.

But all you feel is this dull ache in your chest, pressing against your ribs like it’s trying to crawl its way out.

A deep sigh from behind you breaks your trance.

You don’t have to turn around to know Luke is back.

You wipe at your face quickly though you don’t think you’re crying and only glance at him when he drops down beside you on the dock, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“You wanna hit me for leaving?” he asks casually, tossing a rock into the water.

You scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re an asshole.”

Luke grins, but it fades quickly. “You okay?”

You don’t answer right away, just stare at the water, the ripples from his rock barely noticeable. “I don’t know,” you admit.

Luke hums like he expected that. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, the sun sinking lower, painting streaks of pink and orange through the clouds.

“I didn’t know he was coming back today. I would’ve told you.,” he says after a moment. “Thought it was next week.”

You swallow, shifting your hands in your lap. “I know.”

“I also didn’t know he was gonna come straight here.”

Your stomach twists. “He came straight here?”

Luke nods. “Dropped his bag in the house and then walked out here.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Think that means something.”

You shake your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like” You cut yourself off, gritting your teeth. “Like it changes anything.”

Luke doesn’t argue. He just looks back at the lake. “Doesn’t have to change anything,” he says simply. “But I think it means he cares.”

You let out a short laugh, bitter and tired. “Caring wasn’t the problem.”

Luke tilts his head, considering that. “No,” he agrees. “But it’s a start.”

You don’t respond.

Because you don’t know what to say.

Jack came back. He came straight to you. He stood there, waiting, offering something not a fix, not an excuse, but something.

And maybe it’s not enough.

But maybe it’s not nothing, either.

You watch the water for a long time, the sky shifting from soft sunset hues to deeper shades of blue. Luke doesn’t press, doesn’t push. He just sits there, existing beside you, letting the quiet settle.

And when the last bit of daylight fades, and the only sounds left are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lap of the water against the shore, you finally let yourself whisper the thing you haven’t allowed yourself to say for months.

“I don’t know how to hate him.”

Luke doesn’t look at you, but you feel his understanding in the way his shoulder bumps against yours.

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

You exhale, long and shaky.

You don’t know if he’s right. You don’t know what any of this means. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel as certain about keeping Jack out as you once did. 

And that terrifies you more than anything.

You don’t move for a long time. Neither does Luke.

The two of you sit there, the night settling around you, wrapping the dock in quiet, in something close to peace. If it weren’t for the weight sitting heavy in your chest, you could almost pretend everything was normal.

But it’s not and it hasn’t been for a long time.

Luke finally shifts beside you, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, but you know it’s not the cold he’s trying to get rid of. You can feel the quiet question in the way his gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t press, doesn’t ask what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t need to.

“You know, I always thought it was pretty simple,” Luke says, his voice casual again, though there’s a hint of something deeper in it. “You and Jack. The way you two were.”

You glance at him quickly, surprised by the words. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking at the sky, then at the water. “You always seemed like two halves of the same whole, you know? Like it was just meant to be.” He exhales slowly, like it’s a thought that’s been lingering in his mind for a while. “But sometimes, I guess, it’s not that simple. people change.”

You feel a pang in your chest at that something between regret and hope. You want to say something, but you don’t have the words. You want to scream at him that it was simple, that it was easy, until it wasn’t. But all that comes out is a soft exhale.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be this hard,” you say quietly, and it’s the truth. The way Jack left.the way you left. The way things ended. All of it feels like a twisted knot you’ve been trying to unravel for months, but every time you get close, it tightens again.

Luke’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “What do you think it means, that he came back?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel it weigh on you, pressing into your ribs like a cold hand. Jack didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.

You want to tell Luke that you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter. But you can’t. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “I don’t know if it means anything at all.”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Luke says, his voice softening. “But I think you want it to mean something.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how. The truth is, you do want it to mean something, but you’re too scared to hope that it might. And that kind of pain? You’re not sure if you can handle it again.

Luke stands up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. “Hey,” he says, glancing at you with that same steady, knowing look. “I know you’re not ready for whatever this is with Jack. But you’ve gotta stop pretending that you don’t care. You’re better than that.”

You swallow, a lump rising in your throat. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care, to convince yourself that it’s over, that Jack’s no longer a part of your life. But that’s not the truth. The truth is every part of you still aches for him.

“I’m not pretending,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

Luke nods, his eyes softening, but he doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t need to. You feel the weight of his unspoken words settle between you, and for the first time in a long while, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Luke says after a moment, his voice a little more playful, breaking the tension. “Just don’t stay out here all night, okay? We’ve got a long summer ahead of us.”

You nod, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Lukey.”

He gives you one last, lingering look before heading inside. You watch his silhouette disappear into the house, and once again, you’re left alone on the dock, staring out at the lake, the endless expanse of water stretched out before you.

But this time, it’s different. For the first time, you feel like you’re not completely alone. Like, maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight.

Jack came back. He showed up. And you’re not sure what that means, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s the first step back to something real.

The night is quiet again, the world around you settling into that peaceful hum it always does at this hour. The crickets are still singing, the water is still lapping against the shore. And in the distance, you can hear the faintest sound of footsteps on the dock, a reminder that things might be changing, and you’re not sure where they’ll lead.

But you’re willing to find out.

Luke’s footsteps fade as he heads back inside, leaving you alone on the dock with your thoughts. The evening air is cooler now, the breeze brushing against your skin, but you barely notice. The lake reflects the dimming sky, ripples catching the fading light, as if the world is holding its breath.

It feels almost peaceful here, a quiet that’s both comforting and suffocating at once. You’ve spent countless evenings on this dock, but tonight is different. Everything is different. You don’t know if it's the weight of the words Luke left you with, or the fact that Jack's presence still lingersin the air. But something inside you is shifting, and you don’t know how to stop it.

⟡

You don’t notice at first.

Not really.

The little things. The quiet ways Jack moves around you, never asking for anything, never forcing his way in.

There’s always an extra water bottle in the fridge, the brand you like, the one you always reach for first. It’s never mentioned, never pointed out, just there, cold and waiting. One time, you grab the last one, and the next morning, the fridge is stocked again. You don’t see him do it, but you know it’s him.

When you sit outside with Luke in the evening, Jack’s hoodie somehow ends up draped over the back of your chair. It’s too warm for it, but you don’t move it. It smells like detergent and something that’s just him. Familiar. Unavoidable. When the wind picks up and the air shifts cooler, you don’t think before pulling it on. Later, when you catch him looking at you in it, he doesn’t say anything. Just presses his lips together and looks away.

At dinner, he never takes the seat next to you. Not once. He could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits just far enough that you don’t have to acknowledge him, but close enough that if you need the salt or the serving spoon or another napkin, he can pass it to you without hesitation. He does every time, even when someone else could. You don’t thank him, but you never don’t take it.

You say you’re not hungry one night, push your plate away after barely picking at it. No one calls you on it. No one says anything. But later, when you go into the kitchen, the snack you like is left on the counter. No note. No explanation. Just there. You stare at it for a long time before taking it to your room.

When you sit with everyone on the dock, he’s always the last one inside. It’s not obvious, not really, but it happens every time. He waits until you’ve gone in first, even if it means staying out later than he would otherwise.

You don’t catch him looking at you much. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to talk about things you’re not ready for. But when he walks by, his hand lingers for just a second on the back of your chair. A second too long to be incidental, too short to be anything more. Just enough for you to notice.

And maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure which thought is worse.

The house is quiet when you slip out.

Everyone else is asleep, the soft hum of the AC the only sound as you step carefully over the creaky floorboards. The cool night air hits you the second you step outside, the warmth of the house falling away as you make your way down toward the dock.

You don’t know why you’re out here. Or maybe you do. Maybe it’s the way the weight in your chest feels heavier inside, how the silence of the guest room is too loud, pressing in on you in a way you can’t shake. Out here, the night stretches wide, the water calm, dark, endless.

You sit at the edge of the dock, legs dangling over, the tips of your toes skimming the surface. The water ripples, soft and slow, carrying secrets you don’t have the words for.

You wrap your arms around yourself, staring out across the lake, watching the way the moonlight dances over the water. It’s peaceful, quiet in a way that should feel empty but doesn’t.

The sound of a door creaking open catches your attention. Your heart jumps, and instinctively, your gaze shifts toward the sound. You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Jack.

He’s standing at the end of the dock now, his figure barely visible in the low light, but you can feel the tension in the air between you. The same tension that’s been building for months, even before he left, before everything turned to dust.

You don’t say anything, just stare at him. You can feel his gaze on you, searching, waiting. There’s something in his eyes, something deeper than the uncertainty in yours. Maybe he’s been carrying this weight too.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence, a little quieter than usual. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t expect him to be here. Not like this, not after everything.

You let out a shaky breath and glance at him, your throat tight. “Was just about to go back to the room.” you reply, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth if only because you don’t want to be here anymore, alone with all these feelings.

He doesn’t respond right away, just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. You try to ignore the way your heart stutters in your chest at the sight of him. The Jack you knew is still there, but there’s something different, something unsure in the way he holds himself now.

And then you remember what Luke said. “He didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.”

Jack didn’t have to come here. He could have gone anywhere else. But he chose this place. He chose to come to you.

Your thoughts start to unravel, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out. “Luke told me you came straight here. No unpacking, no nothing. Just here.”

Jack’s gaze flickers briefly to the ground, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Yeah. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in months, you feel like you might be able to breathe again. He didn’t know where else to go. It doesn’t mean everything’s fixed, doesn’t mean you’ve figured out what you’re supposed to do now, but it’s something.

You stand slowly, moving to the edge of the dock, the space between you two still stretching, but somehow smaller now. You look at Jack, really look at him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something soft there now, something vulnerable.

You don’t know how to say it. You don’t know what to say. All you know is that the walls you’ve built between you and him no matter how high they were are starting to crack.

“Jack,” you start, but your voice falters. “what does this mean? Coming back like this?”

His gaze shifts back to you, and you see him swallow hard. His jaw tightens, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a sign that maybe he’s been struggling with this too.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I just couldn't stay away. I thought I could. Thought I was better off doing this on my own, but I was wrong.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you, feeling that familiar pull in your chest that’s been there from the very start.

Jack doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re not sure what to expect. But then, his hand reaches out, tentatively, like he’s testing the waters. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t grab your arm or pull you in, but you can feel the warmth of his fingers just inches from your skin.

The air around you both is thick, charged with everything you’ve both been holding back for so long. You don’t know where this will lead, don’t know what happens next. But for the first time in a long time, you’re not scared of it.

You swallow and take that last step forward, your hand reaching for his, fingers brushing ever so gently. Neither of you pulls away.

You glance at Jack again, and the weight of everything, the unanswered questions to the unanswered feelings , the cold silences, the way everything has shifted between you two starts to settle back on your shoulders. It all feels so close, like you could reach out and touch it, but you’re not sure if you want to.

"I didn't think you'd come back this early," you say, breaking the silence, your voice more neutral than you feel. "I was told you were coming back next week."

Jack’s eyes flick over to you for a second, but he doesn’t look like he has an answer. He shrugs, a little sheepish. "I thought I’d head back sooner. Wasn’t much keeping me there. Kinda just wanted to get home." He glances down at the dock, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I guess I just wanted to clear my head, I guess."

You look away, not sure how to respond. The words you’ve been holding onto are trapped somewhere deep inside you, and they don’t seem to want to come out right now. It’s almost easier to stay quiet, to pretend you don’t care, than to admit how much you still feel like you’re waiting for something, anything, to change.

You let the silence linger between you two, the soft lapping of the water against the dock filling the space where words should be. 

Jack shifts beside you, but he doesn’t push. He’s waiting for you to speak. And for the first time in a long time, you realize how much you miss the quiet moments with him. How easy it used to be, before everything got so complicated. Before you ended things in New Jersey, when you left feeling more lost than when you got there.

"I didn't want it to end the way it did," you say, almost too quietly. You know it’s not a huge revelation, but somehow the weight of it feels bigger now that it’s out in the open. "I thought Maybe if you had just talked to me, things would’ve been different. But you didn’t. And I couldn’t just wait around for you to figure it out."

Jack doesn’t reply right away. His face is unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even hearing you. Then he finally looks over, his gaze soft but guarded. "I know I screwed up. I was just trying to figure stuff out myself, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to drag you into it."

There’s a rawness in his voice that you didn’t expect. It’s not a perfect apology, but it’s real. And that feels like a step, even if it’s a small one.

"I don’t know what we’re doing," you admit, running a hand through your hair, frustration seeping through despite yourself. "I don’t know if we can just pick up where we left off. But it’s hard, Jack. It’s really hard."

He leans back on his hands, looking at the sky, a long breath leaving his chest. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were," he says quietly. "I just want to make things right. I don’t know if that’s even possible, but I’m here. I’m here if you want to figure it out."

You pause, your heart racing even though the conversation is as calm as it’s been in a long time. There’s a quiet truth to what he’s saying. And while you’re still unsure about everything, you can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different.

You don’t know what’s going to happen, but for the first time in months, you're not as scared of finding out.

You stand there quietly, staring at the water, unsure of what to say. The weight of everything that’s happened between you and Jack feels heavier tonight. You’ve spent months pushing down your feelings, convincing yourself that moving on was the right thing to do. But now that he’s here, standing next to you again, everything you thought was buried deep inside resurfaces.

You can feel his gaze on you, steady, waiting for some kind of response, but all you can manage is silence. It’s not that you don’t know what to say it’s just that you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.

The words finally break free when you speak quietly, your voice almost trembling. “I still care about you, Jack. I always have.”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, and there’s a vulnerability in them that you can’t hide anymore. He looks like he’s waiting for something more, something deeper, but you're not sure if you’re ready to give that yet.

“I never stopped loving you,” you admit softly, the words escaping before you even realize you’ve said them.

Jack’s expression softens, and you see the relief in his eyes. He’s been waiting to hear that for so long, and you know it. But at the same time, the confession feels like a weight you weren’t quite prepared for.

“But,” you add, your voice trembling slightly, “it’s not that simple. I can’t just go back to the way things were. I can’t pretend like everything that happened didn’t matter.”

Jack doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“I still care about you,” you say again, this time with more certainty. “I still love you, but we can’t just jump right back into this. Not after everything. Not after how it ended. It’s not that easy.”

There’s a quiet understanding in his eyes, the kind that makes you feel seen and heard in a way you didn’t think was possible. But there’s also a hint of sadness, and you know it’s because he wants more. He wants to make things right. But you need time. You need space to figure out what it is you really want.

“I’m not asking you to forget everything,” Jack says, his voice low but steady. “I’m just asking for a chance. I haven't changed, it's just difficult.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that the guy sitting next to you now is the same person who left for New Jersey, the one who shut you out when he needed you the most. But at the same time, part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s all just words.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know you want to fix things, Jack. And I want that too. But we need to take this slow. I need time. I can’t just rush back into something that hurt me so much.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like he’s weighing your words, taking them in before he responds.

“I’m okay with that,” he says finally. “I don’t expect things to go back to normal overnight. I’m not going anywhere, though. I’ll be here. I just I need you to know that I want to make it right. I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You look at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s not a guarantee. It’s not a promise that things will be easy, but it’s something. Something real.

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I can’t promise you anything right now, Jack. But I’m not going to shut you out. I’m not going to pretend like I still don't want to be with you.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been lingering between you two lifts just a little. It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed. But it’s a start.

“I’m okay with taking it slow,” Jack says quietly, his hand shifting closer to yours, but not quite reaching for it. He’s giving you the space you need.

You nod, glancing back at the water. The night feels different now, the air softer, like something is shifting. Maybe it’s not everything you want yet, but it’s something. Something you can work with.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you whisper, the weight of those words settling into your chest. “But no promises.”

Jack smiles, a little more hopeful now, but he doesn’t push. He understands.

And for the first time in those six months since the break up, you feel like maybe just maybe this is the beginning of something real again. Something that can’t be rushed.

[yeagersackerman]

fury | e.yeager

eren yeager x fem!reader

!!: SMUT, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names like (bitch, whore, slut, princess, baby), degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, slight reader x jean kirstein, eren’s so fucking mean (sorry not sorry), making each other jealous, rough sex, dirty talk, jealous eren RAAAAWR.

Eren didn’t even need to say anything and yet you knew he was fucking pissed.

You almost stopped what you were doing due to his intense stare from half-way across the busy room—but, you held out. Knowing this whole debacle had a high risk, yet high reward. If it worked in your favour, that is.

You were currently situated in the sweaty, loud house party your friend had thrown—tipsy as fuck and feeling disgustingly cheeky. Your cheeks were flushed red as you pushed your bottom half back against the male behind you. You knew your boyfriend was watching you mindlessly dance with your ex-boyfriend, Jean Kirstein, who you knew Eren despised.

You were only grinding against the tall, mullet-headed male to piss your boyfriend off for starting a meaningless fight in the car before the party. You were petty, Eren knew this, but he never knew you’d take it this far.

Jean’s hands rest against your liquid hips as you swayed deliciously to the beat, your body on fire as Eren bore holes into Jean��s hands against your soft skin.

“Someone doesn’t look to happy you’re with me, huh?”

Jean’s voice snapped your attention away from Eren’s dark, hooded eyes to his familiar voice. You knew exactly what he meant as you swallowed thickly.

“He can sulk all he wants, I don’t care.” You lied—knowing you did care what he thought as you wouldn’t be with Jean if you didn’t.

Jean chuckles breathily as he runs his hands up to your waist and back down again, choosing to not reply as you continue to dance with him.

You knew you had gotten to Eren but until he approached you, you weren’t gonna stop. However, you knew Eren was stubborn as shit, so if it took you all night to make him give in, then so be it.

“Looks like the score board is one nil now.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you follow Jean’s eyes as he laughs evilly, watching something intently. However, your stomach drops when your eyes fall upon Jean’s entertainment.

Eren, leaning up against the wall, not bothering to watch your childish acts any longer, standing infuriatingly close to a girl whom he smirked down at as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

You could kill him.

Eren only turned back to you as the girl littered kisses against his tattooed neck, smirking like a fucking asshole at you.

Jean laughs lightly against your ear, whispering delicately into it, “Well, now that our audience is back, let’s put on a show, hm?”

Jean half expected you to just continue dancing with him to piss Eren off further, but you knew that wouldn’t faze him anymore.

So, when you turned around to face your ex-boyfriend and pulled his neck down to smush your lips together in a feverish kiss—both boys were taken aback. Eren twitched angrily as he shoved the girl nibbling at his neck off him, huffing loudly in rage as he watched you shove your tongue down your exes throat.

Before you could even get a proper taste of Jean, you were ripped away from the kiss and dragged through the bustling crowd. You could’ve laughed at the sheer grip Eren had around your wrist as he dragged you through the house and into a deserted room, slamming the door behind him.

“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” He spat, the angriest you’d ever seen him in your life. “Think you’re fucking cute?”

“N-no, Eren—“

His body flew to yours in lightning speed as he pushed your body against the wall, hands forcing your own against the cold brick, gripping them in place roughly.

“Had an awful lot to say earlier, didn’t you? Where’s that fucking bitch attitude gone? Jean kissed it all out of you?” He growled, his dark gaze glaring down at you.

Words failed at you as your jaw fell slack at the sheer fury that laced his words, his voice low and indignant due to your actions. Your heart rate picked up so fast you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest at the thought of what he was gonna do to you.

“Speak, bitch.”

His words stung as you whimpered slightly, “I-I’m sorry, baby, I swear.” The sweet nickname you slipped in doing nothing but pissing him off further.

“No, you’re fucking not,” He snapped, slamming his fist next to your head, his anger sending shockwaves of excitement to your core, “God, when did I get with such a fucking whore?”

The disgustingly degrading nickname should’ve offended you, but, your pearly white teeth couldn’t help but sink down into your pink lips as you rubbed your legs together to get some sort of sweet relief.

Eren noticed your antics, pushing his knee between your leg, forcing you to stop. This only ripped a needy whine from your throat which you instantly regretted as you met his eyes.

Uh, oh.

He dragged you from the wall and pushed you roughly onto the plush of the bed, as he ripped his t-shirt from his body, then slotted himself between your spread legs.

“You fucking disgust me,” He spat, his hands coming down to attack your breasts in your dress, tugging at your nipples roughly as you whined. “You’re nothing but a fucking slut—good only for making me cum and whoring around, aren’t you?”

His hands ripped at your clothes like his life depended on it—tossing them aside as he stared menacingly down at your naked frame. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and pushing his jeans to the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

You practically threw yourself to the floor as you kneeled in front of him, staring up at him through your lashes as he glared down at you, nothing but anger and disgust in his expression as he pulled his achingly hard cock from his boxers. His tip dribbled pre-cum as it bobbed in front of your face.

Eren didn’t ask your permission, not that he needed to, before forcing your mouth open and shoving all eight inches down your throat. You gagged and spluttered around him as the abruptness of his actions took you by surprise. Tears welled up in your eyes as he didn’t stop to let you adjust to his size, only continuing to slide his heavy cock across your tongue.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” He growled, his hand nestled in your hair, pulling at the hair so hard you thought he’d tugged some out as you whined against him. “Don’t resist me, baby, you know this is what you deserve.”

Your nails clawed at his thighs as he thrust his hips feverishly against your mouth, balls slapping your chin as his pace never faltered. Tears fell quickly down your flushed cheeks as he abused your throat, putting your gag reflex to use as his tip smacked against your uvula.

“Eren, please!” You begged, as he pulled you off him briefly as you caught your breath, spit and tears covering your face as you heaved for breath.

“What? You think I’d fuck you nice and slowly after your behaviour earlier? I’m not Jean, the weak, vanilla piece of shit.” He spat, laughing darkly, “You wanna act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

He forced you back down onto his cock with a loud, gargled whine from you as fucked himself faster down your throat. He grunted lowly in pleasure as he planted a harsh slap to your cheek, forcing more tears from your eyes.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum down that stupid fucking throat if you carry on gaggin’ on me like that.”

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, moaning on him as you provided yourself some sort of action as he fucked your throat mercilessly.

Eren didn’t like that.

He kicked your knees apart angrily, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He snarled, pulling his cock from your mouth as you whined desperately.

Eren dragged you up to your feet by your hair, shoving you back on the bed harshly as he followed you. You barely had time to think about what was going on before he forced your legs apart and planted his hot tongue against your sex.

You cried out, your hand flying to his messy bun, threading your fingers through his hair as he sucked your clit frenetically, groaning against your pussy. The rumble of his moans against your throbbing clit had you climbing towards your orgasm quicker than expected.

“Can’t even let me cum because you just want to yourself, you selfish bitch.” Eren snapped, pulling his mouth from your hot core, spitting on your pussy lewdly, and planting a rough slap to your aching clit, eliciting a loud, scratchy whine from your abused throat.

“Eren, please!” You cried as you felt him slip two long fingers inside your soaking wet hole, back arching off the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of you as he lapped at your clit. Goddamn did that man know how to please you.

“‘M gonna cum!” You wailed, eyes squeezing shut as you could nearly taste your orgasm, Eren continuing to suck your clit like a thirsty man in the desert.

Just as your coil almost snapped in your tummy, your pussy felt awfully empty as Eren ripped his mouth and fingers from you just as you were about to cum. You didn’t even hide your annoyance as you burst into tears, wailing loudly as your pleasure faded away as he ripped it from you.

“E-Eren, please! Please—hiccup, please I need it. I’m so sorry, Rennie, please, please make me cum, please!” You begged, hands flailing at him, attempting to pull his stiff body down towards you as you sobbed into his shoulder, gripping onto his shoulders, nails piercing the skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.” Eren breathed evilly, shoving you off him, your body bouncing off the bed, your tits jiggling with every movement that had Eren’s cock twitching. “You don’t fucking deserve it, okay? I gotta punish you somehow, hm? You did this to yourself.”

“B-But, that girl!” You fought back, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as the reality of the situation hit you, “Wasn’t just me.”

“She came up to me—you willing went out of your way to find that asshole and stick your slutty tongue down his throat.” Eren bit back, pushing your legs up, folding you in half.

He leant down to spit on your pussy once more, catching some of the slick on his cock as he nudged your entrance, jerking the lubricant over his aching boner. You whined loudly as he pushed his tip inside you, knowing the second he prodded the sweet spot inside you, you’d soon build your orgasm back up again.

“If you so much as even think about cumming, I’ll stop and never fuck you again, and I fucking mean it.”

His threat played with your heart strings—feeling awfully sorry for yourself as you threw your head back in irritation, crying out loudly. Eren’s hand flew to your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, again, not letting you adjust to his length, revelling in the way you wailed in wanton at his size.

Eren’s pace was evil.

You’d never been fucked like this before. Your legs practically behind your head, his large hand choking your neck, cutting off your airflow, and his cock drilling into you at such a speed you thought you were going to pass out.

You tried not to enjoy the way he was treating you—but, you secretly had never been more turned on in your entire life. Your pussy wetter than it’d ever been, evidently as Eren was cursing himself mentally at how incredible you felt—but, he wasn’t about to praise you right now.

“‘Ren, p-please!” You gasped out, nails carving up his back as he fucked you up, revelling in the way you whined his nickname loudly every time.

“Gonna cum so fuckin’ hard.” He warned you, his voice hoarse as his eyes rolled back, “Open your fucking mouth.”

You did as he asked as his pace quickened as he chased his orgasm, groaning and grunting against your leg. He pulled out quickly and forced his dick down your throat once more, crying out in pleasure as he lolled his head back.

-

Jean furrowed his eyebrows as he felt two tiny fingers tap his shoulder, ordering him to turn around.

He felt even more confused at the sight of you in front of him—eyes red and tired, cheeks stayed in tears with a red handprint on display on one, hair a total mess and your neck littered in bruises and another large handprint around the circumference of the front of your neck. Behind you, resided your smug boyfriend, smirking blissfully at your ex-boyfriend.

“What the fuck is this, Yeager?” Jean spat, feeling suddenly a bit threatened by the presence of your boyfriend.

“Open up, princess.”

Eren’s words confused Jean as he looked down at you. But, they soon made sense as you lolled your tongue out for Jean to see, secretly loving the way his jaw fell slack at the pool of cum resting on the pink muscle.

Jean’s eyes shot open in shock as he watched as you peered up at him so innocently as some of Eren’s cum rolled off your tongue and onto the floor.

“Wanna kiss my girlfriend again, Kirstein?”

this is for you @jaegsnicotine 🤗

[bunny-jpeg]

tags: smut/pwp, best friend!simon, break-ups, rebound sex, cowgirl position, sweet talking, mentions of violence

*whispers* your shitty boyfriend breaks up with you, but who comes to the rescue? best friend!simon! anything you needed, he got for you.

want to watch your favourite trashy movie? of course. want some more ice cream? he was already headed to the fridge. want to cry in his arms and swear off men? simon's got the perfect strong arms for that.

want a one-night stand rebound sex with him? well, he's not going to say no now is he?

you still had pretty little tears in your eyes as you started to undress, simon eyed you as he leaned up against the headboard of your bed. all of your stuffed animals were nicely placed on the floor. simon didn't want to break your heart even further with them being thrown on the floor. they were the hardest working soldiers right now with all the tear stains on their soft fabric.

this guy really gave you up, huh? he was a gunner for forces, simon had seen him around a few times. simon didn't think he passed inspection to date you, he barely passed inspection in the military. he had seen him a few too many times at the local pub.

but simon was nothing if not a supportive friend, he had to look after you. after all, who else would? not that gunner that was certain. broke things off with you right before his first deployment, what a pussy. simon remembered when he was at the russian-latvian border and he still managed to call you a few times. and he wasn't even fucking you - well that changed tonight as he got his tank top off and rubbed himself through his black track pants.

you swallowed, "are you sure this is okay?"

simon nodded, "of course. anything to help you feel better, i know this has been tough for you." he knew next time he saw that (ex) boyfriend of yours, he'd make sure to use his rank to mess with the guy's head. no one fucked with what belonged to simon, you included. he watched you get undressed and he marveled at the sight of you.

that gunner didn't want to keep you? simon needed to see this guy's seeing test. especially when you got naked and on the bed with him, you crawled over and staddled his waist. you spread your hands across his chest and looked into his brown eyes.

simon reached out and rubbed your back. your bottom lip wobbled, simon leaned in a little closer and asked, "can i kiss you?"

you nodded, "it would feel weird if you didn't." simon was inclined to agree. you held onto his chest while he kissed you, you melted a little against his lips and he wrapped both of his strong arms around you.

the kiss was tender, almost loving. more loving than rebound sex should be. you held onto him tighter, now by the shoulders and rubbed your bare pussy up against his trackpants.

"simon." you said softly as you rubbed up against him, "please."

"of course." he said as he pushed you away a little to get his cock out of his sweatpants. he eyed your naked body and said, "look at you, beautiful." he chuckled lowly and then looked surprised when you got onto his cock.

you sank down on his length and held onto his shoulders. your thighs stretched to be on either side of his waist and you started to rock back and forth against him. you whined as you eyes fluttered shut. it was intense, he was much bigger than your ex-boyfriend, by a great deal. and you loved the feeling of it inside of you.

you never expected to be fucking your best friend, but it felt so right, like this was the only cock you should be fucking. simon placed a hand on your ass and guided you up and down his length. he watched you moan and shift your hips, you felt amazing. and looked divine too.

"simon."

"it's alright, beautiful." he said, "just keep going." and held on tightly with both hands, he let you move up and down his cock at a pace that suited your best. he eyed your soft chest as you moved. he licked his lips before he started to pepper your breasts with kisses.

he knew your ex couldn't love you the way he could. be that provider you needed. not only in the bedroom, but in every other way. he could easily be the boyfriend you deserve, the one that you need in your life. that stupid fucking gunner didn't know what he loss out on. but that was almost, simon would be more than happy to take you.

have you, cherish you, love you. he kissed your chest once more before you took his face in your hands and kissed you deeply on the lips. you tasted like heaven to him, everything he needed in a partner. he felt up your sides with a certain affection that he knew that he had to have you in his life for the rest of his days. more than a friend.

"how does that feel, dove?" he asked softly as you worked yourself against him. it felt amazing for him, there was something about how your cunt wrapped around him, milking him for all he was worth that just heavily aroused him. you felt like his little slice of heaven and he couldn't be happier.

you nodded and looked into his brown eyes, "feels really good, si. thank you."

simon gave your ass cheek a little love tap and he chuckled up at you, "feels good, real good. hope you're not straining yourself." you shook your head and he leaned up to kiss you on the lips, "good, good."

his words were like melted butter in your head, it felt hot and so good. you held onto his shoulders once more for support as you rocked yourself against him.

"simon."

"yeah, dove?" he asked as he palmed your ass cheeks between his larger hands, "look like you got something to say."

you swallowed, feeling full of anxiety as you looked down at him. he looked beautiful in the low light of your bedroom. this felt right, you mustered up the courage as you asked, "maybe... maybe we should date?"

simon broke into a grin, the scar on his lips only intensified the smile. he said lowly, "i thought you'd never ask." then before he kissed you again you said.

"don't think of this as rebound."

he shook his head, "never." then groaned as he kissed you once more. it felt so good and you held onto his shoulders tighter. you thrusted your hips and felt the pleasure come over you.

"you and me?" you asked.

"oh yeah, you and me. always, as it should be, dove." simon rambled and kissed at your chest once more. you giggled and clung to him tightly. the two of you moved together, held on to each other.

you shared another kiss and you squeezed your thighs tightly around his thighs and could only think about him. you smiled into the kiss and he held you tightly.

"look at you, bouncing on my cock. should have done this ages ago. fuck that little private, shouldn't even call him a gunner." he thrusted up further into you, "deserve a proper soldier." he chuckled lowly, "someone with a little more experience."

you moaned loudly and he just guided your cock faster onto his cock and watched pleasure change your expression with each heavy thrust. you were perfect.

"i've always wanted you." simon said.

"i'm sorry it took too long for me to realize." you cooed as you felt yourself close to orgasm. you felt the shiver of pleasure through your core as you felt the leap in your chest. you needed simon, you clawed at his shoulders to his biceps and held on tightly as you felt climax take over and you clenched around his cock.

you arched your back as you came, you felt the excitement of climax rush through you. it was more intense than you ever had with your ex-boyfriend. you let out such a sweet whine and simon pulled you in for an intense kiss, you moaned into the kiss.

simon got you onto your back with him on top and he rutted up into you in the missionary position before he kept you pinned under him and came. his jaw tense as he sharply exhaled as he finished. the pleasure felt incredible and it made his flushed all over. he continued to thrust through his climax. then he slowed to a stop and gave you another steamy, messy kiss.

he made sure not to press a lot of weight onto you and continue kissing you. it felt good, and it made something shiver up your spine. being so close to him felt like nothing else. you looked into his eyes once more and smiled.

"you're perfect, si. i'm sorry for being an idiot."

simon held you by the chin and said, "better late than never, dove." then kissed you again before he got off of you and tucked you against his chest.

you felt yourself start to drift off in his arms. you tucked against him sweetly as you dozed off. simon held you close as you fell asleep.

when you were fast asleep, he went to grab for his phone. he sneakily snapped a photo of you and sent it to the gunner who had the audacity to break up with you.

"better luck next time" he texted before he put his phone away and snuggled up next to you. <3

[hottiesforhockey]

may the best brother win pt 4⏐ h.brothers

pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜angst ⎜friends-to-lovers ⎜smut? ⎜ warnings: mentions of sex ⎜ brief mentions of oral (f!recieving) ⎜mentions of bruising/hickeys ⎜not much tbh synopsis: you had spent every summer with the hughes brothers since you were ten years old ... why does this summer feel so different? word count: 7.4k authors note: this is more of a build up chapter, and focuses a bit more on luke and quinn - it'll be quinn's chapter next so we'll see where things go.

part 1 ⎜ part 2 ⎜ part 3 ⎜

(unedited)

You’ve been staring at the roof for an hour now. 

You’re not entirely sure why, maybe it’s the way that Luke sleeps peacefully besides you, one arm thrown over his eyes to try and combat the rising sun through your curtains, the other arm reaching out towards you, his fingers just barely grazing yours as if trying to give you space while still keeping at much contact as you’ll allow. You look over to him, his cheeks flushed lightly pink, his mouth slightly parted as he lets out a soft slow breaths, you can’t help the soft smile that grows on your face as you turn your gaze back to the blank white roof above you — everything from the past few days playing through your mind on an endless exhausting loop. 

You and Luke slept together. 

Well more accurately, he ate you out like a pro and then refused anything you offered in return, in his own words he didn’t want the experience to “feel like a transaction”, he had ushered you into the bathroom, demanding you get ready for another night of binging iconic hockey movies with him in bed — his arousal a soft outline in his pants as he sent you a reassuring smile, he was perched on your bed in his own pyjamas by the time you exited the bathroom, a tray of snacks sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you to dig in. 

Now, in the quiet of the early morning, reality creeps back in, bringing with it the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. You carefully pull your fingers from Luke’s light touch and slip out of bed, the floor cool against your bare feet as you pad toward the door. The house is silent, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge and the crackle on the stove as you make your way downstairs.

Quinn is already in the kitchen, standing over the stove with practiced ease. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the faint crispness of bacon - you're usual chopped fruit salad already sitting on the bench for you. He doesn’t glance up right away, but you know he’s aware of your presence—the subtle shift in his posture, the way he moves slightly to the side as if making space for you without a word.

You hesitate in the doorway, your arms crossing over your chest. “Morning.” Quinn finally looks up, his eyes sweeping over you before settling on your face. He doesn’t comment on your appearance—the slight flush still lingering on your cheeks, the oversized shirt of Luke’s hanging off your frame—but you can see the knowing glint in his gaze.

“Morning,” he replies evenly, flipping a pancake with practiced precision. “You look like you need coffee?” You nod, stepping further into the kitchen, and Quinn moves with quiet efficiency, pouring a cup before sliding it across the counter toward you. You take it, wrapping your hands around the warmth, letting the silence stretch between you. Quinn turns back to the stove, flipping the last pancake onto the plate before grabbing another mug and pouring himself coffee. He leans against the counter, watching you over the rim as he takes a sip.

“You and Luke,” he says after a beat, his tone careful. “Is that... a thing now?”

You blink, heat creeping up your neck. “I—uh.” Quinn raises an eyebrow, waiting. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t react, just takes another slow sip of coffee. “Does Luke know that?”

You hesitate, thinking about the way Luke had looked at you last night, the warmth in his touch, the way he had stayed. “I don't know.” You can't help the image of the way Luke has smiled at you last night, his head buried between your legs, his fingers digging into your thighs, but his smile had been what sent your heart into a stutter. 

Quinn watches you for another moment before nodding, pushing a plate of pancakes toward you. “Interesting.”

You glance up at him, surprised. “Interesting?”

He shrugs, taking another sip. “Luke’s a lot of things, but he’s not dumb. He reads people well and if you’re not sure about something he’s going to take it to heart.”

You huff a small laugh — Quinn wasn’t wrong, Luke had a skill for seeing straight through people, a human lie detector at his best. “Since when do you care about my love life?”

Quinn doesn’t answer right away, just takes another bite of his pancake. Then, finally, he sighs. “I just don’t want things to get messy.”

You study him for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. “You mean between me and Luke? Or between all of us?”

Quinn shrugs. “Both.” There’s a weight in his words, an unspoken concern that lingers between you. But instead of pushing, you nod, focusing back on your plate.

“I think it's a little late for that.” you whisper, the silence settles again, but this time, it’s not heavy. Quinn doesn’t respond right away, just watches you with that same measured look, the one that makes you feel like he’s already five steps ahead of you in this conversation. He takes another bite of his pancake, chewing slowly, before finally setting his fork down with a soft clink against the plate.

“You’re probably right.” His voice is quiet, but there’s something weighted in the way he says it. You don’t ask him to elaborate, and he doesn’t offer.

The silence between you lingers, stretching and twisting like an unspoken conversation neither of you are willing to have. You focus on your food instead, taking slow bites, letting the familiar routine of breakfast with Quinn ground you in the moment. But it’s different this morning. He hasn’t asked about your plans for the day, hasn’t handed you a second cup of coffee like he always does. There’s a shift, subtle but undeniable, in the space between you.

You’re halfway through your plate when you hear the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. There’s a pause, a moment where you feel Luke’s presence before he even speaks. Then, a sleep-roughened voice, thick with exhaustion.

“Did you seriously leave me alone in bed for pancakes?” You glance over your shoulder, and there he is—Luke, standing in the doorway, his hair a mess of unruly curls, the collar of his t-shirt stretched from the way he must’ve tugged at it in his sleep. His expression is somewhere between groggy and betrayed, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes as he leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

You open your mouth to respond, but Quinn beats you to it.

“Obviously not,” he says dryly, barely sparing his brother a glance. “She left you alone in bed for me.” Luke huffs st his brother, pushing himself off the doorframe and trudging toward you. He barely hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist from behind, chin dropping onto your shoulder as he peeks down at your plate. 

“Did you at least save me some?” You tilt your head slightly, catching the way Quinn watches the interaction with an unreadable expression. Then, turning your attention back to Luke, you shift your plate toward him wordlessly. He grins, pressing a fleeting kiss to your shoulder before grabbing a piece of pancake off your plate and popping it into his mouth. Quinn exhales, his fingers tapping against the counter once. Twice. Then, he leans back against the sink, arms crossing over his chest in a way that feels more like a barricade than a casual stance.

“Messy,” he mouths toward you, his eyebrow raising as he catches sight of the way Luke keeps his hand on your thigh as he slides onto the barstool beside you, making quick work of your leftovers before picking up more to place on the plate—clearly oblivious to the almost silent conversation you and his older brother were having across the counter.

“So,” Luke says around a mouthful of pancake, “what were you guys talking about before I got here?” You hesitate, glancing at Quinn. His expression doesn’t change, but you can see the way his jaw tightens slightly, just a fraction of movement. Luke catches it too because his brows pull together, gaze flicking between the two of you.

“Okay,” he says slowly, setting his fork down. “Now I really wanna know.”

You sigh, shifting slightly in your seat. “It’s nothing. Just… stuff.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “What kind of stuff?”

Quinn exhales sharply through his nose, pushing back from the counter. “It's not for you to worry about, Luke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Luke gestures between the two of you. “You guys are acting like you were just conspiring against me or something.” You shake your head, reaching for your coffee. 

“No one was conspiring against you. Quinn just isn’t good at minding his business.”

He looks at you for a long moment, studying your face. “Then why do you look guilty?” You freeze, fingers tightening around your mug. Quinn lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s no humour in it.

“You see?” he says, grabbing his own coffee. “Human lie detector.”

Luke frowns. “So, there was something.”

You hesitate, but Quinn doesn’t. He just sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at Luke directly. “I just told her to be careful.”

Luke blinks. “Careful?”

Quinn nods. “Yeah.” A pause. “Because things are already messy.” Luke’s expression shifts slightly, something flickering across his face—something you can’t quite place. Then, slowly, he glances at you. You don’t look away. You could, easily, let Quinn take the fall for this conversation, let Luke direct his frustration toward his brother. But that wouldn’t be fair, not when it’s true. Not when you have no idea what you’re doing or what last night even means.

And, worst of all, not when you know Luke is already catching on. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just holds your gaze. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before, the teasing lilt gone.

“Is that how you feel?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You don’t know how to answer that, not when you aren’t sure yourself. "I don't know." You whisper, your go-to phrase seeming to ring between you and Luke, Quinn watching on, surprised at your honesty.

Luke’s jaw shifts slightly, his fingers tapping against the counter once, twice. Then, finally, he exhales, pushing his plate aside. “Okay.”

Quinn frowns. “Okay?”

Luke nods, then reaches for his coffee. “Okay.” He takes a sip, then glances back at you. “When you figure it out, let me know.” The words are light, but there’s something beneath them, something raw and uncertain. And then he’s gone, walking out of the kitchen without another word, coffee in hand, bare feet padding softly against the floor. You don’t move for a long moment, just stare after him, your stomach twisting in a way that has nothing to do with hunger.

Quinn watches you, then sighs, shaking his head. “Told you, it’s eerie how quick he catches on.”

You close your eyes, inhale slowly, exhale even slower.

Messy isn't enough to cover this.

“Also don’t forget Jacks friends are coming over today — so maybe don’t wear that stupid white bikini that made Cole fall off the boat last time.” Quinn huffs, your head tilting as you remember the way Jack’s friend had been entirely focused on you the entire afternoon you’d been out on the boat, your loose button up fluttering in the wind as you laid out on the back of the boat, the sun shining off your ridiculously white bikini. Cole had been trying to show off, walking along the edge of the boat preparing to do a back flip as you shrugged off your swim suit cover, his mouth falling open as he slipped off the edge and into the water with a shriek. 

You snort at Quinn’s comment, the memory of Cole flailing around in the water coming back to you with a rush of laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look that embarrassed before,” you say, shaking your head.

Quinn grins, the tension in the room easing ever so slightly. “He’ll never live it down.”

“I’m pretty sure Jack is still making fun of him for it,” you add, trying to lighten the mood. The warmth of the coffee in your hands and the faint memory of laughter slowly help chase away the uncomfortable weight of the conversation from earlier. The sound of Luke’s footsteps, now distant, is a reminder of how things hang in the air, unresolved. You swallow the knot in your throat, picking at your pancake as Quinn watches you. He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

“Hey,” Quinn says quietly after a moment, drawing your attention back to him. “Look I wasn’t totally serious about the messy thing. I just— .” Quinn hesitates for a moment, like his brain is tossing up what the right thing to say would be. “I care about you, and as much as I don’t want to see my brothers hurt, I don’t want you to get caught in the cross fire either.” You nod slowly, unable to help the shiver the runs through you as Quinn moves away from the kitchen counter, his steps carrying him behind you as he pauses for a moment. 

“Besides, I still have a bet to win.” Quinn teases, his mouth right besides your ear, his hands tight on your hips. You shiver at the feeling of Quinn’s warm breath against your ear, his teasing tone making your stomach flip. His hands linger on your hips, sending a tingle up your spine as you glance up at him.

“Don’t get too confident,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tension between you is undeniable. Quinn’s eyes search yours, his lips twitching into a small smirk that makes your heart race. His fingers shift, grazing the sides of your hips before pulling away, leaving a lingering warmth behind. He doesn’t retreat completely, though, standing close enough that you can feel the weight of his presence without any need for words. The tension between you both is palpable, hanging thick in the air like an unsolved equation.

“Confident, huh?" Quinn's voice drops an octave, the teasing tone replaced with something darker, more measured. He steps just a bit closer, his eyes never leaving yours as if testing the limits of your resolve. You force yourself to meet his gaze, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. 

"I’m not the one who seems to think he’s already won." You manage to maintain some semblance of composure, though your pulse quickens with the shift in atmosphere. Quinn's grin falters for a brief second, replaced by a knowing look, one that says he understands exactly what’s going on but isn't willing to put it into words just yet.

“Well you better go get ready before you make anyone else fall off a boat by seeing you in a t-shirt and underwear with nothing else.” Quinn’s voice is light as he pulls away, clearing his throat, trying hard to cover up the way his eyes graze over you for a moment, his gaze stopping on the small bruises just above your knees. 

“I knew you two were fucking.” He whispers softly, his head shaking as he watches you flounder for a moment, goosebumps raising on your arms as your mouth opens and closes. 

“We didn’t fuck.” You hiss back, your eyes shooting towards the stairs in panic, as if someone was going to yell at your for saying a bad word. 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” Quinn mumbles, his eyes mischievous as he slides past you, making his way upstairs to his own bedroom — leaving you alone in the kitchen, the bruises on your knees burning with the phantom feeling of his younger brothers hands on your body. 

“Fuck, this is messy.” You groan. 

+

+

Quinn knew as soon as you had stepped into the kitchen that morning that Luke had done what none of them had been brave enough to do before. You hair was a mess on top of your head, despite your attempt to hide it by pulling it back into a claw clip, Luke’s oversized shirt the dead give away that something more had happened between the two of you. 

The loose collar on the shirt slipping slightly off your shoulder, the faint outline of a soft bruise at the base of your neck, making Quinn’s grip on the spatula tighten as he flips another pancake in the pan.  “Morning,” Quinn replies to your soft greeting, trying his hardest not to lets his eyes wander further, not wanting to see anymore evidence of your night with his little brother.  

Quinn watched you carefully, the weight of the morning settling heavily on his shoulders. The way your fingers had traced the edge of your coffee cup, your eyes flicking nervously between him and the kitchen door, told him everything he needed to know. You were trying to keep your composure, but Quinn could see it. The unease. The crackling tension that lingered between you, thick and charged. It was just another layer of the complicated mess you’d somehow found yourself in, and the last thing Quinn wanted was to make it worse.

He tried to focus on the pancakes, the rhythmic movement of his spatula the only thing keeping him grounded. But his mind kept drifting back to you— how you’d stood in the doorway, looking at him with a mix of hesitation and something else. Something almost like guilt. When Luke had appeared, all groggy and annoyed, Quinn had to bite back the instinct to smirk.

It wasn’t that he was enjoying this—far from it.

But there was something undeniably entertaining about seeing his brother, normally so confident and playful, completely entranced by only one thing. The tension was palpable. And Quinn had no intention of being the one to break it. It was too delicate, too fragile.

“Messy,” he’d mouthed at you, silently, his words more a reminder than a warning. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, catching the way your expression flickered, your eyes widening in panic for just a moment before you pulled yourself together. But Luke had been too busy with his food to notice or at the very least he made it seem that way. Luke always had a way of sidestepping the deeper things, focusing instead on the surface—the immediate. And Quinn envied that ability, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

Now, as you sat across from him at the counter, chewing your food in silence, Quinn’s mind raced. His instincts told him to say something, to make sure you knew that this wasn’t some kind of game to him. But his mouth remained shut, the words tangled in his throat. There was too much he didn’t understand yet. Too much he couldn’t explain. When Luke had left, though, something shifted. Quinn had watched you for a long moment, the silence between you thick with unspoken things. The air was taut with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

He’d wanted to say something—anything—that would give you clarity, that would make this all feel less like a disaster waiting to happen. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

“Look, I wasn’t totally serious about the messy thing,” Quinn said, his voice softer now, his gaze finding the edge of your plate as you picked at your food. “I care about you, and as much as I don’t want to see my brothers hurt, I don’t want you to get caught in the cross fire either.” You’d looked up at him then, your eyes meeting his, and for the briefest moment, Quinn saw it—the crack in your façade. The vulnerability you’d been hiding, the uncertainty. He hadn’t meant to push you into this, hadn’t meant to make you feel like you had to pick sides. But everything about this situation was starting to unravel, and Quinn was just trying to keep it from completely falling apart.  

This stupid bet was going to ruin everything. 

But for some reason, some fucked up and completely selfish reason Quinn couldn’t find it in himself to beg you to put an end to it - to stop it before it became so much worse. 

Because he still wanted his chance. 

It was a mess, and no matter how hard Quinn tried to put the pieces back together, it seemed like there was no perfect solution. There was no way to make it clean. The tension between you and him had only grown since that moment. And it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. When Quinn had mentioned the bikini, the playful jab about the boat, it was his way of trying to lighten the mood. Trying to remind you of the good times, the laughter, the simpler moments that made everything feel less complicated. But he could see the way your eyes had shifted then, the way you’d pulled back just a little. 

Quinn isn’t entirely sure why he approached you, why he backed you against the counter as he leaned forwards to whisper in your ear, his fingers grazing over the soft fabric of his brothers shirt, the heat of your body seeping through the material. His fingers pressing in deeply as he felt you tense in his hands, your breathes speeding up as you looked up at him with those sparkling eyes. 

“Well you better go get ready before you make anyone else fall off a boat by seeing you in a t-shirt and underwear with nothing else.” Quinn’s tried to keep his  voice light as he pulls away, clearing his throat, hoping you don’t notice the way his eyes track over you, landing on the soft bruises besides your knees, the sight setting his disappointment deeper into his stomach. 

“I knew you two were fucking.” He whispered softly, the words coming out before he even had a second to think about them, his head shaking as he watches you flounder for a moment, goosebumps raising on your arms as your mouth opens and closes - those bruises were the same he wished he could give you, his hand tight around your legs as he holds you steady against the mattress, the image stirring frustration inside him, frustration that his brother had gotten there first. 

“We didn’t fuck.” You hissed back, your eyes shooting towards the stairs in panic, almost as if you were waiting for someone to jump out and surprise you — to call you out on your lies, except it didn’t look like you were lying, but something definitely happened, there was proof. 

Fuck Jack was going to lose his mind when he saw. 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” Quinn mumbles, his eyes mischievous as he slides past you, making his way upstairs to his own bedroom. Quinn leaned against the doorframe to his room, his thoughts a tangled mess, the weight of everything, of his feelings for you, of his brothers feelings for you pressing on his chest like a vice. 

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “I’m so fucked.”

+

+

It’s two hours later when you hear the tell tale signs of more people entering the house, letting out loud greetings and clapping handshakes as they all spend a few minutes saying hello. You had holed up in your room since leaving the kitchen, tugging on your swim suit and oversized shirt before pulling your hair back into two tight braids, hoping to save whatever you can of your hair from the drying water of the lake.  You barely have time to compose yourself before there’s a knock at your door.

“Hey, are you coming down or not?” Jack’s voice is unmistakable, a mix of amusement and impatience. You hesitate for a second, smoothing down the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown over your bikini before stepping over to the door and cracking it open. 

Jack grins when he sees you, but his eyes flick down briefly, taking in your outfit. “Nice. Modest today,” he teases.“Guess Quinn gave you the ‘don’t cause another boating accident’ talk?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smirk tugging at your lips. “He might’ve mentioned it.”

Jack snickers, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Yeah, Cole was devastated last time. Poor guy still swears he got water up his nose so bad it almost gave him a concussion.” You laugh, relaxing slightly at Jack’s familiar easygoing nature. His presence used to always be grounding—steady, even when things between you and him have felt anything but.

“It’s a good thing too, Nico’s here and I don’t need another one of my friends fawning over you.” Jack laughs, he had always been different with his friends around - lighter, happier.  But just as you’re about to respond, movement behind Jack catches your eye. Luke, stepping into the hallway, wearing nothing but his swim trunks and a towel slung over his shoulder. His gaze lands on you almost instantly, and for a second, something unreadable flickers in his expression.

Jack follows your gaze, then glances between the two of you. His smirk fades ever so slightly. “Anyway, hurry up. We’re heading to the dock soon.” You nod, and Jack disappears down the hall, calling out something to Trevor as he goes. But Luke doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching you.

Waiting.

You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Luke—”

“Are you avoiding me?” His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the tension beneath it.

You blink. “What? No.”

His jaw tenses slightly. “Really? Because you left me in bed without a word, you barely said two sentences at breakfast, and now you’ve been hiding in here since.” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because the truth is—maybe you have been avoiding him. Or at least, avoiding the conversation that looms between you.

Luke exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what Quinn said to you but it shouldn’t make things weird between us.”  His words hit something deep inside you. The earnestness in his tone, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t—Luke has always been good at making you feel safe, at making things feel easy. But nothing about this is easy anymore.

“Nothings weird,” you say softly, and it’s not entirely a lie. You’re just struggling to figure out where you stand, but you don’t think anything could ever be weird between you and Luke.

Luke studies your face for a moment, searching. Then, after a beat, he nods. “Okay.” You exhale in relief, expecting him to turn and leave. But instead, his gaze flickers downward, taking in your outfit. He huffs a quiet laugh. “Ready to make some hockey players blush?”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

He grins, the tension between you easing just a fraction. “For the record,” he murmurs, stepping past you toward the stairs, “I think Cole deserves another near-death experience.”

You snort despite yourself, watching him disappear down the hall.

And then you’re alone again, as you tug your tote bag off the bed your towel and sunglasses tucked inside with an immense amount of sunscreen to cover all the boys who undoubtably will try to pretend they already put some on, before inevitably getting fried by the morning sun.  

The sun is high by the time you make your way down to the dock, the warmth pressing against your skin as you step onto the wooden planks. The boat is already rocking slightly in the water, and voices carry from all around—Trevor and Luke shoving each other near the edge of the dock, Cole dramatically reenacting his infamous fall from last summer, Quinn sitting at the helm of the boat, sunglasses perched on his nose as he watches everyone with a placid expression, but it’s the unfamiliar brunette who’s taken residence besides jack on one of the boat seats that catches your attention.

Nico Hischier. 

Jack and Luke’s captain and the centre point of every teenage hockey fans wet dream.  Jack notices you next, grinning as he gestures toward the boat. “Nico, I’d like you to meet my best friend in the whole wide world.” 

“I don’t know how true that is.” You scoff, before sending a soft smile towards the stranger, introducing yourself with a soft whisper of your name as you raise you hand in a quick wave - a wave that doesn’t go unnoticed by the oldest Hughes brother. 

“I thought I was your best friend?” Nico states after returning your awkward wave before facing Jack with a faux angry tilt of his head. “You can’t have two best friends, Jack.” Nico continues, his lips spreading in a teasing grin and Jack falters a little before shoving at his captains shoulder. 

“And to think I was worried about you fitting in.” Jack huffs, patting the extra space besides him with a look of anticipation and you roll your eyes with a smile, but before you can move, Cole steals your spot, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Wait, wait. We need a ruling first.”

Jack groans. “Jesus, what now?”

Cole crosses his arms. “Are we all in agreement that she shouldn’t be allowed to wear a bikini anymore? For safety reasons?”

Laughter erupts around the dock, and you groan. “Oh my god.”

Trevor waggles his eyebrows. “I mean, he’s got a point. I, for one, would like to make it through the summer without someone needing CPR.”

“You’re all so funny,” you deadpan, but there’s no real heat behind your words.

Cole smirks. “I think it should go to a vote.”

“Just wait till you see what I’ve got on for you today, Cole. I promise it's not a bikini.” you say immediately, drinking in the expression that crosses the smaller mans face, his mouth falling open as everyone lets out chuffs of laughter. 

“Wait what is this about?” Nico asks quickly, Luke turning to him with the expression of a kid who just got candy. 

“Oh cap, let me tell you my favourite story of all time.” 

+

+

The boat ride starts off easy enough. The water is calm, the sky clear, the guys all preoccupied with their usual antics—flipping each other off the sides, arguing about who gets to drive, blasting music that probably makes the entire lake hate them. It should be fine. It is fine.

Except it isn’t.

Because Luke is sitting across from you, sprawled out lazily on one of the seats, his arm slung over the backrest, his sunglasses perched low on his nose. He’s talking to Nico, laughing at something, but every few minutes—every time you think he’s finally distracted—his gaze flicks back to you.

And then there’s Quinn.

Quinn, who’s driving the boat, who hasn’t really looked at you since you stepped on, who’s gripping the wheel just a little too tightly. 

Quinn, who’s usually the calm one, but seems just a little too tense today.

The air feels thick. Stifling. You shift slightly, adjusting your sunglasses as you tug at the hem of your shirt, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Luke’s eyes track the movement. You know what he’s thinking. You know because it’s written all over his face.

He’s thinking about last night.

You press your lips together, your chest tightening as you look away.

Jack is saying something to Cole, gesturing toward the back of the boat, you barely register it until Jack turns toward you, grinning.

“You coming in?”

You blink. “Huh?”

Jack laughs, nodding toward the water. “We’re jumping in. You coming?” You hesitate, glancing at the water. It is hot out. And maybe the lake will wash away the weird tension clinging to you.

You nod. “Yeah. Just—give me a sec.”

Jack salutes you before turning to shove Cole into the water, earning a loud yelp, before joining in friend. You smile faintly, reaching for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head—

“Oh, thank god I was already in the water for this one.” Cole lets out a whistle as you drop your shirt onto the seat besides you - the high cut black one piece doing everything for your figure, sitting high on your hips and scooping low in the back. 

Cole’s wolf-whistle is met with a splash of water to the face, courtesy of Jack, but the damage is already done. A ripple of reactions spreads across the boat—Trevor laughs "I swear she gets hotter everytime I see her.", Luke huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a curse under his breath, and Quinn…

Quinn finally looks at you.

You don’t catch his expression right away, too preoccupied with adjusting the straps of your swimsuit, but when you do glance up, the way he’s gripping the wheel with white knuckles sends a shiver down your spine. His jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a thin line. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, something just beneath the surface, but you don’t get the chance to decipher it before Nico, grinning from ear to ear, makes his move.

“Well, if we’re all going in,” Nico says smoothly, pushing himself up from his seat, “I might as well get to swim with the pretty girl.”

You frown, tilting your head. “What are you—”

And then his hands are on you, warm and quick as he hooks his arms around your waist and tugs.

“Nico!” you shriek, the boat tilting slightly as you stumble forward, but the Swiss forward is grinning, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he yanks you closer. The realisation hits you a split second too late—

You’re going in. Both of you. 

The water crashes over you, cool and refreshing, swallowing your gasp as you plunge beneath the surface. For a moment, there’s only silence—the muffled sounds of the lake, the weightlessness of being suspended underwater—and then you’re kicking back up, breaking through with a gasp and two firm hands on your waist, Nico's bright smile and deep dimples the first thing your see as he helps push a few loose pieces of hair out of your face.

Laughter rings out from the boat. Jack is doubled over, clutching his stomach. Trevor is hooting like a maniac, and even Cole, who had been momentarily distracted by your swimsuit, is grinning ear to ear. But it’s Quinn’s reaction that sends a thrill down your spine.

He’s not laughing. Not even close.

He’s on his feet, his sunglasses now resting atop his head, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There’s something dark flickering beneath the surface—something sharp and possessive. His hands flex at his sides, like he’s restraining himself from moving.

Luke’s reaction isn’t much better. He’s still in his seat, but his posture has shifted, no longer relaxed but tense, fingers drumming against his knee. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes locked onto you and Nico, who’s beginning to help you back towards the boat with a gentle hand on your back.

“Oh, come on,” Nico teases, slicking his wet hair back. “You were totally surprised.”

You shove water toward him, laughing despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“The best,” he corrects, winking before effortlessly floating on his back.

And that’s when it happens.

A splash erupts beside you, and suddenly, Quinn is in the water. Your stomach flips as he surfaces, his wet hair slicked back, droplets clinging to his broad shoulders. His expression is unreadable, but his gaze is locked onto Nico with something dangerously close to a glare.

“Alright,” Quinn says, voice calm but firm, a not so friendly glare fixed on the new jersey captain. “You had your fun.”

Nico raises an amused brow. “What? She looked like she needed a little help getting in.”

Quinn doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turns to you, eyes softening just a fraction. “You okay?”

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. He was just messing around, Quinn, it's not that serious.” Quinn’s jaw ticks, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s reaching for you. His hands skim over your waist, strong and sure as he tugs you towards him in the water, the Swiss hockey player letting you go with a look of surprise. The contact sends a jolt through you—warm and possessive, like he’s silently staking his claim. Nico watches with an amused smirk but doesn’t push. He only raises his hands in mock surrender before floating backward, giving you space. 

But Luke—Luke is still watching. He’s on his feet now, standing at the edge of the boat, his fingers curled into the towel draped over his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension in his posture is unmistakable.

Jack, ever the instigator and apparently completely back to his normal annoying self, grins. “Man, Quinn, didn’t know you were so eager to play lifeguard.”

Quinn doesn’t even acknowledge him. His focus stays on you, his grip lingering a moment longer before he finally lets go. But the weight of his touch remains, imprinted on your skin, setting your nerves alight.

The lake was supposed to wash away the tension

But somehow, it’s only made it worse.

The water drips from your skin as you climb back onto the boat, squeezing some of the excess from your hair before shaking it out with a laugh. The air feels different now—thicker, charged, like the moment in a storm just before the thunder cracks.

You barely have time to grab your towel before Nico steps in front of you, his expression softer than before. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable back there. I hope I didn't hurt you.” You blink up at him, surprised by the concern in his eyes. Out of all the things you expected from Jack’s captain, a sincere apology wasn’t one of them.

“Oh,” you say, shaking your head quickly. “No, you’re fine. I was just—” You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of Quinn standing near the edge of the boat, his back to you as he talks to Jack. Luke is a few feet away, gripping a water bottle a little too tightly, his knuckles white. The tension surrounding them is almost palpable, as if the entire boat is caught in some invisible pull between all of you.

Nico follows your gaze, something flickering behind his eyes as he takes in the two brothers. Then, just as quickly, he turns back to you, offering a small smirk. “Surprised, huh?”

You huff out a breath, pulling your towel tighter around yourself. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Nico tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes you shift on your feet. “You and the brothers seem to have something...” he pauses for a moment, considering his words, “intense going on there?”

Your stomach flips, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “What do you mean?”

His lips twitch in amusement, but there’s an edge of curiosity in his gaze. “Come on. I’m not blind. Quinn looked like he was about to murder me for touching you, and Luke—” He glances toward the younger Hughes brother, who’s still gripping his drink like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled either. I've never really seen the kid angry before but...” You swallow hard, unsure how to respond.

Because the truth is, you don’t even know the answer yourself. Whatever is happening between you and the Hughes brothers has been simmering beneath the surface for a while now, but it’s only recently started to boil over. And now, standing here, dripping wet and exhausted from the weight of the day, you can feel the tension pressing down on you from all angles.

Nico’s voice drops lower, his expression more serious now. “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever this is. But to be honest, I thought there was kind of something going on between you and Jack? I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You let out a snort of laughter at that, your eyes shooting over to the middle brother before landing back on his captain. “There’s nothing,” you say quickly, but even you can hear the lack of conviction in your voice. Nico raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “It’s complicated.”

Nico hums, nodding like he expected that answer. “Complicated, huh?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a knowing look that makes you feel like he’s already pieced together more than you have. Then, with a small chuckle, he steps back. “Alright. I’ll leave it at that—for now.”

You let out a relieved breath, grateful he’s not pushing. But just as you think the conversation is over, he leans in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be careful, okay?”

Your stomach tightens at his words. “Why does everyone keep telling me that?”

Nico shrugs, his easygoing smile back in place, but his eyes are sharp, cutting through the pretence. “Just that… when things get complicated like this, people tend to get hurt by accident.” Before you can respond, Jack calls his name from the other side of the boat, drawing his attention away. Nico gives you one last look, his hand reaching out to squeeze your arm gently—something warm but concerned in his gaze—before turning and walkiing off to join the others.

You exhale slowly, your mind spinning as you process his words. Because as much as you want to deny it, you know he’s right. And worse? You have no idea what to do about it.

A gust of wind rolls over the deck, raising goosebumps on your skin, but you barely notice. Your gaze shifts back to Quinn, watching the way his jaw tightens when Jack laughs too loudly at something Nico says. Luke has moved closer to the edge of the boat, his back rigid, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s itching to do something—say something—but he doesn’t.

It’s suffocating, this unspoken thing between you and them. It wraps around your lungs, squeezing tighter with every second that passes, with every stolen glance and clenched fist. And maybe, deep down, you already know where this is heading. Maybe you’ve known for a while.

A shadow falls over you before you can dwell on it too much. You glance up, surprised to find Quinn standing in front of you, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His brows are drawn together, eyes flicking between you and the spot where Nico had been standing just moments before.

“What was he saying?” he asks, voice even but laced with something you can’t quite place. "Shooting his shot?" He continues as he slouches on the seat besides you, motioning for jack to take the wheel of the boat, and tapping the waterproof watch on his wrist in a warning to start heading back to the house. 

“No,” you murmur. “We were just… talking. He wanted to apologise for the surprise attack.”

Quinn hums, unconvinced, his eyes searching yours. A long beat passes before he speaks again. “That's all?”

"Yup." 

"He didn't say anything else?" 

"No - why?" You turn to face him more, your brows furrowed in a frown as you take in his almost blank expression, wishing you had Luke's ability to read people. 

"He was just a bit handsy, thought maybe he was interested in you or something." Quinn says with a shrug, the lie bitter on his tongue as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

"And that would be a bad thing?" You respond, starting to get frustrated with his nonchalant expression, your arms crossing over your own chest "He seems like a nice guy, and you were the one that told me things were getting messy, maybe taking a step away is a good thing." and that’s all the answer he needs. His lips press into a thin line, something unreadable passing through his expression.

"That's not what I meant, at least not with him." Quinn says sharply, glancing over at the unbothered hockey player on the other side of the boat, "Not with anyone." he says finally, voice quiet, before turning and walking off, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding against your ribs.

[invincibledc]

BATFAMILY X BAMF!READER HEADCANNONS

Summary: a blue little gremlin looking thing falls on dick Grayson, the first Robin who didn’t suspect to have a naked little thing on him through a portal

Dick screamed a girlish scream, landing on his back as he got JUMPSCARED by a damn blue gremlin with full blown out glowing golden eyes. The damn bamf was confused as the last thing they had seen was Kurt reaching out to them.

As of speaking, Kurt was having a mental crisis at his little one magically poofing away without using its teleportation. The other bamfs were frowning at their missing sibling that would always eat cheesy puffs. But now that bamf was running around smiling with a Grayson chasing it.

“BRUCE! TIM! JASON! ANYONE, THERES A NAKED GREMLIN OR WHATEVER IT IS IN THE MANOR?!”

When dick finally caught the bamf who just smiled at the batfamily, Damian was the most curious at the furry beast whose tail swayed around. “It’s oddly adorable” Damian says scratching the chin under the bamf, reader laughs loudly which made Damian softly smile before Bruce cleared his throat, making Damian snap out and back away from the bamf. The bamf teleported out of dick’s hold and into the kitchen. Smelling cheesy puffs and immediately ransacking the kitchen for it, Alfred just looks in shock at the kitchen he just cleaned.

Alfred makes sure the nightcrawler isn’t in the kitchen after midnight, the bamf has a tight sleep schedule.

Bruce who wants to run tests on the blue creature, seeing the three fingers and two toes caught his attention first. Well, mostly the nakedness, but still. They don’t seem hostile, but passive.

Dick who gets traumatized daily by the bamf , the bamf knows that and loves every second of it.

Jason doesn’t mind the small little guy, they stay calm when Jason reads to them while eating cheesy puff. So all things are chill.

Tim who doesn’t care, as long as this creature doesn’t run through his coffee storage, and all is fine.

Damian who just wants to pet the fuzzy creature. He has weird pets like Goliath and Wiggles, he doesn’t mind adding the Bamf to the list, only if the creature wants to.

Imagine seeing a naked ass baby nightcrawler crawling on the damn wall, smiling with those damn fangs. Lord dick almost had an heart attack at the imp laughing. “Get down! Now! You…i don’t know but get down mister? Miss…AUGH GET DOWN!”

Thrown a shoe at the nightcrawler only to poof away as the shoe hit the wall.

Okay.. now dick is scared.

He’ll be asleep at night, eyes widen, gripping the covers before he heard a chuckle. Turning his head, there it was. Those golden eyes staring from the dark into blue eyes.

Dick couldn’t sleep before getting use to the chaotic bamf

Either way, they got a naked fuzzy blue mutant that loves to goof around.

[elliesanqel]

catharsis

sypnosis; after ellie had a nearly heated argument with seth over something he said about you, your best idea was to take her home, but you get caught up in the car—relieving her anger. cw; angst, smut, sub!ellie, soft dom!fem reader, oral sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), multiple orgasms, fluff, e!receiving all, not proofread, men and minors dni. a/n; can i just say a HUGE thank you for 1k on my obsessed fic, i was really not expecting it to reach that 😭💞 i love you all! basically i have ALWAYSSS wanted to write car sex—its just so hot to me so i had this specific idea💋 and im in the midst of writing lots of requests rn so they will be released soon! anyways hope you enjoy!

➝ masterlist

seth had already spat out a nasty comment your way as you walked off hand in hand with ellie. she initially tried her best to ignore the fact seth had basically told you both to leave for kissing anyway, but his next comment sent ellie off the rails and you weren’t expecting it.

a loud-mouthed dyke.

ellie let go of your hand and whipped around like someone had just thrown something at her, and her eye twitched. you watch as she walked away from you and towards seth, her finger raising to point at him, her brows knitted together. “the fuck did you just say?!” she spits out as she storms towards him, the only thing you could do was step in front of her and press your hands to her chest, holding her back.

your eyes look up at hers that were burning into seth as she never lost eye contact with him. “ellie, ellie—no!” you warn, her still moving towards seth as you spoke and had your hands on her chest, but she eventually stopped once you pressed her away firmly. her eyes finally broke from seth, falling down and inking into yours, her gaze instantly softening as soon as they met. she knew by the stern on your face that she’d better stop, especially since everyone was already staring.

before you knew it, you were hand in hand with your girlfriend, walking out of the bar, your eyes looking at hers from the side and you could practically see the steam coming from her ears. you sigh as you both walk to the car, letting go of her hand as she gets the keys from out her back pocket, unlocking the car and getting in the driver seat and you got in the passenger side.

she started the car, the engine roaring as she pulled out of the car park, driving off. the ride home was awkwardly silent—you were just in utter shock, and ellie was still very much angry. so angry that she hadnt even put her hand on your thigh while driving, which she normally did every single time—the fact that she didnt want to touch you made her anger prominent enough.

you notice ellies face, too. eyebrows knitted together, nose slightly scrunched, lips pursed and her cheeks flushed slightly, eyes narrow as they stayed on the road infront as she drove. nothing but the sound of the engine between you both, but, you decide to break the silence, feeling as though the awkwardness was swallowing you whole.

“why did you do that, ellie? we could have just walked away and ignored him.” you say, your voice low and tone soft, making sure it didnt sound like you were scolding her as you didnt want to make her more angry than she already was. she rubbed her brow, letting a sigh flow past her lips as she pouted them a little.

“well, who else was g’nna shut him up? dickhead had no right to call you that. you know i hate it when—” she says, her tone very firm, her anger obvious in her words, but you cut her off.

“i know, i know. i get it.” you sigh out, rubbing your eyes. you knew ellie was very protective of you, no matter how much of a loser she was she’d never let anyone fuck with you, she drew the line there. her hands were gripping the wheel tightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip. you found that after you’d said this, she had started to rant about it to let her anger out, but it didnt seem to work.

she rubbed her eyes with one hand as she rambled on, curses, groans and insults leaving her mouth. all this, and an idea still managed to swarm your head. how about you release her anger for her?

“he’s such a fucking—“ she rants, but you stop her by your confident words. “stop the car.” you say bluntly, with a hint of something else behind those words. her brows furrow further as she suddenly goes quiet from her rambling, her eyes meeting with yours for a split second. “huh? why?” she asks, confusion in her voice.

“pull over, ellie.” you whisper, your tone firmer now, almost seeming to stun her but she does comply, the fact that you were so strict with what you said making her pull the car over quickly and urgently. she was very much confused, parking the car on the side of the empty road. you grin to yourself, opening the glove box. “get in the backseat, baby.” you tell her.

she raises on eyebrow as she eyes your every movement, but somehow she doesnt seem to want to argue, and instead unclips her seatbelt slowly, manoeuvring into the backseat as she sits in the middle with her legs spread, seeming to get a small hint of what you were doing. especially when you were in the glovebox.

of course—ellies strap was in there.

you grab it in your hand and unclip your seatbelt, getting into the backseat. ellie reaches her arms out to you, grabbing your arms and then your hips, placing you on top of her lap as your legs rest either side of her waist. she was probably thinking you wanted her to fuck you. little did she know it wasnt like that. her hands caressed over your hips, her thumbs rubbing soft circles. “mm, y’want me to fuck you baby? right now?” she hums softly, her lips against your ear. however, you just laugh softly.

“no—you’re the one getting fucked, princess.” you grin, pressing your lips to her ear now, mimicking her own movements. you giggle to yourself as you could practically feel her smile faltering, her eyes widening and her legs spreading further. you move your head back, making eye contact with her puzzled face, your nose brushing against hers. “let me rail that anger out of you, hm?” you bite your bottom lip, watching the way her eyes pretty much fill with desperation.

she remained silent but she blinked, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before you know it, you’d moved her to lay down and you hover over her, her jeans and boxers on the floor of the car—your skirt and panties in the same place. there was something so ironic about using ellies strap to fuck ellie with it. seems like the perfect way to go.

you strapped it on, not being able to help the moments that flush in your mind of every time ellie had fucked you senseless with this. you let the clear, veiny silicone brush against her already dripping folds, her head leans back on the car door at the first bit of contact, her eyes rolling back and her mouth opening in a silent moan.

you grin as you watch her face contort—starting to lift her shirt and move her flannel up, your lips finding her stomach. you kiss down her pretty waist, the way her stomach flattens with the sharp breaths she takes due to your soft movements, your lips pressing softer kiss on her hip bones as they arch up.

you meet with her folds, your tongue darting out to lick up her wet slit and swirl around her puffy clit. her arms lean back to grip onto the door, her hips arching up. “fuck! oh fuuuck—don’t stop. ohh, goddd…” she whines, swallowing hard as her eyes roll to the back of her head, her hips fucking themselves on your tongue.

you refused to praise her aching hole with your tongue, you wanted to save that for your cock and make her take it like a good girl. you gave her soft kitten licks, swirling your tongue over her bundle of nerves and up and down her slick heat, paying the area in particular that made her whine the most.

you could slowly feel her body shake, already teetering on the edge from your tongue on her clit, now she was sensetive wasnt she?

her hand instantly reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, fucking her pussy on your lips as she pushed your head in further. “fuuuuck baby—g’nna cu—oh god…!” she cries out, her hips grinding on your face as she fiercly cums all over your tongue. your quick to react, taking all her juices into your mouth and swallowing it up like it was flowing gold.

you pull your face out of her heat, seeing her eyes shut in ecstasy. the windows of the car had steamed up and it felt awfully hot. before ellie could even open her eyes, you had her flipped over and pulled her hips up so she was on her hands and knees on the seats, your hands curling around her hips. “you’re gonna take this like a good girl, ain’cha, princess?” you speak, voice low and seductive. you knew she was no longer angry and that you’d likely relieved her stress, but you wanted to fuck her nastily.

she bows her head, nodding quickly. “y-yes baby. shit—i—“ you instantly cut her off by rolling your hips forward, your cock completely bottoming out inside of her tight hole, which made you groan—having to stretch her needy cunt.

“uuuhhh! s—shit—“ she whines, her hand slamming against the steamy car window along with her other one, trying to steady herself as you begin moving in and out of her throbbing pussy, her ass smacking against your hips causing it to ripple as the noises echo throughout the car. any normal person driving or walking by would’ve seen the car rocking.

“s-shit…take it baby. fuuuck, your pussy is so pretty—taking my cock so well.” you whine, the friction from the strap rubbing against your untouched clit. you knew ellie loved it when you treated her like this, praising her and all—you loved it too, treating her like the queen she was. you grip her hips, although you didnt really have to—she was already pushing them backwards onto your cock as you spoke nasty words to her. her hands left two imprints on the steamy window, placing them somewhere else on the window to steady herself further, leaving two more imprints.

every time you thrusted forward, her pussy made squelching noises from her precum dripping on your cock. your hands gripped her pretty waist harder, slamming the thick silicone in and out of her needy cunt. her head arches back and strident moans fell from her throat. you were panting now, but that didnt stop you. ohhh no.

you take her hips and pull her up so her back meets with your chest and she was basically sat on your lap. a cry escapes her throat at the new angle, her body feeling overstimulated. your hands move up under her shirt, gripping both of her small breasts, giving them small squeezes which caused her to whine at your touch. “f—fucking hell—shitttt!” she whimpers out, bouncing herself on your cock. what a needy princess.

you grin, resting your chin on her shoulder as you fuck up into her, some of her hair that had fallen out of her bun stuck to her cheeks that were covered in sweat. one of her hands remained on the window, her other one came to cup your cheek. “m’close. gonna cum baby…ahhh!” her head fell back against your shoulder as she whined this—her mouth staying agape.

“thats it, thaaaats it, cum all over my cock sweetheart. doing so well f’me—mmm…” you groan, fucking up into her further as your words only egg her on, her body beginning to shake again as you repeatedly slam the tip of your cock against her spongey spot.

she shudders on your lap, and you swore you could feel her walls pulsing around you. her eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together and with a final jolt and a slurred, whore-ish whine emitting from her throat, her cum leaks out of her pussy and all over your cock, a loud gasp following.

“ohhh my fucking god…” she sighs out, her hand slipping off the window which caused a streaky handprint, her head falling onto your shoulder. you give her breasts one last squeeze before you let go and lift her shaky body off of the silicone and she sits against the door while you crawl inbetween her legs to lay there, her hands finding your hair to play with it.

you smile contently, “feel better?” you whisper, voice croaky as you close your eyes, feeling proud. she laughs, her hands gently playing with your hair as she speaks, her tone soft and her voice quiet.

“fuck yeah. i should be pissed more often.” she kissed your hair, letting her words linger. “think we should go home, cuddle in bed. how’s that sound, princess?” you ask, looking into her eyes now.

her eyes soften at your words, looking into yours. “i’d love to, baby.”

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @067supremacy2 @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[yaut-jaknowit]

Heyo, i hope your doing alright and have a good day/night :)

I've just recently found your page and absolutely fell in love how you write and draw, please dont stop doing this :^).

Ive been thinking of mabye something like Body and culture exploration? Like lets say GN!reader just recently got with a yautja and they get comfortable enough to actually touch like their mandibles and stuff? Mabye even wanting to know more about their bio masks (like touching or mabye even putting it on) cause thats just something i would personally do. For the yautja could it Wolf? I love my elders hihi. Plus he has a missing tusk there too which i find badass

Thanks <3

(Pls dont mind the grammar, english is not my first language)

A Personal Look

Pairings: Wolf (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2004

Summary: In the home of Wolf on Yautja Prime, it's just the beginning of your relationship with Wolf. There is quite a lot to learn about him. Not just his mind but his body as well. You take a moment to learn your differences physically.

Author Note: It's all good! Thank you for the ask!

Masterlist

Ao3

Lounging in the main room of Wolf’s home on Yautja Prime, you occupied yourself with learning. Learning about Yautjas. Since said Yautja has given you a tablet to fill your time, you’ve scoured what they have for internet about them. They were mysterious and kept to themselves for the most part. Solidary creatures by nature but are willing to choose a mate. Clearly since you are here in Wolf’s home.

Admist your research, the universal wide web holds little about them. Just small articles and posts about either thoughts or lies they thought they knew about Yautjas. Some say they can read minds and teleport. Clearly those articles were thrown out. That only left you with one possible, reasonable source. Yet, even that offered little to quell your thoughts.

This was still in the beginning stage of your relationship with Wolf. The mighty Wolf. Each touch you’ve felt like you danced with fate and death. No, you don’t fear him. Instead… it was more of a respect. The first time meeting him nearly was your last. An inch closer and those blades would too sink into your skull.

Somehow, you still live.

There was something that lured you to him. The same for him. The nearing elder Yautja didn’t understand. Of course, he took matters into his own hands and asked for you to come along with him. The least he could do for almost killing you, you thought. Then, whatever that bait was enough for curiosity to spring life. Then, later… love.

It’s fresh love. Very fresh. Barely out of the womb and still soaked in fluids.

Both of you seemed to dance around each other. For a headstrong Yautja, he took a soft, almost timid approach. You would never say timid and him in the same sentence though. Wolf allowed for you to control this, as if he knew humans needed time to comprehend things. Maybe it was for himself as well. Not to rush into something so fragile.

A groan surpassed your lips. The tablet is discarded onto the nearby stone coffee table. How were you suppose to learn about them without directly asking the source? Wolf’s probably got plenty of information about humans already. Yet, all you got was females are larger than males and they breath more nitrogen then oxygen. Useless!

Up a few steps and on a balcony, sat Wolf enjoying the fresh morning air. An inquiring noise sounded from him. You sat up from the soft couch cushion and looked over at him.

Despite not knowing much about his species, you could see what would show him as an elder among his kind. The crow’s feet, the wrinkles among his face, the greying of his tresses, the way he carries himself. Don’t get you wrong, he is still a deadly warrior, through and through. But he’s lived his life. Now he enjoys relaxing and bathing in the suns of his planet. Though he is old, he’s most likely going to out live you still.

“It’s nothing,” you dismissed, not wanting to lead him onto your plans just yet. You wanted to be prepared before going into this. How were you going to accomplish that when said information wasn’t available to you? God, you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

You drape yourself partially over the back of the couch and watch from afar. Wolf lounged in peace. Eyes softly closed; chest softly rising and falling with each breath he took.

Something within you wanted to gingerly glide your knuckles along his cheek. To fully feel his skin against yours. Properly. Not these fluttering touches the two of you give in passing. A growing need to learn about him physically then move onto mentally. You wanted to know him.

“You watch,” he observed without even opening an eye. Immediately, you flustered and bowed your head, slinking back down the couch. “I was not telling you to stop.” You perked up a little and peered over the edge of the couch to find him in the same spot. “I will not bite.” Was he inviting you closer?

The lump in your throat was forced down before you slipped off of the couch and timidly stepped closer to him. Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction will bring you back.

Nervously, you took each step towards in hesitation. Not of fear. Well… maybe of fear but not of him. Maybe it was the situation. Stepping into the unknown. That’s hit the nail right on the head. There was nothing to know beforehand. So all of this was new.

Sooner than you come to realize, you stand just on the edge of coverage from the harsh twin suns. Wolf blinks his bright yellow eyes open then sits up in a smooth, controlled manner. Quite the opposite of your racing heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest. He looks at you from underneath the beating suns, arms resting on his knees. A poised position of ease. You bite at your lower lip.

“You want something.” It was a statement. Your head raised only a centimeter but he watches the movement. “You are free to speak.” He’s given you all the rope possible. Every last inch of it to control the situation. “You are free to ask.”

Despite your fingers twitching towards him, you tampered down that feeling. Permission. That requires words. Words that are lodged in your throat, stuck in way that you didn’t know how to free yourself. You wanted to touch, to explore what he feels like. To learn about him in a way that you’ve never experienced ever.

Those bright eyes. The first thing saw when he brought those blades down. They pierced straight into your soul directly. They also noticed the twitching of your fingers. You noticed the twitching of his fingers. The two of you were frozen in time. Just watching. Just waiting.

Wolf gave the briefest of nods.

Then, you moved. You found your spot between his legs. The heat from the sun and him causing your core temperature to rise immediately. Though, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, he presses a button on his lounge chair.

The awning above extended fully, covering you from gathering blisters. Yet, that didn’t stop you from feeling the heat the radiated off of him. The lump in your throat returned. Instead of letting your words speak for you, actions spoke louder.

He watched as you gingerly lifted up a hand in his direction then paused, holding the hand nearly a foot away from him. Wolf takes a moment then dips his head again. Permission granted. The unease that had settled in your chest lifted a little, giving way to hope. The corners of your mouth twitched, just enough to show off the twinkle in your eye.

When the pads of your fingers brushed against the scales of his upper mandible, you couldn’t help the small gasp. For a rugged, hardened warrior, the flesh there was smooth, nearly velvety in a strange way. Like touching a gecko. It was the last thing you were expecting from him. You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips. Once more, you flustered and retracted you hand out of embarrassment.

Instead of letting the moment fall away, Wolf raises his own hand and waits for permission. When given it, the rough texture of his palm cups your cheek. That was more of what you were expecting. But, you didn’t retreat. You leaned into the touch and let your eyes hooded over, gazing at him with… love. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

Though, the callouses were rough against your skin, you didn’t mind it. You were learning. Learning what he felt like. What a life of a hunter felt like against a human. He slowly let that hand drift down and teased the collar of your shirt then up the column of your throat. Not intimate in a sexual way… but exploring.

You helped by tilting your head back and allowed him to feel the way your throat bobbed; the fluttering of your pulse between layers of skin. Skin that was drastically different than his. His pointer and thumb pinched your jaw softly and brought you face to face with him again. You brought your hand back to his face, inches from touching him. Another nod.

Feeling the smooth flesh again wasn’t as shocking as before. But you still couldn’t help the glimmer of a smile on your lips. The softness of it with folds and wrinkles that marked his age. Years. Hundreds of them. You trailed down his mandible, feeling it twitch under you touch. Yet, you stayed clear of the scars that marred the other side of his face, afraid of upsetting him or passing over a boundary.

Wolf was smart. He could sense things before you could, sense a disturbance, even in you. So, the elder took things into his own hands. Literally. With his free hand, he wrapped them around your other wrist and brought the tips of your fingers to the gnarled skin. Your eyes jumped wide, breath caught in your throat at the touch. This felt like a true velvet than just the scales of his mandibles. Your other hand dropped to his shoulder as you focused on the scars.

Your eyes darted to his for a moment but the elder was focused on the feel of your skin. So, you took that opportunity to press onward by following up what was left of his mandible.

The scar was messy. It spider webbed across nearly half of his face and head. A painful experience you have no doubt about. A story for another time.

Though the healed wound was clutter of stretched and sinewed skin, you were memorized by the texture and patterned. You closed your eyes and let your fingers guide the way.

Inside of your mind, you forged his physical form into memory. A different way of experiencing him. You used your other hand as well to map him out. All the different dips along the dome of his head. The ridges and bumps of his features. The scales that were scattered around. Then, you slowly blinked your eyes open and smiled at him.

His own fingers found the curve of your nose. Starting from between your brows and following down the ridge, letting the lethal black claw ghost over fragile skin. The sight of it made your heart jump but he wouldn’t hurt you.

Not with the way he was looking at you.

Like he was discovering the joys of life for the first time. And maybe he was.

That same finger lingered on the tip of your nose for a moment before sliding down to the plushness of your lips. Subconsciously, you let them part. The sharp end of a claw dragged down your bottom lip, almost catching on the skin. You made no move to warn or stop him. Not even fearful he may hurt you. He stops for a moment when the tip was at the juncture of your bottom lip before continuing.

He went back up and diverted to the side. To your ear. If he thought your face was soft, when he touched your ear there was a stark difference. Wolf lightly pinched the cartilage with wonder flashing in his eyes. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped from you. To see the big bad Wolf amazed by something natural to you is amusing.

Then, up to your hair his fingers went, carding through the strands much thinner than his own. He pinched a bunch together and rolled it. The snort you made drew his attention back to your eyes. Wolf, too, dropped his hands to your shoulders in a similar fashion to you.

There. All you two did was stare at each other, admire the other’s differences. Not bad differences. Just… different. Alien if you must put a name to it. That was the beauty of it all.

Exploring each other.

[moodymisty]

Please put my baby girl rowboat in a situation where he is in unfathomable amounts of pain, 🙏

Author's note: so perhaps the pain isn't incredibly unfathomable, but I always hate to see a man with no self esteem. Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Gn!Reader Warnings: Low self esteem and a bit of mental turmoil for Guilliman

"You have a very nice smile."

The words tumble from your lips before you even realize it, fumbling with the edges on a batch of flimsies. For a moment you fear repercussions of some kind, of traipsing beyond the strict speech you should don when speaking to the Lord Regent; Though it wouldn't be the first time you've failed in that regard. If anything, it might be one of the less uncouth things you've said in his presence.

Guilliman doesn't move to reprimand you to your relief, just surprised. He recoils just a bit, brow raised. You manage to control the heat rising from your chest and into your neck before it gets too out of control. He stares you down intensely enough that you feel you very well might crumble.

"You are quite bold, you know that?"

You purse your lips a bit and cringe outwardly. Words are suddenly so much more difficult.

"It, It was an accident. But," The expression on your face softens with a nervous smile. "Is it bold to just give someone a compliment?"

Guilliman takes a drink of the wine resting on his table, a large glass that his hand still manages to dwarf. He sighs after taking a sip, as if the act somehow exerted him.

He'd requested for it specifically, and at such a odd hour as well- most of his men are getting their five hours of rest, you would've thought he would be sleeping as well. Maybe the primarchs don't require rest you think to yourself- even if he perhaps looks as if he would benefit from some. His eyes are sunken, and his skin is lacking in color.

If he weren't the Lord Regent- a primarch of untold power- you'd say he looked exhausted.

Apparently he didn't have need of it however, as when you'd entered he was still at his desk, his dull blue eyes watched you intently as you held the wine out to him. You couldn't sit it on his desk easily, and so he took it from your hands and poured himself a glass, which he downed in one fell swoop. You couldn't help but watch the way the knot of his throat bobbed with each swallow, until the large glass of wine was long gone. He drank like he hadn't had water in ages, and you silently backed away to take your leave.

The way he felt seemed, different. You supposed it was best to not linger and leave him alone.

When you'd turned to leave however he'd called your name, hesitating for a moment before clarifying; He wanted you to stay a moment. You're used to being requested by him randomly, Guilliman often uses you for tasks at a moments notice, but this didn't seem like he needed you in that particular way. You had shuffled back in his direction, holding your own hands in a self soothing gesture.

In the time since he asked you to stay he's downed another two glasses, and you've begun to notice a soft red flush to his cheeks. He's become a bit more talkative as well, much to your surprise. It's helped ebb your nervousness. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you notice the mess of parchment and flimsies all around his desk, a pile scattered across the floor as if he'd thrown them. You start to pick them up, holding a few in your hands as you quickly rise to look at him.

Guilliman sighs a bit in response to your question after the surprise wavered, shifting his jaw.

"I've heard my fair share of compliments. Most were about my military prowess; Macragge's might. Ultramar. I was given a scant few about my appearance but, not anymore."

His brow furrows a bit more, and his facsimile of a smile fades. The wrinkles around his mouth fade but the ones around his brow grow much deeper, his deep set eyes staring somewhere else. His age shows more prominently in his sudden dour change, but he is no less handsome. He swirls the wine in his glass and seems to debate the idea of more before takes another sip.

"I don't see why they would stop."

You haven't drank any of the wine, not that you can to begin with, so you can't blame your lack of respect on that, still playing with the pack of flimsies like a life support.

"Have you ever accepted a compliment from someone?"

Guilliman laughs, though underneath it is a slight layer of hesitancy. He plays with the raised filigree adorning his gaudy cup.

"If I was how I looked before the Heresy, I might have."

You soft expression a bit, but you fear him accidentally taking your sadness as pity. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to.

"Macragge, my legion; Their primarch was a young statesmen with bright eyes and a body chiseled from stone by the Emperor himself." Guilliman smiles at you- but again, it seems almost like a facsimile of what it should be.

"They are still coming to terms that I've greyed, and have a few pains to boot."

He scratches at the jagged scar across his neck as if the thought of it made it itch, the long O in 'boot' emphasizing the odd rasp in his voice from his ruined vocal cord. You can hear the ever so slight scratch of stubble that's bled underneath his jawline.

Perhaps he wasn't what the Imperium texts and stories described down to the letter, but he's no less a primarch. You would admit his presence at first was intimidating, being in his sight would make your heart race, but over time you've grown used to him; Grown used to the way he seems less like a god, and more so human.

His struggles with the Armour of Fate, his frustration with the state of the Imperium, his wrinkled brow and grey hairs; All things that make the primarch seem just a bit more human.

"I don't see why that would be an issue."

You genuinely don't; You think that he still looks ethereally handsome, and if anything you prefer him now than to the statues he refers to. Perhaps it's because the Guilliman in front of you is real, and not an artist's rendition. This is the Guilliman you've been spending time with, months worth the hours assisting him. Along with a few of just talking, of him saying how he enjoys having someone to talk to that isn't one of his men. Of having your company and not just being alone. The last one he had made you leave shortly after admitting it, and while you both elected to forget it was said, you still remember how his voice had wavered.

But Guilliman seems almost shocked by the casual admission, examining you with a furrowed brow.

"Then perhaps your intelligence comes into question," He says while glancing in your direction.

His tone appears lighthearted, but it still hurts to be insulted, causing you to shrink a bit into your shoulders. Your heart is a bit too open for him than you'd like and the sentence stings.

Guilliman waivers and clears his throat.

"That... That was perhaps a bit too harsh. I am just," He continues. "It is just, surprising someone would show interest in an old man like me."

He looks at you, hesitation beginning to paint his features. It looks so uncharacteristic on him; You've barely seen him anything less than stoic and unyielding.

"It is... It is interest right? Am I reading too far between the lines?" Guilliman chuffs dryly, looking at his glass. The wine inside of it is mostly gone. "I thought I would need this for courage, but I think it's only made the nerves worse."

You can't help but laugh a bit, face a tad warm. A primarch can have nerves?

Though you honestly never expected for the thoughts you had to ever come to fruition. You entirely expected to spend your days pining silently, stuck to look at Guilliman like one would the stars. You assumed he was too far above you, and that even the thoughts of such things would cast you as a heretic pining for a god.

Though you weren't as silent as you thought apparently, if he was able to piece it out. Or perhaps as he implied, he simply took his own risk and got lucky.

Guilliman shifts a bit in his seat and reaches for your hand, taking and watching it disappear into his warm, weathered palm.

"Once we return to Macragge, I promise you a proper first outing. I might be tired and irritated with the state of things, but I will not disrespect you with the boredom of my office. Or my men. With the amount of time you've spent dealing with all of these messes you quite well deserve it."

You can't help but laugh at him, and wonder what the potential alternatives would be. A walk through the Thunderhawks wouldn't be the worst time together, you suppose.

"I don't need a full fancy Macraggan date." Guilliman rolls his eyes at you.

"Let me have my rituals. My father and mother taught them to me and I only now have the chance to put them to use. It only took ten millennia." You laugh even louder.

He then looks away for a moment before sighing; He takes one hand away from cradling your own and swigs down the rest of that glass of wine.

"I can already hear my men complaining."

You smile at him, though in reality you don't think he's wrong. A few of his men already find issue with him having you around so often, many find that your ears are too privy to things, and that your tasks could be done just as well by a servitor. You've overheard them referring to his reliance on you 'unnecessary and inconvenient'.

"I think they will listen to the orders of their primarch above all else, Guilliman."

He looks to you and smiles softly.

"Roboute, please."

[lilangelbud]

request? pervy, desperate, disgusting dad who is obsessed with his young and reluctant daughter’s big tits. he can’t stop staring at them, can’t stop fantasizing about them. can’t stop imagining lovingly (and forcefully) rutting inside her like they’re lovers, gazing at her breasts as they bounce, saying, “god, you’re so much hotter/better than your mom. this is what i made you for, baby.” as he affectionately nurses from her nipples.

Last one for tonight but feel free to leave some requests in my inbox. Anon, I hope I did it justice. I really enjoyed writing this one.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl. She sat at the table, her oversized hoodie doing little to hide the curves that had begun to develop over the past year. She was bent over her cereal, her hair falling in loose waves around her face, seemingly unaware of the way his eyes lingered on her.

But he was acutely aware. It was impossible not to be. Every time she moved, even slightly, the fabric of her hoodie shifted just enough to hint at the fullness beneath. His breath caught, his fingers twitching against the edge of the counter as he gripped it tightly, trying to steady himself. God, she was perfect.

He couldn’t stop staring. He shouldn’t be—he knew that. But it was like a magnetic pull, something primal and undeniable. She was his, wasn’t she? He’d made her, raised her, watched her grow into this woman. A woman who bore no resemblance to her mother, who’d always been too thin, too reserved. No, his daughter was alive, her body full and soft, begging to be touched, to be worshipped.

He’d tried to suppress it, tried to push the thoughts away, but they only came back stronger. Late at night, when the house was silent, he’d lie in bed and imagine her in his arms, her breasts pressed against his chest as he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body, claiming her. And now, standing in the kitchen, watching her eat, it was all he could do not to cross the room and take her right there on the table.

“Dad?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing she was looking at him, her brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice rough. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Just… thinking about work.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and went back to her cereal. But he couldn’t look away. Her lips wrapped around the spoon, her tongue flicking out to catch a drop of milk, and he felt a jolt of arousal so intense it made his knees weak. Fuck. He shifted his weight, trying to discreetly adjust himself through his jeans.

“You’re not eating?” she asked, glancing up again.

“Not hungry,” he lied, his eyes darting to her chest as she leaned forward slightly, the neckline of her hoodie gaping just enough to give him a glimpse of the soft flesh beneath. His mouth went dry, and he had to force himself to look away. “I should get going.”

She nodded, and he turned on his heel, nearly bolting from the room. He needed to get a grip, needed to stop this before it went too far. But even as he thought it, he knew it was too late. The desire was too strong, too deep. He wanted her—needed her—in a way that made his chest ache.

Later that night, when the house was dark and she was asleep, he stood outside her door, his heart pounding in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d been thinking about her all day, imagining what it would feel like to touch her, to taste her. And now, with the house silent and the air heavy with the weight of his need, he couldn’t resist.

He pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly. She was asleep on her back, one arm thrown above her head, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The moonlight streaming through the window bathed her in a soft, silvery glow, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She was so beautiful.

He crept closer, his eyes fixed on her breasts, the swell of them barely contained by the thin fabric of her tank top. He reached out, his hand trembling, and gently brushed his fingers over the curve of one. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling around the hem of her top.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled it up, exposing her to the cool night air. Her nipples hardened almost instantly, and he felt a surge of arousal so intense it made his head spin. God, she was perfect. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her breast, and he couldn’t help but moan softly at the contact.

She stirred again, her eyes fluttering open, and he froze. For a moment, they just stared at each other, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he waited for her to scream, to push him away. But instead, she just looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“Dad?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t answer, couldn’t. His need was too strong, too overwhelming. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips closing around her nipple, and he felt her gasp, her body stiffening beneath him. But she didn’t push him away.

“God, you’re so much hotter than your mom,” he murmured against her skin, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak. “This is what I made you for, baby. This is what you’re for.”

She whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair as he continued to suckle at her breast, his hands roaming her body, claiming her. And as he looked up at her, her eyes wide and her lips parted in a silent moan, he knew he was lost.

Her breath hitched as his hands slid underneath her, lifting her off the bed with a firm grip on her ass. The sudden movement jolted her awake, her eyes fluttering open to find his face inches from hers, his expression raw with desire. She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as he carried her to the wall.

“Dad, what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and fear. But he didn’t answer. His focus was singular, his need too urgent to explain.

He pressed her against the wall, pinning her there with his body as his hips ground against hers. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into her through her panties, and she gasped again, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“I’ve been waiting for this, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with need. “Waiting to feel you against me like this.”

Her heart raced as his hands roamed her body, tearing at the thin fabric of her top until her breasts were exposed, their soft weight spilling into his hands. He let out a low growl of approval, his lips closing around one nipple while his fingers teased the other.

She moaned, her head falling back against the wall as pleasure surged through her. Her body was betraying her, responding to his touch despite the confusion and fear swirling in her mind.

“You’re so much better than your mom,” he whispered against her skin, his tongue flicking over her nipple. “This is what I made you for, baby.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps as he continued to suckle at her breast, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. She could feel his cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of her panties the only barrier between them.

“Dad, please… I don’t…” she started to protest, but her words were cut off as his lips crashed onto hers, silencing her with a hungry kiss.

His tongue pushed past her lips, claiming her mouth with a ferocity that left her breathless. She moaned into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as he pressed himself against her, grinding his cock into her core.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her, his eyes dark with lust. “You’re mine, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “All mine.”

Her eyes widened as one of his hands slid between them, tugging at the waistband of her panties. She tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Her body was on fire, consumed by the sensations he was eliciting from her.

The fabric tore as he ripped her panties away, leaving her exposed to him. She gasped, her legs tightening around his waist as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Please, Dad, we can’t…” she whispered, but her words were cut off as he thrust into her, filling her completely. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his pace relentless.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her. His lips found her breast again, sucking and nibbling at the tender flesh as he fucked her.

She moaned, her head falling back against the wall as pleasure washed over her. Her body was responding to him, her hips moving in time with his thrusts as he claimed her.

“This is what you’re for, baby,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with need. “To take me, to please me. You’re mine, all mine.”

She cried out again as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, her body trembling with pleasure. He growled, his pace quickening as he drove into her harder, deeper.

“You’re so much better than your mom,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “So much hotter, so much tighter. This is what I made you for, baby. To be mine.”

Her moans grew louder as he continued to thrust into her, his hands groping her breasts as he fucked her against the wall. She could feel the tension building inside her, the pleasure overwhelming as he moved within her.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Take it, take all of me. You’re mine, all mine.”

She cried out, her body shuddering as the pleasure crested, washing over her in waves. He groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her one last time, filling her with his seed. He let out a deep groan, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, against her chest as he held her there, pressed against the wall.

“You’re mine, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “All mine.”

She didn’t respond, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He kissed her softly, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, “You’re so much better than your mom, sweetheart. I made you for this.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her again, his hands roaming her body as he held her there, pinned to the wall. She could feel him hardening inside her again, his need for her still strong, still urgent.

“Again, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I need you again.”