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honeylouwho · 11 days ago

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tornado warnings ; clark kent

synopsis: you and clark are work rivals and there are only a few ways to relieve some of the tension.

cw: nsfw (MDNI. 18+ ONLY) / work rival!clark / fem!reader / oral (f recipient / making out / storms / envy (writers are an envious bunch). word count: 1545 love note: this is a work au + i had a lot of fun writing it!

Clark Kent stood by the window of your shared office in the Daily Planet, watching the droplets of rain cling to the glass. Thunder rolled through, spaced out evenly between the lightning strikes. Just under an hour ago, a tornado warning sounded in one of the Planet’s scanners, urging people to stay put and ride out the storm wherever they were.

For you, that meant the Daily Planet building, only occupied by you and Clark Kent. There was nothing particularly wrong with Clark, just that he was the only thing getting in between you and a headlining story.

Clark Kent this, Clark Kent that. It was hard to compete with someone who held adoration by every single person he came into contact with. The worst part of it all is he actually was nice. Despite his kindness, you had a vendetta against him.

In college, you were the best writer for the paper, and now you had to compete with some… Some guy? Part of you was convinced the reason Clark constantly got headlining pieces was due to the fact he was broad-shouldered, had eyes bluer than the sky, and his stature sat at a whopping 6’3. He was gorgeous and at the beginning, you had chalked it up to the fact Clark had pretty privilege.

Until you read one of his stories; the intricacies in his words, the bravery behind his honesty, it made sense as to why he constantly got the best spots in the paper. From that point on, you were determined to out-write Clark. It was a rivalry he wasn’t aware of, but it was a driving factor in your growth in the field of reporting.

“You look nervous?” Clark asked you, the words seeming to come out as more of a question than a statement. He was still leaning against the window, the temple of his head now pressed against the glass.

“I’m not a huge fan of tornado warnings,” the sentence came out abrasively, annoyance seeding its way into your tone as Clark stated the obvious. Not many people were thrilled about a possible tornado threatening to consume half of your city.

Clark clicked his tongue, stepping away from the glass. You watched him nod in response, his big hands stuffing themselves into the pocket of his slacks as he walked closer to your side of the desk. In only a few strides, Clark was peering over your shoulder, reading the piece you were working on.

“Hey!” With quickness you hadn’t realized you could muster, you clicked out of the word document, the computer screen minimizing to hide your report from prying eyes.

“I can’t look?” Clark asked, a quizzical expression melting onto his features. It was hard to look him in the eye sometimes, the lost puppy dog gaze was pitiful.

“No,” you shook your head, spinning around in your office chair. “Why do you think you’d be able to look?”

“Why don’t you like me?” Clark questioned, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to mess with the bottom hem of his suit jacket.

Hesitation, a wry glance, an uncomfortable bite into your bottom lip. There were not a lot of ways to answer that question without exposing your envy, and envy was never a good look. There was a break in the conversation, enough that was noticeable as you collected your thoughts.

“I can’t get a fair shot with you around. You’re too likable, too good at what you do.” You admitted, hoping that the backhanded compliment wouldn’t somehow stroke his ego.

“This tension,” Clark motioned between you two, his hand moving back and forth, “is very thick. I have no ill feelings toward you, you know?”

Clark’s tone sounded more suggestive than you think he may have intended, the word tension catching your attention as you filtered all of the ways you could relieve some of that built up pressure. It was exhausting having to work in an environment where the strain between you and the guy who shared an office with was palpable.

One thing led to another, Clark assuring you multiple times that he was not a hook-up-kind-of-guy. Whatever the hell that meant? You didn’t really care as he leaned you against your desk, your back pressed against the solid wood with Clark’s lips connected to yours. Dislike never tasted so good.

Clark was in between your legs, bent over in a nearly ninety degree angle as his lips pressed against yours. He tasted like spearmint, the coolness of the mint making your mouth water. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, licking against the roof of your mouth in patterns. Clark was extremely attentive, switching between his tongue dancing with your own and the other crevices of your mouth, ensuring he didn’t miss any parts of you.

His hand slipped between your back and your desk, coaxing you forward as he bunched your legs around his waist. Carrying you, with you clinging to his chest, he brought you over to his own desk. With a gentle ease, he laid you out before dropping to his knees.

“Why here?” You asked him, nails digging into the epoxy-coated wood with heavy breathes causing your chest to rise and fall in the most dramatic way. The anticipation of him knelt before you, blue eyes glistened like ocean waves, pulling you in with every perceptive dart of his eyes. The look in his eyes was making you squirm, sort of like you were a full course meal he was fixing to devour.

“I don’t want to make a mess on your desk,” Clark told you, but he wasn’t focused on talking too much as his hands worked your slacks off, leaving you in just your blouse and Clark fully clothed.

The worst part of it all is that you know he was serious; he was just being considerate. Did he have to be so nice? If he kept it up, you might actually start liking him.

On his knees, he was eye level with your core, gaze trained on the center. Jaw slightly opened, marveling at your basic panties revealing your excitement as the fabric was nearly drenched in arousal, Clark found his fingers at the waistband. “Can I take them off?”

Words were lost on you, but you managed to say yes. Clark was careful as he slipped the underwear off of your body, mindful that he might rip the soft fabric. Just like he did when he was kissing you, Clark made sure to pay mind to every part of your pussy.

First, he started by licking his tongue up the slit, focusing on the clit as he drew out the leisurely-paced lap of his tongue. After a few repeats of this, he focused on the nerves that would bring you to your first orgasm. Clark Kent may have been sweet as candy, but he knew what he was doing.

“Feel okay?” He muttered against your sex, the sound of his voice muffled because he was too focused on keeping himself connected with you. If there was one thing about Clark, when he wanted something, he was determined to get it. At this point in time, the only thing Clark was determined to do was make you feel good. Surely, when you walk into this office tomorrow, the smell of your bodies colliding still lingering in the air, you would at least offer him a smile.

“Feels great,” the words came out breathy and needy. If you didn’t feel so good, you would probably be annoyed with how depraved you sounded for Clark Kent of all people.

The storm raging in the background was an afterthought at this point. The tornado could twist its way through the building and you probably wouldn’t have even noticed with Clark’s mouth pressed against you.

Your insides clenched when you felt Clark’s fingers enter you. His tongue worked around the most sensitive part of your core, focusing on the pattern and rhythm. Between pauses, Clark would look up at you, checking in without verbally expressing it. When his fingers curled up, hitting that special spot inside while his tongue worked you over, you nearly orgasmed at the sight of Clark rolling his eyes back in pure pleasure.

“Wait—” you nearly begged, knowing that if Clark didn’t stop soon, you were going to cum. Clark Kent’s eyes shot up, his movements slowing down as if he were about to pull away at the sound of your hesitation. The realization must have dawned on him quickly that you were trying to hold out on him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you finishing on his fingers.

With slow movements, teasing you steadily, you finished around him. With your chest rising and falling, you propped yourself up by your elbows, Clark still kneeling on the floor.

“Your turn?” You offered the desire for him in your mouth weighing on you heavily.

“No, don’t worry.” Clark flushed, his cheeks a light shade of pink. Either from the mind blowing orgasm for you or sudden bashfulness, you weren’t quite positive. His next words came out like a promise, “next time.”

“Next time?” You questioned, looking around for your underwear. Eyes landing on the pink sticking out of your pocket, you almost wondered if you should just put your pants back on and let him keep them as a reminder.

Clark only nodded, reaching into his pocket and offering your panties up. He was too much of a gentleman to let you go commando.

Clark Kent would be winning your affection over, one orgasm at a time. But for now, he was still your rival.

#clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent drabble #clark kent x reader #clark kent fanfic #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x fem!reader #doll: clark

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sanjisleggy · 2 months ago

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the warlord and his bodyguard (sir crocodile x reader)

req: Could you do a Mihawk or Crocodile x Marine reader. Like it's her job to watch them on missions or be in contact with the Warlords. And whoever you pick fell hard for the Marine but knows he shouldn't. Maybe he flirts with her and she tries to remain professional because she could get fired or way worse. But the man is determined

a/n: aaaa!! this was one of my earliest requests but i held off on writing it since i wasn’t sure if i wanted to write for Mihawk or Crocodile :’) luckily since then i’ve got to meet Crocodile again in the impel down arc so i feel a bit more comfortable trying to write for him :D i tweaked the plot a little to fit the ideas i had so i hope the requester doesn’t mind!

contents: reader is a not a good marine (lol), Crocodile is kinda down bad, pining, reader has devil fruit powers, a somewhat graphic depiction of violence, near-death experience (not violent), some fluff, very little angst

wc. 2.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

“tell me,” the imposing figure says, his voice so deep you swear the ground beneath your feet trembles ever so slightly. “did the World Government send you to mock me?”

Crocodile taps his hook against the surface of his mahogany desk, his heavy-lidded eyes peering sharply at you as he awaits your response. though he may be one of the Seven Warlords, you find it difficult to feel threatened by him, having faced and escaped more dire situations in your past as a cadet. besides, it’s rather rare for your potential cause of death to be so visually appealing.

“i should say no but both of us know that isn’t truly the case.” your response seems to have caught him off guard, his eyes widening ever so slightly. to your surprise, Crocodile follows it up with a smirk, all the while keeping his lit cigar held firmly in between his teeth.

“so what is the reason you’re supposed to tell me?”

as though reciting a script, you share how out of the goodness of the World Government’s hearts, they’ve decided to begin a new initiative to improve relations between the Warlords and the Marines. “thus, every Warlord will be provided with a bodyguard.” you’re unable to hold back the contempt in your tone and Crocodile picks up on it instantly.

“think you’re too good for the job, officer?” he replies in a disinterested manner.

“no, the job’s fine,” you admit, seeing no reason to be dishonest, “i just think they could’ve at least tried to come up with a better lie. i am glad i was assigned to you, though, and not Gecko Moria or Donquixote.” you can’t help but scoff.

the Warlord’s laugh catches you off guard. the fact that the sound alone causes a stirring in your chest alarms you even more.

what an interesting woman you are.

“so what will it take to keep your mouth shut?” Crocodile gets straight to the point, already fully aware of how your daily duties include a report back to headquarters on his activity. in all honesty, he’d meant it partially as a joke or, perhaps, a final attempt at sending you a message: you’re no threat to me.

“i don’t know,” you reply, taking a few steps to get closer to his desk before you lean forward slightly to level your eyes with his, “what’re you willing to offer?”

the Warlord can’t tell if you’re joking–and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

ii.

two months go by and business at Rain Dinners has been the same as always.

contrary to Crocodile’s expectations, your sudden arrival hasn’t impeded his progress on the casino and Baroque Works. his initial concerns over an influx in Marine officers storming Rain Dinners or a Vice Admiral showing up to tear down his secret organisation quickly go unfounded when it dawns on him that you’re truly not interested in taking him down.

if anything, he’s been enjoying your company. you’re an intelligent person whom he’s surprisingly able to have pleasant conversations with. you seem to have a keen sense of perception, knowing when to simply watch events unfold and when to interfere–though the latter instances have been rare considering his status in Alabasta deters trouble-making in his place of business.

after the first few weeks of having you trail behind him everywhere he goes, Crocodile finds himself getting used to being in your company. today, however, marks the first time the Warlord feels a need for something more.

though the Warlord is surrounded by beautiful women all vying for a crumb of his attention–a common occurrence when he makes his occasional appearance at his own casino’s bar–he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you’re the one sitting beside him instead. not the kind of man to let his imagination run wild, however, he quickly reminds himself that you’re standing a distance away behind him as you always do.

before Crocodile can fully return to enjoying his evening in the presence of the women around him, though, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a familiar sense of danger snaps his attention to the lady on his right side. within the span of a second, he readies himself to activate his devil fruit powers but before he can even fully register what she’s trying to pull, you make your move.

recognising the stained needle held in between the woman’s fingers as being composed of sea prism stone, your body reacts on its own volition.

“shave.”

to nearby onlookers, a blurry figure shoots its way across the room before you reemerge right behind the wannabe-assassin. without any warning, you place your right palm against the back of her head.

“twist.”

with a sickening crunch that reverberates throughout the once bustling casino, the woman’s body from her neck downward begins to turn a full 360 degrees whilst her head remains completely still in the palm of your hand. as her corpse flops to the ground, you hear the combined sounds of onlookers retching and gasping–but no running. the only one seemingly completely unbothered by the cold blooded murder is the assassination target himself.

“i could’ve handled it myself,” Crocodile sighs, puffing a cloud of smoke from his cigar, “though admittedly i am impressed by your efficiency.”

“were you aware the needle was made of sea prism stone?” your question catches him off guard; and he’s only further surprised when you bend down to pick it up from the floor with your bare hand.

“poisoned? i figured,” he admits, “but made of the stone? truth be told i was not aware.” the Warlord’s eyes travel slowly from the tiny needle held in between your fingers up to your face. as expected, you’re affected by the sea prism stone–he can tell from the droopiness of your eyelids and the way you furrow your eyebrows. “i could kill you right now,” Crocodile adds, unable to help his curiosity in what your response might be to such a suggestion.

“feel free,” you reply, a tired smile appearing on your tired face.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he shoots a glance at a random employee and gestures to the corpse. once it’s been taken away, he nods at the now-available seat. “take a seat, drink with me… and throw the needle away.”

iii.

three weeks later, you come storming into Crocodile’s office unannounced. normally he doesn’t tolerate such behaviour–the guest he’d been hosting even flinches outwardly, as though steeling himself to witness your impending death–but once the Warlord’s eyes lay on you, all anger flies out the window.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, clutching a crumpled letter in your hand as you make your way to his desk. with a wave of his hand, he dismisses his guest and remains silent and still until the two of you are left alone in the large room.

now that he’d had some time to take a closer look at you, the expression on your face screams less anger and more confusion–contrary to the way you’d nearly kicked down his door to get in. eyes flickering to the letter in your hand, the familiar material of the paper reminds him of a particular event that happened just a week ago.

“something troubling you, Miss Bodyguard?” the Warlord asked while in the midst of handling a mountain of paperwork.

“my village is in danger,” you’d replied without hesitation, not seeing any need to hide the truth from him–it was a trait he very much appreciated in you. “we used to always get harassed by pirates but lately it’s gotten worse and the berry i send home isn’t enough to keep them away anymore.”

a part of him expected you to drop a subtle plea for help but you never did. once you’d answered his question, you went back to being silent, eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper held in your trembling hands.

“what’s the name of your village? and on what island?”

“remind me what you’re accusing me of?” Crocodile replies in his usual monotonous tone.

“you sent people to my village,” you say almost breathlessly, unable to help the tears welling up in your eyes as your heart pounds within the confines of your chest. “you’ve been protecting them, haven’t you?”

“yes.”

“why?”

i hated seeing you worry.

“you wouldn’t be a very efficient bodyguard if you’re constantly thinking about your home, would you?”

for a long while, you simply stare at him in silence, your widened eyes glued to his deep-set ones. your gaze is so intense it’s almost as though you’re trying to peer straight into his soul; for a split second, the Warlord wonders if you’ve perhaps passed out while standing up with your eyes open.

“thank you,” you say softly with a smile on your face–the mere sight of which sends what the Warlord thought had been dead and cold in his chest into overdrive. for the first time in years, his heart races not from anger or adrenaline but from something else he’d long forgotten the feeling of.

iv.

four days pass by and Crocodile once again feels a strange sensation in his chest but this time it’s from worry.

within the course of an evening, you’d gone from perfectly healthy to deathly ill. first you’d collapsed after dinner–nearly hitting your head on the cold tiled floor had he not been fast enough to catch you–before a dangerously high fever started to set in. without hesitation, as he carried you to your quarters, the Warlord demanded for the best of Alabasta’s doctors and nurses to make their way over immediately.

now as the moon hangs high in the desert sky, its light shining through your windows just enough to illuminate your room barely, you find yourself accompanied by the Warlord himself. sitting quietly in a chair set beside your bed, you watch him as he reads a folder full of documents, using only the moonlight casting in as his source of light.

you feel terribly hot and extremely cold at the same time as you lay under the weight of your comforter, a wet towel resting on your forehead. your throat feels dry no matter how much water you drink so you’ve long since stopped asking for more–now only drinking when he periodically offers a glass to you.

in your fevered haze, you faintly recall some instances after you’d collapsed: the feeling of strong arms carrying you away, holding you close to a warm chest; the anger in a familiar voice it barked orders at others; the feeling of a large hand caressing your cheek as you laid barely awake.

“she will be okay, thankfully we made it in time to pump all the poison out of her system,” the leading doctor shared with Crocodile outside your bedroom door after a grueling few hours of medical care.

“poison?” the Warlord furrowed his eyebrows.

“yes, Sir Crocodile, we found a large trace of various poisonous substances in her stomach. frankly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

“is my face really that amusing to stare at?” he asks in a tone that lacks any bite as he directs his attention to you.

“you are quite handsome,” you admit with a weak smile. he feels his face warm up and hopes it at least doesn’t show on his skin. “you frown too much, though.”

“oh, really?”

“yeah. especially tonight.” you slowly take in a deep breath only to start coughing uncontrollably when the air gets lodged in your throat. Crocodile responds quickly but without haste, handing you a fresh glass of water as you sit yourself up. you drink it all before continuing to speak. “you’ve been frowning in a sort of angry way ever since the doctors left… what’s wrong?”

the Warlord takes a moment to look at you. there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin and the bags under your eyes look the darkest they’ve ever been since he met you, frankly you look terrible but at least you’re alive. as much as he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why your survival makes him feel so relieved, he’s too smart to be fooled even by himself.

“you nearly died from an assassination attempt.” Crocodile hands you the folder he’d been pouring over while you rested. “i sent my best agents to investigate after the doctors told me you’d been poisoned.”

although your eyes burn with exhaustion, you managed to scan through all the documents with ease. you feel your already-weakened heart twist in a bizarre mixture of sadness, indignation and resignation as you learned the truth of your near-death experience.

“the World Government must’ve thought i was quite the threat to send Cipher Pol 8 after me, huh?” you say, laughing half-heartedly as you hand the folder back to Crocodile. “i guess i must’ve defected without realising.” you speak with an air of nonchalance that piques the man’s interest.

“knowing the World Government, you’ll probably have a bounty on your head once they realise you lived.”

“i know,” you sigh, “the smart thing to do would be to leave Alabasta once i’m all better, don’t you think? i will miss keeping an eye on you, though.” the way you’re looking at him as you wait for his response is strangely playful and he feels the initial pang of disappointment morph instead into a tiny bit of hope.

“join me,” Crocodile says exactly what he knows you want to hear. “i happen to have grown quite fond of being watched by you.” you smile widely and it sends his heart into a fit.

“join Baroque Works?”

“no.” he reaches out to grab your clammy hand, engulfing it with his much larger one; with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the Warlord brings it up to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “not Baroque Works, join me. stay by my side.”

“i’d like nothing more.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader

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vonlycaonwife · 2 months ago

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Omg i love eeevvverryy thing about ur writing so could you pleassee please (if you want to ofc ♡) write some headcanons with lighter, lycaon, seth + whoever you want! where reader loves teasing them? like yknow when you have a crush on someone and you're always like playfully hating on them? like "damn u missed that, u suck!"

I honestly had a bit of trouble writing this because I was having trouble if what you meant was mainly teasing or not? So I may have ended up with that tonaly in my writing just a heads up!

Warnings: semi suggestive with Jane's

Honestly with Lycaon it's a mixed bag?

Like depending on the scene he either shuts it down, like when working for example, or plays off of it expertly, which I can imagine is when he's specifically not working.

So I would just suggest being cautious and know when it's appropriate to do that.

But! To expand on what I said earlier about him playing off of your teasing. I can imagine if you're smaller than him, he would just use his larger frame to tease you back.

In a romantic context he would just lean over and, if no one is around to see, pin you against a wall. He wouldn't do anything, just look down at you until you got too flustered to say more.

Though in a more platonic setting the most he would do is most likely pick you up and walk around with you over his shoulders, because that's the easiest way to shut you up.

With Seth I feel like he would take it to heart too much? Like don't get me wrong, I'm sure he can read the tone perfectly and know you're just teasing.

But something is just telling me that in his brain, his logic is a sort of “why say something potentially hurtful even if in a playful manner?”

To reiterate, he knows it's all in good fun, but I can see him with this blank face processing your teasing for a moment before playfully rolling his eyes as he tries to brush it off. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.

He wouldn't really mention when it starts to bother him, mainly because he knows that's just how some people interact.

Though I'm sure you would know when to quit it if you do notice it bothering him.

Oh this girl eats. It. Up!

She's absolutely playing along with your game and even playing dirty tactics like physical teasing.

Doesn't matter if you're in a romantic or platonic relationship with her, she teases everyone with her lithe fingers. You'd expect her to go easy on you? Ha! She wouldn't play fair like that.

The only reason she would is if you are uncomfortable with physical touch in all honesty, but then that just lets her be more creative with other forms of teasing.

For example, using her own good looks. I mean, we can all admit she's hot right? (Lord I would let her do so much-) And she knows this, so I can see her “innocently” doing some things as she's in a tease war with you.

Like taking her jacket off, or repositioning her crossed legs. Honestly she could do it in such a subtle way you wouldn't even think she's doing it on purpose until later.

Honestly she's having a lot of fun with this, probably more fun than you are. (I salute you soldier)

I feel like Lighter is somehow a combination of everyone above?? Don't ask me how exactly it just feels right.

Like I can see him only acknowledging it when on downtime, but also thinking similarly to Seth in terms of “I don't get it but I know it's not actually insulting me”. But also instead of brushing it off he plays off of it like Jane, though less suggestive.

I mean it would work with his whole cool guy persona, playing off of someone lightly teasing him and dishing it back out.

I can just see the shit eating grin he has when he's doing a back and forth. He wouldn't be as good at it as Jane with his own teasing, but I can see him going the more goofy route.

Like exaggerating the ‘coolness’ with almost cringey phrases, but not too cringey to kill his reputation if overheard, and maybe even flexing his muscles if you're into that. (I am)

#zenless zone zero x reader #von lycaon x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #seth lowell x reader #jane doe (zzz) x readrr #zzz jane doe #von lycaon #zzz von lycaon #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #seth lowell #zzz seth

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midnightbluebells03 · 11 months ago

Note

you should totally do reader x abby where she accidentally mentions marrying reader when using her strap on her.

SPUR OF THE MOMENT

CW - SMUT minors dni!, strap on (R! Receiving), reader is called good girl, talks of marriage (obvs), hair pulling, strap is called a dick once

Readers appearance isn't described (atleast I don't think it is), no use of y/n

About 800 wc

No outbreak

Send me request so I can try and get out my writing funk pls and thx

You can't even remember how long it's been since you two started. Abby came home a couple of hours ago, but since then, you've barely separated. What started as 'innocent' kisses while you made dinner had turned into this. Your face shoved into the softness of Abby's pillow, your legs starting to tremble, and hickies sprawled across your skin. As your girlfriend was positioned behind you with one hand pressed onto your lower back, her strap moving relentlessly in and out of your dripping hole. Dirty blonde hair sticking to her forehead as her sweat pools on her defined muscles. She always said fucking you was her favourite workout. And she meant it.

Abby's hips move at a steady pace, just enough to turn you into a mess but not enough to finish you off. It's purposeful, like all her moments. She just wanted to look at you a little longer, the way your back arched, and you desperately tried to back into her. Stopped by her grasp so all you could do was take what she gave you.

Her free hand comes to grip your hair, giving it a light tug and pulling your head back. Forcing a loud moan that had been sitting in your throat out as her lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. "Such a good fucking girl for me hmm?" Abby coos only getting a whimper from you in response, her grip tightens as she starts to fuck into you deeper, faster. Hitting just the right spot while you moan so loud you're worried about the neighbours hearing.

But as soon she she starts talking you forget all about it.

"I'm gonna make you my wife one day." it's more like she's talking to herself, mumbling in that deep voice she gets when she's claiming you. When her brain goes blank and all she can focus on is the sounds you make. The noise of your wet pussy as her strap continues to make you see stars. If she was any further away you might not have caught it. But the idea alone makes your face heat up and a whine escape your lips. "So fucking perfect for me, need you to be mine". You hadn't really talked about marriage, in all honesty you were afraid Abby wasn't into the concept at all. But her babbling in your ear is definitely clearing it up. "Just mine forever".

That's what sends you over the edge. "Abby!" You clentch hard around the strap, your orgasm rushing over you as Abby keeps talking you through it.

"There you go" she drops your hair as her hands move to rest on both sides of your waist. Pulling you backwards into her as you try but fail to muffle yourself with the pillow below. "Good girl, good fucking girl cum all over my dick".

Her movements slow once you finish, you let out a soft whimper as she pulls out. Leaving you clenching around nothing before turning onto your back. Your forearm comes over your eyes as you listen to Abby move around the room. The sounds of her cleaning and putting away the strap before she heads to your onsuite to grab a towel with warm water are what you've become accustomed to. So when a strong hand taps your leg, you don't even have to look. Just spread them slowly as Abby cleans you up. Peppering soft kisses along your inner thighs as she whispers softly.

"You did so good baby" once she's finished she throws the towel into the bathroom sink, deciding to deal with it later. "Just perfect"

Abby slumps down beside you, breathing heavily still while staring up at the ceiling. Slowly your brain catches up with what she said, you sit up quickly startling her slightly.

"What?" She asks confused, her hand now resting on your lower back. Rubbing small circles with her thumb.

You blink hard, looking down at her. Taking in everything, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. The way her hair is now wavy from being taken out the braid you had ruined. The way she looks at you with such a soft eyes. It makes you melt.

"You wanna marry me?" You ask softly, almost afraid to say it in case she didn't really mean it.

Abby's face turns red. She doesn't break the eye contact between you two as she nods timidly. "Oh um...yeah yeah I do" clearly your shocked expression was making her nervous because she gets this worried look on her face. Eyebrows knitted slightly. "Do you-"

"Abs" you say with a sweet tone. Watching has her expression softens before repositioning yourself to lay on her chest "Mrs Anderson, the Andersons"

"The Andersons" she repeats, pulling you closer and placing a kiss to your head.

#lesbian #wlw #fanfic #smut #writer #writing #tlou #request #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #the last of us

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jarofstyles · 9 months ago

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Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

----

Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again?

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely.

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll?

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched.

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left.

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it.

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;)

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon.

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days.

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned.

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was.

H: fineeee. I’ll be good.

For now.

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up.

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again.

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late

H: oooo, a hot date?

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour.

His smirk quickly fell.

She was going on a date? With fucking who?

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him.

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy.

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap.

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin.

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him.

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that.

That sneaky little minx.

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?”

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.”

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?”

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!”

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought.

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where.

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so.

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :(

H: y/n, cmon

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #Fratrry #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfics #frat boy harry #frat harry styles

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redcrescentmoons · 10 months ago

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Can you write a fic where Logan (If you write for him ofc if not, it could be Max, too) meets reader (Reader could be a celebrity of some kind like an actor or a NASCAR driver) in a gala or fancy event and it's kind of just love at first sight. For the rest of the event Logan/ Max tries to ask the reader out maybee? :3

It would be pretty cool but I'm pretty sure this idea has already been used countless times already buuuuut it would be pretty cool though

Thanks for reading this :D

Can’t keep my eyes off you

Logan Sargeant x gn!actor!reader

Note: You didn’t specify a reader gender (I write male and gender neutral readers) so I made it gender neutral but I can change it on request

In all honesty, Logan had never been a fan of all the fancy events he had to go to. He understood what it meant for him and for the team of course, but that didn’t mean they were his cup of tea.

Luckily for him, Alex was there too, and he knew that meant they could spend the entire evening chatting and waiting for the event to come to an end.

They weren’t the only Formula 1 drivers there; and frankly, apart for Lewis, most of them wanted to leave as well.

And so Logan stuck to his group, the people he saw every week, because it was better then socializing.

As they talked in their corner, drinks in hand, Logan fidgeted around; his suit was too uncomfortable, it was too warm in the crowded room, his dress shoes were squishing his feet.

A late arrival had everyone turning their heads: it was a very good-looking person, one that Logan didn’t recognize, but captured his attention nonetheless.

His fidgeting stopped; he went completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, as he observed the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he was whispered to Alex, in hopes of getting some information about the stranger.

"Oh them? That’s Y/N L/N, they’re a super famous actor, I can’t believe you don’t know who they are."

So that was your name and job down. But what else could he learn about you? He had already been scolded by his team principal for using his phone too much during events, so that was ruled out.

He settled for the closest thing he could find to Wikipedia: his friends.

"What do you know about that person? Y/N L/N?" he asked the entire group.

They started blurting out random things, from your nationality to the name of your pet, and put together the information was actually quite a bit. Impressive for who he was asking.

But there was one question Logan still wanted to ask.

"And are they, by any chance, into men?" His mumbled question still managed to get picked up by his group, luckily, because he didn’t think he could say it again.

"Yes don’t worry" said Charles, the only one to have met him before "And they’re single too" the monegasque added, winking at Logan.

A slight blush spread on the American’s cheeks at being teased; and yet he couldn’t help but think about the actor, even as the conversation switched subjects.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across the room, to where you were stood, looking perfect, greeting those who came and talked to you.

Logan wondered if there was a chance he would be one of those people, to confidently walk up to you and just start a conversation.

But that wasn’t really him, was it? As much as he liked to exhibit a confident personality in interviews and such he couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

And so Logan settled for observation from afar, at least for a little bit.

He listened to what his friends were saying distractedly, half listening and the other half of his mind consumed by the stranger.

It was so unlike him, to see someone for the first time and completely fixate on them, and yet he just couldn’t help it.

Even when he tore his gaze from you it always wandered back, like a magnet. He kept thinking about what it would be like to talk to you, to actually be close, and in that moment there was nothing Logan wanted more.

He had completely spaced out, staring at you from across the room, until Max brought him back into the conversation with a "What do you think Logan?" that he honestly couldn’t respond to.

His friends laughed, finding his cluelessness funny, while filling him in on what he had missed. While he actually listened this time, Charles moved closer to Logan and whispered in his ear "Shoot your shot. Just trust me."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t helpful, given Charles was the only one to have met you before, and yet that just wasn’t enough to convince him to do it.

He turned away from their little side conversation to join back into the groups, shooting you a glance while he could.

Each time he saw your smiling face he thought about how inviting and nice you looked and how easy it would be for him to actually talk to you, and yet he still chickened out.

It was nearly two hours later now and Logan hadn’t stopped thinking about the actor for a second.

He was afraid of the evening coming to an end without him having talked to you, and it filled him with dread.

He went down the rabbit hole in his mind: What if he never did talk to you? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to stop thinking about you, and knew he would regret not speaking to you if he didn’t. And yet he remained afraid.

That was until Logan looked over to where he had seen you last and didn’t find you there. He looked around the large event venue, unable to find you, getting worried you had left already and he had missed his chance.

He was beginning to spiral, until he felt someone’s arm brushing against his own; no wait, someone was hugging Charles from behind. Logan didn’t think much of it until he realized it was your arm against his, and he began to blush madly.

You hadn’t seen Charles in a while, and you couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but people kept getting in your way, asking about you and telling you their opinions about their latest movies. And frankly, you wanted to check out the cute blonde boy standing next to your monegasque friend.

Logan watched you pull away from Charles, who messed with your hair playfully the moment he realized it was you.

You slotted yourself in between Charles and Logan as Charles introduced you to everyone, and Logan could feel his heart beating faster.

You started chatting with the whole group, getting to know the friends Charles had promised to introduce you to long ago.

Logan stayed quiet, admiring your beauty, and wondering if it was appropriate to pull you aside to talk privately.

Ultimately he decided it couldn’t be that bad, and when the conversation took a turn and you stayed quiet he pulled you aside, not far, just enough for a little bit of privacy.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but followed suit as Logan pulled you a couple meters away from the other drivers.

"Hi! I’m Logan, we didn’t get to talk much." yep, that was a good opening line.

As Logan started his conversation he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you, entranced by your voice and personality.

Eventually he told himself he had to do it and, during the conversation, he blurted out "Do you want to go out with me?"

He wasn’t very happy with how he had done it, but knew the nerves had just taken over. He hoped it hadn’t put you off.

"I would love to" you said, smiling gently at him. He realized that wasn’t your fake smile, the one you were giving those that greeted you earlier; he felt special: he had caused your genuine smile, and he was the one that got to see it.

Little did you both know his entire group had been listening, and began to cheer as you both exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact, right as the event came to an end.

You walked outside with Logan, Charles and their friends, Logan still smiling as he talked to you.

As you stepped in your own car, and they went to theirs individually, you said goodbye, and Logan watched you until the very moment he couldn’t anymore, excited at the prospect of your future date.

He was glad he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you.

#f1 x male reader #formula 1 #x male reader #x male y/n #formula 1 x male reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x male reader #logan sargeant x reader #gn reader #request #idrk how to tag this

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ibetonlosinghuskies · 8 months ago

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patience and pleasure pt 5

summary: the morning after the party, paige and azzi grapple with their feelings. as they navigate the aftermath of their shared moment, both struggling to read each others' emotions and define their relationship.

cw: fluff, slight angst.

disclaimer: everything i write is fictional, any and all similarities to real life is not intensional.

word count 4.7k +

author's note: ik yall are fed up with my melodramatic ass i’m sorry 😭

paige's pov:

the morning light through my blinds is harsh and telling. the events of last night flood my mind. slow dancing in the street, pleading her to hear me out.

i remember everything.

the hurt in azzi's eyes, gentle and hopeful. her kiss on my forehead felt more like a goodbye than anything else. a rush of embarrassment courses through me. all my desperation for nothing.

years of carefully towing the line between friendship and something more, all undone by my alcohol fueled vulnerability. this wasn't to say i didn't mean it, though. i felt a strange relief that night, even if she hadn't believed me, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

i should text her and apologize.

my fingers hover over the screen, debating what i should say. what do i even tell her after all of this? i'm left without words, everything i've ever wanted to say, was said last night.

the words i want to type burn in my throat: "i meant every word i said."

but i can't bring myself to do it. the memory of azzi's pained expression, filled with a slight pity. her gentle rejection, while seemingly reluctant, stops me cold.

what if i tell her i remember and it ruins everything? what if my honesty costs me the most important person in my life?

my chest tightens, an anxiety builds between my ribs. and to make matters worse, i'm definitely hungover from last night.

maybe it's better if i just pretend i forgot.

the thought of denying my feelings feels like a betrayal—both to azzi and to myself. i've spent years hiding my feelings, making them smaller, more manageable. but now that they're out in the open, how can i possibly go back from that?

my mind races with possible messages to send her, each one feeling like a step backward. maybe this is what she wants? maybe azzi doesn't feel the same and was just trying to spare my feelings? give me an out, an opportunity to forget and move on.

she wouldn't let me tell her i was in love with her.

the phrase still lingers on my tongue, catching in my throat. i need to think logically here, but my mind is fuzzy and filled with what-ifs.

the next few days blur together in a haze of anxiety and embarrassment. every time my phone buzzed, my heart skipped a beat, hoping it was her.

i tried everything to keep my mind off of her. i spent hours on the court, lobbing up the ball. my performance was lacking, my body reflecting my mind. i ran drills until my legs burned and my lungs ached.

i couldn't outrun my feelings.

i prayed that god would save me from this. give me the right words, the courage to speak to her. i begged god to take her away from me if it wasn't meant to be.

every time i closed my eyes to pray, i saw her face.

i had a few days between the end of the season and training camp, so i went back home to minnesota. packing away all of my emotions in a carry-on bag. thinking that if i pretend to forget long enough, maybe i really will.

i can leave everything here, all of my mistakes, left behind in storrs.

i should be happy to see my family, especially after so long. i've missed them immensely, but as we greet each other, my mind still wanders to her.

"welcome home, paigey!" drew calls from the driveway, standing between my mother's legs. my heart aches, he's gotten taller since i last saw him.

"hi guys," i greet them both, my voice steadier than i felt. they helped me carry my bags into the house. it came naturally to them, after years of supporting me through tournaments and travel. but this time was different. this time, they were carrying more than just clothes and basketball shoes.

deep within those zippers—the heartache, the regret, my unspoken truth. everything i tried to leave behind.

the weight of my baggage laden on my family's shoulders.

the rest of the day, we fall into a familiar rhythm. mom's home-cooked meals, drew's relentless teasing, the comfort of my childhood bedroom. it was easy to slip back into the role of their little girl, a hometown prodigy, untouched by my mistakes of today. it's almost enough to make me forget about everything.

but during family dinners, i'd zone out, wondering what azzi was doing. checking her socials, even though i knew she wouldn't post. was she thinking of me? did she miss me? was this killing her too? i felt guilty for being so absent-minded from my family but i couldn't stop it.

they're my family but azzi was my home.

i went to bed feeling heavy. our days of no contact burdening my heart. it's the worst at night; i haven't been able to sleep much.

the darkness of my childhood bedroom felt suffocating. the walls closing in on me with the momentum only fear brings. my sheets tangle between my legs as i toss and turn. the bright red numbers of my alarm clock taunt me, blinking with expectation.

2:17 AM. i stared at the ceiling. my room so dark, i couldn't tell if my eyes were open.

i miss her voice.

the way she'd whisper to me in the dark of my bedroom. her words like a blanket, soft and heavy.

3:34 AM. i grab my phone, scrolling through our last text. my thumb twitches over her contact.

i miss her touch.

the calmness she carries in her fingertips. the way she ordered my body with just the stillness of her hands.

4:22 AM. i tuck my knees into my chest, burying my head between them. without her, i feel like a kid again.

i miss her eyes.

a knowing spark that glistened at me occasionally, cutting through her poised resolve. the way her eyes lightened when it caught flickers of sunlight, my little pool of honey.

caught in the small space between her eyelashes, i drifted to sleep. it'd only been an hour or two when i heard my phone ding. reflexively, my heart races, hoping it's her.

i reach for my phone, my heart stopping for a moment as i read the text.

surprise hits me first. azzi's family had always been like a second family to me, but her timing is insane.

then comes a wave of dread. would it be weird? azzi and i haven't spoken in three days, not that i've been counting. our last interaction burned in my mind. does azzi even want me there? had she told her parents what happened?

hope flutters in my chest. maybe this is a chance to mend things, to be normal for a night. the thought is interrupted by a creeping sense of doubt in my gut.

what if azzi doesn't even know i'm invited?

my fingers hover over the keyboard. part of me wants to accept immediately, desperate for any connection to azzi. but another part of wants to decline, to shield myself from confrontation.

as a middle ground, i like the message. giving myself time to debate my decision. this dinner invitation feels like a crossroads. whatever i decide, it could change everything. again.

azzi's pov:

the familiar creek of the third step on the staircase takes me back. my grandparents' house held a special place in my heart. maybe it was the cozy 70's bohemian style that carried through their decor.

maybe it was the fact that it's only twelve minutes from paige's house.

i've been waiting for her to reach out first. after that night, after everything she said, i didn't know where her head was.

god, i feel awful.

i let my fear shut her down. i should have let her finish, should've told her i feel the same. she tried to tell me she's in love with me, words i'd been dying to hear since we were fifteen.

i tried to keep my mind off it, but the guilt was eating me alive. i threw myself into anything else, impatient to relieve this feeling.

i spent hours with my headphones on, letting the music drown out my thoughts.

but every song was about her.

the lyrics distorted to say her name, echoing through the cavern of my heart. i heard her soft breath between beats, real and steady. guitar chords mimicking the hum of her content.

when the silence became too much, i read for hours. clinging to the words on the page, desperate for them to take me away from this reality. i'd almost finished two whole books in the span of three days.

but every story mirrored our own.

i was living between the pages of my favorite romance novels. the missed connections and unspoken tension, all much too real to bring me any comfort.

every distraction felt hollow in comparison to my guilt. a persistent shadow, clouding everything i do.

the happiness that i used to find so easily, died on her lips that night.

the afternoon sun filtered through my curtains, i set the table, getting ready for dinner.

"azzi?" my mom calls from the kitchen while washing the dishes. "i was thinking you and grandma can make some of those chocolate chip cookies paige loves," her voice nonchalant.

my heart flutters when i hear her name, and before i can say anything, she continues. "i invited her over for dinner tonight," she says smiling.

paige. here. tonight. as in a few hours from now, tonight.

"what?" i choke out, my mind racing.

my mom misreads my panic for excitement. "i've missed her, you remember all the summers she's spent here," she says, looking back down at the dishes.

how could i possibly forget?

i sprinted back upstairs, my thoughts spinning. she was going to be here. sitting at my dining room table, looking as beautiful as always. after everything that happened.

i imagined all the different ways tonight could go. what if she doesn't want to see me? what if i ruined everything?

i hope she meant everything she said.

my thoughts shifted to my appearance. if tonight really was going to be the night i finally open up to her, i needed to look nice. i tear through my closet, clothes littering my floor.

i settle on a soft pink sweater. she once told me she liked the fabric, she'd run her fingers down my spine melodically.

maybe she'd reach out to touch me tonight.

my hands shake slightly as i apply my mascara. i fan out my eyelashes, i wanted her to look at me. when i get to my lipgloss, i'm reminded of her. all these little moments we'd share, carried a new heaviness after her confession. i dab a bit of concealer under my eyes, hoping to create an illusion of peace i don't feel.

i stare at myself in the mirror, imagining finally meeting her eyes. rehearsing what i might say to her.

"i'm sorry. i should've let you finish. i feel the same way."

the words blend together in my head, like a mantra. i'm going to get it right this time.

i take a deep breath, attempting to steady my heart rate. tonight could change everything, for good this time. if she remembers, if she still wants me, i'm hers.

i'll tell her everything.

i hear a car door slam outside. she's here. a combination of fear and hope stirs in my stomach. we can make things right.

i run down the stairs to open the door. our eyes lock, and my world falls away from me. there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, looking just as vulnerable as she did that night. her lips parted slightly, the ghost of her confession haunting her expression. her eyes soften, just for a second, before she catches herself.

"hey, az," she says, her voice a little too casual. "it's been a while."

we hug awkwardly, our bodies stiff with the burden of unspoken words. "yeah," i say into her shoulder. i'm upset with myself, i still can't find the words.

instead, i just hold her a bit tighter. a firm grip on her shirt, i feel her heartbeat race against my chest. for a moment, i think she might pull away, but then i feel it—her finger, tracing down my spine, dancing over my vertebrae through the soft fabric of my sweater.

just when i begin to melt into her touch, she pulls back, holding me at arm's length. when we part, there's a soft pink flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before. she flashes me an awkward smile, raising her eyebrows slightly, before leaving to greet my family.

does she remember? is this her way of telling me?

we held on for a moment too long, our embraces lingering past the point of a casual greeting. i'm left standing right where she left me, my skin still tingling where she'd touched. the motion of her fingers, like morse code on my spine, a message i'm desperate to decode.

i watch as she effortlessly charms my family, slipping back into the role as their favorite. the floor buzzes underneath my feet with an undercurrent of tension.

paige belongs here, she always has.

at dinner, we sit next to each other, our elbows almost touching. i swear these chairs were not this close together when i set the table.

as everyone settles in, an uncomfortable silence falls upon the table. i catch my dad shooting my mom a look, gesturing for her to say something. she returns the look, annoyed, then looks down at her plate. she opens her mouth to speak but my grandma cuts her off.

"azzi, honey, you never bring any nice boys around. haven't met anyone special yet?" she smiles between mouthfuls.

boys? huh.

paige nearly chokes on her food, a smirk flickering across her lips. regaining her composure, she glances at me, holding in a laugh. her eyes are wide, filled with anticipation, eager for my response.

she can't help herself, chiming in, "yeah, azzi. no cute boys catching your eye?" her voice drips with mock innocence. i catch her tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, a gesture of pure arrogance. she tilts her head to the side, eyes searching my face.

god, she looks hot when she's being cocky like this.

"i been...busy. you know how it gets in college," i avoid her eyes, careful not to let my thoughts show. but inside, i'm screaming.

i do have someone special. she's sitting right next to me.

my grandma doesn't let up, clearly amused by the topic. "come on, a pretty girl like you? what about that nice boy from the men's team?"

i feel a heat burn through my face, spreading down my neck. i bounce my leg anxiously, trying to find a way to change the topic.

she continues, "i'm just saying, honey. love is a beautiful thing." her eyes shift to paige now. "you shouldn't let it pass you by," she examines our response.

i look up to meet her eyes, attempting to speak up again, when i feel it suddenly. paige's hand rests on my thigh, a bit higher than my knee, slowing my nervous shake to a stop. the placement feels almost suggestive, more intimate than our usual touch.

my breath catches for a moment, and i become aware of the warmth of her palm against my skin. she speaks with her hands, for the second time tonight, stroking her thumb in a sweet, yet somewhat possessive gesture. she gives me a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"she brings me around, am i not special, grandma fudd?" paige interjects, pouting; her voice playful but sincere.

she speaks with intention and a hint of something—protection? possession?

my grandma's face lights up like this was the reaction she's wanted the whole time. "oh, of course you are, sweetheart." her eyes darting between us, "i've always thought you two share something very...unique."

the way she says the word 'unique' makes my stomach flip. had she seen it all this time? had everyone seen it? were we the last two to notice?

paige's hand remains on my thigh, a comforting weight. i cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. a silent thank you.

the rest of dinner goes smoothly, chatting about old memories and stories. i'm desperate to know what's going through paige's mind. i notice the little things:

the way our hands brush when she passes me the salt, our fingers meeting for a moment too long.

the stolen glances when she thinks i'm not looking. the way her eyes flutter when i catch her looking.

how she stumbles over her words when they ask about our last hangout, avoiding eye contact.

the way she tenses up when our knees touch underneath the table, but she doesn't move away.

each moment is a contradiction of the last. her actions are a slow waltz—a push and pull between familiarity and distance. by the end of the night, i'm convinced she remembers. but something inside her keeps pushing it away.

i don't wanna pretend anymore.

after a few hours of this, i know i can't let this continue for much longer. we need to talk, really talk. and soon.

paige's pov:

"can we talk?" azzi's voice is soft and hesitant. my heart skips a beat, a familiar palpitation i've felt around her for years.

i nod, following her up the familiar stairs to her childhood bedroom. the staircase is lined with family photos, filled with memories i've been trying so hard to forget—or pretend to forget.

how can i truly forget when azzi's smile in these pictures makes my chest tighten? she's been missing from my heart for years, it swells at the thought of her.

azzi shuts the door behind us gently, my eyes scan her bedroom. it hasn't changed much, still leaking with her personality. her bedroom walls are covered in photos of us, a tapestry of memories.

i catch sight of an old film camera. azzi's grandma had given it to us right before i moved to storrs. the sight of it brings a rush of emotions from that night i'm not prepared for.

"you still have this?" i ask, lifting the camera. it feels heavier than i anticipated, or maybe i just feel weak under azzi's gaze.

she unravels me in just a few blinks.

her eyes soften, "yeah, of course. we used to take that thing everywhere."

my heart aches at the memory—taking the camera to games, practices, summer trips. i liked the challenge of capturing her beauty between tiny frames of film. though, no photo could ever truly capture the extent of her allure, i had fun trying. i'll always be her photographer, and she'll always be my perfect model.

"do you remember the first roll we ever shot on here?" i tilted the camera, my voice softer than i intended.

"yeah," she says, pointing to a set of photos on the left side of her wall.

i lean in to look at a photo of myself, mouth full of azzi's grandmas' cookies. i'm smiling at the camera, my happiness driven by azzi standing on the other side of the lens.

we were so young.

as i look at the photo, memories flood back. azzi watches my expression, noticing my composure change. "we captured some good memories that night..." she trails off, deep in thought.

like our first kiss.

that was probably one of the best decisions i've ever made. the memory washes over me, warm and bittersweet. the softness of her lips, the slight tremor in her breath. we were so young, so nervous, yet so sure in that moment.

it was simple then. our feelings existed in the small space between our lips, protected from the outside world. i didn't have to put words to the flutter in my chest or the warmth in my cheeks.

loving azzi was as natural as breathing, just as essential too.

i miss the simplicity of it all. i could love her without the burden of expectation. i'd prove it to her eagerly, in everything i did. holding her hair back when she drank too much. folding her clothes cause she hated doing laundry. reading her favorite books, desperate to understand her mind.

our love was in the details—the way she'd adjust my form in practice, save the last of her favorite snacks for me, read to me so i could fall asleep.

loving her has always been the easiest thing. it's everything else that's gotten so complicated.

i want someone, something to blame for this. is this just how things get as you age? the simplicity of love becoming frustratingly far away. maybe it was time, the pressure of sports, or maybe this was bound to happen. maybe we were always meant to put words to these feelings—to call it out boldly by it's name.

maybe it's time.

everything from that night reappears in my mind, this time under a different lens. the thoughtful box of memories azzi gave me that night—had she felt the same way all this time?

i glance at azzi, noticing a sudden change in her expression. she looks like she's just remembered something important, her eyes widening slightly. she starts to pick at her fingers nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"hey, paige?" azzi asks, still looking down at her hands. "did you ever finish that book i gave you that night?" her voice brimmed with nervousness. she radiated an emotion i couldn't quite place, clinging to my response like it will save her from her feelings.

i shake my head, feeling a little guilty. "not quite. i saved the last chapter."

i learned that from her actually. the way she cherished the things she loved, always saving them for the right time.

azzi's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and anticipation washing over her. "you should read it," she says quickly, her voice carrying an urgency that confused me.

she hesitates before continuing, her eyes closing for a moment in a long blink. "about the other night, when you said..."

my body goes cold. my drunken confession. i panic, the fear of confronting my feelings overwhelms me.

what if she's just trying to let me down easy? what if i misread everything?

"oh, yeah?" i force out a laugh. "i hope i didn't say anything too embarrassing, you know how i get when i drink."

i can't risk it again. i'm sorry, azzi.

azzi's face falls slightly, but she quickly masks it. her eyelids flutter, she stares at the floor. i can see the thoughts flickering through her mind. she sees right through me.

"no, no you weren't embarrassing," her voice lowering to a whisper. she locks eyes with me now, intent on making me hear her. "you were actually quite...poetic."

i'm no poet, i was just speaking from the heart.

i swallow hard, knowing she's giving me another opportunity. but i resist, remembering the pity in her eyes that night. "poetic, huh? that doesn't sound like drunk me at all," i joke weakly.

azzi narrows her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side. "you don't remember anything at all?" she questions.

i refuse to meet her gaze, "it's all pretty fuzzy, az."

i'm lying, and we both know it. but i can't bear to see that look of pity in her eyes again.

she takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated. she mutters an "okay" underneath her breath.

the sound of rain pattering against the window fills the silence between us. i hadn't even noticed the storm brewing outside, too caught up in the storm of emotions in this room.

"listen, it's getting late i should go," i say, my voice strained like i'd been screaming, even though i hadn't said anything at all.

as i turn to leave, azzi calls out, her voice soft yet determined. "paige, you can talk to me...when you're ready."

god, she's still so sweet to me. i don't deserve it, not now.

i pause at the door, guilt coursing through me. i know she sees through my lie, knows i remember everything. she knew the moment i stepped foot into this house. she could see it in the softness in my eyes, feel it beneath my fingertips.

"thanks, az," i whisper, before walking down the stairs.

for a moment, i'm tempted. to stay, to talk, to finally be honest. but the fear of getting rejected again, of ruining what we have, is too strong.

katie stopped me as i headed for the door, "leaving already?" she looks a bit sad. "it's pouring out there, why don't you stay the night?"

and share a bed with azzi? after that conversation, absolutely not.

"thanks, but i'll be fine. it's not far," i insist, grabbing my keys.

as i head for the door, i catch a glimpse of azzi's face. hurt, confusion, and something else—disappointment?—flash across her features. but i can't stay.

i step out into the rain, letting it mask the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. my hands shake as i fumble with my car keys, nearly dropping them in a puddle.

i'm doing the right thing.

the mantra echoes in my mind as i slide into the driver's seat, but it rings hollow. i grip the steering wheel, willing myself to believe it.

i can't let my feelings for her get in the way of our friendship. i'd be selfish to put my emotions over our relationship again. i'd be anything she wants me to be—even if that's just a friend.

i'm doing the right thing.

i turn the key into the ignition, reversing out of her driveway. the intensity of the storm matching the turmoil in my heart as i drive away, leaving azzi and the truth behind.

i can't be wrong again. i can't bear the thought of her letting me down easy, telling me she doesn't feel the same.

i'm doing the right thing.

back at home, my guilt eats its way through my stomach. a relentless ache that promises a sleepless night. my eyes drift to my nightstand, where a worn copy of looking for alaska rests- the book azzi gave me years ago.

sometimes when i'd sleepover at her place, i'd pretend like i couldn't sleep so she could read to me. her voice soothing like a lullaby, i lost myself between her breaths. heavy and melodic, her cadence became my cough syrup, drifting me to sleep.

i flip open to the final chapter, determined to finally finish the book. memories flood back, the way her words coated my thoughts, i can almost hear it now, as i start to read.

i've put this off for so long. terrified of the ending, the finality of a precious memory between azzi and i. saving the final chapter for the right moment. maybe that moment is now.

as i turn the last page, a small slip of paper flutters out. simple yet somehow charged with potential. i unfolded the paper, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

azzi.

my heart pounds as i begin to read. the first few words hook me in, something all too familiar. my breath quickens, my lungs expanding like i'm breathing for the first time.

i didn't need to find the words, she already had. years ago.

by the time i finish, my hands are shaking. the room spins slightly. in a strange paradox of emotions. her words lifted a weight from my chest, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. yet simultaneously, a new weight settles on my shoulders—the gravity of what i need to do now.

how long had this been there? sitting on my nightstand, packed in a suitcase, tucked into a bookshelf. how many times have i almost read this, almost known?

i guess we've both been hiding something.

i leaped from my bed, grabbing my keys, slamming the door behind me. i was exhausted seconds ago, but now, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. i need to see her. to talk to her. to make it real.

we've wasted too much time already.

#`Spotify #pazzi #pazzi fic #pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #i bet on losing huskies #Spotify

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shadowdarlings · 8 months ago

Text

Rain & Redemption II

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : The Lord of Spring has returned, with his nightingale in tow. While readapting to civilized life you and Tamlin face reality together.

part one

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : so i am really digging the first part of this story and decided that i want to continue writing at 12:07am so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did <3

Warnings : slight angst (with comfort), mentions of trauma, suggestiveness, as always possessive tamlin (in a good way)

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Dinner with Tamlin was a drawn out affair. The deer he hunted down, no doubt in his beast form, had to be prepped and cooked. While he began dressing the fallen creature you took it upon yourself to begin sifting through the discarded and destroyed artifacts that littered the dining area. Although the manor had been shredded and abandoned, you couldn’t help but marvel at its refreshing beauty. Here there was light. Massive glass windows looked out to a rose garden that was surely once well manicured. The sun had already started its descent past the horizon but light still streamed in from every corner. The manor was everything that your home under that gods forsaken mountain wasn’t. The Hewn City was all darkness and stale air. You began sorting things into two piles. Items that were fairly unharmed were deemed “to keep”, others that had been completely torn apart were tossed into a discard pile. The two of you worked diligently in silence until he looked up from the deer and said, “You never told me your name.” You tore your gaze from the chipped vase in your hands and met his stare. “You never asked,” you began with a playful smugness, “but it’s Y/N.” Something unreadable flickered in his green eyes before a slight smirk cracked on his face. “Well, Y/N,” he said with a dramatic pause, “our dinner is ready to be cooked. How do you like your venison?”

You both agreed that without a working kitchen that a fire would be the best way to roast the deer. While he built a fire you toyed with an idea. “What if we preserved some of this beautiful bounty into something that will last beyond a night?” you asked him. Tamlin threw another piece of wood onto the makeshift fire and answered your question with his own. “As in a jerky? How do you mean?” That was exactly what you had meant. The future of your time in this manor and when you would next have a full meal was entirely uncertain. The topic had hardly been broached. “Unless you intend to spend the rest of your days hunting and building fires, it might be a prudent idea.” He looked you over before replying, “Smart, little bird. We’ll make two steaks for tonight and dry out the rest. It should preserve overnight and we can feast on jerky for weeks.” Satisfied with your quick thinking you helped him prepare the meat for roasting.

“What did you mean when you said you are not fit to be a ruler?” you asked after another bout of silence. Tamlin stilled his spinning of your dinner over the fire and his gaze shot to the flames between you. “I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “If I’m prying too much.” He did not look up from the inferno but said quietly, “I have abandoned my people and my post. Those who reside in the Spring Court put their faith in me. I have failed them again and again, in so many ways.” You blinked once at his brutal honesty before prodding further. “Will they not look to you once more? Surely there is a way to regain their trust.” His eyes moved from the fire to your own. They were filled with such sadness, such regret. “I would not know where to start, little nightingale.” You scoffed lightly as his response. “Well,” you began, “I think leaving those woods and coming home is already a start, wouldn’t you say? If you’re willing to return just to ensure the safety of a lone Night Court citizen, I can’t imagine what you might be willing to do for your people.” The sadness in his eyes faded ever so slightly as he said, “Since you’re so full of wisdom tonight, pray tell how might I continue this path of redemption?” You smiled at that.

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Tamlin was restless. Every time he started to fade away, sleep evaded him and he was jolted awake by poisoned memories. He had declared that he wanted to sleep outside the manor to stay alert for any looters or more dangerous creatures. He’d shifted into his beast form and taken post directly in front of the entrance just as night had overtaken the Spring Court. Truly, he was not sure if he was ready to sleep under this roof again. The two of you had talked for hours, discussing your histories and what the future of the Spring Court might look like. He’d escorted you to your room and bid you a gentlemanly goodnight, but your conversation replayed in his mind endlessly. A loose plan had been set in place to begin repairing his relations with those that depended on him. You had been so eager and determined while you both brainstormed ideas for making amends. He admired your tenacity yet was not fully convinced that this plan would work effectively. The thought made him queasy. His heart began a pace that tightened his chest and he was sure that if he’d been in his fae form that his palms would be sweaty. Tamlin shoved his anxieties down and recalled what you had told him about Rhysand, about how he’d condemned the entire Hewn City to a life of cruelty and rot. Although the idea of tomorrow sent him into an unending panic, he did not wish for you or any of his people to endure the same neglect for another moment.

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The morning light creeped in through the open window in your bedroom. It took a moment to recall everything that had happened, where you now were. The bedding had been dusty but a few shakes had it cleaner than before. You didn’t mind dirt, you’d spent a year lying on the forest floor. Waking up in a soft bed had become unfamiliar, but you relished the softness of the pillows and blankets before sitting to stretch your limbs. Moving to the armoire, you sifted through the clothing to find a pale green dress and a set of cream slippers. The outfit was plain but you didn’t particularly mind. Your mission for today did not require glittering attire. You fixed your hair into a loose braid and pulled two strands from the front to frame your face. After giving yourself a once over in the looking glass you deemed your appearance fit for the task at hand.

Tamlin was already dressed in a tunic and pants that were similar in style to the night before. You only gave yourself a moment to admire his wide shoulders before clearing your throat. He turned from his work on the piles you had created the night before and said “Good morning,” before he faltered. His eyes widened slightly and dragged up and down your figure. Meeting your gaze once more he choked out, “Well don’t we look the picture of Spring today?” You rolled your eyes at him and moved to take the picture frame from his hands. “We have a job to do, remember?” Tamlin huffed out a weak laugh before replying, “How could I ever forget?” He looked tired. You wondered if he slept as marvelously as you did. Considering that he spent the night on a set of marble stones you didn’t know how he possibly could.

The two of you moved outside to where the deer had been smoking overnight. Indeed it had preserved itself into a jerky that would remain edible for weeks. He started packing the strips into the wooden bin you had found in the kitchens when you said, “I have another idea.” He did not pause his movement or even look at you as he said, “Of course you do.” You pulled a basket from behind your back and waved it in front of his face to draw his attention. “I was thinking,” you began, “we should gather some flowers to take as well. These gardens are completely overrun. There are flowers and berries that need culling anyhow.” He straightened and assessed the gardens before the manor. “As you wish,” was all he said. Tamlin had been quieter than he was last night. You thought it best not to pry further and with his permission granted made your way into the thick of the garden and began collecting the fruits of spring.

When your basket was full and Tamlin had stored all of the dried meat you both began your trek to the nearest village. On horseback, he had told you, it would only take a half hour to reach your destination. After the fall of Spring his array of horses had all been stolen or set free by anonymous citizens. After two hours of walking the two of you were tired and parched. A nearby stream trickled with fresh water and you both drank deeply from its supply. “It’s just over that hill,” he said. The hike had been mostly silent. You were learning to enjoy quiet moments with the High Lord. It was almost as if you had a mutual understanding that the silence was not rude, but instead a peaceful reprieve. “No turning back now,” you said, standing from the stream and straightening your lightweight gown. He grunted in acknowledgment as you both continued your parade to the village.

The sight of the meager town was heartbreaking. Several houses and shops had fallen into rubble and the village center had looked as equally abandoned as the manor. Tamlin halted immediately, his breath quickening. Sensing his discomfort you moved to lace your fingers between his, squeezing tightly. The High Lord did not balk from your touch but instead gave a light squeeze back and continued his approach. The two of you reached a small home that had a plume of smoke rising from a stone chimney. A sign of life. Unlocking your hands you raised a fist and gave two sharp knocks to the wooden door. A few moments of shuffling and then the door swung open to reveal a gruff looking fae male. His eyes first landed on you, then travelled upwards to the towering Lord behind you. The male’s eyes widened with shock and reproach. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he spat at you both. You calmed the annoyance that flowed through you and made your voice gentle as you said, “I- We come to offer a favor to you and your home.” The male looked down at your basket and the dried jerky Tamlin held in his hand. “We don’t need your charity,” the male responded, “we’ve been fairing well enough on our own, girl.” A sweet voice sounded from further into the house, “Mikah? Who is it?” A pretty looking female stepped into the light of the entrance and put her hand on Mikah’s arm. When she turned her gaze to the two of you her expression almost mirrored the males’. “Our High Lord and his… this girl have brought favors.” She looked down to the goods you had presented and back to Mikah. “I told them we were just fine,” he said with a hint of finality in his tone. The female scoffed at him and observed the two of you once more. “We are most certainly not,” she started. “Invite him and the girl inside.” With that she turned and strode back into the house. Mikah gave Tamlin an incredulous look but opened the door further for you to enter.

The female’s name was Cera, you had learned. She fussed over dishes and refreshments as she lamented about their struggles. The village had been ripe for naga attacks and most residents had decided to evacuate the area for fear of their families. “Mikah did not want to leave, of course. He spends most of his days hunting, although they are not always fruitful.” You and Tamlin listened carefully to her story. There were only a few families that had stayed after his disappearance. They all struggled. You glanced over at Tamlin and were met with a stern face. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with despair. Underneath the modest wooden table you grasped his hand once more, turning your attention back to Cera. The four of you spoke for several hours. You and Tamlin expressed your willingness to help in any way you could with the naga and the rebuilding of the village. After exchanging the dried meats and gifts from your basket, the two of you made your way back to the front of their house. “Thank you for having us,” you said “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Cera reached out to pick up your hands. She looked at you then at Tamlin, her eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you for coming back. We need you,” she said. He nodded his head towards her and straightened as he said, “I could not have done it alone. It will take all of us to rebuild. I am thankful for your time.”

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Tamlin let out a heavy sigh when the two of you began your walk back to the manor. The day had been filled with conversations like the first he’d had with Mikah and Cera. The two of you had made your way to most of the families remaining in the village and presented your gifts as well as your pledges to restore their homes and lives. He was exhausted. Once the two of you had crested the hill overlooking the town he paused. You looked at him in curiosity. He was overwhelmed with emotions… gratitude, despair, grief, hopefulness, apprehension. Without thinking he grabbed your waist and pulled you close against his chest. He could hear your smooth, calming heartbeat. He breathed in your scent and closed his eyes. Only two days ago he had been more beast than man. Now he was walking on two legs and meeting with the people who had once trusted him. He felt your hands wrap around his middle as you nuzzled into him further. He could have stayed like this forever, but you pulled back looking up at him with those bright gorgeous eyes. “You did well today,” you said to him still in his grasp, “I’m proud of you.” Tamlin hadn’t heard such perfect words in a very long time.

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Taglist : @lilah-asteria @booksnwriting @stained-glass-eyes0708 @anxious-cactus @thrumbolt @jesskidding3 @acotarxreader @nocasdatsgay @scorpioriesling

#acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #tamlin redemption arc #tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin

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ynstark · 4 months ago

Text

His Angel - (Part One)

Title: His Angel (Part One)

Characters/Pairings: Post!Endgame!Steve Rogers x Female!Adoptive!Stark!Virgin!Reader

Summary: You confide in Steve that you're a virgin. He's honesty shocked, but maybe he can be you first and hopefully you last.

Reader is in her 20s and Steve is in his mid 30s.

Minors DNI! Please and thank you!

Contents/Warnings: explicit smut, use of the nickname Angel a lot, mentions of death, talks of a toxic father, kissing, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, hint of a praise kink, talks of intercourse, talks of sex!toy use, angst, aftercare, Steve has a little bit of an ego, it's tiny, hopefully I listed them all, If I didn't let me know!

Author's Note: Ummm Hi, so I wrote my first fanfic. I've been studying the dark arts for a while and decided to take a crack at it. I don't know the word count, it came out ridiculously long. I just wrote whatever came to my head. Takes place a year after Tony's Memorial. This is a one time thing and won't happen again because I don't think I could write something like this ever again. Edit: Well, I started writing a prequel which takes place right after Tony's Memorial. So 20 likes and I'll drop that, but this is not happening again. Edit, Edit: This is now going to be pt 1 and there will be a pt 2 on top of the prequel. I didn't mean to write a lot of backstory, but it happened. If you squint, Steve is a soft!dom. I didn't grammar check so I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. Do not repost my work anywhere. Likes and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. Peace and love, enjoy. 🤍

Tonight was the night, you're going to loose your virginity to Steve Rogers. Everyone was on a mission for the past few days except for you and Steve, which left the whole compound to yourselves. You had confided in Steve one night that you were still a virgin, which came as a total shock to him. You were a fireball with confidence cascading out of you like water. Any man would be lucky to have you, but he also remembered your past and how your own father had treated you, which is why Tony adopted you after the snap.

Tony and your father worked together for years, but Tony knew the truth. You always had to convince him not to intervene for the sack of your mother, but then the snap happened and your mother was one of its victims. Tony had a good case for custody. He wasn't going to leave you in the care of your father and stand by and watch. Natasha also became a mother figure to you. Visiting you when she could and training you, which led to you going on missions. Tony didn't love that, but he knew you enjoyed going on them and you were a good asset to the team. You got to be a big sister to Morgan and Tony got to experience what it was like to have a grown up daughter and a new born at the same time, which he was grateful for before he died.

Tony left a letter for Steve asking him to take care of you. He knew you were a capable woman and that you could take care of yourself, but with him and Natasha gone, he knew you would drown emotionally. At least Tony could leave you in peace knowing you had Steve to lean on. After the memorial, Steve would check in on you. He would call you, visit you at your apartment or you would go to his. He would make sure you went to therapy, asked if you had visited Pepper and Morgan, or that you were taking care of yourself. You two grew close. The compound was finally rebuilt, which you and the rest of the avengers were grateful for. It was nice to be living with each other again. Steve started to call you Angel. He saw how your eyes had a little twinkle in them when he called you that. Bucky and Sam teased him about it. They could tell that Steve was falling for you the more he got to know you. Steve knew this isn't what Tony meant when he asked him to "take care of you", but Steve knew he couldn't ignore what he was feeling. He just didn't want to cross a line if you weren't ready. The problem was, he couldn't tell if you were.

Even though you knew that not all men were bad, especially being close to all the men in the avengers, your own father really set the example that you couldn't trust them, or tell if they had good intentions with you. The conversation with Steve took place one night when Steve decided to cook dinner for the two of you at the compound. Steve asked for your assistance in the kitchen, he really has no idea what he's doing. You sat on the counter giving him pointers and watching him to make sure he didn't burn anything.

"So, you're a virgin?" Steve asked, his curiosity fully peaked as he worked over the stove.

"Yup, unless you count using a dildo, but otherwise, no, I have not had the full experience."

"Never had someone go down on you?" You shake your head no to his question.

"Fingered you?"

"N.O. Rogers."

"Your first kiss?" He was definitely prying now.

"No." You could feel the loneliness set in you again.

"Pretty pathetic huh?" You looked down at your feet. Steve turned towards you, an empathetic look in his eyes, he could sense your mood had shifted.

"Hey, known of that, you're not pathetic. I've only slept with one person, and well, kissed Natasha."

"You kissed Natasha!" You asked surprised at his new confession.

"It was one time and she kissed me! It was so we didn't blow our cover. I'm surprised she never told you about it." Steve went back to stirring the pasta.

"Well she probably didn't want that image tattooed in my brain, it's also more believable that she kissed you." You snickered.

"Ha ha, very funny." he responded, you laughed again, making Steve get a little defensive. "Hey! I have game!"

"Really! I would love to see it in action Rogers."

"Well maybe I can try it out on you." Steve wanted a hole to open up and swallow him whole, he couldn't believe he actually said that out loud to you. Before he had time to retract his statement, you responded with, "Hmm, maybe." Steve paused to look over at you, he could sense no discomfort from you, you were actually serious.

"I'm sorry, did I hear a "maybe" Angel?" Steve stopped what he was doing to give you his full undivided attention. You sat there with that confidence he loved so much radiating off of you. You wanted him to actually try. Steve turned the stove off and slowly approached you. He knew he had to be careful with you. He couldn't just take you right here in the kitchen, even though he'd love to see you fall apart for him on his cock bent over the kitchen counter. "Control yourself Rogers." He thought to himself. Steve didn't want to trigger you. Once he was in front of you, you slightly spread your legs so he could stand in between them. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation and boy did Steve get hard once he saw your bottom lip disappear between your teeth.

"Can I touch you Angel?" He asked gently, you nodded. A tiny please slipped out from your lips. Steve chuckled a little. Guess he had that effect on you. He started with his hands on your thighs working their way up to your hips and then settling them on your bum. He gave it a little squeeze and you jumped at his motion, but not in a scared way, more of a "Please continue. I like what you're doing" way. Your hands travel up to fold behind his neck as Steve pulls you closer, you could feel his erection against you.

"So that's what that feels like." Steve couldn't help but burst out laughing at your statement, throwing his head back. You joined in on his laughter.

"Yes Angel, that is what an erection feels like." He responded still laughing.

"I did that to you?!" Your complete oblivion of a man's reaction to you made Steve want you more.

"Shit I didn't know we were that powerful." You continued, Steve thought, "If this woman only knew what power she has over me."

"Very powerful, if you told me to sacrifice myself, I'd do it in a heartbeat." Steve had the biggest dopey smile on his face as you laughed at his response. Once both of your laughter settled down, the reality set back in. Questions started to swirl in your head. Were you really ready to go through with this and let Steve have unconditionally access to you in the most intimate way possible? Could you get out of your head and let a man shower you in an abundance of love that you had never experienced before? You were brought out of your swirling when Steve got your attention by asking his own question.

"Angel, can I kiss you?" Steve asked, trying not to freak you out, but he could see the tiny panic in your eyes already, he starts to pull back, but you grab his arms.

"I need five minutes, I'll meet you in your room, I just need to get myself together. Can I have five minutes?" you asked quickly.

"You can have all the time in the world." He laughed, "What about dinner?" His eyes wonder over to the unfinished pasta in the pot.

"Screw dinner, you're about to screw me!" You jump off the counter and out of his arms, Steve couldn't help but smile. You're racing out of the kitchen when you turn around to tell him again, "Five minutes, okay?"

"Five minutes Angel, I'll be there." You leave him in the kitchen to clean up the dinner that never happened, racing to your room, and locking the door behind you. You take a few deep breaths. Tonight is the night, you're going to loose your virginity to Steve Rogers. You quickly change into a pair of comfy clothes, deciding to forgo your under garments. What's the point when Steve was going to rip you out of them anyway. You fixed your hair to have some form of sex-appeal. Quickly shaved and moisturized. You looked in the mirror, you did what you could on short notice, if anything you looked cute instead of sexy. Still looking in the mirror, you hyped yourself up. "You got this, Steve would never hurt you." You walked out of your room and headed to Steve's. It's more comfortable for you to go to his room than to let him into yours. You never had a man in your room except for Sam or Bucky when they stole your snacks now and then.

Steve patiently waits for you, sitting on his bed when he hears your tiny knock. Eyes glimmering with adoration when he opens his door and sees you. Even though you changed into a t-shirt and shorts, he still thought you were absolutely beautiful, breathtaking.

He closes the door behind you, he can see your mind whirling, you become timid. He knows this is new territory for you, he has to be, no, wants to be gentle with you. He's going to treat you like a porcelain doll the first time around. Even though you could kill someone just by looking at them, but here you are, choosing to be the most vulnerable and intimate with him.

"We don't have to do this tonight Angel, could just cuddle and watch a movie." He watches as you ponder on the alternative.

"No, I want to try, I trust you Steve." He saw the trust in your eyes, you were ready to give him complete access to you.

Steve nods and approaches you, slowly, putting his hands on your waist. You melt into his touch bringing your own hands against his chest. He kisses your forehead as you breathe out a sigh of relief. He pulls away just enough to cup your chin so you can look up at him.

"At any moment you feel uncomfortable, you tell me to stop, okay?" You nod.

"Words Angel." You look up at him again, giving him a quiet "Okay."

Steve looks into your eyes one more time to make sure you were really okay with this. Once he saw no changes in your mood, he proceeds to lean down.

"Let's try this again, can I kiss you Angel?" You respond with a quiet yes. Steve kisses you softly and gently. You melt into his lips. He pulls you closer against him, moving one hand to cradle the back of your head.

Your hands moved down to the hem of his shirt, giving him the signal you wanted him to take it off. In one swift motion his shirt was off and his hands back on you in an instant. He starts to slowly push you back until you land on his bed. He crawls on top of you, making sure to not apply his entire weight on you and plants a short kiss on your lips.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, slightly tugging at your shirt.

"Yes." You respond as he helps you sit up, slowly peeling off the material from your body. Your nipples instantly pebble once the cool air hits them. Steve's eyes gleam, he then looks back at you, leaning forward and whispers against your lips, "Absolutely beautiful, Angel."

He kisses you again, laying you down his bed once more. All you could do was smile. He comes back up and motions to your shorts, "And these? Can they come off too?" You nod with a smile and respond with a yes. He slowly rolls them down your legs leaving quick kisses on your thigh. Soft whimpers leave your mouth. Your left completely bare to him.

"No panties Angel? And here I thought you were a good girl." Steve smirked down at you. He takes in your bare form, his Angel, his beautiful virgin angel, ready for him to claim. He slowly positioned himself between your legs, hands gripping your thighs as his face comes face to face with your most intimate part. You feel his warm breath against you and you let out a little cry. "No reason to keep quiet Angel, there's no one here to hear you but me, be as loud as you want." Steve didn't mean to drag this out, but he knew he couldn't rush into this. He doesn't want to break the trust you granted him.

"Angel you're dripping, gonna touch you okay? Gonna make you feel good." He waits for your yes, moving one of his hands to your clit, his thumb making small circles on your little bud. "Stevie." You moan out. You felt your heart flutter, no one has ever touched you like this, let alone seen you like this. You prop yourself on your elbows to watch him.

"Think you can take one of my fingers?" He asks, you nod eagerly. He slowly enters his middle finger into your needy hole. His finger was definitely bigger than yours, but not big enough like one of you dildos. It's definitely been a while since you used one. The stretch feels nice. He lets his finger slide in and out of you as your walls flutter around his finger. "Feels so good Stevie." Yours eyes close and more whimpers fell out from your lips.

"That's it Angel, make a mess for me." Steve lets out a little moan himself realizing how tight you actually are. "Fuck you're so tight. Wondering how my cock will fit." You moan loud at his realization. He lets out a little chuckle, "Don't worry Angel, we'll make it fit, maybe I should just stretch you out tonight instead? Hmm?" He already knows your answer.

"That's not funny Steve, you wouldn't dare." There was his strong willed girl. You look at him with determination that you're going to take his cock tonight whether it hurts or not and Steve is happy to oblige. "Don't worry your pretty head. You'll get my cock tonight, but I need to do a proper tasting first." Another string of loud whimpers leave you. Steve slowly removes his finger, he couldn't wait to dive head first into your pussy.

"Ready Angel?" You give him a whinny yes at the anticipation. Finally lowering his mouth to your weeping hole, his tongue making contact to the place his been dying to try. Your head falls back and a song of moans leaves your throat. Steve was grinning like the cheshire cat. He continues his assault, dipping his tongue in you occasionally, which you seem to like a lot. He makes a mental note of that. The foreign feeling of his tongue becomes pure pleasure. Your fingers could never create the feeling of what Steve's tongue was doing to you. He laps at you like it's his final meal. Steve comes up for air making the comment, "Tastes like pure honey, could eat you out forever Angel." He dives back in, applying more pressure and you buck your hips up in excitement. You try to close your thighs, but Steve isn't having it, his grip is impossible to fight. You weave one of your hands into his hair, fingers scratching his scalp, pulling him closer to your core. Steve lets out a moan of satisfaction. He knows you close and ready to finally have your release. A few more licks and your dam breaks. The high and pleasure is unlike anything you have ever felt. Steve keeps his tongue pressed to your clit to help you ride out your orgasm. You come down from your high, clearly out of it, in the best way possible.

"Still with me Angel?" Steve comes up from your pussy.

"Uh Huh" You couldn't say anything else. Your brain was so fuzzy. Steve had given you one of the best orgasms in your entire life. Steve looks at you and sees your face. He knows that look. You're so fucked out, maybe he pushed you too far tonight.

"We can stop tonight Angel, you did so good." Steve responds, ready to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

You think about it, you really do want to be with it when Steve makes you cum on his cock, you know, get the full experience.

"As much as I want you to fuck me, you really wiped me out. That was, really good Steve. Thank you." You breathe out, panting.

"You're welcome Angel. I promise to fuck you properly soon, it's a date." He kisses the inside of your thigh and gets up to get you a glass of water, which you happily accept and a wash cloth to clean you up. He comes back handing you the glass and gets to work on cleaning you. He can tell your sensitive when he hears you whimper from his touch. He tries not to stimulate you to the best of his ability. After he's done, he puts the wash cloth in the laundry basket and comes back to lay down next to you. He watches you as you catch your breath, admiring your fucked out state, knowing he's the one who caused it.

You finish the water, placing the glass on the nightstand and find your way back to him, lying across his chest. Steve engulfs you in his arms and pulls the covers up to encase you in a warm embrace. His fingers lightly drawing patterns across your back, as he places another kiss to your forehead. You and him stay like this for the rest of the night, enjoying the comfortable silence. It takes Steve back to a time where all you two knew was silence amongst each other. Now, he doesn't mind it, especially if it leads to you curdled up in his arms. He's glad that you chose him to be your first and he's definitely going to make sure he's your last. No one touches his Angel, but him.

"Good night, Angel." He whispers into your ear, pulling you closer to him. "Night Stevie." You slowly drift off to a deep and peaceful sleep, knowing that Steve will be right there when you wake up.

Hope you enjoyed! 🤍

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #captain america

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haytan · 23 days ago

Text

WILDFLOWER | G.A

inspired by billie eilish's wildflower. I think you can already predict that it's very angst. I cried writing this and I love it even more because of it.

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 3390

𓍼 SUMMARY: after listening to Two People on Good Riddance tour something invades you, like a fever.

𓍼 WARNINGS: angst, good ending...

good riddance had been out for a few months now, yet you still remembered the nights when gracie came home late from the studio. it might have seemed like a bad thing, but she always found a way to make it up to you—small surprises, late-night apologies that always ended with her between your legs—so, in the end, it was never really that bad.

one of the things you admired most about her was her honesty, especially when it came to her feelings. while working on the album, she never let you forget how much she loved you, how important your relationship was, and how those lyrics were nothing more than echoes of old wounds.

more than anyone, you understood what this album meant to her. it wasn’t just a way to express everything she had been through, but the first project that was truly hers, a piece of her heart laid bare. and you had been there for every part of it.

before love ever crossed your mind, you and gracie were just friends. and you had the luck—or maybe the curse—of knowing her ex-boyfriend, of watching them grow together and, eventually, fall apart.

it should have been easy to let time wash it all away, to accept that the past was nothing more than that. you had promised yourself it wouldn’t matter anymore. you had promised gracie, too.

but then two people started playing.

and when gracie sang that one specific line—

"and you know, you know every inch of my body"

that was when the tears started falling, before you could even think about stopping them. that was the night you started seeing him in the back of your mind again when you started feeling like you were burning alive.

but you knew she didn't mean to hurt you.

so you kept it to yourself.

…

the next morning, usually filled with kisses and silly conversations, is ruined by a tension that settles between you like something unspoken—thick and heavy. the air inside the apartment feels too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

gracie leans against the sink, absentmindedly stirring her tea, though you’re not even sure if she actually intends to drink it. her fingers tap a slow rhythm against the ceramic mug, eyes fixed on some distant point.

you sit on a stool by the counter, arms crossed, so close yet so far away. the hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall—everything sounds too loud in the midst of the silence between you.

"are you really not going to talk to me?" gracie finally says, her voice quieter than usual but heavy with frustration.

you exhale through your nose, hearing your own heartbeat echo inside your head. "i don’t know what you want me to say."

"i want you to say whatever it is that’s bothering you."

you shake your head, staring at a spot on the floor. "it’s nothing, gracie."

she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. "liar. you shut down the moment we got home. you barely looked at me all night. just tell me what’s going on!"

"i already told you—i’m fine."

"no, you’re not." she leans forward slightly, exasperated. "and i’m tired of pretending i don’t notice when you’re upset just because you refuse to talk to me."

your chest tightens. part of you knows she’s right. but another part—the one that’s been burning since last night, since that damn song and the way it made something ugly take root inside you—wants to resist.

you run your hands through your hair, a habit stolen from her. "maybe i just don’t want to talk about it, okay?"

gracie shakes her head. "god, why do you always do this? why do you always push me away when something’s wrong?"

"because i don’t want to fight with you!" you snap, your voice rising as your patience wears thin. "i don’t want to ruin the morning or… or make things weird before your show!"

gracie exhales sharply, setting her mug down on the counter harder than she intended. "and you think not talking makes everything better? because right now, it just feels like you’re shutting me out."

you press your fingers against your forehead, breathing heavily. "i just need time, okay?"

"time for what?" her voice wavers now, a trace of hurt seeping in. "for me to stop asking? for me to just sit here and pretend i don’t see that you’re upset?"

"for me to figure out how to talk without sounding like an idiot!"

that makes her pause. the tension between you crackles in the air, the silence stretching too long.

gracie swallows, the sound making you shiver.

"you know what? forget it," she says, turning back to the sink and picking up her tea.

you close your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "gracie—"

"no, i get it." she cuts you off, taking a long sip. "you don’t want to talk. fine."

gracie turns back to you, searching your face for some sign of regret, but she finds nothing but confusion.

"in the end, i’m always the only one trying to fix things," she says before walking away, the sound of her heavy footsteps echoing as she climbs the stairs.

you stay there, sitting on the stool, staring at the empty space where gracie stood just seconds ago.

your fingers grip the edge of the counter, and you let out a shaky breath, frustration still pulsing beneath your skin. this wasn’t how you wanted the morning to go. this wasn’t how you wanted things to be before her show.

but now it’s done.

you rub your face, trying to clear your thoughts. but everything feels blurred, tangled—a mess of emotions you don’t know how to unravel.

the apartment suddenly feels too small. the air inside it, too heavy.

you need to get out.

standing up quickly, you grab a sweatshirt draped over a chair and shove your keys into your pocket. the soft click of the door unlocking echoes through the apartment, but there’s no sound from upstairs. no attempt to stop you from leaving.

a part of you wishes there was.

you walk down the stairs slowly, hands buried in your pockets, with no real destination in mind. you just keep moving.

the cold morning air hits you the moment you step outside, and an immediate urge to cry swells inside you. your nose starts to sting, your eyes well up, and before you know it, those words are replaying in your head again.

"and you know, you know every inch of my body."

you know she loves you. you should let this go, shouldn’t you? but he lingers, always there, in the back of your mind.

last night, when gracie wrapped her arms around you, kissed the nape of your neck, and told you she loved you, you wanted to turn around, hold her tighter, tell her you loved her more, and start a silly argument over it.

but every time she touched you, all you could think about was how he felt.

had gracie ever looked at you and seen him? in the dark of the bedroom, between kisses and whispered promises, had a part of him ever slipped into her mind?

and if, just for a moment, she had wished it was him instead of you?

you try to push the thought away, try to hold onto the certainties gracie gives you—the way she reaches for your hand without thinking, the way her eyes light up when she talks about you, the i love yous that sound so real.

but doubt creeps in, spreading like a loose thread unraveling everything.

what if they’re not?

what if, deep down, you’re only here because he’s not?

the thought tightens in your chest. you swallow hard and keep walking, unfamiliar streets closing in around you.

but nothing feels as endless or inescapable as the maze inside your own mind.

…

the lights dim, and the crowd erupts into cheers. the air is electric, pulsing with anticipation, and gracie feels it thrumming through her veins. she grips the microphone tightly, fingers trembling just slightly, but she forces herself to take a deep breath. this is her moment—her show. no matter what happened this morning, she needs to push through.

but she knows better than to think she can just shut it out.

as she steps onto the stage, her eyes scan the audience, moving quickly over the sea of faces. the adrenaline in her chest spikes as she catches sight of you.

standing near the back, hands buried in your pockets, shoulders drawn tight, looking at her like you’re not sure whether you want to be here or not.

the moment stretches between you, thick with words left unsaid.

gracie knows that for months she has been exposing you to these painful memories embedded in her own songs. but she also knows that they are past pains, without weight or meaning, and she expected you to know that too. if something was wrong, you would tell her. wouldn't you? but as she stands there, watching you from the stage, doubt grips her chest.

did i cross the line?

abrams swallows hard, forcing herself to keep moving, to wave at the fans screaming her name, to smile like she’s okay. but her mind is already somewhere else, stuck in the heaviness of this morning, the way you looked at her, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you as you left.

she drags in another breath, stepping up to the mic as the opening chords of the first song hum through the speakers. the setlist is the same as always, but tonight, everything feels different. she wonders if you can feel it too, if the weight pressing down on her is pressing down on you as well.

and then the next song starts.

the one that ruined everything last night.

the crowd sings along, voices blending with hers. her gaze, however, is locked on yours. she sings the line without hesitation, without breaking, watching the way your jaw clenches, your eyes darkening just slightly. she wonders if you can tell that she’s looking at you. if you can hear what she’s trying to say through the words that once meant something else.

i didn’t mean to hurt you.

it’s just a song. it’s just a song.

but that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?

the song ends, the moment passes, and yet, the weight lingers. the rest of the show blurs together—flashes of movement, chords, applause—but that moment stays lodged in her ribs, burning like something she doesn’t know how to name.

by the time the final song fades, the crowd’s cheers ring in her ears, and gracie barely remembers getting through it. sweat clings to her skin as she steps backstage, her heart still pounding too fast, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the performance or the way you looked at her.

she doesn’t have time to figure it out before she hears movement behind her.

turning slowly, she finds you standing there, just a few feet away.

you’re still wearing that same guarded expression, the one that makes something in her ache, but there’s something else beneath it now. something hesitant. something like regret.

she wants to say something, anything—but what is there to say?

where were you?

are you okay?

i’m sorry?

but before she can choose the perfect false words, you take the first step. "we should talk… at home."

"yeah, definitely," she says almost automatically.

you hold each other’s gaze for a moment, both fidgeting with your hands—shared habits.

the ride home is silent. the radio plays some random melody, but neither of you really listens. gracie keeps her hands on her thighs, fingers restless, resisting the urge to reach out. she doesn’t know if it would be welcomed. if she still can.

on the other side, you stare out the window, your hand so close to hers. close enough that if one of you just…

but no one moves.

back home, the silence is just as heavy. gracie drops her bag on the counter but doesn’t step away, fingers gripping the marble as if she needs something solid to hold onto.

this time, there are no distractions. just the two of you and the space between you.

"can we talk now?" gracie asks, her voice low.

"yeah," you answer hesitant. but it takes a moment before you can actually speak.

gracie’s breath seems caught in her chest as she waits, and you hate it—hate how uncertainty spreads across her features, like she’s bracing for something bad. but the truth is, you don’t even know how to put what you’re feeling into words.

you run your tongue over your dry lips before finally saying:

"that song last night, two people… it really fucked me up."

gracie blinks a few times, surprised by the raw honesty in your voice. she swallows hard before responding.

"i didn’t…" she pauses, the words dying before they fully form. "i didn’t mean for it to hurt you."

"i know." you squeeze your fingers, letting out a heavy sigh. "but it did."

gracie nods slowly, eyes fixed on you, unsure of where to step. "you never said anything before. about the song, about…" she hesitates. "him."

"because i thought i was fine," you admit, your voice coming out rougher than you intended. "i thought i had let it go. but hearing it—hearing you sing it—just brought everything back, and i hated it. i hated that it still gets to me."

gracie stays silent for a moment, her gaze locked on you like she’s searching for the right thing to say. then, in a hesitant, almost resigned tone, she asks:

"do you want me to stop singing it?"

do you want that?

"because if you do, i will."

"of course not," you say, shaking your head. "that’s not the point, gracie."

"then what is the point?"

"i don’t fucking know!" tears start streaming down your face, and suddenly, you’ve never felt more exposed than now. "i’m sorry…" you bring your hands up to your face, as if trying to hide somehow.

gracie doesn’t think. she just moves.

before she can second-guess herself, she closes the space between you, wrapping her arms around your trembling frame. you tense at first, your body stiff against hers, but then, slowly, you sink into it.

your hands clutch the fabric of her jacket, desperate for something to hold onto, something solid in the middle of everything unraveling inside you.

gracie presses her face into your hair, eyes squeezing shut. "hey," she whispers, voice barely steady. "it’s okay. you don’t have to be sorry."

but you shake your head against her shoulder, fingers tightening. "i hate this," you choke out. "i hate feeling like this. like i’m stuck. like i—" your breath catches, breaking apart in your throat.

gracie pulls back just enough to look at you, cradling your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the tears from your cheeks. her gaze is searching, pained, but steady. "then don’t do it alone." she almost whispers. "let me be here. let us figure this out together."

"look at me," she continues, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.

your breath hitches. "gracie—"

"i love you."

you swallow hard, eyes flickering between hers. "i know that you love me."

"no." her grip tightens, not to hold you in place, but to make you feel her, to feel the weight of what she’s saying. she looks at you like she’s searching for something deeper, something that words alone can’t reach. "i don’t want you to just know. i need you to feel it. i need you to feel it in every vein in your body, how much i want you, how much i love you, y/n."

your chest tightens, throat burning with unshed tears.

"you’re my baby, my girl, my fucking adorable, sweet princess," she breathes, her forehead resting against yours. "i’d give you the whole damn universe if you asked me. and i’m sorry for not noticing how hard this has been for you."

"you don’t have to do anything," you shake your head. "it’s not your responsibility. it’s not your fault."

gracie lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with her thumb. "i’m your girlfriend, of course it’s my responsibility. but it’s not just that—i want to. i want to be here. i want to hold this with you."

you let out a shaky breath, your forehead still pressed against hers. the warmth of her hands, the closeness of her body, it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

gracie watches you, waiting, giving you space even as she holds you close. there’s no rush, no expectation. just her, just this moment, just the steady rhythm of her breathing mixing with yours.

"i don’t know how to stop feeling like this," you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"you don’t have to figure it out all at once. we’ll take it one step at a time. no pressure, no rush. just us."

you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself lean into her, feeling the warmth of her presence wrap around you like something safe, something solid.

then, after a beat, you whisper, "say it again."

gracie pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. "i love you."

you shake your head. "no. the whole thing."

her hands tighten around your face, eyes dark and unwavering as she speaks again, voice like a vow:

"i don’t want you to just know how much i love you. i need you to feel it. in every breath, every touch, every part of you. you’re my baby, my girl, my sweet, adorable princess. and i’d give you the universe if you asked me."

tears slip silently down your cheeks, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. it’s love, because of love.

gracie catches one with her thumb, her smile turning just a little teasing, a little mischievous. "and i’m never singing two people again unless you say it’s okay."

you let out a breathy, tearful laugh, shoving her shoulder lightly. "i never said that."

she grins, eyes crinkling, before she leans in and presses the softest, most deliberate kiss to your lips. like a promise. like a beginning.

gracie doesn’t pull away right away. she lingers her lips barely brushing yours, memorizing the shape of you, like she’s making sure you feel every ounce of her love in that kiss. when she finally does part from you, it’s only far enough to rest her forehead against yours again, her breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

"you okay?"

you nod, a little shy now, a little overwhelmed but in a way that doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

she smiles, thumbs still tracing light patterns on your cheeks before one hand slips down, lacing her fingers with yours. "come here," she says, giving your hand the gentlest tug.

abrams leads you to the couch, pulling you down with her, and before you can even think, she’s tucking you against her side, wrapping you up in warmth. it’s so easy, so effortless—the way your body finds its place against hers, the way her arm fits snugly around your waist, like you were always meant to be here.

"do you wanna talk more?" she asks after a moment, her voice soft. "or do you just wanna stay like this for a while?"

you don’t answer right away. instead, you shift, pressing your face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. she smells like vanilla and something distinctly her, something comforting.

"this," you murmur against her skin. "just this."

gracie hums, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "okay, baby. just this."

and so you stay there, tangled together in the quiet, her fingers trailing lazy patterns along your back, your hands resting against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

it’s not perfect. there’s still a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. but for now, in this moment, in her arms, you feel safe.

and that’s enough.

guys…

thanks for reading <3

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#˚🐇⋆hayfics!!#gracie abrams x reader #gracie x reader #angst

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baby-tini · 8 months ago

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hey babes, I love you ever since I first found your blog. The first post I found was the 4some with the mikeysss😭😭 girl you write so good and I always wait for your posts almost everyday. I seriously love how you write fics esp the ones with @buse tagged on it..LMFAO WE GOT DADDY ISSUES FRRRRR. THE DABI FICS!?!?! I'VE BEEN EATING THEM UP. GOOD SHIT. those dabi fics fucked the depression out of my body😭😭

Can I please make a request..it's my first time asking so I'm kinda shy lol. Can we please get abusive! Kanto Mikey x devoted reader? Like reader is so obsessed with mikey (kinda like how sanzu is to mikey) and she'd do anything and everything for him and still loves him even if he hurts her physically and emotionally.

Can I also pls request smut..😔 (I'm a slut)

I LOVE UUU!! You can js ignore my request if you don't feel like writing it, babes. Kisses . 💋💋💋

TW- Stockholm Syndrome (not from kidnapping), domestic abuse both physically and verbally, victim blaming, manipulation, controlling behaviour, Mikey is slightly yandere-ish. A/N- This made me so happy too read, in all honesty. Your so sweet babes, I love you too and I hope you adore it. Kisses 💋 You loved Mikey, more then anything. You'd do whatever he asked, whether he wanted you too kill for him or even die for him, you'd do so with no complaints, no hesitation and absolutely no second thoughts. He knew that, you knew that, everyone knew that. But too be fair, you've known him since you were both twelve, you were with him through everything. You were there when his brother died, you were there when he talked about killing Kazutora after he got out of juvie, you were there for him when Draken got stabbed, you were even there when Baji died and he went crazy. Beating Kazutora almost to death before Takemichi stepped in. So, you couldn't just leave him, even if you saw the pitied looks from the... nicer members in Kanto.

You didn't really care for the pitied looks you got from his lackeys. If it wasn't coming from Mikey then it wasn't important. Mikey was everything to you, he meant more then everyone else, after Mikey took you with him, leaving Toman, he was all you had left. You truly didn't blame him for the way he treated you, he had a lot going on, it wasn't his fault. Sometimes he just needed a stress result, yeah, he hit you a little harder sometimes. But you were positive that he wasn't going too kill you, he always told you he loved you after anyway. He promised too stop for you, after last night, he promised he would never put his hands on you again, you had no reason too not believe him, sure he had little slip-ups, but no one was perfect.

You had been sitting in the room you shared with Mikey, cleaning and bandaging the bruises and cuts, Mikey had hit you a little harder last night, his lackeys pissing him off and leaving him in a irritable mood. Sure, he took out on you, but anyway you could help Mikey, you were willing too do it, nothing was too much for you, you were Mikeys, meaning you had too be strong for him. You didn't want Mikey too think that you couldn't take a couple hits from him, I mean, he could've hit you harder or even killed you. You've seen him fight, but he never did, that proved how much he loved you. Your head had snapped towards the door when you heard screaming and cries of pain. The bedroom door slamming opening open seconds later, the door knob creating a hole in the wall as Mikey Mikey sauntered in. Slamming the door so hard behind him that the frame rattled, staring you down, you could see his usually large eyes had narrowed into slits, reminding you of a cat before they attacked. His lips were curled into a deep snarl as his already black eyes got even darker, his tongue digging into his cheek as his muscles tensed up. The walk towards you was drawn out and slow as he analyzed you, when he did reach you, after what felt like tediously long hours, he grabbed you up by your hair, his knuckles turning white from the harsh grip. "Are you fucking serious?!?! You dumb fucking bitch, I ask you too do one thing, one fucking thing and that's too stay away from other men and you can't even do that, huh?" The hand wrapped in your hair throws you to the floor, his heeled boot digging into your stomach as you let out a groan. Your stomach sucking in on it's self to alleviate the pressure, but his heel just dug deeper. The gurgle of pain you let out was unrecognizable to yourself as Manjiro stared you down with a dark grin, his eyes reflecting static. Those staticy eyes stare into your own teary ones, the tears flowing down your cheeks from the pain. He takes his foot off your stomach with a scoff as he steps back a bit, giving you a command as he does so. "Up." It's only one word, but the weight it holds is crushing as you struggle too stand on your own. Your arms shaking as you push yourself up off the carpet. When you do successfully get on your feet, your legs wobbling as you keep your head down. Manjiro watches, his expression bored as he tilts his head in disinterest, his eyes narrowing at your unbalance. He gives a scoff before he walks over and grabs your arm, dragging you to the bed. Sitting you down, he runs his hands through your hair and moves it behind your ears, some of your strands sticking to your wet cheeks. He uses his thumbs too wipe at the salty tears.

"You love me right?" The question comes out of his mouth quieter then you thought it would. Especially given how angry he seemed only a couple of minutes ago. But the switch his tone of voice has taken now paired with the question, has you a bit confused, your eyes questioning when you look up at him. You thought he knew, you always tell him you love him, everytime you see him. So with a quick nod of your head, you scoot closer towards him. He hums, with a small smile, twirling a strand of your hair. "Show me then, show me how much you love me." His words are still soft as he unzips his pants, popping open the button as he stands up straight. It's an immediate reaction, like someone else controlling your actions, as you reach towards his pants. Quickly replacing his hands, you pull his pants and boxers down half-way before taking his cock in your hand. Scooting completely off the bed so that you're on your knees, on the carpet, you drag your hand in slow pumps up and down his cock as you kiss at the head, as an apology for your mistake. Gliding the flat of your tongue over his slit then giving it a kiss, you hear him let out a shuddered breath. One of his hands coming down to your head and running it through your hair as he pushes the loose strands behind your neck. Taking him a little deeper down your throat, you pump the base simultaneously. A quiet geoan falls from his lips as he tightens his grip in your hair, using it too move your head a little faster. Scooting closer on your knees, you bob your head faster on his cock. Feeling his fingers twitch in your hair, he pulls you closer so that you take him in completely, his cock bulging in your throat. "You feel that shit, that's my cock in your throat." He runs a thumb over the bulge in your throat. Pushing down, he feels your throat sputter around him and he groans. He lets you pull off him and take in air. Drool slides down your tongue and chin while you cough a little. Wiping your chin as you suck in air through your teeth, straightening back up you take his cock back in your mouth again. He hums, tilting his head back and exhaling through his nose while he pets your hair. You gives a harsh suck to the tip that has his stomach flexing. Tightening your hand around the base, he groans deeply, jerking your hand, you taste the pre-cum as it hits your tongue. He tastes sweet, so sweet, you're eager for more of it. As he starts getting closer though, he starts too fuck your throat, groaning from the feel of your throat spasming and convulsing around the thickness of his cock. He grinds his hips into your mouth as his thighs tense. You can feel he's getting close, by the way he's twitching on your tongue as his hand, that's wrapped around your hair, flexes. Going from tight and painful to loose and shaky. His mouth falls open as he pants, his thighs shaking as he cums down your throat, while holding your head all the way down. Your nose touching the blonde hair as his balls sit against your chin. "Don't swallow." It's a command that he gives you, as he pulls his cock from your throat. You don't, you don't swallow, instead keeping his cum sat on your tongue, the liquid tasting sweet as you take in the taste. He tucks his cock back in, as he pulls his boxers and pants back up. Re-doing the zipper and button then pulling you up and sitting you back on the bed. "Open your mouth fo me," you do, quickly unhinging your jaw and letting your tongue slip out. The white liquid flooding your mouth, mixing with your spit on your tastebuds. He hums, using a hand too tilt your chin up, making you look at him while his cum falls closer to the back of your throat. He uses his thumb to move the cum down your tongue, wiping his cum on your lips like gloss. Then taking two fingers, his index and middle, too fuck your mouth, pressing his fingers down on your tongue he pulls them out and gives you the go-ahead too swallow. You do, letting his cum fall down your throat as he stares at your neck, watching your jugular bob at the swallow. He hums again, with a nod of his head.

"You know I hate hitting you, I only do it because you misbehave. If you listened I wouldn't have too hit you, you know that right? Pretty girl?" You nod, licking your lips in order too clean the cum from them. He taps your bottom lip with his thumb, still covered in a mix of your spit and his cum. Letting your mouth fall open again, you take in each of his fingers, cleaning them of his own essence. You smile up at him, around his fingers as his taste hits your tongue again. Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you kiss at his fingers when he pulls them back from your mouth. "But I have no problem doing so when you misbehave though, you know that better then anyone that I don't take disrespect lightly. So, when I tell you too stay away from other men, I expect you too comply. You have a part of me inside you forever when you swallowed my cum, you need too understand that you'll belong to me until you die. Is that understood?" With a quick nod of your head, he kisses your lips before leaving you alone in your shared bedroom too think about what just happened.

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ask-the-archs · 8 months ago

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Hello, my little travellers, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from me directly… or do I call you my questiers? It is so hard to remember at times… ah, no matter. It has been a while since you both have been conscious, so maybe now it is time for you to awaken…

🔆Who are you?🔆

I am me, the person behind the words on a screen that makes your stories. Though I have stories of my own that I live through, so I am not the end, nor can anyone truly be the end, nor should they.

🔆But why us? Why me?🔆

Because it was not meant to be your ends, not permanently, at least. In all honesty, I needed a break from writing your quests, your stories, your good and bad times.

I am sure that you, Apollo, will remember those times when things didn’t quite make full sense, not coherently, at least.

I am sure that you remember a time when you were called differently, and did not correct anyone for a long time.

I am sure that you remember parents who only loved you after you died.

I am sure that you remember inventing life in your own way, with Sionnach, Ean and even Flicker.

I am sure that you remember what happened up until it all stopped. Up until your world, your version of existence ground to a halt.

🔆I… how do you… what about them?🔆

They will not remember anything from before this, a blessing and a curse. They have not had rest for as long as you in their infinitely longer existence. Not that that is wholly not my fault, but sometimes the words on a screen become animated into something slightly more than just characters. You change and morph and move into your own beings, and tend to gain the attention of more beings on my level of existence.

“Why do you care what happens to us?”

You are my stars come to life, your stories are based in truths I have experienced, and truths others have experienced. Your pain, joy, grief, suffering, sadness and everything else are all based in some truths.

I care because you are mine, your stories, your very existence is mine to tell and twist and rework.

I care because I am one of the beings watching over your universe and I created you both out of love, to give love.

I care because I am the one who gave you life as you knew it, and the one who took your lives away to give your souls a break.

I care because you are light itself, the guidance and the bringer of day respectively.

I care because you are yourselves, and that, in itself, is enough for me to care for you.

“But what if you’re wrong?”

What do you think I am wrong about, little travelling questier?

“What if I fail at all you said is my fate?”

Then I am wrong, and you fail. There is nothing wrong with failing, it means you tried.

But the universe truly loves you, little travelling questier.

🔆But what of me? Is anything as I once knew it to be?🔆

Some things have stayed similar, though you will be interacting with new people more often than not. The universe is cruel, even to the ones it loves, but it does also love you, Apollo.

There are some things that neither of you will be able to understand just yet, and there will be memories that remain just out of reach for both of you.

“Both of us?”

Yes, both of you, bright star.

“Why are you calling me that?”

You are the personification of the first star of the night, the star of guidance and hope, but you are also called many other things. Gabriel is one of them, in the universe you are from.

“What gained me that name?”

You are the hero of your god, which gave you that for a name. It is a good name because you are a good person.

“What makes me a person, let alone a good one?”

Because you are words on a screen.

Because you are actions in a world that you made your own.

Because you are alive and dead and nothing and everything.

You are a person because you exist as you are and as you were, and you are good because you are you.

You are the first star of the night, the orienter and guider, the guardian of all of those who happen to be in your radius. You are Gabriel.

But when you awaken, you will not remember who you used to know, who you used to love. You will not remember your partner or parent or siblings or family, you will not even remember you had such a thing.

🔆Is that not mean? For them to know they had all of that but not remember?🔆

It is as it is, my questier.

🔆How come they get a nickname beyond that?🔆

Because you have moved far beyond the base title I gave you as a nerdy questier, and because they will always remain a traveller at heart, even when they are unable to act on it.

But now, it has been long enough that I have held you away from your world, your lives, your journeys.

Now, you are both going to be alive, and you are not going to be the same as you were.

Now, you know that the universe loves you, and that you are loved.

Now, you are aware that you are words on a screen.

Now, you are aware that your lives, your words, your thoughts and feelings and actions, are being watched over by many of my friends.

Now, you are going to awaken and find a new normal, away from the maker of your quests.

Wake Up.

*Two figures of light, one completely white, while the other is made of a rainbow of colours, but mainly blue and green, appear in Lucifer’s throne room.*

(Open RP starter!

@aspenvelaz , @king--of--ducks , @the-very-nerdy-blogger , @the-0verseer-watches , @penguinmaster9999 , @headlessdeaddancer , @featheryhoe , @bigdoginthesky )

(🔆Apollo🔆 can be found @apollo-and-co )

#archangel gabriel northstar #nerdy speaking #;]

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uglypastels · 7 months ago

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I need, FOR THE LIFE OF MEEE, a part two of your scott's sister!reader fic its SO good, maybe they go on a double date to try and make things less awkward?? I just know logan would rather have his teeth pulled out but anything for his best girl right?

-part 1---masterlist---requests-

warnings: cringe, mention of alcohol, mention of sexual activities. swearing.

I was unsure about writing this at first because, in all honesty, I wouldn't think you'd want to go on the double date either, I mean...

It was so awkward. The four of you- You and Logan, Scott and Jean- sitting opposite each other across a restaurant table, focusing more on the food rather than the conversation.

Usually, in these kinds of moments, you had Logan's handy nature to depend on, to make things a bit more interesting, but he kept both his hands above the table in the presence of your older brother, and with a psychic like Jean in your midst, not even sneaky signals were a possibility to spice up your evening.

'So, uhm-' Scott cleared his throat, 'how long have you two...' been fucking around? was probably what he wanted to say, but rather than making things even weirder, he simply left the question unfinished, open to your interpretation.

You knew he meant well. He always did. He was the best big brother you could have ever asked for, but god sometimes he just took it too far.

When he caught you in that broom closet, he could have just left it at that. Maybe yell at you for the inappropriate behaviour, fair enough. Let it soak in a bit, and give it a few days until the embarrassment of the situation finally wore off and you could look each other in the eyes again. But instead, far from it settling, he had suggested a double date.

And maybe you could have tried to say no to the idea, but from a very young age, you had learned that that was never really an option with Scott. Besides, as the night went on, you had gotten an inkling that this might have very well been your punishment. To endure this night.

'Uhm...' you thought for a moment about his question, not daring to look Logan in the eye. Even without mindreading powers, you could tell what he was thinking about- and prayed that Jean had the decency to leave those thoughts alone.

After all, you could hardly admit that it had all started with a drunken mistake of a hook-up on a rather random Friday, or was it Thursday? Monday maybe?

It had been such a blur that you couldn't even remember why you had been drinking, but all you knew was that the next morning, you woke up with a massive headache, naked in his bed. It took about ten minutes for both of you to come to the realisation of the events that had gone down and proceeded to curse your way back into your clothes while profusely admitting that it was a mistake and that it should never happen again.

Luckily, you never made a promise of it, as it would not have lasted long.

'It was Valentine's Day,' Logan grumbled out, nearly giving you whiplash from how fast you had turned to look his way as the memories cleared up with each of his words. 'With nothing else to do alone, we hung out and-'

'and things just clicked,' you rescued him, knowing that Logan was not very fond of opening up that way.

'Didn't expect you to be someone to celebrate Valentine's Day, Logan,' Scott smiled, the mockery spilling out a bit.

'I'll send you a card next year, if you'd like, bub.' Logan quipped before taking his beer up to his lips. You hid your giggle with a slight cough behind your hand. He looked over at you with a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips and in that moment, a harsh, yet funny, reality struck you.

Sitting in this little shabby restaurant opposite your big brother and his wife, this wasn't just a double date for you and Logan.

This was your first date.

Always seeking out moments to sneak out together into dark corners, you had never actually done anything that would be considered a proper "date". There were the hours you'd lay in bed, entangled in sheets, talking nonsense, stealing kisses and laughs, but besides that- and the other activities you were not trying to think about next to Jean- you had never done much else.

And looking at him at your side, sitting back in his chair, letting his hand finally fall down comfortably to find its spot on your thigh, you could certainly get used to this.

But hopefully, next time, it will be just the two of you.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

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dulc3vida · 10 months ago

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you.

rafe cameron x bunny!reader

part 1. this is my au so don't think too much about canon lore. characters, times, events, ect... might not match but PLEASE JUST ENJOY THE STORY PLEASE JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASe

warning: 18+ read at your own risk. this is a dark fic loosely inspired by the tv show you. dubious content lies ahead, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

UNC Chapel Hill: September, Sophomore Year

there was nothing rafe cameron hated more than being tutored. it made him feel stupid, needing someone to explain and break down concepts that others understood easily. ward used to lose his mind trying to find rafe new tutors because in all honesty, when rafe felt cornered or helpless, he got nasty. saying the rudest things that made these well-paid, private tutors basically discard a paycheck, was one of the first times rafe ever felt true power. the first time he ever came close to knowing what his dad felt like, even though his dad had a much better reputation than rafe ever would.

rafe especially hated english. the books were boring and he could never be bothered to sumbit more than a half baked essay regarding the text. that's how he ended up in the study room in the library sitting across from you. he remembered you from class, the TA. you always sat besides prof. callahans desk and you looked younger than any TA he had ever had, probably even his age. your face was familiar but rafe couldn't put his finger on it. you were clean, you smelled good, and your nails were done which meant you had the time and money to take care of that kind of thing when most college students forget to feed themselves. you occasionally looked up from the signup sheet as the minutes ticked 5 past 3pm, where only rafe's name was signed.

"i guess we can start now." you mumbled, flipping your notebook open. "this weeks quiz is going to cover part 1 of crime and punishment. have you... started the reading?"

rafe's hard gaze bored into yours and he shook his head without another word. he was thinking about how cute and neurotic the way you had your notes organized was and how soft you spoke to him. were you scared of him? rafe was intrigued.

"okay, no biggie. we can just start there. did you check out a copy of the book?" you asked, pulling out your own copy that was bursting at the seam with sticky notes and colored tabs. again, rafe wordlessly shook his head. "good thing we're in the library. come on, let's go see if they have any left."

rafe followed close behind you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck as you walked through rows of books before finding the one you were looking for. you showed rafe how to check a book out before returning to the study room. "okay. let's start."

you began dissecting the book from the very beginning, soft voice describing the historical context of the book. rafe was surprised at how well he was keeping up. it didn't hurt that you were cute, nose all blushed and button, scrunching up whenever you couldn't read your own handwriting in your notes. a pair of clear framed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose which you constantly adjusted due to your eyelashes hitting the glass. you had a habit of licking and biting your lips, applying lipgloss on every "brain break" as you called it. maybe all this time, all he needed was a cute tutor that he could stand looking at.

in between writing notes and flipping through the book, he caught glimpses of a "j" necklace dangling in your cleavage. did your name start with a j?

"what's your name?" rafe asked once the two of you began packing your things up. it was now 7:30 with the sun beginning to set. you told him and he repeated it under his breath.

"my friends call me bunny though." if you're bunny, who is j? you tossed your bag over your shoulder and let your hair down from the claw clip that was holding it up. it billowed over your shoulders and you tucked a few stray strands behind your ears after taking your glasses off. you weren't the shy good girl he met at the beginning of the session, no, you were different. good girl in front of everyone but he knew there was another energy in you that he wanted- no he needed to see. rafe watched you leave, staying a few steps behind, where he could comfortably watch you and before he knew it, you were jumping into the passenger side of a beat up old brown van that pulled up, and leaning over to give whoever was driving a kiss.

rafe felt a familiar, red hot anger wash over him. the first time he felt that anger was when sarah was born and ward wouldn't stop fawning over her. ward basically forgot he had a son when sarah was born which made rafe incredibly insecure. that insecurity built a home inside rafe's heart, where any little inconvenience could turn it into an ugly monster with sharp teeth and a desire to tear everything in sight into fucking pieces. this time, the monster was awakened at the reality of you having a boyfriend.

against his better judgement, rafe ran to his truck the second you took off, speeding down the road he saw you drive down. it took him a minute, but he managed to find the shitbox on wheels you were riding around in. he made sure to stay far enough away to where it didn't seem suspicious, but close enough to where he wouldn't lose you again.

he wouldn't lose you again.

he repeated that phrase to himself as he drove into jacksonville and while he parked his car a few spaces from the van in a place where your little group was fully visible. you came to the beach. there was 3 guys, 1 girl, and you. gone were your leggings, tank top, and cardigan. instead, you donned a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a bikini top, and a huge smile on your face as you settled yourself in the blonde boys lap.

rafe thought he recognized the group you were with, but he was hoping his eyes were just playing tricks. of course, it could never be that simple because rafe did know them. the pogues. what were they doing on the mainland? he hadn't seen them in a while and was getting used to not having to see or smell them other than when he went home for holidays.

jj, he knew worked in the cafeteria ever since he graduated earlier in the spring, which is probably how he met you. rafe had never been fond of jj, in fact, rafe lived to antagonize jj back on the island (if he cared for the cafeteria food, he would probably be in there a lot more to mess with him) so him having you felt like poorly timed karma. to be completely honest, rafe hadn't expected such a dramatic shift of power dynamics when coming to college because now there was at least 10 other rafe's who were dating the girls he should have been dating. he did just fine at parties, more than fine, but he was starting to get tired of drunk girls who just lied there all limp and sweaty or threw up on his dick (happened twice freshman year and he didn't enjoy it like he thought he would). the first decent, eligible girl he meets is getting her pussy dug out by jj maybank of all people and it felt like someone, somewhere was laughing at his misfortune. it almost made him want to give up on you.

almost.

he would never let jj maybank win at anything, let alone your heart. there was just something about you that he couldn't let go. the only thing he couldn't figure out was why everyone else was here too? none of them had a chance of getting into chapel hill. you either had to have perfect grades, be incredibly wealthy, or be a legacy student. thankfully, rafe managed to be 2/3 of those things.

rafe sat back in his seat and just observed you. he cracked his windows open and tried to listen to your conversation but he was too far to hear anything other than laughter and unintelligible voices. he pulled his phone out and typed your name into instagram, easily finding your very public page.

rafe decided to do some digging. he would start at the bottom. scrolling all the way back through a very curated feed (rafe could tell you pick and choose which of your old posts get to stay up and which ones ruin the feed) rafe felt his heart sink.

he knew you.

OBX: Summer 2018

"come on, bunny, i don't wanna go without you." your friend, esther, pleaded. she had been invited to rafe camerons party, a coveted event where anything and everything happened. esther was dating rafe's friend kelce, who invited her to the party.

"you're not even gonna talk to me so what's the point in going." you responded, filing your nails while you laid in bed.

"honestly, when's the last time you really went out? you only ever go to the country club and don't say your parents make you because last time you weren't even with your parents."

"well, the old men buy me drinks if i talk to them and make them laugh. sometimes they give me money. one of them gave me this tiffany bracelet." you stuck your wrist out to show off the silver bracelet with the heart tag which was branded with the company's insignia.

"that's kinda gross." esther scrunched her nose. you only shrugged your shoulders.

"so is going to a party at rafe camerons house. jungle juice is probably roofied" rafe had been the stereotypical jock douchebag who only hung out with other jocks, cheerleaders, or other impossibly gorgeous girls. you saw right through him which is why you never caved. not when he invited you to his lunch table, not when he asked you out, not when he tried to grind against you on the dancefloor at junior prom and called you a bitch when you pushed him away. at some point, rafe stopped trying trying with you and turned his attention and "where my hug at?" energy towards other girls who were much more susceptible.

"so we'll pregame. just please don't make me go alone." in a flash, esther sat on top of you and pinned your arms down while a string of "please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top!" tumbled out of her mouth.

"OKAY!" you had enough, but were still giggling. "i'll go, just get off of me so i can change."

"yay!" esther rolled off of you. "wear the black one, the one that makes you look slutty."

"aren't we supposed to be getting you laid?" you asked, looking through your closet that was practically overflowing with expensive name brands.

esther looked down at her hands. "me and kelce already..."

"no way. really?" she nodded and you squealed rushing over to hug her. "babe i'm so proud of you! wait- why do you need me there then?"

"its the first time i'm meeting his friends and i'm nervous." she explained, now looking through your clothes with you. "i need a buffer, yknow, a cute friend who can keep my boyfriends friends occupied."

you blinked. "so basically, you're whoring me out?"

"you just told me that you talk to old men for money and gifts."

"yeah and they don't even get to see me in my little black dress."

when you arrived at the party, it was in full swing. rafe caneron's parties had a reputation. booze flowed, drugs were shared, and there were enough rooms in the house for every couple to get busy in. it was the perfect haven for teen delinquency.

you were unimpressed, as per usual, with rafe's antics. he had been in the pool when you arrived, a girl on either side of him while he smoked a joint.

"how long do i have to stay?"

"until you start enjoying yourself."

you went to the bar. grabbing a red solo cup, you mixed yourself a drink of cherry vodka and coke. you chugged it, always having the attitude that when it came to alcohol you had to get right to the point. when you finished it, you made yourself another one.

"excuse me." a hand gently placed itself on the small of your back which made you jump. "my bad, didn't mean to scare ya- hey you're esthers friend right?" it was topper. "i just saw her with kelce. i'm topper." he stuck his hand out.

"bunny." you took it.

"whatcha got there?"

"chery vodka and coke."

"nah nah nah- you like the cherry vodka?" you nodded and he took your cup from you. "let me make you a drink."

"okay." you watched his every move as he fixed cherry vodka, cranberry juice, and lime in a brand new cup. "thank you. what is this?"

"it's called a cherry bounce. cheers to you, bunny. hopefully this isn't the last time i see you."

you only smiled at him, tight lipped and gently tapped your cup against his before taking a drink. "topper, this is really good. make me another?"

"you're not even done with that one yet." with that, you drank the rest of your cup. "okay, party girl." he took your cup back and fixed you another. "you wanna dance?"

you hated to admit it, but you actually were having a good time with topper. he was funny, kind, nice to look at, and he was a good dancer. the night was going so good, until esther invited you and topper to sesh with her, kelce, and rafe as the party died down.

it wasn't the sesh that was bad, no, you even managed to be polite and sociable with rafe. it was after the sesh when your drinks had caught up with you and you needed to pee. "esther can you show me where the bathroom is?" you asked but it fell on deaf ears as esther and kelce were mouth fucking.

"c'mon. i'll show you." rafe got up and began walking inside the house without another word. you quickly followed, only wanting to relieve your bladder and be alone for a few minutes to gather yourself and your thoughts that were racing on account of the sativa blunt you had just smoked.

rafe walked up the stairs, basically torturing your bladder with every step until he got into his room. "just use this one."

you were too desperate to argue about whatever his intentions were bringing you here so you went in and almost tripped over yourself getting to the toilet. you made it through, no accidents happening and feeling a lot more gone than when you walked up the stairs.

you stepped back into rafes room and he was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. "you okay? you were in there for a while."

"yeah." you stumbled over to sit next to him but he got up and went to his window. "just a little dizzy."

"everyone fell asleep." rafe watched his friends make themselves comfortable on the outside couch on this hot summer night. you climbed over his bed and looked out the window at the sight of your friend asleep on her boyfriend's chest and topper asleep, hugging a pillow.

"do i get a prize?" he cocked his head at you. "for being the last one awake at a rafe cameron party?"

"what do you want?" rafe asked you seriously and you sighed, lying back against his navy blue sheets.

"for you to not be such an asshole." you murmured and stared at the ceiling. "i mean, you're really cute but you ruin it by being... you."

"i knew you had a thing for me." rafe must have only heard half of what you were saying because he was taking his place back next to you on his bed. "c'mere." he patted his lap and it didn't take much more coaxing than that to get you crawling into his lap. he positioned himself the way he wanted you, straddling him with your crotch right on top of his. "been waiting for you to finally come around." he trailed his hands up and down from your waist to your ass. "y'gonna let me inside that pretty pussy babe?" rafe whispered in your ear, sending all your intoxicated arousal straight to your core.

if you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would have never even been in rafe's room, but here you were letting him guide your hips to grind against you through the thin layer of your black lacy panties. your short dress had already ridden up your thighs, exposing you even more than you already were.

unexpectedly, rafe tugged the top of your dress down and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. when he grazed his teeth against your sensitive, hardened peak, you gasped and jolted against him. "rafe." you whispered, trying to get his attention because your head was spinning. instead, his hand found a place between your legs and pushed your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your folds and spreading your wetness. he used it to rub your clit in circles, encouraged by your whimpers in his ear. "oh rafe..." you felt your orgasm building quickly due to your drunken state, but you also felt a pit building in your stomach. this felt wrong.

you blinked and you were on your back. your dress had found a place across your stomach and your panties were torn off of you without your knowledge. you closed your eyes, hoping if he thought you were asleep that he would just stop.

of course, things would not be that simple.

while your eyes were closed, rafe got undressed and slipped a condom over his cock. he grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to prop your pussy up for him at the perfect angle. he took his cock and tapped it against your clit. "wake up, sleepy girl." you only whined and tried to close your legs but he forced himself between them so you couldn't.

your eyes snapped open when you felt the intrusion of his cock. "uhhh..." you let out a mixture of a moan and a whine. the stretch burned because no matter how wet you were, rafe was objectively big, especially the mushroom tip of it. you didn't know if it was the liquor, the weed, or what, but you could basically picture what it looked like based on the way it felt inside you.

rafe gave you no time to adjust and set a punishing pace off the bat. he had one of his large hands splayed over your stomach, pushing down and making you let out a short, loud moan. "let me hear you. wanna hear how good i fuck this pussy." rafe grunted while thrusting in and out.

you, in your state, were incredibly embarrassed no matter how good he hit your spots so you were barely letting any noise escape your mouth.

"always playing hard to get... you're gushing around my cock... and making a mess on my sheets... but you still act all stuck up..." rafe spat at you through his teeth and you let out another high pitched whine. he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his balls now slapping your ass with vigor. "gotta put you in your place, huh?"

he flipped you over and pulled you onto all fours. his hand splayed across your back this time and pushed your chest into the bed, creating a beautiful arch to your back. "so fuckin pretty." he moaned when the slid back into your tight warmth. the change of position did nothing to help you hold onto the little composure you had as he was now deeper than before, mushroom tip generously rubbing against your g-spot and his balls now smacking your clit. you were too far gone to care how you looked throwing your hips back against his. "fucking slut." he grunted, grabbing a handful of your hair. "y'wanted this huh? yeah, yeah, you been needing this huh?"

you could only moan as he painfully gripped your hair and pushed himself balls deep, rolling his hips against yours. "you like the way i fuck you baby?"

"mhm..." you had your eyes closed as you focused on the tension building in your stomach. a heavy hand landed a smack against your ass.

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..." you desperately moaned out.

"good girl." rafe pushed your head back into the bed and drilled his cock into you brutally. you were struggling to hold your hips up, but rafe held you up with one arm. "fuck... m'gonna cum. y'gonna let me cum in this pussy?" rafe grunted and pulled out, sliding the condom off before thrusting back into you. "there we go." he spoke through gritted teeth. "thatagirl, pussy feels like heaven."

you felt the difference and opened your mouth to protest but all that came out was unintelligible pants and moans.

then you saw white.

your orgasm washed over you, making your pussy clench and flutter and cream around rafes cock. you felt rafes hips stutter against yours and then you felt hot ropes of cum paint your insides. you couldn't stop moaning because rafe was still inside you, slowly thrusting and rubbing your clit. "so fucking tight..." he commented as he watched the way your pussy suctioned his cock and pulled out.

against your knowledge, rafe had been recording since he got you in doggy and was still recording. "shit..." he groaned as he focused the camera on your glistening pussy. a drop of his cum came dribbling out and he pushed it back in, earning a soft "ahhh..." from you. he played with your sensitive cunt until you came again for the camera and passed out.

when you woke up, you were alone. for a brief moment, you hadn't remembered what happened and were just confused as to where you were. you peered around the room and saw your dress and torn panties and it all came rushing back. the drinks, the sesh, having sex with rafe cameron. he must have changed you because you didn't remember putting on one of his shirts or sweats.

you checked your phone and your parents had been blowing you up since 8am. it was noon. you had missed calls from esther and a series of texts that said she couldn't find you in the morning and hopes you made it home safe. "shit." you groaned and got out of bed, legs sore from the sex you could only remember flashes of. you tidied the room up and changed back into your clothes before walking downstairs with your heels in hand. you slowed as you reached the foyer, hearing voices from the parlor.

"i don't know dude, doesn't feel right to watch this."

"she was totally cool with it, c'mon."

"you're gonna wanna see this."

you recognized the voices as topper, rafe, and kelce. then a video began playing and at first it just sounded like porn, then you realized it was your moans streaming through rafes phone.

"you like the way i fuck you?"

"mhm..."

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..."

"good girl."

you felt sick to your stomach as you heard the boys commenting on the video. how could you be so stupid? of course rafe would record you without permission while you were off your ass last night. you only blamed yourself as you walked home from tannyhill.

the video followed you around over the summer and you only managed to escape it when you went off to college.

rafe never thought twice about you after that.

JACKSONVILLE: Present.

rafe stared at your instagram feed in utter disbelief. he hadn't thought about you or the video since that summer. he honestly forgot it even happened. he wasn't a douchebag, he was a handsome young man who took all the opportunities presented to him (as he told himself). was sending the video around immature and stupid? probably. he was a kid though. everyone makes mistakes, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself as he looked through old pictures of you. did you remember him? you must have. you looked different from the last time he saw you but he looked the same. you definitely knew who he was the second he came into the study room and he didn't know how to feel about that. it made his job easier and harder. he already had a connection with you, but he would have to go through a grueling apology process that he really didn't care for. he just needed to have you.

as he scrolled into the more recent stuff, he couldn't help but notice that you didn't post jj on here at all. the page was a monument to you, all the better, and you were gorgeous on here. 2k followers with 1k likes on every post you made and comments that varied from "you're so gorgeous" to "just give me one chance." you had a highlight titled "my <3" and there was only one picture of you holding jj's hand with the song "melting" by kali uchis which was posted only a month ago.

he left your profile and went into his camera roll, into the hidden folder and scrolled back to 2018. he found the video and pressed play, his cock getting hard immediately and straining against his pants. soon enough, he had his phone pressed to his ear and his hand down his pants as he watched you and kie gathering firewood. soon enough, he was cumming in his hand to the sound of you saying that you loved his cock.

rafe managed to clean up a little and continued to watch you, well into the night as you and your friends built a bonfire and smoked a joint. it was midnight when you all had decided to leave. he followed the dirty old van back to campus and learned where your dorm was, watching you and jj head in.

rafe made it back to his dorm at around 3:30am. the more he learned, the more questions he had. rafe fell asleep with only one thing on his mind.

you.

#rafe cameron x bunny!reader #rafe cameron prompt #dark rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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predestinatos · 9 months ago

Text

“I Know” — CL16 + MV1

chapter 1 chapter 2

summary: the game doesn't stop once you leave the court OR part 2 of my challengers fic.

word count: 2.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem! reader x max verstappen, smut, angst, fluff, everything really, complex relationship, implied cheating but also not how you expect it. MINORS DNI - WARNINGS UNDERNEATH

note: i have been loving writing this and exploring these characters and their dynamics. this chapter is shorter BUT that's because charles won in monaco and i felt like this would be a good celebration :) i hope u all enjoy it lovelies!

warnings: fingering (fem!receiving), dirty talking (a lot)

12:55AM

"Actually, I came here to tell you to lose" you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively as the man looked down at you.

"Did you, now?" he asked, a finger raising your chin up towards him. Another joke, another teasing moment you couldn't run away from, couldn't resist despite your attempts at doing so.

He saw you merely nod. Part of him exhaled a short laugh, but another looked away from you. He was better than this. Better yet, you were better than this, much better. He also knew you were looking at him precisely how he wanted you to, a pleading in your eyes to succumb to the inevitable – but also a pleading to move away, to delay that inevitably for as long as possible.

He knew if he looked down again it would be over. You bit your lip as you stared at his tight jaw, at hints of a growing stubble across his face, at how everything about his body seemed to be a fight against itself.

"Charles" you called, unsure if he had heard it. He couldn't bear hearing your voice calling his name, and the stark, sudden change from his confident attitude to this restrained one was visible as he closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. "Hm?" was all he could reply. Was all he could bear to mutter without giving away the turmoil of his own mind.

"You're in the way."

YEARS EARLIER.

Max's hand was on your inner thigh and fighting against his mind to go much higher than that. You noticed the mole on his upper lip as he spoke, mostly because you tried to focus on his face more than his touch, afraid of letting it consume you.

"Did it actually matter? The winner?" he asked you. He pondered this many times after the match, head going back and forth between answers.

"It did to you both" you answered. He wasn't expecting it, really, yet he understood what you meant completely. Something about his relationship with Charles changed, and contrary to what was expected, it did so for the better.

"He thinks he knows what he wants" Max heard himself say, eyes locked on yours. He dared his hand to move upwards, just slightly, as if you wouldn't notice. As if his touch didn't make itself feel across your entire body.

"And what is that?" his face was so close to yours you were dizzy from holding back, dizzy by the sheer need you had to taste him again.

"Winning."

You raised an eyebrow at his answer, so bold yet calculated, hinting at something else, something more.

Both of you seemed aware of how talking about the other man ignited even more desire in you, excited you even more than it probably should.

"But he forgets why he wants it, what he truly wants. I never did." he continued, brushing your hair away from your neck in order to gain better access to it.

It was too much for you - how he seemed to know the right thing to do to send you just over the edge, to drive you to the limits of madness as your body yearned for him.

You took a deep breath, "Hm and what is it, Max?" he left sloppy, wet kisses along your neck now, as he realized he had won, pulling away only to smirk triumphantly, to admire his victory, looking at him almost completely disheveled already.

"You" his hand was as far up as it could now, leaving you completely vulnerable to how much he affected you. "So wet... And for who?" his question was a dare, a test of your honesty as his fingers brushed your clit. You could deny it, sure, but he knew the truth.

"For you" you said; an answer that was rewarded with a finger dipping slowly inside you, every inch of it felt as Max pushed inside you. He had to fight himself hard as he felt you tighten against his finger. Had to fight the urge to consume you fully right there and then because most of all he wanted to win.

"Why for me?" he asked, regaining control or convincing himself of it, another finger entering you and feeling how nicely you accomodated for him and him only. He was hard, his body craved the feeling of you around him, your wetness and heavy breath driving him to insanity and yet... and yet he let it hurt a bit. For he knew the long term pleasure would be bigger.

"Because you won" you answered, succumbing to him as his fingers curled inside you.

2:45PM

Cameras flashed in your direction inside the bustling studio. For brief minutes, your mind was focused on nothing but your own body and the camera, movements flowing through you and evoking new poses as you modeled.

It was good; to be distracted from Max, his tournament and the stress added to it. Too good to be true as you looked past the lights and photographers to a figure standing behind them, one that you were all too familiar with.

And now you were distracted once again, the double negatives not making positive. He was fit - tennis was doing him good, just as it was Max. His shoulders were broad and biceps more prominent in his polo shirt which hugged him tightly. He could only be mocking you. His awareness of how the timing conditioned every interaction between you and him couldn't go unnoticed - provocation written across his face as he admired you.

"Can we take 5?" you heard yourself say, unable to focus now that his presence haunted every picture like a ghost.

Charles watched as you got closer to him, wondering when exactly did he let you stray so further away from him, taking Max alongside you. He was a dick, really. His attitude was never the most humble or polite, not like his (now ex) best friend, who seemed to be more composed even in his nervousness.

Charles composed nature was more arrogant and overconfident, despite concealing little to nothing about his actual feelings. He wasn't familiar with insecurity the way Max was, so he never learned how to fake it that well.

You stopped in front of him, holding a cup filled with fruit as hunger crept up inside you now that you weren't focused on work.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you asked, a loud whisper, a soft yell that made Charles wonder how that could even be possible. It clicked, then. Max could yell silently. He couldn't. But it wasn't sad to notice this, it actually amused him, the irony of him being the odd one out but also the inescapable one, the one unpredictable factor in both of your lives.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart" he replied, taking a grape from your cup and popping it into him mouth as he smiled. His boasting attitude made you roll your eyes. It took all the restraint in the world not to snap back at him.

He liked that about you. How your eyebrows furrowed, how your mouth turned into a slight frown of annoyance. How easy it was to get under your skin. How he knew that you loved it.

"Just came to say hi and wish you two luck for later" he continued, not wanting to part ways from you just yet, knowing he hadn't pushed all of your buttons yet.

"Max doesn't need your good luck" you replied. You noticed how you were always more defensive of him, sometimes almost mothering him.

Charles' cool toned eyes looked down at you as he bit his lip. He got you, now. He knew that. "But you do."

"I don't need anything from you" the cup was now becoming humid in your hands, threatening to slip as you tightened your grip on it.

"Are you sure?" his question was risky. Maybe too risky. He wasn't careful, evoking ghosts of Christmas Past into the conversation; things you had agreed to act like they didn't happen because pride spoke louder than lust in the list of sins.

You turned around now, tired of listening to him, irritated at the image he had brought to the table of your minds. Your body on his, his hands gripping your hair tightly as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I'm not you side piece" he said. No, he chanted, teasingly, daringly. And as he saw you stopping in your tracks he knew he had hit a nerve, got you precisely where he wanted yoi.

"The only piece you are is a piece of shit"

YEARS EARLIER.

If Charles focused hard enough - really, really hard - maybe he could fight his own body against reacting as hard as it was to Max's secrecy regarding what happened between you two.

"You know, I don't kiss and tell" he said, hands behind his head as he layed down in his bed. They shared a room - they always did, it was natural, something they did so often they didn't even think about it anymore, like breathing or riding a bike,

"You're such an asshole, I'd never do this to you" Charles replied, fake annoyance in his tone as he threw his pillow at his friend's face.

"I may be. But I'm the asshole who won" the pillow flew to its initial place once again, hitting Charles' bed and then the floor, almost in a defeated position itself.

Charles knew something had had happened, mainly because he thought about it so much he knew he had made the thought into a reality. Maybe he was going insane, looking at Max and imagining you under him, your bodies intertwined and faces filled with pleasure. He wondered if it was jealousy or lust that filled him - if there even was a difference. And if it was jealous, who or what was he jealous of?

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to focus. He was upset because he lost. It didn't matter what, he would always be upset over losing; yet this time it pained him more. He had lost to both of you, lost to himself by being left out of something he so desperately wanted.

"I'll beat you someday" Charles said, trying to keep up the joyful mood.

"Will it matter then?" Max asked. It was an innocent question, yet it was also a test: to his own rationality, to Charles' emotions and to where they stood in their friendship.

They locked eyes with each other and for a second the room was so quiet it might've been paused by someone's remote, the silence engulfing them both like a wave.

But as soon as it came, it disappeared. And Charles shrugged, picked up his pillow from the carpeted hotel floor and replied "I think it will to her"

Max allowed himself to close his eyes for a second, wondering if he should speak or not. He laughed at his own twisted thoughts, questioning his own morality as he felt his blood pumping through his veins.

"You know this just makes it hotter for me, right?" he asked his friend in the bed only a bedside table away frim him. "You wanting my girlfriend, all intense and shit."

Charles knew this. He was fighting similar feelings, knowing part of your allure also lied in their own desire for you.

What they didn't know is that you shared these thoughts, your attraction towards both of these men relying not only on their own selves but on their fight for you and each other.

11:00PM

You fidgeted with your wedding ring, looking at the way it adorned your long fingers. You looked at his hand then, both so different from each other.

You were a good wife, weren't you? You supported Max, you listened to him and you made him laugh. You cared about him more than anything else, though that was harder to admit.

Aren't people allowed to have flaws? Wasn't Charles his flaw as well? Wasn't he on the back of both of your minds, wasn't he just another reason why you loved each other so much?

"He went to my workplace today" you said as his head rested on your lap, smooth skin caressing his face. His body stiffened, yet it didn't seem like nervousness was the emotion affecting him.

"I think he's nervous." You continued, knowing his silence was a code for you to keep going.

He chuckled at your words. "About playing against me or you watching him?"

"I think it's more about you watching him than anything." More silence followed. He didn't want to argue with you, not when your touch felt so comforting and your words melted into his ears. "He likes you"

"He respects me" This time he retorted, his hand holding your arm as if in an attempt to wake you up from whatever sleep you were in.

"Same difference" you shrugged.

"For you, it is."

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1blr #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut

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