#it’s so nice to be back home oh my god I’ve missed this place so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncuredturkeybacon · 29 days ago

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𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which one night changed everything

The atmosphere from the stage was still buzzing in your bones.

You’d just wrapped your sold-out show in New York, the city’s skyline glittering like applause, and the rush of it all—the screams, the lights, the way the crowd had sung your lyrics back at you—was impossible to shake off. So when your manager asked if you wanted to head back to the hotel, you grinned, slid your sunglasses back on even though it was well past 11pm, and said, “I feel like dancing.”

Which is how you ended up here: in a club in SoHo, drink in hand, bass vibrating through your chest, trying to let the night swallow you whole.

Until you crash right into someone.

“Oh, shit—” you blurt, watching your drink spill straight down the front of a tall blonde’s jacket and shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The girl takes a half step back, blinking at the wet mess now soaking her clothes. But instead of freaking out, she just laughs. A soft, breathy kind of laugh that catches you off guard.

“It’s fine,” she says, brushing at the wet fabric. “Honestly. I’ve had worse fouls.”

You blink. “Are you... sure? I literally just baptized you in tequila.”

She smiles then—kind of sideways, kind of cocky—and that’s when it clicks.

You know that face.

“Wait… aren’t you Paige Bueckers?”

She arches a brow. “Guilty.”

You laugh, then clap a hand over your mouth. “God, this is so embarrassing. First time meeting you and I immediately drench you. Nice to meet you, I’m a walking disaster.”

“Well, I like disasters,” she says, grinning. “Especially ones with good taste in tequila.”

You laugh again, this time more relaxed, her tone somehow instantly calming.

“Can I at least buy you another drink to make up for it?” you ask, already half-turning toward the bar.

She hesitates for a second, like she’s about to say no, but then: “Only if you drink it with me.”

So you do. And then one turns into two, and then the crowd starts to feel too close, too loud, too much. She leans toward you, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Wanna find a quieter corner? Or ditch this place completely?”

You look at her, at the little dimple in her cheek, the warmth in her eyes, the way she’s looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in this club.

“Let’s get outta here,” you say.

The New York night air hits like a wave of clarity. It’s cooler now, streets still buzzing, the hum of late-night taxis and laughter in the distance.

You and Paige start walking, no destination in mind.

“So,” she says, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “You always that graceful with drinks?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. I swear I’m not usually a hazard.”

“No complaints here,” she teases. “It’s probably the most memorable way I’ve ever met someone.”

You glance over at her. “So you’re saying I made an impression.”

“Oh, definitely,” she says, nudging your shoulder. “You sing and spill drinks. Real triple threat.”

You laugh, heart fluttering unexpectedly. “You were at the concert, weren’t you?”

“I was,” she admits. “I’ve been a fan for a while now. Didn’t expect to end the night wearing your drink, though.”

“Hey, you’re lucky it wasn’t red wine. I’ve ruined tour outfits with that before.”

She smirks. “Good to know. I’ll make a note, don’t let you near wine in public.”

You both fall into a rhythm as you walk, trading jokes and stories like you’ve known each other for longer than the hour you’ve shared. The city fades around you, becoming background noise to the conversation.

She tells you about basketball, how weird fame can feel, how much she misses home sometimes. You tell her about tour life, how lonely it can get between cities, how much it means when people connect with your lyrics.

“Do you ever feel like... even when you're surrounded by people, you're still kinda alone?” you ask, not really sure why you're getting this vulnerable. Maybe it’s the way she listens—like she actually cares. Maybe it’s the tequila. Maybe it’s just her.

“All the time,” she says. “Especially when I’m traveling or doing press. It’s like... everyone's around, but no one really sees you, you know?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

There’s a pause. A comfortable one.

“You’re easy to talk to,” she says quietly.

You smile, glancing at her. “You too.”

You reach the edge of a small park. She gestures toward a bench. “Sit for a minute?”

You nod, and the two of you collapse onto the bench like it’s your own little world.

“So, real question,” Paige says, turning to face you slightly. “Do you always run into basketball players after your concerts, or am I just lucky?”

You laugh softly, “Very lucky. It’s usually just fans and a very enthusiastic sound guy named Trevor.”

She grins. “Trevor sounds like competition.”

“Trust me, Trevor’s happily married. To my lighting designer.”

“Well then,” she says, leaning back, stretching her legs out. “Guess I’ve got a shot.”

Your heart stutters, just a bit.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, playful.

“Yeah.” She turns her head, looking at you with those soft blue eyes. “Would it be crazy if I asked for your number?”

You blink, heat blooming in your cheeks. “No. It wouldn’t be crazy at all.”

You grab her phone and type it in, your name saved with a little sparkle emoji at the end. When you hand it back, she’s smiling like she just won a game-winner.

“I’m really glad I ran into you tonight,” she says, voice soft now. Almost like she’s shy.

You look at her—at the way the streetlight catches in her hair, at the gentle curve of her lips—and your heart does something weird and warm.

“Me too,” you say honestly.

It’s almost 3am when you finally call it a night. She walks you to your hotel, hands deep in her pockets again, the city quieter now.

At the door, she pauses. “Hey. If I text you tomorrow, you’ll answer, right?”

You grin. “I’ll be waiting.”

She starts to turn away, then glances back, her smile small but real. “Goodnight, mystery singer.”

“Goodnight, soaked-in-tequila basketballer.”

You both laugh, and then she’s walking down the street, head ducked slightly, like she’s trying to hide how much she’s smiling.

You watch until she turns the corner and disappears.

And somehow, you already know—this won’t be the last time you see her.

Your phone buzzes the next morning before your eyes even open.

You groan, roll over, and blindly reach for it on the nightstand. One eye cracks open.

Unknown Number: Is it too early to say I miss talking to you?

You blink. Then grin.

Tequila-soaked Paige Bueckers apparently turned into Smooth Paige Bueckers overnight.

You sit up, rubbing your face, the memory of last night rolling in slow and warm—her laugh, the way she said your name, that quiet moment on the park bench. It already feels like a dream.

You text back:

You: I don’t know, Paige. We’ve known each other for, what, 6 hours? This might be moving too fast.

She replies immediately.

Paige: Damn, already getting curved.

Paige: Can I at least take you out before you block me?

You grin, flopping back against the pillows, heart beating a little too fast for someone just out of bed.

You: Depends. What does a Paige Bueckers date look like?

Paige: Lowkey. Chill. Snacks are guaranteed. Good conversation. Great company, if I’m lucky.

You: You’re cheesy. I kinda like it.

Paige: Good. ‘Cause I kinda like you.

You stare at that one for a second too long. Then—

You: Pick me up at 7. No drinks involved this time.

Paige: Deal. No tequila. Just me and my charisma.

She picks you up outside your hotel exactly at 7, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a UConn hoodie that’s definitely too comfortable-looking to hate.

You slide into the passenger seat, glancing at her. “Points for being punctual.”

She smirks. “Would’ve been earlier, but I had to make sure I looked cute enough to impress a superstar.”

You roll your eyes, hiding your smile. “You clean up well, Bueckers.”

“And you,” she says, eyes dragging down to your outfit—just simple jeans and a bomber jacket, but the way she looks at you makes it feel like a red carpet moment, “look... dangerous.”

You laugh, cheeks warming. “This is why you played point guard, isn’t it? All smooth talk and clever moves.”

She shrugs. “I just see the opening and go for it.”

Instead of some fancy spot, she takes you to a rooftop food truck park in Brooklyn that you never would’ve found on your own. There’s string lights overhead, picnic tables, music playing from someone’s speaker, and people just vibing.

You both grab tacos and sit at a table tucked near the edge, the skyline stretching behind her like it’s part of the scene.

“You weren’t lying,” you say, taking a bite. “Great food, good company. You’re off to a good start.”

She grins, chewing thoughtfully. “Glad I didn’t blow it.”

You laugh. “Not yet.”

For a while, you just talk.

About music. About basketball. About growing up with big dreams and trying not to let them crush you. She asks about your first time on stage. You ask about her first time hitting a game-winner. She leans in when you talk about your new album, the one you’ve been pouring your soul into. You listen closely when she tells you about rehab and injuries, how hard it is to sit on the bench when all you want to do is fight.

“You’re more than just your game, you know,” you say, eyes softening as you watch her.

She blinks, surprised. “Not a lot of people say that.”

“Well, not a lot of people really see you, do they?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you. And then she nods, a tiny smile curling at her lips. “I think you do.”

It’s nearly midnight again by the time she drives you back. She parks in front of your hotel and turns off the engine, but neither of you makes a move to leave.

You glance at her. “So... you planning to ghost me after this?”

Her head whips around. “What? No. Never.”

You smirk. “Just checking.”

Paige looks at you for a second, eyes full of something soft. “Can I be honest?”

You nod.

“I wasn’t planning to go out after your concert. I’m not even a club person. But my friend dragged me out, and… you crashing into me was the best accident of my month. Maybe longer.”

Your throat tightens a little at that. “You’re not too bad yourself, Bueckers.”

A beat passes.

“I wanna see you again,” she says quietly.

You lean in, just enough for her to notice, but not enough to push.

“I’d like that.”

She smiles, and it’s the kind that hits deep. The kind that stays with you.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” she says.

“You better.”

You squeeze her hand before stepping out, heart fluttering stupidly in your chest.

And as you walk into the lobby, you check your phone.

Paige: I already miss talking to you again. Goodnight, pretty girl.

You bite your lip, smiling like a complete idiot.

You: Goodnight, smooth talker. Dream of me.

Paige: I will.

The next morning, you get a text from paige, a very vague one, to meet you at an address. The only thing she told you was to dress as if you were to workout. You questioned her, but all she sent you was he basketball emoji..

You show up in sneakers and sunglasses, trying to look chill but already sweating under the sun and nerves.

Paige’s standing under the chain-link fence, basketball spinning in one hand, the other casually in her hoodie pocket like she’s in some Nike ad. She sees you and grins.

“There she is,” she calls, tossing the ball to you. “You warm up, or should I go easy?”

You catch the ball with a fake glare. “You better go very easy. If I break an ankle, my tour manager will come for you.”

She laughs. “Deal. But only because you’re cute.”

You flush. She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that follows.

She does go easy—at first.

You start off playing HORSE. She nails everything effortlessly: off the backboard, spin move into a jumper, even a ridiculous one-legged fadeaway that makes you double over laughing.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you say between laughs. “You’re good. You’re like... disgustingly good.”

She grins. “Your form isn’t bad. Just needs... you know. A few years of elite training and a God-tier jumper.”

You fake pout. “That’s all?”

She walks over, dribbles behind her back, and then stands behind you, pressing a hand lightly to your back.

“Here,” she murmurs, positioning your elbow. “Relax your wrist more.”

Your breath catches a little at how close she is, how gentle her voice turns when she’s focused. You glance back at her, and she smiles softly.

“There you go. Now try.”

You shoot.

It bounces off the rim.

“Tragic,” you say.

She grins. “We’ll work on it.”

Later, you sit side by side on the edge of the court, water bottles in hand, the late-afternoon sun dripping gold across the pavement.

“That was surprisingly fun,” you say.

Paige nudges your leg. “You didn’t even cry after I beat you. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, I’m crying inside.”

She laughs, head tilted toward the sky, and for a second, the noise of the city fades into background static.

“You ever write love songs?” she asks, voice quieter now.

You look at her, tilt your head. “Yeah. All the time.”

“Anyone ever write one about you?”

You shrug. “I don’t think so.”

She nods slowly. “You should be someone’s muse.”

The way she says it—like it’s already written in her—makes something stir in your chest.

“Maybe I’ll write one about this,” you say, trying to keep it light. “Tequila, HORSE, getting coached on a public court.”

She laughs. “I better get a writing credit.”

You smirk. “You’ll get the bridge.”

The sun dips below the buildings by the time she walks you back to your place. You reach your door, both lingering again like last time.

“This was fun,” you say.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, rubbing the back of her neck. “More fun than I expected, honestly.”

You bite your lip. “Is that your way of saying you like hanging out with me?”

She leans against the doorframe, close enough that you can smell her cologne again.

“I love hanging out with you.”

A pause.

“I don’t want this to just be... like, a New York thing,” she says, quietly.

Your heart stutters. “I don’t either.”

She looks relieved. “Good. Because I wanna keep seeing you. And texting you. And maybe... calling you just to hear your voice.”

You smile, stepping a little closer. “You can call. But only if you sing backup on my next album.”

She raises a brow. “Even if I can’t sing?”

“Especially if you can’t. It'll keep you humble.”

She laughs, shaking her head. Then her eyes drift to your lips, and for a moment, the air changes.

She doesn’t kiss you—yet—but she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Goodnight, superstar.”

And just like that, she’s walking back down the hallway again, hands in her pockets, heart probably racing just like yours.

You’re somewhere between Paris and Berlin when the first wave of really missing her hits.

It’s late. You're curled up on the leather couch in your tour bus, city lights slipping past the window like streaks of gold. The after-show adrenaline is still buzzing in your chest, but it’s quieter now. Less electric. Less... full.

Your phone lights up,

Paige: Hey, superstar, just finished practice. Everything hurts. I’d kill to hear your voice right now.

A smile find its way on your face, heat creeping up your neck. You quickly click on her contact, hearing it ring twice before you see her face pop up on the other side.

“Superstar!”

She looked exhausted but still was excited to hear your voice. You started taking about anything, just wanting to be in the presence of each other even thousands of miles away.

“Play me something?” she asks, seeing your guitar on your lap.

You strum softly, trying to find the right chords. You made up some lyrics on the spot, something about missing someone in the quiet moments. You could see her eyes starting to close, the weight of the day finally catching up to her, but before she fell asleep, you heard her mumble.

“You’re gonna make me emotional before bed huh? That was beautiful. You always sound like home.”

You let your eyes linger on her face as she falls asleep.The distance grows louder over the next couple of weeks.

She’s in Dallas, grinding through practices and media days, trying to earn her minutes. You’re bouncing from Amsterdam to Rome, meeting fans and filling arenas—but something always feels missing.

At night, you call each other.

Sometimes it’s FaceTime at 1am your time, where she’s brushing out her curls with a hoodie on, sitting on her kitchen floor with a smoothie and sleepy eyes.

Sometimes it’s you whispering in a stairwell, your voice hoarse after a show, as she talks you down from the chaos of being known.

One night, the call turns heavier.

You’re in a hotel room in Madrid, lying on your back in the dark. Paige is on the other end, quiet.

“You still there?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“You.”

Your breath catches.

“This is gonna sound dumb,” she continues. “But sometimes I think about how easy it would be to let this fade. Like, I know the world wants us to let things go when they get hard.”

You stay silent, listening.

“But I don’t want to let this go. Even if it means texting across time zones and calling you when I should be sleeping. Even if I have to miss your shows and you have to miss my games.”

“Paige,” you whisper, voice cracking, “I don’t want to let this go either.”

You hear her exhale on the other end, shaky.

“Okay,” she says. “Then we won’t.”

There’s a pause.

Then she adds, quietly, “When the season starts, I want you at a game. I don’t care if it’s one or five. I just... I want to look up in the stands and know you’re real. That this isn’t just a midnight thing.”

Your chest aches, full of something fierce and warm.

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

A week later, she texts you a photo: her standing on the Wings court in her new uniform. Number 5. Media day.

Paige: I’m officially a pro. Not bad, huh?

You: You look hot. Like, I’d-throw-my-bra-on-the-court hot.

Paige: You’re gonna make my pictures look weird cause you keep making me bush.

You: I will be framing those photos.

Paige: Keep gassing me up.

It’s not easy.

You miss her laugh, the way she casually touches your hand when she’s not thinking. She misses your voice in real time, not just in echoes.

But you keep showing up for each other.

In stolen hours. In blurry video calls. In the voice notes that fill the silence between spotlight and stadium.

And one night, after a sold-out show in Prague, you sit alone on a balcony, phone in hand.

You call her.

She picks up immediately.

“Hey, superstar,” she says, tired but warm.

You look at the sky, at the stars above a city you’ve never been to before.

“I think I’m falling for you,” you whisper.

There’s silence.

Then a quiet, breathless, “Yeah?”

You nod even though she can’t see it.

“Hard.”

You hear her swallow.

“I think I’ve been falling since the moment you spilled that drink on me.”

You laugh, tears springing to your eyes.

“I don’t know how this works,” you say honestly. “But I want to keep trying. With you.”

“I do too,” she says. “We’ll figure it out.”

A pause. Then—

“I love that it’s you.”

You whisper back, “Me too.”

You're in Venice when the song first hits you.

Not the full thing. Just a feeling. A line. A chord progression that won’t leave you alone.

You’re in the back room of a centuries-old venue, sunlight leaking through antique windows, your team buzzing around about stage setup and lighting angles—but all you can hear is the soft melody playing over and over in your head.

“I like me better when I’m with you…”

It slips out under your breath, almost a whisper. You don’t even realize you’ve picked up your guitar until you're already strumming the first few notes, chasing the rhythm that’s been living in your chest since that last late-night call with Paige.

You close your eyes and lean into the feeling.

“I knew from the first time, I’d stay for a long time…”

You hum the lyrics into your phone’s voice memo app, fingers dancing across the strings. You’re not writing for a crowd tonight. Not even for the label. Just... for her.

The next few days are a blur of writing sessions between sound checks and flights. You’re scribbling verses on napkins, whispering melodies into your phone while your head leans against cold hotel windows, everything wrapped in Paige's voice, her laugh, her sleepy texts from halfway across the world.

Paige: Just saw you announced the Italy show. The crowd’s gonna lose it. Wish I could be there.

You: I wish you could too.

Paige: What are you working on? I can feel the writer brain from here.

You: A new song.

Paige: Is it the sexy one or the sad one?

You: Plot twist: it’s the soft one.

Paige: I’m intrigued.

Paige: I like soft. Especially from you.

You don’t tell anyone you’re going to perform it.

It’s still raw. Still new. But something about tonight feels different. The air’s crisp, the square outside the venue in Milan is packed with fans, and your hands are itching to share something real.

So you slide it into the setlist—right before the encore, no announcement, no title.

Just you and your guitar under the lights.

You walk out on stage, soaking in the roar of the crowd, and then let the silence settle.

“This next one,” you say into the mic, “is about someone who makes me feel like the best version of myself. It’s new. It’s honest. Be gentle.”

The first chord hits and you swear your hands tremble.

But then you sing.

“To be young and in love in New York City To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me…”

The crowd quiets. It’s like the whole city is holding its breath.

Your voice wavers slightly when you hit the chorus—because suddenly, you see her.

There. In the third row. Hat pulled low, hoodie on, but you’d know her anywhere.

Paige Bueckers.

Smiling. Eyes glassy. Hands folded against her mouth like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

You falter for half a second, heart slamming against your ribs. She came.

You blink through it, focus, and sing directly to her like she’s the only person there.

“I like me better when I’m with you...”

Your voice breaks a little on the last line. The crowd cheers like they felt it too—but you’re only watching her, and she’s clapping with tears in her eyes, mouthing the words back to you even though she’s never heard the song before.

After the show, you rush backstage, adrenaline crashing through your chest, half expecting it to have been a dream. But she’s there, waiting in the hall.

When you see her, you don’t even hesitate.

You run.

She catches you in her arms, lifting you slightly off the ground like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You bury your face in her shoulder, laughing, crying, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you whisper.

She pulls back, brushing your hair from your face. “I wanted to surprise you. Took a red-eye right after practice. Nearly missed my connection.”

You cup her face, forehead to hers.

“I thought about you the whole time I wrote that song.”

She smiles, soft and teary. “I knew it was about me the second you started.”

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Of course you did.”

“You really like yourself better when you’re with me, huh?” she teases.

“I like everything better when I’m with you,” you say, voice breaking with truth.

She leans in and finally—finally—kisses you.

It’s slow. Deep. Everything you’ve been aching for since you left New York.

And in that moment, nothing else matters.

Not time zones. Not distance. Not the flashing cameras or the headlines.

Just her.

Just you.

You wake up to warm sunlight spilling through your hotel window and a very real Paige Bueckers fast asleep in your bed, her cheek squished against the pillow, hair a little wild from the night before, one hand still curled against your hip.

You smile.

You don’t move. You just watch her, soaking in the softest version of the girl who once had a tequila sunrise spilled all over her. The girl who now knows every version of you: stage star, sleepy mess, secret romantic.

She stirs eventually, blinking up at you.

“Hi,” she mumbles.

“Hi,” you say back, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “Still real?”

She nods, smile lazy. “Very real. Very jet lagged. But worth it.”

You spend the day wandering Milan like a pair of tourists with a shared secret.

Coffee and fresh pastries at a tiny café. You both try to pronounce cornetto with your best Italian accents and fail miserably. Paige dips hers in espresso and groans like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

“I’m not going back to Dallas,” she says with her mouth full. “I live here now. I’m gonna play for... AC Milan Women’s Basketball or something.”

“That doesn’t exist,” you laugh.

“It will. I’ll start the team. Just to stay close to you.”

You explore side streets filled with blooming flower stands, boutiques, and locals on vespas. Paige snaps photos of you under every archway and old stone bridge, and you start teasing her about being your personal paparazzi.

“Smile,” she says, lifting her phone. “The light’s hitting you like you’re in a movie.”

“I am in a movie,” you grin. “You’re the love interest.”

She laughs, then slips her hand into yours without hesitation. No nerves. No hiding.

Just you and her.

You’re walking near the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II when you hear the first shutter.

A camera click. Then another.

You glance up and spot a guy with a long lens a few feet away, pretending to admire the architecture.

Then a girl with her phone out, eyes wide.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, clutching her friend’s arm. “It’s her. That’s them.”

You meet Paige’s eyes.

She squeezes your hand, calm. “You okay?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I don’t want to hide. We can keep it private but I’d never want to keep you a secret.”

And with that, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek—right there, in the middle of the plaza, with people watching.

@/BasketballUniverse: Is that Paige Bueckers in Milan… holding hands with [Y/N] after their show last night???

@/WNBAUpdates: Paige really said “distance who?” and flew to Italy mid-preseason 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 Love wins 🥹💙

@/concertswithY/N: I WAS THERE. I SAW THEM. She sang “I Like Me Better” and Paige was in the CROWD??!! They kissed after!!! I’m never recovering

@/PaigeBueckersFan69: so this means… that’s HER muse?? she wrote that song about HER???

Later that night, you're back at the hotel, scrolling through the chaos. You see blurry photos of you two on the street, kissing in front of a bookstore, laughing over lunch.

Some are stunning.

One shows Paige holding your hand while you reach up to adjust her sunglasses.

Another shows her staring at you like you hung the stars.

You hand her your phone.

She scrolls through slowly, then looks up at you.

“You okay with this?” she asks. “The noise, the questions, all of it?”

You wrap your arms around her waist.

“If it means I get to love you in the open? I’m good with it.”

She kisses you again, slow and sweet.

“I like me better when I’m with you,” she whispers against your lips.

You smile, because yeah—so do you.

Dallas is warmer than you expected.

The city hums with spring heat and WNBA excitement, the air heavy with the buzz of a new season. Posters of Paige and her teammates decorate downtown walls. There’s a billboard with her face on it just a few blocks from your hotel—smiling, fierce, confident.

You grin every time you pass it.

“She’s so cool,” you whisper like a fangirl to yourself, snapping a photo from the Uber.

She texts you before morning shoot around.

Paige: Today’s the day Kinda nervous Not for the game tho For you seeing me in my element

You: You mean sweaty, locked in, intimidating Bueckers? Yeah I’m shaking.

Paige: Shut up Are you coming to the tunnel?

You: Wouldn’t miss it.

You wait just outside the players’ entrance, baseball cap low, hoodie zipped, trying to blend in even though it’s impossible. The moment someone recognizes you, phones start coming out. You smile politely, taking a few photos, but your eyes keep drifting toward the hallway where you know she’ll walk out.

And then—

There she is.

Hair slicked-back in a bun, jersey crisp, headphones around her neck, and that unmistakable focused look in her eyes.

Until she sees you.

Then she melts.

“Hey, superstar,” she says, walking straight into your arms.

“You look insane,” you whisper, drinking her in. “Like… this is what the billboards don’t show.”

“You nervous?” she teases, hands settling on your hips.

“I might faint.”

She grins. “You better not. I need you conscious so I can wink at you when I hit my first shot.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

She leans in and kisses you—soft, fast, but right there in front of everyone. Phones flash. Reporters murmur. Her teammates whistle.

You don’t care. Neither does she.

She’s yours. And she’s about to light up the court.

You’re in the front row when it happens.

She drains her first three with a signature step-back, and sure enough, turns and winks right at you as she runs back on defense.

You practically melt in your seat.

By halftime, she’s leading the team in points. The Wings are ahead. The crowd’s electric.

You’re hoarse from screaming. Every time she looks over, she finds you. Smiling. Cheering. Clapping with pride in your chest like it might burst.

And she shines brighter every time she sees you.

After the game, you’re waiting in the tunnel again.

She walks out flushed, sweaty, and glowing. Her jersey is untucked, towel draped around her neck, and the second she sees you, her whole face softens.

“You killed it,” you say as she pulls you into a hug.

“I heard you yelling,” she says into your ear.

“I blacked out during the third quarter. I think I proposed.”

She laughs, stepping back, eyes shining. “I might’ve accepted.”

Back at her place that night, it’s quieter.

She showers while you lay in bed, wearing her warmup hoodie, scrolling through social media posts of her game.

Fans are losing their minds.

@/WNBASTanTwitter: Paige Bueckers showing out on her debut, and her girl was court side all smiles?? We are living in a rom-com.

@/BueckersFanClub: She winked at Y/N after that three 😭 THEY'RE SO IN LOVE

@/Y/Nupdates: We saw her perform “I Like Me Better” Now we saw HER be the biggest Paige stan They are ENDGAME.

When Paige comes out of the bathroom, damp hair curling around her cheeks, oversized tee hanging off her frame, you set your phone down.

“Come here,” you whisper, opening your arms.

She crawls in beside you, settling with a content sigh, head on your chest.

“I’ve never felt like this,” she murmurs. “Balanced. Seen.”

You press a kiss to her forehead.

“Me neither.”

“You think we can do this?” she asks. “Your tour. My season. The distance?”

You nod, sure.

“Yeah. Because we’re not doing it alone.”

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes searching.

And then she kisses you like she’s promising something. Something big. Something real.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, dreams quiet and golden.

And even though your next show is in Berlin, and her next game is in Phoenix, neither of you feels far anymore.

Not really.

Because love doesn’t care about distance.

And you’ve already written the song.

Berlin is electric.

The crowd is wild, the lights intense, the soundcheck rolls late into the night with the hum of neon signs outside your hotel window. You’ve played three shows in four days. Your voice is hoarse. Your body aches. You’ve been pouring every drop of yourself into the music, but no matter how loud the crowd gets—how bright the lights shine—there’s a dull ache that sits just behind your ribs.

You miss her.

You miss her voice. Her dumb jokes. The way she looks at you after a show like you’re magic and made of stars. FaceTime helps, sure. Texts too. But it’s not the same.

Tonight, you're sitting on the floor of your dressing room after the encore, sweating and spent, staring at the same message thread you’ve read a hundred times.

You: I miss you so much it hurts.

She hasn’t replied yet.

She had a team dinner tonight. You don’t expect a quick response. But your throat tightens anyway. Not out of doubt, not out of fear—just longing.

Real, raw, inconvenient longing.

There’s a knock at the door. You don’t look up.

“Can we just—” you start, assuming it’s your manager or a fan service person, “—give me ten?”

Silence.

Then—

“I brought something.”

The voice is soft. Familiar. Your heart slams into your ribs.

You look up.

And she’s there.

Paige.

In a hoodie and jeans, cap low over her head, grinning like the most beautiful problem you’ve ever had.

You scramble to your feet.

“What—what the hell are you doing here?”

She drops her bag and walks into your arms like she’s been holding the motion for weeks.

“Coach gave me a day off,” she whispers. “I booked the flight before I could change my mind.”

You bury your face in her neck, shaking from the adrenaline and disbelief.

“I didn’t think I could miss someone like this,” you breathe.

“Same,” she murmurs. “You sounded a little off the past few nights. Thought I’d come fix that.”

The next day is quiet and golden.

No venue. No schedule. Just you and Paige exploring Berlin with coffee in one hand and each other’s fingers intertwined in the other.

You ride bikes down cobbled side streets. She tries to pronounce German street names and butchers all of them, laughing until she nearly crashes into a pretzel cart.

You eat currywurst from a stand near the Brandenburg Gate, take a ridiculous amount of selfies in front of graffiti walls, and lay in the grass in Tiergarten Park, shoes kicked off, her head in your lap.

“You look good in the sun,” she says softly, squinting up at you.

You brush your fingers through her hair. “You look good in Europe.”

She grins. “I look good when I’m with you.”

That night, she insists on coming to the venue again.

Just to be in the wings. To hear you sing live. To feel the thing you’ve been building city after city.

You don’t tell anyone she’s there.

But when you sing “I Like Me Better”, you glance stage left—and she’s there. Hoodie up, leaning against the wall, smiling like you’re still the most magic thing in the world.

You sing the bridge like a secret just for her.

“Stay awhile, stay awhile Stay here with me…”

You're wrapped up in a blanket, legs tangled, room dim except for the glow of the street lights outside. Paige’s arm is draped over your waist, thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles on your hip.

“I hate that you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she murmurs. “But we’ll have time soon. The break’s coming. Two weeks with no games. You’ll be off tour by then, right?”

You nod. “I don’t care where we go. As long as it’s you and me.”

“I’ve been thinking…” she starts slowly. “Beach. No cameras. No fans. Just us and sand and sunscreen and me putting your phone on airplane mode.”

You smile sleepily. “That sounds illegal. And perfect.”

She kisses your temple. “It’s a date.”

@/PaigeBueckers: 📍 Berlin ❤️‍🔥💙🎤 [Photo: A blurry one of you singing on stage, lit up like a supernova.]

@/Y/Nofficial: Replying to @/PaigeBueckers Who let you in?? 👀

@/WNBAStanTwitter: Paige Bueckers being the supportive girlfriend every artist deserves 🙌 This era is ELITE.

@/concertwithYN: If they don’t get married by 2026 I’m staging a protest

You didn’t ask where you were going.

All Paige said was: “Pack light. Swimsuits. Sunscreen. And don’t bring your laptop.”

Now, thirty minutes after your private plane touched down on a remote Caribbean island—no paparazzi, no tour buses, no practice schedules—you’re barefoot on warm white sand, mouth open as Paige grins beside you like she’s just pulled off the heist of the year.

“This is…” You exhale, spinning slowly to take it all in. “You planned this?”

Paige shrugs, smug. “I’ve had this bookmarked for months. Told myself if we made it through your Europe tour and my preseason, we deserved something stupidly romantic.”

You shake your head, laughing as you walk backward into the ocean breeze, hands up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. In love with me.”

“Bold assumption, Bueckers.”

She steps forward, hands sliding around your waist, eyes playful. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You pause.

Heart loud.

She tilts her head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

The days blur in the best way.

Salt on your lips. Sun on your skin. Paige in a bikini, hair slicked back from the sea, eyes soft like you’re something sacred. You try to read a book in a hammock, but she keeps poking your side until you chase her into the water, laughing like kids.

There’s a private pool. A villa with doors that open right into the ocean. You take turns making breakfast—her pancakes, your espresso—and slow-dance barefoot in the kitchen to whatever playlist Paige throws on.

It’s just you two.

No headlines. No pressure. Just the sound of your voices, and the ocean outside your window.

One night, you’re on the beach—blanket in the sand, wine bottle between you, sky full of stars.

Paige is lying on her side, propped up on an elbow, watching you talk about your next album ideas.

You pause mid-thought. “What?”

She blinks, like she didn’t realize she’d been staring. “You’re just…” She exhales. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding dumb.”

“Say it.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The moment freezes.

Her voice is soft. Unshaken. Like she’s known for a while.

Your breath catches. “Yeah?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah.”

You reach out, fingers brushing hers. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been in love with you since Milan.”

Paige grins—relieved, glowing, golden. She leans in to kiss you, slow and certain, her hand finding the side of your face like you’re her favorite melody.

Later, when you’re curled up in bed, tangled in white sheets, limbs loose from ocean air and confession, she whispers, “You’re my person. You know that, right?”

You smile against her neck.

“Yeah. I do.”

@/randomtourist: Is this… @/Y/Nofficial and Paige Bueckers?? In Anguilla??? They just held hands walking into a beach cafe and ordered smoothies like a damn rom-com I’m shaking

@/Y/Nfanacc: Y’all see this paparazzi-free private vacay?? She’s off tour. Paige is on break. The timing.

@/WNBAStanupdates: If Paige Bueckers shows up to the next Wings game with a tan and a ring, don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Dallas feels different this time.

It’s not just the humidity or the promise of WNBA season in full swing—it’s the key in your pocket. It’s your suitcase by the door. It’s the way Paige slides your duffel next to hers in the closet without saying a word, like she’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“So,” she says casually, walking backwards into the living room. “What’s mine is yours. Except my last few Oreos. Touch those and we’ll fight.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “You’re giving me a key, but not cookies?”

“There are limits to love, babe.”

It starts slow.

A drawer becomes two. Your toothbrush appears next to hers in the bathroom, and then one day it’s her hoodie on your back while you stir pasta, and she’s setting your favorite mug down beside you before you even ask for coffee.

It’s easy. Too easy.

You don’t fight over decor—you both somehow have the same taste in soft throws, candle scents, and weird-shaped vases. You turn assembling furniture into a full-day event, music blasting, her standing on the instruction manual, you threatening to call Ikea customer service over the six leftover screws.

You crash on the couch that night, covered in sweat and sawdust.

She hands you a popsicle and kisses your cheek. “I’d build a thousand stupid shelves if it means falling asleep next to you every night.”

You mumble around the stick, “You’re such a sap.”

She grins. “You love it.”

You do.

God, you do.

The place is quiet without her.

Not in a sad way. Just still.

You’re curled up on Paige’s couch, her grey hoodie swallowing your body, a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table, and your old, worn leather songwriting journal resting open across your lap. The windows are cracked just enough to let in a breeze and the hum of the Dallas cityscape below. Somewhere, faintly, sirens. A dog barking. Life, just happening.

She’s at practice. You texted her a sleepy “miss you already” when she left this morning, and she responded with a selfie from the gym and a kissy-face emoji that made your stomach twist in the best way.

You flip through the journal lazily, half-looking, until your eyes land on a page you haven’t touched in over a year.

There are only a few lines, scribbled quickly one night after a concert in New York—shortly after you’d met Paige.

You touch the page softly, smile tugging at your lips.

You remember that version of yourself. The one who bumped into her at a club with tequila in your veins and stars in your eyes. The one who had no idea what was starting that night.

Your fingers trace over the half-written lyrics.

“Sweet baby, our sex has meaning Know this time you’ll stay ‘til the morning…”

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. You were so gone for her, even then.

You grab a pen from the side table, stretch your legs out, and start to write.

It’s easy, really. Once you start thinking of her—of her hands on your back after shows, her sleepy kisses on your forehead in the morning, her goofy dancing in the kitchen when you burn toast—everything just pours out.

You don’t write this one like a sad ballad.

You write it like a promise.

“Baby, let me be your woman So I can love you And if you let me be your woman Then I’ll take care of you…”

You underline the last part twice.

Because that’s all you’ve ever wanted—to take care of her. To be a constant in the whirlwind. To be the reason she exhales after holding the world on her shoulders.

You finish the final chorus just as the front door creaks open.

“Babe?” Paige calls, breathless from the stairs.

“In here,” you say, not bothering to hide the smile in your voice.

She rounds the corner, hair tied up, cheeks flushed from the Texas heat, gym bag slung over her shoulder.

She sees your journal and raises a brow. “New song?”

You nod slowly. “Not new… just unfinished. Until now.”

Her eyes sparkle as she leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “Can I hear it?”

You hesitate.

“It’s about you,” you say quietly.

She just grins. “Then absolutely yes.”

You grab your guitar from the wall hook, sit back on the couch, and start to play—voice low, rich with emotion as you sing her song.

“Nothing ever comes easy At least that’s what they say I know I’m not perfect But I’ll love you every day…”

You glance up once.

Her eyes are glassy.

You keep going.

“I swear that I will mean it I’ll say it every day…”

When the final note fades, Paige doesn’t say anything right away.

She just leans forward and wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying her face in your neck.

“You wrote that?” she whispers, voice thick.

You nod, hugging her back.

“I’d write a hundred more,” you murmur, “just to tell you the same thing.”

She pulls back, a little tear trailing down her cheek.

“I already knew,” she says, smiling, “but hearing it like that? Damn.”

You laugh softly, wiping her face gently. “You always get like this when I sing.”

“And you always pretend not to love it.”

She kisses you slow and deep, and when she finally pulls back, she’s grinning again.

“When are you releasing it?”

You shrug. “Maybe soon. Maybe never.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” you smile, brushing her hair back, “some songs are just for you.”

The lights dim, a single spotlight pools around the center of the stage. You step into it, holding your acoustic guitar close, and perch on the lone stool set out just for this. No flashy visuals. No backup dancers. Just wood, strings, and words that were once for her ears only.

You strum the opening chord, the crowd hushed, breath held.

“Sweet baby, our love has meaning… You stay through all my worst seasons…”

Your voice is gentle, almost like you’re whispering it across a pillow.

You don’t look at the cameras. You don’t even look at the crowd.

You look at her.

Every time your eyes lift, they find Paige. And every time they do, something in your chest softens.

“If you let me be your woman Then I’ll take care of you For the rest of my life, for the rest of yours…”

As the bridge swells, you can see Paige subtly wipe at her eyes. She tries to hide it, like she’s just blinking too long, like she’s got something in her lashes. But you know her. You know every tell.

And the truth is—she’s crying.

Not big, sobbing tears. But the quiet kind. The kind that come when something hits bone-deep. When you realize someone loves you that much.

You play the final note, let it linger.

And then—silence.

And then—roaring applause.

You stand, give a little smile, a nod of thanks. The spotlight fades as you walk offstage.

Backstage is chaos again—handlers talking over each other, compliments thrown your way, makeup artists adjusting things you don’t even notice. But your eyes are on the hallway.

And when Paige finally gets past security, she doesn’t say a word.

She just pulls you into her arms and holds you like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.

You bury your face into her shoulder, breathe her in.

“Did it sound okay?” you murmur into her neck.

She leans back just enough to look into your eyes, her own rimmed red and glossy.

“It sounded like everything I’ve never been able to say out loud,” she whispers. “You gave my heart a song.”

You smile, forehead to hers. “It was yours long before anyone else heard it.”

She kisses you quickly—just once, tucked into the corner of the hallway out of view.

@/LateNightTonight: Y/N stunned with a raw, intimate performance of their new single “Let Me” tonight. Not a dry eye in the room.

@/fangirlballer: I JUST KNOW Paige was in the crowd. I JUST KNOW. That was a love letter in song form and she wrote it with her whole chest.

@/WNBAtea: Paige was spotted leaving the studio hand-in-hand with Y/N and looked like she’d just sobbed through the second coming of Mozart. What do you mean this isn’t a rom-com.

That night, you and Paige don’t go home right away.

You find a quiet little diner that’s still open past midnight. Sit across from each other in a booth with fries between you and her fingers laced with yours across the table.

She keeps looking at you like you’re made of stars.

And for the first time in your career, you realize:

You don’t want to sing about pain anymore.

You want to write about her.

The lights of the arena are blinding, the energy nuclear, and the sound? Earth-shaking.

Game 5 of the WNBA Finals. Series tied 2–2. Winner takes it all.

You’re sitting court side at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, legs crossed, hair tied back, and Paige’s #5 BUECKERS jersey draped over your body like a second skin. Customized, of course. Small embroidered initials on the back near the collar: PB + YN. A subtle little secret between you and her.

The game hasn’t started yet, but the tension is thick enough to chew.

You can see her pacing.

She’s got her headphones in, but her body language is loud. Too tight. Too stiff. She’s stretching like it’s routine but you know her—this is nerves.

You wait for the right moment before slipping past security and finding her near the tunnel before final warmups.

She sees you and her shoulders drop just slightly.

“Hey,” you say softly, sliding your hand into hers, grounding her with your touch. “You good?”

She breathes out, eyes flickering over your face. “I will be.”

You tug her in gently, press your forehead to hers in a way that says breathe, baby, just breathe.

“You’re ready,” you whisper. “You’ve been ready. This is your game.”

She nods slowly. “But what if—”

“No,” you say, a little firmer. “No ‘what ifs.’ You are Paige Bueckers. You are clutch. You are brilliant. And you’ve worked for this your entire life. There is no one I’d trust more with this moment.”

Paige exhales shakily, blinking fast like she’s trying to hold back the flood. You smile, brushing your fingers over her cheek.

“And no matter what happens,” you whisper, “you already won me.”

That earns you the smallest grin—crooked, warm, hers.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I got this.”

“Damn right, you do.”

You watch her walk back out with a different kind of fire in her step.

And you go back to your seat, clutching your knees, heart already pounding.

The game is tight from the beginning.

Tensions boil. The crowd is deafening.

Paige? Paige is dialed in.

First quarter—three assists, a steal, eight points including a no-look jumper that has the whole bench on their feet.

Second quarter—she gets knocked hard on a drive, pops right back up, grinning, drains both free throws without flinching.

You’re screaming with the rest of the arena. Hands on your head. Heart in your throat.

But it’s the fourth quarter where she becomes something else entirely.

Two minutes left. Tie game.

She sinks a dagger three from deep. Next possession, she steals a pass mid-air and drives it coast-to-coast, finishes with a smooth reverse layup. Crowd: unglued.

Paige: ice cold.

You? Crying. Yelling. Almost fainting.

Final possession. Opponents down two. Clock ticking.

They go for a desperation three.

Paige jumps—clean block.

Ball flies loose.

Buzzer.

Game.

Dallas Wings are WNBA Champions.

The court erupts.

Players tackle each other. Confetti rains down like stars.

And Paige?

She turns in a slow circle—searching.

Then her eyes land on you.

And without hesitation, she sprints across the court, cuts past cameras and chaos, and pulls you into her arms.

She spins you in a circle, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I told you,” you gasp into her ear. “You’re that girl.”

She pulls back, eyes glistening. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did this,” you whisper. “You earned every second.”

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice booms through the stadium.

“And your Finals MVP… PAIGE BUECKERS!”

She freezes, looks at you like she can’t believe it.

You just nod, eyes wet. “Go get your trophy, MVP.”

“Paige, you just won the championship and MVP in your rookie season. How does it feel?”

She smiles wide, wiping sweat and tears from her face.

“It feels… surreal. I’ve dreamed about this forever. But honestly? The best part is knowing the person I love is here tonight wearing my jersey. This win is for Dallas, for the team, for everyone who believed in me.”

Cue crowd losing their minds. Cameras swing to you, stunned in your seat, face in your hands, smiling like your chest can’t hold it all in.

@/paigebueckers: CHAMPIONS. MVP. But the biggest win of all is you in my corner, always. 💙 @/Y/Nofficial, this one’s for you.

@/Y/Nofficial: You blocked a game-winning shot and then stole mine and 20,000 people’s hearts. My MVP. Forever. 🏆

@/fan: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME PAIGE DEDICATED HER FINALS MVP TO HER GIRLFRIEND???? ENDGAME CANNOT STOP CRYING GETTING MARRIED WHEN??

It’s nearly 2 a.m. when you unlock the door to Paige’s apartment—your apartment now, too. Or at least it will be once the boxes arrive.

Your shoes are off before you’re even in the living room. Paige follows you in, still in her Finals Champion shirt, hair damp from a post-game shower and skin still carrying the shimmer of victory.

The silence in the apartment is almost jarring after the chaos of the last twelve hours. The echoes of cheering fans still ring in your ears, but now it’s just the hum of the fridge, the soft creak of hardwood under your feet, and Paige’s breath, steady but tired, behind you.

She drops her duffel bag by the door and sighs like her whole body is unraveling.

You don’t say anything at first. You just turn, hold your arms out, and wait.

She walks straight into them.

No MVP speech. No cameras. Just her forehead against your collarbone and your hands threading gently into her hair.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was,” she mumbles into your chest.

“I know,” you whisper back. “You held it together all night.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

You kiss the top of her head. “You don’t have to now.”

She melts into you.

You don’t sleep right away.

You sit on the kitchen counter while she eats leftover pasta cold from the fridge, and you sip sleepy tea while your voice goes soft and low.

You ask her what it felt like. The game. The title. The moment her name was called.

She shrugs, eyes still puffy, smile barely-there. “It felt… like everything. And nothing. Like a dream I’ve had since I was a kid. But when I looked up and saw you in my jersey? That’s when it hit me.”

You blink slowly. “What hit you?”

She leans in and kisses your knee. “That I’ve already won.”

You press your lips together to keep from crying again.

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

She grins, sets her container down, and walks over to where you’re sitting. Her hands go to your hips, her forehead finds yours again.

“So what now?” she whispers.

“Now…” you hum, “we rest.”

“Together?”

“Always.”

She’s sprawled across your lap, her championship ring sitting on the coffee table beside your Grammy.

You trace patterns on her arm with your fingertips.

“Do you ever think,” she asks quietly, “about what it would’ve been like if we never bumped into each other in that club?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d still be singing about heartbreak and tequila. And you’d still be pretending you’re not the softest person alive.”

She grins and leans up to kiss your jaw.

“You saved me,” she says. “In a hundred ways I didn’t know I needed saving.”

“You found me,” you counter. “When I didn’t know I was lost.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #paige x reader #paige buckets #lesbian #wlw #wnba x reader #dallas wings #wuh luh wuh

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

Note

hi Mae could do a reader with Spencer (or any boy u want!) where she's feeling super nauseous and throwing up a lot and trying to hide it from him like may be it's early on and she feels embarassed? I went out to brunch with a friend and idk what happened but I think I got food poisoning I've already thrown up twice and still feel so so sick

Ugh food poisoning is the worst, but I hope you're over it now lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: vomitting, nausea

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Part of you thinks you should cancel. You’re not a very good time right now, nauseated and shaking a little from the exertion of walking from your car to the host’s stand. Spencer deserves a date that doesn’t have to scope out bathrooms like escape routes the moment she enters the restaurant. But oh, he’d been so sweet in asking you. All soft eyes and gentle voice, and he’d sent you the menu to make sure you found something you liked before he made the reservation. You know it can’t have been easy to get, at a nice place like this on a Saturday night. Really, at the end of the day, there is simply no world where you cancel on Spencer.

You paste on a smile for the hostess, wondering if she’d find it odd if you leaned on her stand for support just for a moment. “Hi,” you say. “Um, I’m meeting someone, I think he’s already…”

A touch at your elbow prompts you to turn.

“Hi,” Spencer says.

You go a bit breathless at the sight of him. Spencer in a suit. His hair still messy as if he ran his hands through it after leaving home, the top button of his shirt open like he had it done up all the way and then felt too constricted. He looks handsome and endearing and nice. Your sundress and half sweated-through makeup feel suddenly, hopelessly inadequate.

“Hi,” you say back. “Sorry, I thought you’d already be sitting down.”

“I wanted to wait for you,” he replies simply. He turns to the hostess. “For Reid?”

As she walks you to your table, it dawns on you what an idiot you are. Possibly the only thing you could do to Spencer that would be worse than cancelling on him would be to show up as you are now. Listless and unprepared for conversation. You’re going to have to order either the smallest thing on the menu or nothing at all, and he’s going to think you don’t want to be here with him. And for yourself, you want to experience this—a first date, with Spencer, and quite possibly your only date—with all the appropriate butterflies and nervousness. Instead, you just feel…tired. And sick.

“This is really nice,” you say as you sit down.

“Yeah?” Spencer reaches for the carafe in the center of the table, pouring water into your glass and then his own. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been here once, but I thought it was good then, so. I hope you like the food.”

He spills a little bit of water on the tablecloth, missing his glass. Winces as sharply as if he’d shattered it. Oh god; he’s nervous. You’re going to so disappoint him.

“Sorry I was late.” You take your water, the cool glass against your hand a relief. “I was…” Well, you were vomiting in your bathroom. “I got a bit tied up on my way out.”

“That’s okay,” he says easily. “You look really beautiful.”

You wish you could tell yourself he was only a good liar. You feel clammy, and disgusting, and entirely undeserving of sitting across from him, but it’s all earnestness in Spencer’s puppy brown eyes.

“Thank you.” Your voice has gone soft with sincerity. “You look very handsome, too. I’ve never…I don’t think I’ve seen you in a suit.”

Spencer smiles, bashful. “I should probably wear them more for work. Most of my team does.”

“I like what you wear,” you say. “It suits you. Very professor-y.”

Drinking water was a bad idea. You’ve been too greedy for the cool feel of it going down your torn-up throat; your glass is nearly empty already, and already it wants back up.

“It would probably be more professional if I dressed like the others, though.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. Adorable. “I am a professor, but I’m also a profiler, so…” Spencer’s smile slips when you swallow against the nausea tightening your throat. “Are you okay?”

You press your lips into a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t think there’s anything unprofessional about your regular clothes. I like your cardigans.”

“They’re not…they’re not unprofessional, I guess, but I…” You can see Spencer’s brain working, his eyes moving over your face as you struggle to appear attentive. “Sorry, are you sure you’re okay? You look uncomfortable.”

You could almost laugh, if you weren’t feeling so awful. Trust Spencer to tell it like it is.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sorry, I’m not feeling great, but I’m fine.”

“You’re not?” Spencer looks troubled. Sad, puppy brown eyes.

Oh, and there are the nerves you’d been missing. Malicious, evil butterflies turning your stomach into an inhospitable environment.

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor. “I’m so sorry,” you say in a rush. “I’ll be right back.”

You are not, unfortunately, able to keep that promise. You spend the next twenty minutes kneeling in a bathroom stall, trying to convince yourself they probably keep the floors very clean in a nice restaurant like this while your body rejects the water you had and then several phantom meals it suspects you might’ve had while it wasn’t paying attention. When you finally emerge, Spencer is waiting outside the bathroom with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. You’re wary of repeating your mistakes, but you take a small sip to appease him before simply giving in and pressing the cool glass to your temple.

Spencer assesses you with his gaze. You resign to it, knowing he’ll have you figured out by now whether you make it easy for him or not.

“How long have you been sick for?” he asks softly.

“It’s not contagious,” you want him to know. “It’s food poisoning, I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s not…what I’m worried about.” Spencer sounds almost hurt, but his touch is gentle as he brings his knuckles to your forehead. “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. You’re too exhausted to pretend at being anything else anymore. “It was stupid. I didn’t want to bail on you, but instead I’m ruining it.”

“You’re not ruining it.” His first knuckle moves almost imperceptibly, a tiny caress. “This isn’t your fault. We can do this another time. Did you drive here?”

“Yeah,” you say meekly.

Spencer frowns. “Can I take you home? You’re too hot to be driving yourself.”

He flushes instantly, though you weren’t going to say anything.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Here.” He guides you to a bench, his hand ever so gentle on your waist. “Wait here, okay? I’ll grab our stuff.”

You’ve fully given into wretchedness. You have no shame about resting the side of your head against the wall, closing your eyes until Spencer returns with a touch to your shoulder. He’s carrying his jacket and your bag, and the sympathetic look the hostess shoots you says that he’s conveyed you’ll be abandoning your reservation.

“You don’t have to drive me,” you say as Spencer leads you outside, one hand at your back like he’s afraid you’ll keel over. “I can get home alright. I don’t want to throw up on your nice suit.”

“I thought you liked my cardigans best.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was teasing you. “Anyway, the idea that you could be sick again this soon isn’t consistent with the idea that you could get home alright.”

It’s so him, the way he reasons this out, like he’s outlining an argument you’d never honestly expect to win. It reminds you that you’re on a date with Spencer Reid, and that makes you feel worse.

You let him shepherd you to his car and sit you in the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt, looks over to see that yours is on, and his hand twitches as if it’s going to reach for yours before rerouting to the ignition.

“Spence…”

“Hm?”

“Just, thank you. And I’m sorry, for making us leave.”

“It’s okay.” He says it so easily, like a given. He does reach for your hand now, his fingers closing over yours to give the gentlest of squeezes. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask to be sick.”

“I’m really sorry I ate that sketchy pasta last night.”

Spencer laughs. It’s a lovely sound, lovely enough to make you smile despite the roiling of your stomach.

You say, in a softer voice, “I think it would have been a really nice date.”

“We’ll find out,” he says surely. “Maybe next week, if you’re not doing anything. We could come back here, or go somewhere if seeing that bathroom again will make you uncomfortable. I know that for some people nausea can be a Pavlovian response. You spent…a long time in there.”

You stifle a groan, leaning your head against the window and turning your face in humiliation. Spencer’s thumb stroking down the side of your hand makes it all worth it.

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wheres-mylove · 8 months ago

Text

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark.

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.”

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was.

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?”

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?”

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #modern cregan stark #modern hotd #hotd #hotd fanfic #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan stark imagine

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femmeroll · 4 months ago

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hiii, could you write something about sevika corrupting a sweet church girl?

your blog is really cute btw <3

omg omg omg !!! i’ve been dying to write something like this, thank you for the request!!

sevika x fem reader

cw: religion, corruption, implied age gap, fingering, semi-public.

you’re a good girl. made good grades in school, good daughter, good sister, kind person. you never miss a sunday service. and if you must, you’ll be at the church for service on monday afternoon. you spend your life being pure, avoiding sin wherever it may rear its devilish head.

no pride or greed or lust. just simple, sweet purity.

that is, until you meet that lady.

every day on your walk home from mass you see her. maybe mid forties, dark hair, and easily six feet tall. she stands outside the deli every morning at 11:45 on the dot for her smoke break.

and every sunday morning she says hello, or good morning, or asks how ‘sunday school’ is going. it’s strange. you always give her a smile, say hello back, but she seems so condescending. like every word she says to you is secretly making fun of you.

you don’t really know her either, which is weird. it’s a small town, everyone knows each other. not…her thought. she’s just an impossibly rude person you see on sundays that causes you to remember the jesus was always kind to strangers.

it’s a cold january morning, sidewalks slick with ice. like clockwork, that woman is standing outside the deli with her cigar.

“careful, virgin mary. don’t want you slippin’ out here.”

okay, rude.

“i’m okay, no need to worry,” you respond, stopping in your tracks in front of her. the gaze she holds on you is almost uncomfortable. she’s staring down at you like she’ll burst out laughing at any moment. like the mere idea of you is just hilarious to her.

“sevika, by the way. my name.”

oh. sevika. okay.

“y/n. it’s nice to properly meet you. i’ve never seen you around outside of…this.”

“i’m not very social” she responds.

you smile. you certainly know the best way for people to find community in town.

“well, there’s a service on mon-”

she cuts you off with a scoff. “not interested. not the place for me.”

“why not?”

sevika leans closer, letting her lips fall near your ears.

“i like smoking, drinking, cursing, fucking. it’s not the place for me, princess.”

you clutch the cross around your neck with a gasp. this is wrong on so many levels. sinful, disgusting, unnatural…and yet you feel your face getting impossibly redder.

sevika stomps out her cigarette. “see you next sunday, princess.”

whether you like it or not, sevika evokes quite a bit of lust in you. her smirk, her piercing grey eyes, her muscles that stretch the fabric of her impossibly tight tshirt…you can’t help it. the forbidden fruit is strong. you suppose it’s all a part of the lord’s plan. send you a taste of homosexual temptation and watch you be a true follower.

you aren’t though.

you entertain her flirting, all her lustful stares, and your church dresses start to come above the knee just to give her something to look at. you don’t know why you like this so much. it’s gross. it’s wrong. it’s against god’s wishes.

but jesus christ, one look from sevika and that all goes out the window. every good christian moral, everything you’ve known to be true disappears the second sevika locks eyes with you.

after a monday evening service, you take your weekly stroll home. it’s dinner time, and sevika is working.

you open the door to the deli, seeing sevika behind the counter. you watch silently as she meticulously rearranges the meats on display.

“i could use some dinner, sevika” you say and she perks up, brief shock replaced with her signature smirk.

“princess. c’mon back, i’ll make you whatever sandwich you want.”

and she does. you’re sitting on a wooden stool in the back of the deli, making small talk. sevika’s presence feels strangely right, like these little moments were made to happen. maybe this was the lord’s plan after all.

sevika steps closer, towering over you.

“you have sauce on your lips. messy eater, huh princess?”

she takes her calloused thumb and wipes the sauce away, eyes never leaving yours. the air feels thicker and your face feels hotter. and without skipping a beat, your lips on on sevika’s.

she stammers a bit in shock, then immediately gaining back control. she wraps her hand around the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. you can feel her smirking against you, prying your lips apart and exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue.

her lips feel like the missing piece of a puzzle, perfectly slotting against yours in a dance of passion and affection. she’s calculated with the way she kisses, making sure you feel every bit of her tongue gliding against your mouth.

“sevika-” you pant, pulling away. “we shouldn’t, i-it’s not right.”

“shush, princess,” she growls, “gods not watching right now.”

and maybe he’s not. so fuck it. you nod and let sevika pull your blouse off, pushing her head into your chest. she litters your chest in bites, reveling in the sweet moans you let out.

her hands make their way under your skirt, silently asking for permission to pull your slick panties down.

all you can do is nod, desperate and utterly dumb for her touch.

“so soft, princess…” she moans, “so wet. is that all for me?”

another nod.

“you gonna be a good girl?”

another nod.

sevika pulls hand away with an evil grin. “words. or you aren’t getting shit from me.”

“yes, it’s all for you. yes, i’ll be good. please hurry before i remember that i’m a woman of god and stop,” you groan.

her ring finger circles your swollen clit, spreading your folds and rubbing you down to your needy hole. one of her thick fingers is enough to stretch you out, walls tightening around her as she slowly moves in and out of your cunt.

“tight fuckin’ pussy…so pure and innocent, huh? just a good little church girl who likes other women fucking her greedy cunt?”

she chuckles darkly at herself, and at the way you get even tighter at her mean words. so humiliating, so blasphemous, so unholy. and yet every deep, deliberate thrust has you closer and closer to cumming.

“sevika,” you whimper, “i can’t hold it, please.”

“is that right?” she teases.

“you can cum, baby. but make sure to repent after.”

#sevika x you #sevika smut #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x reader smut #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane smut

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kisses4kaia · 11 months ago

Text

patrick likes his girls mean!! he loves the stuck up, entitled, princesses who demand their every need be catered to. so when he meets you, all designer rackets and chanel sponsorships, he’s gotta bite.

you’d heard of patrick, of course. whom of your peers hadn’t? the effervescent tennis prodigy with a blinding career practically inscribed in his fates.

you couldn’t lie, learning about his reputation as not only a tennis god, but as a sex one, too… you had to bite.

hell if you were going to make the first move, though. that was quite literally never happening, and so you bided your time.

luckily for you, patrick was rather impatient—much differently to yourself—and would never miss the opportunity to make his way towards you at one of your dad’s events at your exorbitant, cherrywood-littered, home.

“that’s your third glass of champagne.” his voice startled from behind you. you swiveled on your heels to face the owner of such a bold tenor. “excuse me?”

patrick smiled to himself, nodding towards your glass. “tough night?” he’s suave, a large, single, step and he’s right next to you.

about to spit at him the meanest offended verbiage you could offer, your eyes found themselves catching onto his broad shoulders, and then practically raving all over his figure. his forearms, worked and muscled, were cut off from your view at the wrists, hands shoved deep into his pockets. there was a shock of dark, gelled, curls on his head, pairing dangerously fine with the honest and abyssal ultramarine of his eyes.

“you gonna keep checking me out or are you gonna answer my question?” he wore a stupid, smug smirk that had you scoffing. “sorry, do i know you?” you wished you could have looked down at him when saying this, but even with your heavy platform versace heels, you still had to crane your head to meet his eyes.

and of course, your question was redundant, but from the sounds of him thus far, he could do with a little ego death.

“patrick, zweig. i play tennis. and you do, too, don’t you?” he knew the answer to that question and he knew exactly who you were, because your father’s foundation that this very event was being held for, was titled in your name. “oh, that’s right. yeah, your parents were, i think.. third place at last year’s st. jude’s fundraiser?” his face twisted up in shame so satisfactorily, you had to physically bite back an evil giggle of victory. “well, patrick. it was really nice talking—“

“i’ve got something stronger than champagne in my car.” his tone was flat, practically monotonous, but his words had an implication of sheer fun, and who were you to skip out on that?

so, here you were, orange vodka bottle in your right hand as you jerked a whining patrick off with your left. “god, you’re so fucking pent up. what is it, tennis? or is it that no girl wants to fuck you, so you haven’t blown a decent load since back at school?”

ooh, he would tell it to you so straight, spit out evidence-backed statements of how easy it was to get a pretty girl on her knees for him whenever he wanted, he would. he would, if his mind wasn’t so fogged up with the pleasure, and the drinks, and mostly you. you you you.

“fuck—t’s so good, so good. please, i wanna cum, wanna cum,” he’d plead through the thick steam growing in the increasingly too-small cockpit of his car.

“how bad?” nipping at his ear, you were waiting to hear him beg, and he was waiting to swallow his mass of pride enough to get it out. “so bad, really fucking bad. i need it, need you, fuck. shit—please, need it so much,” he was so convincing, and it would’ve swayed a kinder soul, but then again, patrick likes his girls mean.

“no.” with your hand lost on his stupidly bricked length, patrick groaned, and bitched, and whined, and complained about how unfair you were being, and how he’d never do that to you, and blah blah blah. “well, i can’t say i care, so. maybe i’ll see you later. bye, patrick,” your fingers twinkled goodbye in a wave, and you were out of the vehicle and back inside the party without another word.

it wasn’t over then, of course not, and you knew it. thus, it came as no shocker when an unknown number randomly applepays you $1000 in the middle of the night, along with a text that reads as follows.

had a great time. hope we run into each other again sometime soon. and, don’t spend it all in once place, yeah? - 💸

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#kaia writes patrick #patrick zweig #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig imagine #woah where have i beeeeen #happy belated 4th day tho #sorry to everybody waiting so graciously patiently for this one #oh god i hate this omg #josh o’connor smut #josh o connor #josh o'connor #josh o’connor x reader

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lunajay33 · 10 months ago

Text

It’s You❤️‍🔥 Part.2

Summary: You went along with Bella to Italy to save Edward, but when you get there things go unexpectedly and you become mate to the strongest Volturi guard

Pairing: Felix x human female reader

Warning: Mention of blood, bit of angst

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since I’ve been living in the Volturi castle in Italy, for the first few days I stayed in my room that I shared with Felix, the bed was mainly mine since he doesn’t sleep but sometimes I craved for his touch at night to help calm me to sleep

It was late at night and I was ready for bed, Heidi was another vampire I grew close to, she was easy to talk too and made me feel at home, she even went out shopping and bought me a much of new clothes, including the silk deep red night dress I was wearing right now as I was cuddled alone in the bed I so desperately want Felix in but alas he had guard duty

Finishing my book I laid it aside when the doors open revealing the one vampire I was missing, I could feel my heart quicken and my smile brighten as he walked towards me

“You’re back! I missed you” I said jumping in his lap as he sat on the bed, his strong arms quick to tighten around my waist

“Oh how I missed you too amore, what a sexy dress and my favorite color too, such a tempterous” he said as his eyes roamed my body his hands squeezing my hips

“Heidi picked it out, I was hoping you’d like it” I said placing my hands on his hips

“Oh amore I don’t like it I adore it, I adore you” he said nuzzling his nose into my neck, he had admitted that he loved doing this because I was warm and he craved my scent

“I was wondering….i mean only if you want to of course….would you maybe stay with me in the bed tonight? I know you don’t sleep but I want to feel you next to me while I sleep” he raised his head and smiled gently

“I’d be honoured” in a flash he changed out of his daily work clothes into a pair of grey sweatpants and a slim fitted black long sleeve top, his form showing beautifully in this attire compared to the jacket he usually had on, only making me crave him more

Climbing into bed next to me I curled into his side flaring my legs over his lap as my head rested on his arm, his other hand come to rest on my hip, he was hard and cold but god did it feel right

“Sleep my little one, you need your rest”

“You’ll stay right?”

“All night, I’ll be here when you wake” and slowly I drifted off into the best sleep I’ve had since being here

I woke up finally feeling relaxed looking up to see Felix was still holding me with a book in his other hand

“Good morning handsome!” I smiled as I sat up rubbing my eyes

“Morning amore, sleep well? You were talking in your sleep a lot” he smirked

“Oh no what did I say?” Nervously fiddling with my fingers not remembering anything I might have dreamed about

“Nothing crazy just mumbling my name a lot, were you dreaming of my little one?” He asked as he grazed his hand over my exposed thigh

“Umm I don’t remember….oh god this is so embarrassing” I groaned trying to look anywhere but his piercing ruby eyes

“Don’t be I quite enjoyed it, even though I love being with you darling I have to get to the throne room for the day” he said as he stood up and walked over to our shared wardrobe and I watched as he stripped out of his clothes leaving him in a pair of black boxers, his back was muscular and strong, his legs like tree trunks and when he turned his abs had me weak

“Like what you see darling?” He laughed as he pulled on his work clothes

“Was your body sculpted by the gods wow” my mouth agape from awe

He finished getting ready then was kneeling infront of me at the side of the bed

“I’ll see you this evening, I have something special planned, wear something nice and meet me in the gardens amore” he smiled placing a gentle kiss to my hair line before he was gone

Times like this made me feel incredibly self conscious, he was beautiful not a single flaw and I was just a human, my hair had bust offs, my skin wasn’t spot less like marble as his was, my body wasn’t extremely toned like his, what did he see in me?

Grudgingly I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of casual leggings and hoodie for now, putting my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room in hopes to find Heidi

Thankfully it wasn’t hard finding her in the library as she was sat on a leather couch flipping through a fashion magazine, she quickly looked my way as I head towards her, plopping myself down on the couch beside her

“Y/n! Is everything okay you’re looking a bit down hun” she said as she placed her magazine to the side giving me her full attention

“I’ve just been insecure I guess, I may or may not have seen Felix’s body this morning and he’s just so perfect I mean how does he not have girls hanging off of him and he gets saddled with me, I know we’re mates but I feel like he’ll get bored of me and realize he can have so much better” I said as my face flushed and I could feel the tears well in my eyes

“Oh hun don’t think like that, trust me he adores you, you should hear the way he fawns over when he’s talking with Demetri, he thinks the world of you, he worships the ground you walk on just give it time everything will itself out”

“Thanks Heidi I appreciate it, hey Felix said he had something special planned tonight and said I had to dress nice, and seeing as you’re an expert in everything fashion wanna help me get ready” I asked hoping to cheer the mood and distract myself

“Omg I’ve been waiting for this day! Let’s go!”

Heidi did one last curl in my hair and we were finally done, she had me all dolled up like I was going to a ball

“How do you like it?!” She asked looking at me through the mirror

“I love it thank you so much! I feel like a princess” my dress was a deep grey covered in sparkles stopping at my mid thigh, a black lace cover over my shoulders, my makeup subtle but classy with sparkles on my eyes

“Because you are a princess, now it’s about time Felix will be getting off now go make his jaw drop” she smiled pushing me towards the door

I made my way through the long winding hallways, pushing open the back door finally feeling the fresh night air, the garden glowing with the little decorations the Volturi members each added, suddenly a gush of wind whipped by me, I smiled turning around hoping to see Felix but was faced with someone I wasn’t formally acquainted with, I’ve seen him around sometimes but he was usually lurking in the shadows giving me an unsettled feeling thankfully I was always with Felix but now that I’m alone I felt fear, complete fear as his eyes roamed every inch of me

“Why don’t you look exquisite, and here all alone what a treat” his smirk widening from ear to ear

“Felix is gonna be here any minute you better leave” I said anxiously as I stepped back

“Well I better hurry then” in an instant he was on me pushing my hard to the ground knocking the wind out of me, I tried to push him away but it was no use and I could feel my life flash before my eyes, this isn’t how I wanted to go I didn’t wanna go at all I only just found my soulmate, life was just starting and the only thing I could think of to hopefully save me was scream

“FELIX HELP ME” the scream i let out was desperate and blood curdling but i was too late as pain seared through my shoulder, his death dug deep into my flesh, i could feel my blood run down my back

Almost just as quickly as he latched on he was ripped away, by who I don’t know because the venomous pain coursing through my shoulder was distracting, excruciating, soon Felix was leaning over me panic written all over his face, Demetri on my other side

“FELIX IT BURNS MAKE IT STOP” I screamed again

“You can do it Felix, she’s not ready yet” Felix looked conflicted before he huffed a breathe he didn’t have and sunk his teeth into the previous wound sucking out the venom as soon as that scorching pain subsided I became weak as Felix clung to me

“Felix she’s clean, you’re taking too much” with a snap he was off me, my blood dripping down his face, scared, worried

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you mio amore, I should have been here” he said as he laid my head on his lap

“You saved me Felix, this wasn’t your fault…….I…I love you” I said weakly before I faded into unconsciousness

Waking up the light beaming through the window bothering my eyes, quickly shielding them as the bed dipped beside me

“Thank god you’re awake, I was so worried Angel” I turned seeing Felix, his skin paler than usual, eyes as black as coal which ive never seen before

I raised my hands tracing my fingers over his cool cheek

“Are you okay? You look sick if that’s possible”

“You’ve been out for 2 days I couldn’t leave your side, I haven’t been feeding I just needed to be with you” he smiled pushing my hair back

“I’m okay, a little sore but I’m fine because of you, you still need to take care of yourself too tho my love” he nuzzled into my hand which warmed by heart

“I wish the night went differently I had so much planned for us” he said as he climbed into the bed next to me so I could cuddle into him, everything felt right again

“I had a whole picnic for us, well you mostly, the moon was gonna be illuminating us and I know you love that, then I was gonna present you with a gift I have had with me since I found out about mates millennia ago” my heart pumped with excitement I sat up to look at him

“You have a gift for me!”

“Yes amore here I’ve held onto it long enough, now it’s with the one I got it for” he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long thin box

He opened it to reveal a gorgeous bracelet, one you’d never be able to find even in the last 100 years, a unique gold chain with added gold tiny flowers along the chain and at the center a ruby crystal surrounded by more flowers

“Felix it’s beautiful, I love it! Would you help me putting it on?” I asked as I gave him my wrist which he was quick to place the bracelet around

“It’s beautiful on you amore, it was made for you” he smiled as he placed a kiss to my hand like a gentleman

“I love you Felix”

“I love you more than you could ever know little one”

Taglist: @rosaliedepp @parabatai-winchester

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trentln4 · 3 months ago

Text

"An Unspoken Love" - Part Two

Summary: Y/N has been dodging Lando out of fear of ruining the friendship and in revenge Lando has a girl round, which pisses of Y/N but he quickly sets things right.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Slight Angst.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Series

The next two weeks felt like hell for Lando. Y/N deliberately spent no time in the apartment, she was either “studying” or “out with friends”. Fuck. That’s all he could think. Did he just ruin his friendship with his best friend and roommate?

She spent as little time in the apartment. She just couldn’t bring herself to face him as she thought she would get heartbroken. Did she just ruin her friendship with her best friend and roommate?

The less time she spent in the apartment, the more pissed Lando got.

One night, Y/N was peacefully studying in her room. Headphones on, typing away at the laptop. Then she heard a noise through Lando’s walls.

“Oh my.. Yes Lando”

That cunt had a girl round.

Her heart felt like it shattered. Yes, she had been avoiding him but only to protect herself. She shut her eyes tight, her heart beating a million miles an hour. As much as she was ignoring him, she slightly hoped he would man up and admit he wanted her. But no. He was fucking another girl.

The next morning, Y/N left her room. Lando had obviously just let the girl out the front door of the apartment.

“Oh nice to know you still exist,” Lando remarked as he spotted her.

“Oh shut up!” She retorted.

Lando looked at her, shocked and angry but most of all hurt.

“What?” Y/N snapped.

“Why are you ignoring me Y/N?” Lando asked, trying to keep his voice normal.

“Who was that girl?” She questioned, her voice cold.

“Just a one night stand. She meant nothing,” He answered, “Why?”

“Did I mean nothing to you?” Her voice was shaky, so were her hands.

“What? Y/N no!” Lando immediately tried reaching out for her, but she pulled away.

She glared at him, her tone cold,

“So why did you sleep with another girl?!” She spat out.

“Y/N, you're being unreasonable! You and me, we kissed once, and then you’ve been avoiding me ever since so we don't talk! If anyone has been in the wrong, it's you!”

Y/N threw her hands in the air, grabbed her bag and stormed out.

It was a wet, rainy day in Monaco, clouds dimming the sky and blocking out any rays of sunshine that tried to filter through. Y/N felt as miserable as the weather was and due to this, she decided to come home earlier from her study session in the university library.

Y/N walked in, placing her bag down and taking her, now drenched, hoodie off. Her hair was dripping and the long sleeve white shirt she had on underneath was going see-through, not to mention her joggers too. With that she quickly rushed into her room; she knew Lando was home.

As she opened her door, her jaw dropped.

First of all, her bed was made. But most importantly, there sat Lando. He smiled softly at her, a bouquet of white roses in hand.

“Lando, get out,” She demanded, all though she didn’t actually mean it. He shook his head and placed the flowers on the pillow before Y/N gave in, sitting next to him.

Lando grabbed her hands in his, his hands almost completely covering hers.

“Y/N, I’m sorry about last night and earlier.. It was a dick move to get your attention..” He admitted, looking in her deep hazel eyes, “In all honesty, I’ve missed you.. That kiss meant everything to me..”

Y/N sat there, listening, his thumbs rubbing over her knuckles.

“You mean that?” She asked quietly. Lando nodded in response, before mumbling, “I love you Y/N..”

Her heartbeat quickened, her jaw was agape.

“Y-you love me..?” She questioned, her voice stuttering and shaking. Lando nodded, gently brushing some hair out her face,

“I love you Y/N”

She cupped his face with her hands, crashing her lips onto his in a passionate kiss. Fuck, it felt so right. He kissed her back, one hand finding the nape of her neck while the other snaked around her waist to pull her closer.

“God, I love you too Lando..” She murmured in between kisses before he pushed his tongue in her mouth. She moaned out breathlessly into the kiss, meanwhile his tongue delved into her mouth, tasting every inch he could.

His hand on her waist slid under the waistband of her joggers, coming to rest on her hips as he pulled away before he pushed her to lay flat on the bed and settled himself in between her legs. His face was above hers, and he kissed again. His tongue dove into her mouth straight away as she whimpered into the kiss. His hand dipped further into her joggers, ever so slightly grazing over her lace underwear. He pulled his head back, silently asking for permission and she nodded.

Their lips met again, this time slower as Lando traced his middle finger over her core through her panties, feeling the soaked material. His lips left hers, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down her neck as he slid her joggers off, leaving her exposed beneath him. Y/N tilted her head back giving him more access as he continued his assault on her neck as his middle and ring finger rubbed through her folds, making her whimper and squirm.

“You want this Y/N?” Lando asked, looking in her eyes. She nodded breathlessly, before he pushed his middle finger into her dripping cunt. Oh fuck. Y/N moaned, the feeling was perfect, it was all she had ever wanted. Lando showed no mercy, pumping his finger in and out before adding another, then another. She moaned and squirmed under him, her lips parted and face flushed as he continued until she came on his fingers. He moaned at the sight, her eyes tight shut as she clenched around him.

He gave her a second before withdrawing his fingers, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Y/N couldn't help the whimper that fell from her lips. Lando stood up, quickly discarding his clothes near hers. She gasped as she looked down at his length, standing tall with pre-cum leaking from the tip. How the fuck would that fit? It was massive.

“Lan.. that isn’t going to fit..” She mumbled as he settled back in between her legs.

“We will make it fit, don't worry,” He smiled softly at her, one thumb running over her bottom lip as he held her chin, meanwhile his other hand slid her panties down her legs and threw them to the side. She whimpered again, but he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and reassuring, while he lazily stroked himself. He rubbed his cock through her folds, acting like a lube before he aligned himself. She kept her lips on his, her arms around his neck so he was close to her as he pushed in. Oh wow.

Lando let out a groan as he bottomed out, feeling her warm walls around him. He removed his lips from hers and pulled out, only to slam himself back in, leaving Y/N moaning.

His thrusts were deep and slow, his eyes locked on hers as he grabbed his shoulders to keep herself stable.

“Lando, please.. faster,” She breathlessly cried out, making Lando grin. He grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, still deep in her. He bent her legs and pushed them to her chest before leaning over her, hands either side of her head. Y/N gasped as his hips slammed against hers rougher and sloppier while his pace increased.

“You like that baby? You like being manhandled?” He asked panting, as a sweat dripped down his face. He looked at her beneath him, moaning and gripping the sheets to stay grounded. God she's beautiful. It was all he could think.

Each thrust made her see stars and she felt her orgasm approaching quick, maybe too quickly. Lando could feel her squeezing him and he let out a growl, “You close?”

All Y/N could do was nod.

It didn’t take long for her to finish as she clutched around him, letting loud moans slip past her lips. Lando slowed down, letting her ride out the pleasure before pulling out and using his hand to finish himself off. His thick ropes landed on her stomach as they both came down from their highs.

Lando’s eyes softened at her before laying on the bed, holding his arms wide open and she happily rolled into them. He kissed her forehead, rubbing her back softly,

“I love you Y/N,” He whispered as she laid in his arms. “I love you too Lan,” She murmured back.

#lando norris #lando x you #lando smut #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando x y/n #lando imagine #lando fluff #lando fanfic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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matchpointfaist · 2 months ago

Note

can we have more physiotherapist reader x art as a treat

part two.. or the one where they get dinner

eek my sweeties!

@cherrygirlfriend this is also inspired by your reblog on the original thank u <3333

a week later, art sent a car to pick you up at seven, planning an entire evening for the two of you, checking all the boxes. he wanted to impress you, despite you having already seen him at his lowest after each match, he wanted to show you how good he could treat you. the restaurant was nice, but not so nice that you couldn’t truly enjoy yourselves, intimate enough for some privacy but not stuffy enough to make you uncomfortable. it was perfect, really.

he met you outside, flowers in hand, a nervous smile on his face as you stepped out of the suv, looking around curiously. god, if you were beautiful in scrubs, you were downright lethal in a dress, your long legs on display for him, leaving him speechless. “you didn’t have to do all this,” you smiled up at him, admiring the flowers, admiring the way he looked in his suit, “you’re so sweet,”

“pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” he looped your hand around his arm as he lead you inside, nearly shivering at the feeling of your skin, “reservation for donaldson,” the hostess led you to a secluded table, a bottle of wine and two glasses already out, just as he requested. he pulled your chair out for you, reminding himself of all the ways he’d been taught by his grandma to be a gentlemen, smiling as he sat across from you. “this place is gorgeous,” you smiled, glancing around, “you really did not have to do all of this, art,”

“i wanted to,” he shrugged, “you deserve to be taken out somewhere nice, anyway. it’s the least i could do,” “you’re just sayin that because you like how i massage your shoulders,” you teased, sipping your wine, “oh! speaking of, i found my replacement. he’ll be starting next week,” “i didn’t want a replacement,” he rolled his eyes playfully, “but i suppose i trust your judgement,” “well if i was still your therapist, i couldn’t do this,” you took his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “and i certainly couldn’t go back to your apartment tonight,”

“who said i wanted you to come home with me?” he taunted, but you both knew he was bluffing, could tell from the way his eyes trailed all over you near constantly. “be a shame if you didn’t,” you grinned, “you look really nice, by the way. i didn’t say that before,” “you look beautiful,” he smiled softly, “really. you look absolutely perfect,”

the entire night was perfect, really. your conversation never slowed, and he found himself, not for the first time, in awe of how easy it was with you. with other women, he’d overcompensated, always feeling like he had to prove something to them, or to himself. with you, though? words flowed out of him like it was the simplest thing in the world, never once concerned that you’d think he was weird or not funny or anything other than just himself.

you stayed so late the restaurant had started closing around you, other tables being cleaned off quietly as you two chattered on, oblivious to anyone but each other until the server very kindly informed you they needed to close up. art laughed, apologizing and leaving a $100 on the table, making you even more confident in your opinion that he was the kindest man you’d ever known.

he walked you to his car, opening the door for you and watching idly as you slid into the leather seats, his hand coming to your thigh the second he got in beside you. “do you want me to take you home?” he asked, tracing shapes on your knee absentmindedly. “we could go to yours,” you suggested, goosebumps over your skin, “if you wanted, i mean. i’ve never seen your house,” “you’re not missing much,” he laughed softly, “but i’d love for you to come over,”

the drive was quiet, music playing in the background as you hummed along just loud enough for him to hear, a small smile on his lips the entire way. he led you to his house, giving you a half-effort tour, watching as you looked around, taking in his space. “you’re like, really rich,” you finally said, laughing, “i guess i didn’t realize, but your house is insane,” “i’m not that rich,” he blushed, “i mean, i do well for myself, but it’s not insane,” “art, how much did you even pay for this?” you grinned, smoothing out his blazer, your hands pressed to his chest. “800,” he rolled his eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your hand, trailing his lips down to your wrist. “600 thousand?” you repeated incredulously, “that’s insane, art,” “mm, maybe,” he didn’t care anymore, abandoning the conversation as he kissed up your forearm, up the crook of your elbow to your shoulder, “does it matter?”

“well, no, it doesn’t matter,” your voice had gone all light and breathless, “i was just wondering,” “do you like it?” he hummed, pulling you flush against him by your waist. “of course,” you nodded, cheeks warm as you looked up at him, took in the way his eyes were half lidded. “then i guess it does matter,” he smiled slightly, brushing your hair from your neck, ghosting his lips over your pulse, “i like it much more now,”

“oh,” a soft, surprised sound left you as he nipped lightly at your neck, “should we- do you wanna go upstairs?” “thought you’d never ask,” he grinned, not hesitating as he looped his arms under your legs, picking you up to carry you through the house. “art!” you squealed, slapping his chest lightly, “put me down!” “and why would i go and do something like that?” he teased, pulling you up closer so he could kiss your forehead before starting up the stairs, ignoring your protests. he dropped you gently on the bed with a huff, smiling down at you as you pouted, taking your jaw in his hand lightly, “pretty girl,” he hummed appreciatively, “don’t pout,”

“maybe i don’t appreciate being thrown around,” you huffed, the smile in your eyes giving you away. “somehow i don’t think i believe that,” he teased, repositioning to you to join you on the bed, eyes and hands everywhere, “i think you’d like it quite a bit if i threw you around,” he grinned as you shivered slightly, leaning into his touch, “don’t be a tease, art,” “who said i’m teasing you? i’m just talkin to you,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder, “am i wrong, baby?” “mm, maybe,” you giggled lightly as his breath fanned over a spot on your neck, “you’ll have to find out,”

“now who’s being a tease?” he grinned, a satisfied hum leaving him as you took his arm in your hand, massaging it gently. “can tell i haven’t seen you in a week,” you tsk’d, “you’re so tense. you’ve been working it all week, haven’t you?” “been running drills, yeah,” he nodded, wincing slightly as you worked out a knot in his bicep, “just practicing,” “what did i tell you about pushing yourself?” you scolded softly, “you need a warm shower to loosen all this up,” “did you forget you’re my date and not my physio?” he teased, “but yes ma’am, i promise to take a nice warm shower tomorrow,” “you should do it now,” you mumbled, brows knit in concentration as you massaged up his shoulder, over the old surgery scars, “i can wait here,”

“you can’t possibly expect me to pause our date to shower,” he rolled his eyes, sighing softly as you hit a particularly tender spot, “i can wait,” “i’ll come with you,” you didn’t think twice before you said, the words sparking the space between the two of you. a boyish smile crossed his lips, “yeah? gonna shower with me, doctor?” “art, don’t be gross,” you whined, scrunching up your nose, “i’m not showering with you as your doctor,” “yeah? you showering with me as my pretty little date?” he hummed, still grinning as he kissed your jaw, “come on then,”

his bathroom was just as impressive as the rest of the house, all marble and soft lighting, a small sauna situated in the corner. he started the water, unbuttoning his dress shirt and hanging it over the door, smiling to himself as he watched you slip off your heels, setting them by the vanity. “you’re so beautiful,” he said almost to himself, taking off his slacks and undershirt, now just in his boxers. “can’t get this off,” you huffed, looking at him over your shoulder as you fought with the zipper along the back of your dress, “can you?”

he was all too eager, coming to your side in an instant, one hand settled on your low back as he unzipped the material, looking over every inch of your back as he let the fabric fall to the floor. you stood in front of him in just your underwear, a bra apparently not suitable for that dress, and shivered as he traced his fingertips over your spine, humming quietly. “go on, i’ll be there in a minute,” you said softly, missing his touch the minute he left. “don’t take too long,” he said playfully, stepping out of his boxers before stepping into the water, closing the shower door behind him. you joined him soon after as promised, pupils dilated as you took in the image of him under the falling water, “hi,”

“hi,” he let out a breathless laugh, pulling you under the water with him by your waist, “you get more beautiful with each second, i think,” “i don’t know about that,” you laughed softly, shaking your head, “here, let me-“ you took the shower head from its mount, letting the water run directly over his shoulders and upper back, smiling to yourself at his sigh. “gotta start taking better care of yourself,” you murmured, one hand guiding the shower head and the other massaging his back, “y’hear me? gonna end up havin to get another surgery if you keep on,” “i know what i’m doing,” he argued tiredly, back arching into your touch, “i’m not that old,” “didn’t say you were old,” you grinned, “just worry about you. i know how hard you push yourself,” “you keep touching me like that i’m liable to do anything you say,” he hummed, his head tossed back, “god, baby, you’re so good at that,”

you clicked the shower head back in it’s mount, your free hand going over the taut muscles of his mid back, the other reaching around to rest on his abs, “just like taking care of you,” you said softly, resting your chin on his shoulder as much as you could reach, “can feel those muscles relaxing,” he took the hand rested on his abs, gently guiding it lower, biting his lip as you exhaled a surprised, quick breath as your hand wrapped around his cock. “d’you always get so hard when i work on you?” your voice was low, teasing but sultry. he pulled you around, pressing you against the shower wall easily, “are you teasing again?” he pressed a warm kiss to your jawline, “be nice, baby,” “

“i’m always nice,” you protested, eyes falling closed as he trailed his kisses lower. “mhm,” he hummed into your skin, open mouthed and greedy as he worked his way lower. “i’ll show you,” you lowered to your knees before him, grinning up at him at his surprised expression, “i’ll be so nice, art, promise,” he sucked in a breath as you took him into your mouth, glossy lips parting just for him, all warm and wet and his. he kept a light grip on your hair as you took him deeper, humming around him as he brushed the back of your throat, your eyes watering slightly. “oh, fuck,” his eyes rolled back, thighs tensing, “you’re so good f’me, baby,”

a low, satisfied hum left your throat again, vibrating around him enough to have him gripping your hair harder, his hips bucking forward. your tongue swirled around his tip as you pulled back to catch your breath. your hand pumping the rest of him, watching his reactions intently. “need to fuck you,” he managed to get out between pants and broken moans, “god, you’re doing so good,”

he pulled you up gently, desperate to be inside you, pressing you against the wall until your cheek was flush against it, looking at him over your shoulder as he kissed you hungrily. he placed one hand on your low back to keep you steady as he slid inside you, a sharp hiss of breath leaving him, his brows furrowed, “oh, god,” he leaned over you, warm against your back as he thrusted slowly, snaking his arm around your waist to hold you up, “that feel good, baby?” he buried his head in your shoulder, kissing the taut skin absentmindedly. “so good,” you moaned, clenched tight around him, thighs shaking. he dragged his hand lower, pressing his index finger to your clit as he fucked you faster, “such a good girl,”

you were clawing at nothing, nails scratching over the shower wall as you struggled to stay up, his pace relentless. “i got you, baby,” he hummed, feeling your knees nearly give out, beneath him. he pulled out briefly, nearly grinning at the whine of protest you gave him, before pressing your back against the wall, looping his arms underneath your thighs. “what’re you-“ he picked you up fully, sliding you down on his cock, your legs wrapped around his torso, “oh, art, fuck,” he pounded into you, gripping your thighs tight enough to bruise, catching your lips in a needy kiss. he was obsessed with this new angle, the way he could kiss you and look down to see himself inside you, almost overwhelmed by it. your back arched off the wall, pressing your chest against his, your nails leaving searing scratches down his back, “oh,” he panted between kisses, “you’re grippin’ me so tight, baby, you gonna cum f’me? gonna cum on my cock?” “yes yes yes-“ you were a babbling mess, your legs tightening around him, pulling him impossibly deeper, “art- daddy, fuck!”

that did it for him. he came inside you with a hoarse moan, biting at your shoulder, hips twitching desperately. “oh my god,” he exhaled shakily, kissing your cheek, wiping the stray tear that had spilled as you came, “you’re so good, baby, fuckin perfect,” you made a content little sound, leaning into his palm that cupped your cheek, eyes closed and face flushed. “think i was made for you,” you hummed, warming his chest. he helped you down, making sure to hold you tightly so your legs didn’t give out, helping you clean up gently. he washed your hair for you, kneeling down with a laugh let you reach his, sighing softly at the feel of your fingernails against his scalp. after you were both clean, he wrapped you up in his robe, kissing your forehead and carrying you to bed. you’d given up on all protests, too in love with the feeling of his strong arms around you. he settled beside you in bed, trailing his fingers over your skin, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. “goodnight, art,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “mm, night, baby,” he smiled sleepily, pulling you closer to his chest, falling asleep with his hands still trailing anywhere they could reach.

#challengers #art x reader #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x reader #artdonaldson #mike faist #art donaldson smut #dilf! art smut #dilf! art x you #physiotherapist! reader #art x physiotherapist! reader #artxreader #art x you #art x reader smut #requests #fic requests #daddy art

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lacucarachapisser · 5 months ago

Text

morning bliss colin zabel x f! reader

warnings : SMUT but mostly fluff. cringe. unprotected piv. slightly somno. dub-con. um boobs playing. quick nut. morning make out. a little ass spanking. lazy sex. a bit of cockwarming if you squint. lmk if im missing any im really bad at warning. 1.2k wc.

a/n : i’ve never written smut before so, i am so sorry if it doesn’t landed well. and apologies if there are too many grammatical mistakes english isn’t my first.

“for god’s sake, mare. it’s five in the morning.”

colin is on the phone. he complains while massaging his both temples by pressing the fingertips to the line of his eyebrows. you can hear his morning voice jumbled up with annoyance, though he managed to kept his voice down. he told you just last night how exhausted he was because work had been kicking him right in the ass over and over. working overtime, bringing it home, receiving calls in unusual hours, odd schedules, like hell they could stop.

“well… wouldn’t that be a perfect alibi? honestly it can wait,”

what is he talking about? he wakes up and sat at your shared bed, listening to mare’s voice over the phone. it is indeed still dark outside, you haven’t even feel the morning seep through the drapes. both of you slept back-to-back last night, and you still in your position, laying on your left side as your back facing him. there were time when you had to eavesdrop his phone call unintentionally.

you kept your eyes shut closed, pretending to sleep and didn’t bother to flip around because thus only makes him feel guilty— speaking from experience. he doesn’t want to wake you up early. so you stay still, breathing slowly like you always did when you’re asleep.

“give me 30 minutes okay? i need to—“

he stops and you bet that the other person on the phone is interrupting him.

“fine, 20 minutes. whatever.” the call ended in one click and a long exhales come out from colin’s mouth. “fuck me,”

you rarely catch colin saying cuss word in loathed way, and that makes you indeliberately flinch.

he throws his head back to the pillow, hand placing the phone back to the drawer and turns his head towards you. he had a hard time deciding whether he should get up from bed unnoticed or straightly wake you up because he running out of time. and deciding does running out his time.

he scoops your body, spooning you as his hand gently tracing along your waist and the other slipped beneath your underarm. oh does he misses you so much. it was irrational worry that dwelled within him every time he thought about the guilt. mainly because his jobs always interfering his time with you.

“baby..” he breathes in your hair, whispering and sounds extremely stressed, and needy? he hums, voices vibrate in your ears.

you didn’t say anything as you let him hold you from behind, chest pressed against your back. his muscular hand starts rubbing your tummy, up to your chest and squeezing your clothed boobs. and those act itself caught you off guard, which of course made your eyes arise in a wince. now you understand what colin have in mind. he was never a fan of a quick bite. he prefers having you hours, nice and intimate. but seems someone like to try something new to start the day.

“mmh…” your soul barely even there, despite the fact that you listen the whole time when he was on the phone.

he places soft kisses on your bare shoulder, up to your neck and to your jaw. he slightly get up with his elbow, hand still kneading your round breast, trying to get a better access to assault your tits.

as soon as your eyes turn to him, he quickly presses his lips on yours, busy adding some tongue, unbothered by the fact that you both have morning breath. perhaps since he aware of your mouth routine, you normally very much so strict with oral hygiene and you liked to force him to do so. skipping a coffee ritual and have a light bitter saliva to taste for each other wasn’t really that bad at all. and also, you love him anyway. gross? yeah love stinks.

his palm and digits playfully groping your tits, fingertips circle around the texture in the middle. those veiny hands always read your body like a bible, and yes he was greatly intrigued by the shape of your mind but also had a special fondness of your gorgeous chest.

“i promise it’ll be quick,” he turned you around so now you lay on your back, expeditiously spreading your four limbs, locking your arms above your head and found him already between your legs. he didn’t bother to remove your panties, he just brushes aside the fabric that covers your crotch and exposing your pussy.

like the quickest thief, the tip of his length already meet your fold, entering it deep just in case you can quickly adjust to his big hardened cock. he began to thrust you and adding some pace before start kissing and sucking on your collarbone. in between harsh breathing, you manage to speak, though your voice end up a bit squeaky. “what’s gotten into you..?”

his movement gets faster, abusing your throbbing cunt in belligerence way. was he mad at you? however when he looked at you in the eye, it somehow evoking a sense of benevolent yet miserable expression on his face. oh right… he just running out of his time.

with one deep thrust, he touched your most tender spot and you clenched him hard, a big wave of ecstasy start washing over you.

“c-col!”

he whimpered when the end of heavy orgasm hit and pushes himself deep in you for the last time, fill you up nice and full. “i’m sorry baby, i am so sorry. i need you so bad.”

he kisses you on the mouth and you reciprocate it with a lowkey soft smile draw on your face. you found it funny having him needy and thoughtless at the same time. oh your poor man. you hummed sluggishly, eyes closed as you try to recover from the feeling. he always put your first and perfectly fine if you say no. although seeing him being a little selfish like this was one of your top thing on your list.

“that was fast.” you whispered in between kisses.

“told you. i dont have much time,” he suddenly pull away and hide his face on your neck. “i hate my job,”

“no, you don’t,”

“yes i do hate my job,”

“don’t say that. you loved it.”

he peaks at your face and you give him your smile. “not as much as i love you,” he replies lazily.

“shut up,” those three sacred words is often popped up in every moment, somewhat you never expected at all. “how many minutes you have left now?”

“probably 13? 12?”

“do you think we can do another round?”

a sympathetic eye and frowned eyebrows shown on his face contour, lips curled into a ribbon of disappointment with melancholic wrinkles. a low grunt escape from his mouth and he probably think you’d get upset if he refuse. he was about to reply your question but instead you chuckle and wrapped your arm around his neck.

“i’m messing with you…” you poke his nose with your pointer “come on. let’s get up,”

he exhales and shakes his head “no. still too early for you, you go back to sleep.”

“don’t be silly. i need to change the sheets, come on.”

a soft laugh come out from his lips. he gives you last peck on your cheek before finally get out from the bed. you need to readjust your nightgown first before joining him.

“at least let me make you some coffee,” as you walk by passing him, heading to the door out, he smacked your ass and grinning in satisfaction. those makes you jolt but you honestly don’t give a damn. you used to colin’s habit.

“yes ma’am.” the smile on his face subsides slowly as soon as the sound of the clock catch his ears. only if he could just stop it because now he should be ready for duty might slap his ass at any time.

#colin zabel #colin zabel x you #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel smut #mare of easttown #AAAAAA IM EMBARASS #WE NEED TO WRITE MORE FOR COLIN GUYS FFS #woah i cant believe i gave birth to this shit #i fucking love colin zabel there is not a day i dont think about him railing me #evan peters #not very proud but my writing!

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djarinova · 2 months ago

Text

[09:30 pm] — levi ackerman x reader

— requested by the amazing @cheriecoke for my birthday event (status: open). i hope you enjoy ml!! thank you for participating <3

content - gn reader, reader has a ginger cat called tangerine, early relationship nerves, levi calls reader beautiful, text conversations lead to slight embarrassment (but it ends up being fine) - wc; 771

Your phone buzzes, the wooden coffee table it rests on amplifies the sound and it’s loud enough to stir you from your half-asleep state on the sofa. The credits of the tv show you were watching play in the background and you make a mental note that you’ll have to skip back and rewatch the last 10 minutes of the episode next time you watch. The grogginess from your almost-nap lifts slowly as you bend towards the phone, a little bit of hope flickers in your chest.

Could it be…?

Oh.

No. It couldn't.

It’s just your bedtime reminder, telling you to get ready for bed soon since you're working early tomorrow. You groan and throw your phone not-so-lightly down on the pillow next to you. He said he would text you when he got back, and you know the drive always takes a little longer on a Saturday evening, and it's not like you were planning to stay up waiting for him and it's not like it’s even that late yet but–

You miss him.

You feel your cheeks warm and you bury your face in your hands—embarrassed as if someone is going to see you become a blushing mess from just thinking about how much you like this guy.

Zap zap–

You gasp and slap your hand down on your thigh, a weird buzzing feeling tickling your leg. You're met with a hard surface when you investigate and you grimace slightly when you realise it was your phone you’d just not-so-gently attacked.

You feel your hands get a little clammy, certain that this time when you open your phone you will be met with an actual notification and the contact photo that you had shyly asked for on your second date.

Levi A. : I’ve just gotten home. Thank you for the tour of your place, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer but I hope work isn't too bad tomorrow

Levi A. : 🙂

Levi A. : It was really nice to see you.

Your heart jumps, heat rises along your neck and up towards the tips of your ears.

Me : It was really nice to see you too :) you’re welcome over anytime, I think Tangerine misses you already…

Your soppy ginger cat hops up onto the sofa as if on cue. You ruffle his head lightly and watch as he curls up on the maroon, heart shaped pillow you’d bought for him almost… What? Three years ago now?

Levi A. : I didn't expect you to answer so quickly. Didn't you say you need 8 hours of sleep when you start work anytime around 5am?

Levi A. : If I recall correctly you also said that if you were to get any less than 8 hours you’d be almost unable to function and you’d become the grumpiest version of yourself…

You roll your eyes, how is he using your own words against you? And how did he even remember that you'd said that… it was just an offhand comment about your dislike of early morning shifts… The thought of him remembering such a silly, minute detail has your blush worsening, if that was even possible.

Me : Ha Ha Ha

Me : But don’t worry, handsome, I am about to get up from the sofa and head to bed, I promise :)

Me : I’ll talk to you tomorrow?

You press send without thinking and immediately your eyes widen. The first time you call him anything other than his name and the best you could come up with was handsome? You didn't even mean too…

Oh, god, this is going to become one of those moments that you think about as you lie in bed at night unable to sleep, isn't it?

You dump your phone on your bed and begin your—thankfully, rather thorough—bedtime routine. The distraction is most welcome and almost 20 minutes pass before you're back in your bedroom, teeth clean, face moisturised and glass of water acquired. Your initial embarrassment has somewhat subsided but as soon as you see your phone lying there face up your heart begins to race.

You have 2 new messages.

Levi A. : Okay, I’m glad. I hope you sleep well

Levi A. : Goodnight, beautiful 🙂

A screeching noise erupts from within your chest and you actually find yourself kicking your feet in the air with how excited you are. Maybe some people would say it’s silly to be so excited about something as simple as a pet name—but some people would be wrong.

You think briefly about what it would sound like if he was to call you that in person. The thought makes you smile, widely.

Me : Goodnight :)

#this made me realise.. I MISS HIM SO MUCHHH #aot rewatch time .. mayhaps <3 #he's so husbanddddd why is he making me blush like that #eeeeeeek #rylie omg i hope u enjoy !! and tysm for sending this<3 ly #djarinova.24 #sage.blurbs #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi aot x reader #aot x reader

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blakerights · 8 months ago

Note

"all this to prove a point?" for the writing prompt

emily prentiss x reader

no warnings. no use of y/n or pronouns for reader.

sentence fic prompt

You rub your hands together, trying your best to generate some heat in your body. Emily’s car, while lovely, did not provide the warmth of an suv on a usual stakeout and you were seriously regretting your inability to tell this woman no.

“All this to prove a point?” You mumble, the humour fading from your tone the longer you sit in the cold car, the September air biting away at your fingers and toes.

Emily sits with her camera pointed at Morgan’s apartment, a determined glint in her eye. “Better personal life than me, my ass. He came straight home and hasn’t left the building since!”

You roll your eyes, wishing desperately you were home, “Yeah but he’s also not wasting his evening stalking his friend.”

Emily lowers the camera and turns to face you, brows drawn together. “He can’t make accusations like that and not expect me to find proof.”

“Well maybe if you focused a little bit more on yourself and a little less on him then you wouldn’t need to prove it and you’d have a private life he couldn’t argue with.”

She scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Always so clueless.

You shake your head, annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated by the woman in front of you. “I’m right here.”

Emily’s frown only deepens and you blow out a breath, “I invited you out for dinner tonight and instead we’re stalking Morgan and have completely missed our reservations. Every time I try to move us forward you find a way to shut it down.”

“Reservations? I thought you wanted to get take-out and head back to one of ours, like usual.” She says with genuine confusion.

“No, I booked that nice Indian place you like.”

“Oh,” She responds, dropping the camera firmly in her lap.

“Look,” you sigh, “I just need to know, okay? Because maybe I’m just failing to get the hint and you’re really not interested but I thought we were going somewhere. I like you Emily.”

“You like me? Tonight was supposed to be a date and instead I blew you off and made us sit and stake out Morgan.” She says slowly, words strangled.

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell.” She blows out a breath. The car is silent for a moment as she comes to terms with the news and then her gaze focuses back on you. “I’m so sorry. I will make this up to you. I’m taking you for the best date night starting right now.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait so that’s a-?”

She smiles, wide and happy, “Yes, idiot, I like you too. God, why else would I ask you to sit here with me?”

You can’t help but smile too. Head in the clouds as Emily puts the camera away and the keys back in the ignition.

“Ready to go?” She asks, a playful smirk on her lips that your eyes linger on.

“There’s just one thing first.” Because you can’t wait a moment longer. You’ve waited years.

You lean over the centre console, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her towards you to meet you in the middle. Emily’s eyes darken instantly, her gaze dropping to your lips before they fall close and her lips softly meet yours.

Your body hums, alive as your lips move tenderly against hers. A gentle whine escapes your lips and your body heats up as you regretfully pull away.

“Mmmhmm,” Emily hums, lips well kissed and eyes dark. “We can definitely do that again.”

“Food?” You ask, voice strangled. Avoiding the knowing look in her eyes, suddenly shy.

“Oh, babes, I’ve got the perfect place.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #emily prentiss drabble #kt writes #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #requested #five sentence fics #my gif #quickly written not really edited so please excuse any mistakes!#first post in ages wowoow

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jxtina-86 · 2 months ago

Text

The Chase - Part 5

Okay - I had to post this before I tinker with it too much and end up deleting it all.

This is the finale. Hopefully it was worth it!

Full Masterlist is here if you've missed previous parts.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!OC

Warning: Swearing. Smut. 18+

Thanks for all the love so far for this - hope you enjoy the last part!

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Ruby does nothing to remove the look of disbelief from her face. “I think you need your head testing.”

Mia rolls her eyes as she returns her attention to her laptop. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Work that you 100% could be doing at his apartment.”

Mia shakes her head. “I’ve known him for 48 hours, Ruby. It would be weird.”

“What’s weird is not going home with him, even though he was practically begging you. We all know something happened when you disappeared off. And then you were grinding on him any chance you got in front of all of us.”

“I was not!”

Ruby tugs her phone out of her pocket. “Er, I beg to differ.”

Music blares out of her phone as she flips it so Mia can see the video. In the foreground, Ruby and Lydia are laughing and dancing but as the camera angle shifts, Mia can see her and Lando in the background swaying to the music as they kiss, his hand on her ass, pulling her into him.

“Do not,” Mia warns her. “Share that online.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “I’m not an idiot. Although I will share it at your wedding when I give my maid of honour speech.”

Mia rubs her eyes. “Stop. You’re telling me to get my head tested, but you’re the one talking about a wedding?!”

“I’m joking!” Ruby pauses. “What’s going on, Mia?”

“I’m working,” she replies through gritted teeth. Why couldn't Ruby have gone with the rest of the girls on a day trip to Nice? “Or I would be if you left me to it.”

“No, no,” Ruby shakes a finger. “Why are you being so fucking weird about him? He clearly wants you. He didn’t look anywhere else but at you the entire time we were on that yacht.”

Mia doesn’t reply, staring stoically at her laptop.

“You said he likes the chase, right?” Ruby says after a moment. “That’s why you’re doing this. You want to keep him chasing because you think once he gets what he wants, then it’s over?”

Mia’s jaw tightens.

“Oh Mia,” Ruby says softly, sitting down next to her. “He seems pretty genuine to me. I mean, yeah, there’s always a risk he’s a complete fuckboy, but I don’t get that vibe from him.”

“It’s not even that,” Mia murmurs. “It just doesn’t seem worth it.”

“What doesn’t?”

“It’s just two weeks.”

“Two weeks of fucking a guy who looks at you like this?!” Ruby shoves her phone back in front of Mia and she sees another snap of her and Lando from earlier yesterday when she was sitting on his lap. He’s staring up at her with a look of pure wonderment on his face. “I’d say it was worth it.”

Mia shrugs.

“Jesus, Mia, you’re overthinking this, big time. Go with the flow for once. Go to his place tonight and do what feels right. Sure, there is probably a 1% chance he is absolutely dire in bed, but if he isn’t? Just take each day as it comes after that.”

“Easier said than done.”

Ruby leans her head to one side with a grin. “Honestly, just live a little, eh? Have fun with him. Hell, even if it doesn’t work out, you’ll have one epic story to tell when he becomes a World Champ.”

Mia gives her a small smile. “I feel like such a fucking tease.”

Ruby laughs. “And? It’s clearly working for you both. Although I don’t know how you won’t just implode when he touches you.”

Mia covers her face as she reddens. Her phone beeps beside her and she reaches for it.

“God, it’s like he has a sixth sense,” she tells Ruby as she sees the message from Lando.

Pick you up at 5?

Mia glances at the time. Just a casual 6 hours to get through till then.

Sure, she types back.

What you up to?

Working. You?

The three dots appear and then stop. A second later a photo appears.

It's a close up of his face, smirk fully in place but she can see the shimmer of sweat on his brow.

Another buzzes through and she swallows hard as she takes in the grey shorts riding low on his hips, his top half completely on display and the backwards cap in position.

Just warming up is the message.

She chews her lip.

Oh yeah? Big session planned? She replies.

You have no idea 😈

“So you’re just planning to fuck in the car, right?” Ruby raises an eyebrow as Mia comes down the stairs.

“What?” Mia looks down at her outfit - denim cut-offs paired with Lando’s jumper that she forgot to give back to him yesterday. “I thought it looked cute.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

Mia grins wickedly. “That’s the plan…”

“What happened to Miss ‘I’m not sure it’s worth it’?”

“I had a change of heart.”

Ruby grins. “Thank God.”

As if on cue, the gate rings. Ruby buzzes it through without even asking who it is, swinging open the door.

Mia bites her lip, her stomach fluttering as she sees Lando walking up the path. Ruby nudges her forward. “Have fun,” she grins at her.

Stepping through the door, Mia feels Lando’s eyes dragging over her and a grin plays on her lips as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Jesus,” she hears him mutter before he steps closer and his arm curls around her. He doesn’t even say hello, just presses his mouth firmly to hers.

“Hello to you too,” she mumbles against his lips.

“What are you doing to me?” He groans as she waves bye to a smirking Ruby and he hurries her down the path.

“What do you mean?” she says innocently, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

Outside the gate is the Porsche again and as he did on Saturday, he opens the door and makes sure she’s in before he heads round to the driver seat. Leaning back against the headrest, she rocks her head to the side to watch him turn the car back onto the main road.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs as she watches him practically glowing in the light of the lowering sun in the sky.

“So were you.”

“I forgot you still had my jumper.”

“Oh, this is yours?” she says in mock-puzzlement.

“Stop it,” he groans, casting a wanting look in her direction.

“You want it back?”

He shakes his head. “You look good in it.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and she grins as she watches him meet her eye again and then looks away, biting his lip.

They're cruising steadily, but the traffic is building and when the car comes to a stop, he reaches out to her. Mia opens her hand to his, but he bypasses it entirely and lets his hand settle on her bare thigh instead. She takes a sharp intake of breath at the touch, watching his long fingers splayed across her skin, his fingertips teasing the inner curve of her thigh. He squeezes softly and what feels like a lightning bolt strikes between her legs.

Her eyes flicker between his hand and the traffic, watching the brake lights in front ease off. But he doesn't let go of her, not until he's forced to and then he makes a point of dragging his hand away, maintaining contact until the last second.

Mia can feel her heart pounding, the anticipation building to an unbearable point. She shifts in her seat, looking away from him to exhale slowly before she scrapes her hair back with her hand. When she chances a look back at him, she can see him smirking.

“You’re cruel,” she groans softly.

“What do you expect when you come out looking like that? The bikini yesterday, this today. You’re making it really hard for me.”

She doesn’t miss the innuendo, biting her lip as her gaze drops briefly to his lap. “Yeah?” she breathes.

“Don’t do that,” he groans.

“Do what?” She keeps her voice low and breathy watching as he swallows. They hit a red light and he immediately reaches out again and squeezes her thigh in mock retaliation. She lets out a squeal and he grins proudly at himself.

The traffic fails to ease up and they crawl along the coastal road, his hand continuing to rest on her thigh. She can barely concentrate on making conversation, her eyes and her brain trying to find a distraction from the way his fingers feel on her bare skin. She half-wonders if he’s struggling too, although he is clearly better at hiding it than her. And yet, she can feel him giving her glances that she doesn’t dare meet. When they slow to a halt, she can feel his gaze dragging over her again as she looks out the window, trying to hold it together as his hand shifts slightly on her thigh yet again.

When they finally reach his building, the last few minutes before they enter his apartment seem to pass by in a daze. His hand tugs her along the corridor which feels like it doubles in length as they walk and then he’s fumbling with the door before at last he pulls her inside.

The door barely has time to click shut and he has her pressed against the wall.

His mouth is hot and heavy, his hands cupping her face, then her shoulders, then her waist, barely able to keep still as he presses his body flush against hers.

“The door,” she mumbles against his lips.

He pulls away with a groan, reaching to secure the chain lock before he’s back on her. She giggles into his mouth as he captures her hands and pulls them above her head, his fingers curling around hers. Her body arches against him and she gasps as he releases her mouth and trails kisses down her neck.

“Slow down,” she laughs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulls back, breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at her. His hands are still holding hers firm above her head, his wrists pressed against hers and she can feel his pulse quickening.

“You worried I’m going to leave you wanting more again?” she murmurs. “Because trust me, I am done waiting around as much as you.”

“Good,” he rasps. He presses his forehead softly against hers, his hot breath ghosting over her. “But you’re right.”

“About what?”

“Slowing down.”

His mouth captures hers again, but this time it’s soft, gentle, tender. He pulls away and kisses her again and repeats it over and over until she’s whining and straining against his hands to clutch at him, to hold him close.

He shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “You wanted slow… you got slow…”

“Lando…” she pouts but all he does is laugh.

“Who’s the needy one now?” he breathes before kissing her again.

“Not fair,” she mumbles as he presses soft kisses to her jaw line. He drops one of her hands, but before she can reach for him, his other hand captures it, emphasising the size difference between his hands and hers. With his free hand, he cups the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw as he gently tilts her head back to expose her neck. She lets go of a moan as his lips press to a spot just below her ear and she feels him grin.

“Don’t you dare,” she pushes against him and he laughs.

“Let me do it elsewhere then,” he challenges, straightening up and pulling her hands off the wall at last. He loops them behind his head and she immediately curls her fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter closed as she scratches his scalp gently with her nails before he makes her shriek by scooping his arms under her thighs and lifting her up.

As her legs lock around his waist, his lips find her neck and then her mouth again as he carries her blindly through the apartment. She feels him pause to kick off his shoes at one point and then his hands move around to her feet too, her shoes tumbling to the ground.

Kicking the door open to his bedroom, he lowers her down onto the bed, covering her with his body for a second before he pulls back completely and rests on his knees to gaze down at her. With one hand, he tugs at the back of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to one side.

Holding her gaze, he slowly tugs the hem of the jumper from her shorts, pushing it up to expose her stomach. She watches transfixed as he bends down and then she giggles as his mouth presses against her hot skin. His hands push the jumper higher, his fingers ghosting over her ribs and then up to trail over the base of her bra. He covers every inch of her skin with kisses, only pulling back when the jumper has been pushed to her shoulders to help her get rid of it entirely.

Then he’s back, starting again, only now he takes his time, sucking and nipping at her stomach and up to her breasts which are rising and falling as he sends shockwaves through her with his touch alone. His hand engulfs her left breast, squeezing it gently, his thumb finding her nipple through the lace and slowly circling it until it tightens and grazes against the cup.

His fingers claw at the lace, tugging the material down, pulling her breast free and she moans as his tongue swirls over her nipple. Her hand clutches his head, fingers tightening around curls as he slowly releases it from his mouth.

Her back arches and he slides his hand under to unclasp her bra, tugging it free of her body in seconds. His hand finds her other breast, his mouth back where it was moments before and Mia hears herself gasp as he rolls her nipple between his tongue on one side and his fingers on the other. Her legs curl around his, her hips rising to meet his, moaning as he feels his hard length pressing through his trousers.

His mouth slips from her breast and he presses hot, heavy kisses across her collarbone and back to her mouth. He pauses for a second, looking down at her with eyes hazy with lust as his fingers gently push her hair from her face.

“Fuck, you're beautiful,” he whispers and Mia feels her face flush.

“Stop it,” she rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious,” he murmurs, his tongue darting to wet his lips, his stare still intense.

His mouth finds hers, a lazy but heated kiss this time, before he shifts and starts to work his way down to her neck and then her breasts once again. She lets out a contented sigh and then her breath catches in her throat as he once again takes one breast and then the other in his mouth. The combination of his tongue, his lips, the gentle scrape of his teeth is delicious and Mia can't help the endless breathless moans that escape from her.

He groans in approval, his hand sliding down between them to expertly undo the button on her shorts and then he tugs the zipper down. He pauses for a second to look up at her.

“You okay?” he murmurs, watching her face for any sign of hesitation. She nods and his hand pushes into her shorts.

Mia lets go of a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, gasping as his fingers slide between her thighs. She watches his eyes darken as he feels the wet patch that’s been growing ever since he gripped her leg in the car and he bites his lip, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. Her own eyes want to roll back in her head as he nudges her legs a little further apart, his fingers expertly exploring her through her underwear.

She whines as he pulls his hand free but it soon turns into a breathless moan as his mouth finds her breast again before moving to her ribs, her stomach, her hip. He drags himself away from her, rocking back on his heels to tug at her shorts.

She willingly lifts her hips, letting him pull them free. His hands slowly run back up her thighs, pushing her legs apart again as he shifts back on the bed. His fingers hook into her waistband of her underwear and he drags them down too, so slowly it’s practically torture. His eyes flicker between her face and her now naked body beneath him, his lips twitching into a grin as he once again spreads his hands over her thighs and pushes her legs apart.

Mia watches enthralled as he sinks between her legs, his mouth pressing warm, wet kisses to just above her knee, as he works his way slowly up her inner thigh, but just as she feels his warm breath ghosting over her pussy, he starts again on the other side. She groans wantonly, feeling him chuckling against her skin. Her legs are already starting to tremble, but his grip on her thighs steady her, holding her just so as he continues to adorn every inch of her skin with kisses.

“Lando…”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers against her thigh and she looks down at him in a daze.

He grins up at her.

“Tell me,” he repeats, his fingers trailing lazily over her hot skin.

“Please…” she breathes. “Lando…”

“Tell me,” he repeats, the slow kisses starting again as he edges back up her thigh.

She can feel how unashamedly wet she is for him, the vibrations of his words shuddering through her.

“I…” she gasps. “I want to cum…”

His grin widens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” she whines, her head rolling to the side as she feels his warm breath ghost over once more, her body tingling already.

And then she gasps as his mouth finally presses against her, his tongue running over her slit as his hands push her legs wider and back, exposing her completely and making her hiss with pleasure.

Her head rolls from side to side, her eyes closed, her only focus on the way his mouth feels on her. His nose brushes over her clit and her hips buck against his hands. He welcomes it with a hum, pulling her closer, his arm curling over her waist to hold her just so. He moans against her, the vibrations ricocheting through her and her hand scrambles to find his head. Her fingers twist in his hair and he moans again at her touch.

She almost howls as he shifts, his mouth pressing to her thigh as he slides his finger inside her instead. “Fuck…”

His teeth graze her skin for a second and then she hears his voice, low, rough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…”

His thumb brushes against her clit and her back arches off the bed. “Lando…”

“Sssh…” he comforts. “I got you…”

“Please…” she begs and then her breath catches in her throat as a second finger slides inside her.

She lets out a loud whine, her hand still gripping his head, trying desperately to tug his mouth back. But he refuses, too caught up in sucking hard on her inner thigh until she cries out and he pulls back with a satisfied look on his face.

She doesn’t even scold him this time, her brain starting to shut down as he curls the two fingers inside her and they brush against her G-spot. Her body lurches off the bed again as he does, but only briefly before his forearm presses her back down.

And then his mouth closes around her clit and her grip on his hair tightens.

“Oh fuck…” she moans, her breathing rapid, her entire body zoning in on the sensation of his fingers and mouth.

He’s unrelenting, pushing her closer and closer. The more she comes undone, the more he seems to want. His tongue on her clit doesn’t ease up, his fingers continue to brush against the sensitive spot inside her over and over again and his arm pinning her hips down is firm and strong. She’s caught, unable to escape - not that she wants to - and all she can hear is him moaning below her as she fights to stop herself from crying out from the pleasure he’s causing.

She can feel her body starting to shut down, her legs shaking, her breath catching in her throat as she hurtles towards her orgasm.

“Lando… Oh god… Lando… Yes… Oh… FUCK!”

Her body tenses in his hold, his name a strangled cry as her orgasm hits. He helps her ride through it, his tongue still running over her clit, his fingers still sliding in and out of her, coaxing every last jolt and aftershock from her.

Her body trembles, her breathing almost raspy as she comes down to earth. She's only half aware of him gently easing her thighs away from his shoulders and neck, chaste kisses to her hip, her stomach as he slides over her.

“You okay?” He murmurs, nuzzling at her neck.

“Fuck…” is all she can get out, making him laugh.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans against her cheek. She turns her head, their lips meeting and he moans as she willingly tastes herself.

Her hands run down his back, feeling his muscles flex at her touch until she reaches the waistband of his trousers and starts to push them down. Underneath she finds the waistband of his boxers, her hand slipping inside to grope at his firm ass as he grinds his hips against hers.

Reluctantly pulling away, he stands to remove both items of clothing but she follows, sliding to the edge of the bed to push his hands away. His fingers tenderly brush the hair from her flushed face, tucking it behind her ears as he steps out of his trousers. She can see how hard he is through his boxers, the material taut and pointed. Pulling them down, he springs free and she looks up at him, her mouth dropping open.

Her hands skim up his thighs, coming to rest where his torso starts. Shifting slightly, she takes him into her mouth, letting her eyes flutter close as she reacquaints herself with his length.

“Mia…” he groans above her. His hand cups the back of her head as it did yesterday as he sinks further into her mouth. “You… Shit…”

Her tongue swirls over the tip of his dick as he moves in and out of her mouth. His hand tightens on her head but to her surprise, he eases her off his dick. She looks up at him, confused.

“Later,” he tells her with a grin. “But right now…” He reaches for her, nudging her back onto the bed. She falls back, gazing up at him but instead of joining her, he moves round the side of the bed, reaching for the bedside table drawer.

Mia turns to face him, crawling over the bed to grab the condom packet from his grasp. Tearing it open with her teeth, she reaches for him, watching his face flicker with something she can't put her finger on as she rolls the condom down over his dick. She slides her hand up to his waist, pulling him gently towards her and he doesn't need telling twice.

She giggles as he stretches over her, his hands tangling in her hair as they kiss, bodies sliding against each other. Her legs spread, one curling over the back of his thigh. He drags a hand down her body, fingers caressing her throat, her breast, her stomach, her thigh before he lines his dick up with her pussy, teasing her with the tip for a second before he slowly enters her.

Mia’s back arches and his mouth drops to her neck as he slides further into her. He lets out a soft groan of satisfaction as he does, his breathing ragged already, hers too as she clutches at his shoulders. He raises his head and through hazy eyes, she meets his gaze. His hand moves to her leg, gently pulling it further up and around his torso, opening her to him and letting him slide to the hilt inside her.

“Fuck, Lando…” she groans as he fills her and then starts to thrust in and out of her. It’s slow and controlled, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his hot breath on her skin as his hand grips the back of her thigh.

“You… You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, his hips starting to pick up pace as he pulls back to look at her.

“Keep… keep going,” she says in a hoarse whisper. “Please…”

His mouth drops to her breast and her back arches into his touch. He takes the opportunity, his arms sliding under her as he sits back on his heels, pulling her with him. He moves her so effortlessly, his hands tugging her legs around him as he lifts her up and down on his dick. Her arms curl around his shoulders, her face buried in his neck, smothering her moans as one of his hands grips her ass, the other on her waist.

She feels weightless in his arms, his mouth on her shoulder, her neck, before he nuzzles at her cheek and she straightens. His mouth crashes against hers, full of want and need before his lips trail down her neck and he eases her back so he can capture her breast in his mouth yet again.

“Yes… Yes…” she hears herself moan, her second orgasm winding its way to a climax. She can feel the heat in her stomach, the ache getting stronger as he pulls away from her breast and his mouth reclaims her own.

Her nails dig into his neck, making him release her mouth with a hiss.

“Payback,” she manages to get out in a breathless gasp, lips twitching into a grin as his eyes close for a second as she scrapes her nails down the back of his neck. He lets out a hoarse chuckle, before he doubles down on his own efforts on her neck, his lips, teeth, tongue all making contact, all marking her in their own way as she feels her body start to shut down again.

“L-ando,” her voice hitches as she feels the heat in her stomach reach boiling point.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t break the rhythm, coaxing her softly with his words. “Take it… go on… that’s it… Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight… Mia…”

Her eyes squeeze shut, her breath short and sharp as she cums again, her body collapsing against his. She’s vaguely aware of him easing her down onto the bed, slipping from her, making her whine softly. Then his hands on her hips, rolling her onto her stomach, tugging her back to him. Her hands drag over the sheets, her hair a mess over her face as his hands smooth down her back.

And then she groans into the bed as he slides back into her from behind. His body covers hers, his mouth on her shoulder as he thrusts into her with long, lazy strokes, making her gasp and whine as his arms slide over hers, his fingers lacing through hers, only his hips moving against her.

“You okay?” he murmurs into her neck.

“Yeah,” she mumbles back. “Stop-” she swallows and then she lets out a raspy laugh as he freezes. “I meant, stop teasing…”

“Fuck, you made my heart stop,” he chuckles. “Stop teasing, huh?”

“Yeah…” she moans as he rocks back, pulling her up onto her knees.

His hands grip her hips, fingers digging in firmly as he starts to move again, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the room as he fucks breathless moans out of her. She twists her head to the side, pushing the hair from her face to look back at him. His eyes are closed, his long, beautifully thick lashes practically kissing his cheekbones, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his cheeks, his neck, his chest as his hips slam against her.

He senses her watching, his eyes opening to meet her gaze which he holds steadily as his hand slips from her hip and curls under her. She lets out a soft moan as his fingers find her clit, slow, gentle touches that make her bury her head in the sheets again. Her hands twist in the sheets, her mouth open, gasping for air, letting go of a hoarse cry as her legs start to tremble again. The grip on her hip tightens, his thrusts becoming faster, more jerky as he chases down his release too.

But not before he gets her there too, his two fingers slick with her wetness, gliding over and around her clit. She half-wonders how he’s already figured out what she likes, clearly recognising how she responds to each touch, memorising it and repeating it over and over again. She's teetering on the edge, and he's right there with her, moaning her name as she feels herself tumble into the abyss.

His hips slam against her one last time and she feels him pulse inside her, causing another wave of pleasure to wash over her as her head spins.

For a moment, neither of them move and all that can be heard is their ragged breaths as they both come down to earth. His hands slide over her waist, hips, ass before he pulls out, making her groan. She collapses forward on to bed, listening to him moving around, footsteps drifting away and then back again.

His hand slides up the back of her thigh, the bed dipping beside her. His fingers trail up her back and then he's gently brushing the hair from her face. She opens her eyes to see him lying on his side next to her, his head propped up by his hand. His cheeks are flushed, his chest only just starting to rise and fall at a regular pace. His fingers brush over her cheek, under her chin as he leans forward and kisses her softly. Then his fingers dance over her shoulders, trailing down and then back up her back in lazy patterns.

“Worth the wait?” he murmurs.

She nods, unable to reach for words, her brain still fuzzy from the orgasms he’s pulled out of her. He grins back at her, pride filling him.

She feels herself shiver - the heat from her skin fading, the sensation of his fingertips gliding over her back. And then the brain fog starts to fade and she suddenly feels conscious of how naked she is and a sense of awkwardness growing between them. The build up was so intense that now it’s over, she’s unsure of what will happen next.

“Can you get me some water, please?” She hears herself say. An excuse, anything to get some space for a second.

He gives her a curious look. “Sure.”

She watches him rise and wander, clearly unashamed of his own naked body, out of the room. Sitting up herself, she looks around for her clothes. Spying her underwear and the jumper, she grabs them from the floor. Just as she slips the jumper over her head, Lando returns with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she murmurs as he passes it to her.

He eyes the jumper but doesn’t say anything. Instead he scrapes a hand over his head, fingers ruffling his hair. “So… I know I said would get dinner-”

Mia feels her stomach drop. This is it. Of course. How could she be so stupid. She stares down at the glass, chewing her lip. “Don’t worry,” she murmurs. “It’s fine.”

He’s silent for a second and when she dares to look up at him, he’s frowning. “What I mean,” he starts slowly, but she doesn't hear the rest. Her eyes darting around to see where her shorts landed.

Her attention is only drawn back to him when his arms curl around her waist. She looks up at him and frowns when she sees a smirk playing on his lips.

“Did you think I was about to kick you out?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“Mia. I was asking you what you wanted to eat.”

“You were?”

He grins. “You think I’m gonna kick you out after that?” He leans down, his lips brushing across hers. “I dunno about you, but I was just getting warmed up…”

His hands slip under the jumper, squeezing her waist as she giggles.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling her attention back to his face. “Unless you want to leave?” She shakes her head and he grins cockily. “Good.”

But she can’t help herself. The thoughts she’d shared with Ruby are still bubbling under the surface and before she can stop herself: “It’s just…”

“Just what?” His hands are still on her hips, fingers squeezing as he searches her face for a hint of what she’s about to say next.

“You got your prize,” she says in a whisper.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, not hiding the smugness in his tone.

“No more chase.”

“And?”

“You like the chase.”

“I like the prize even better,” he tells her. “Hold onto it for as long as possible, remember?”

She does. And once again, he sounds sincere.

She goes to open her mouth to say something but his thumb brushes across her bottom lip.

“Look, all I wanna do is eat and then I want to fuck you again,” he says frankly. “And I kinda want you to stay so we can wake up and do this all over again tomorrow morning. And then I can drive you home, you can work and then I want to pick you up and take you out. And repeat. For as long as you want. That's… that's what I want.”

She blinks at him, his earnest face staring back at her.

“What about you?” He prompts, his eyebrows rising in question. “What do you want, Mia?”

***

3 weeks later

Mia lies in bed, idly doom-scrolling through Instagram. It’s late. She should be asleep. But…

You up?

She grins. Of course, she taps back.

A second later, a video call comes through and she frantically tries to arrange herself in a more flattering angle before she swipes to answer.

“Hey,” he says, scraping his hand over his face and stifling a yawn.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.” He lets the yawn take over and then he shakes his head, blinking, ruffling his hair with his free hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She’s too busy taking in the peek of bare chest as he lies sprawled on his bed.

His eyes flicker around the screen. “Shit. I forgot the time difference. It’s almost midnight there?”

She nods. “It’s fine.”

“The offer’s still there…” he says with a wink.

The offer. The offer of coming with him to the UK whilst he prepared for the rest of the season. But after the intensity of their time together, she’d felt it was a step too far. Instead, she’s in Paris with Ruby.

“I feel bad for not spending that much time with Ruby,” she tells him. “Barely seen her over the last few weeks…”

“Sorry about that,” he grins.

“No you’re not,” she laughs.

His smile widens. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m not that sorry.”

She watches his fingers chase an itch down his chest and out of sight. Her distracted face doesn’t go unnoticed and he smirks as he stretches his arm, revealing his toned stomach and the white bedsheet draped across his waist.

“You’re enjoying this,” she groans.

He laughs wryly. “Trust me, I’m not. Doesn’t come close to having you with me.”

“Feeling lonely, huh?”

“Always,” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Just a lonely racing driver, who just wants-”

“His dick sucked?” she interrupts, laughing as his eyebrows shoot up.

“I was going to go with just wanting company, but I won’t turn that down,” he recovers quickly, shooting her a mischievous grin.

“At last, your true motives are revealed,” she teases. “I knew it.”

He pouts and then laughs. “Fine, you got me.”

“Well, you’ll be in for a long wait.”

He bites his lip for a second. “About that.”

“What about that?”

“Come to the next race.”

She blinks. “Lando…”

“Please.”

“I… I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You won’t be.”

“Won’t your family be there?”

Lando shrugs. “And? Just my dad.”

She shakes her head. “Just your dad? That’s still… I mean, c’mon. It’s a bit weird for me to show up, no? We’ve only known each other for less than a month.”

“And? I’d still like you to come. I want to see you again. And I promise I won’t force you to do some weird meet the parents thing. It’ll be chilled, I promise. Well, it won’t be chilled because it’s manic but you get what I mean.”

She watches him ramble, like he’s unable to stop the words coming out, trying to fill the silence.

“I…” As much as she wants to, she’s still hesitant. It feels like a step towards something else. Something more than just sex and pillow talk and phone sex and sending various explicit photos to each other.

Of course she wants to see him again.

But she wasn’t expecting that next time to be in public. With the potential of bumping into his dad.

Especially as the last time they were together, prior to Lando dropping her back to the villa and the long kiss goodbye, he’d been fucking her against the wall in his bathroom.

“Just think about it?” he pleads. “I can probably get Ruby in too if that swings it for you?”

“Have you any idea what you’re suggesting? She’ll be a fucking nightmare.”

He laughs. “She’ll keep you busy then. I’ll be honest, there’s not much downtime for me. But…” His cheeks flush slightly. “I’d just like to have you to come back to.”

“So you can get your dick sucked?” she teases again.

“Stop that,” he groans.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

His eyes light up. “You will?”

She nods. He grins, then his eyes narrow. “Why are you wearing that?”

She glances down and then back up with a grin. “Your jumper?”

“Yeah.”

“Because I like it,” she says simply. And it smells of you, she wants to add but she doesn’t.

He shakes his head, his eyes darkening. “You’re way too overdressed for this call.”

She grins. “Is that so?”

He nods, lifting the camera again, shifting so that the sheet around his waist drops slightly. Mia rocks her head to the side as she spots the faint outline of his dick under the thin sheet.

“Take it off,” he murmurs to her.

She doesn’t need to be asked twice.

Fin x

Hopefully I won't run out of steam, because I've got some other ideas floating around my head for these two. Thanks again for all the love for my first Lando fic!

#lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #ln4 #ln4 fic #lando smut #lando imagine #ln4 smut #ln4 imagine

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meetmypointlessaddiction · 5 months ago

Text

December Fic Day 12 ~ Family

Summary: Logan meets your family for the first time.

Warnings: sort of mentions PTSD but not directly, mentions of fighting in a war but very very brief, joke about decapitation (?), not sure if I need to tag that but better safe than sorry

Pairings: Logan Howlett x fem!reader (I wanted to make this more generalised to any reader but found myself constantly slipping into female reader)

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better and reblog to share my work :)

The purr of the engine and the low hum of the radio was the only thing breaking the silence as Logan drove the pair of you down the highway, in the direction of your parents’ house. You had been talking to your mom about Logan for months and it was after her begging and pleading that you finally agreed to invite Logan to your Christmas gathering, despite the man not being particularly interested in entertaining the Christmas traditions for anyone other than you.

“And you’re sure it’s just going to be your parents and your brother and his wife?” Logan checked, turning to look at you as he took his focus off of the road for a few seconds. “Because I’ve only prepared myself for the father and big brother speech, any more people and I’m pretty sure I’ll stab something.”

You rolled your eyes at him exaggerating and he just smiled, kissing your hand and leaning back in his seat. “That’s what my mom has told me. My nieces are having a babysitter I think, this party thing is usually just the adults. The kids get to visit on Christmas Day when we go for dinner. You don’t have to come to that by the way if you don’t want to. I’ll tell my mom that you’re, I don’t know, you have your own family to have dinner with.”

Logan laughed and squeezed your thigh. “Baby, I don’t mind spending Christmas with your family if that’s what you want. I’d only end up in Wade’s flat drinking and watching one of his stupid movies that he likes so I won’t be missing much if I come with you.” He reassured you and smiled, leaning against the window again. “Besides, I’m sure me and your family will get along just fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan pulled up outside your parents drive and within five seconds the door was flung open and two little girls came sprinting towards the car. “Umm baby? Are the umm- are the kids-?”

“Oh my god Logan I’m so sorry. My mom told me that the kids weren’t coming but-.”

“Bub. I was a teacher, remember? I’m not gonna go feral on the kids, okay? You go take em back inside and I’ll bring the bags in.” He told you and you nodded, the girls screaming for their auntie as they stood at the edge of the garden.

As you hugged your nieces and ushered them back inside, you saw Logan with your rucksack on his back, suitcase under his arm and the three huge bags of presents and gifts that you had brought in his other hand. “Do you want me to grab anything? Your hands look-.”

“You can grab your phone out of the front, you left it.” He said with a smirk and you just smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek as he waited for you to be done, not wanting to approach the door without you. He didn’t have much choice though when your mother was there, inviting him in and kissing each of his cheeks twice. You just shot him a look that said everything and followed him into the house.

~~~~~~~~~~

After you and Logan had dumped everything in your bedroom, you made your way back downstairs where your mother was beaming at you. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, love?” She pushed and you turned to Logan with a shy smile, blushing more at his teasing smirk.

“Logan, this is my mama. Mama, Logan.” You introduced them both and Logan smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He said and your mother shook her head.

“No, no, call me Janet, dear. You’re the first boy our gem’s brought home, it’s got to get you on a first name basis, right?” She joked and he nodded, smiling politely as she led the pair of you into the living room.

“Logan, this is my husband Craig, my son, Jordan, his wife, Louise and their two girls, Emilia and Hatty.” She pointed out everyone and Logan gave a polite wave as your brother smiled at him. Your father stood from his chair, a stern look on his face and Logan could hear the way your heartbeat sped up slightly.

“Sir.” Logan said and the man’s facade broke as his face split into a smile and he held his hand out for Logan to shake.

“Nice to meet you, son.” The pair chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Logan was so much older than your father could imagine. “Gem’s told us all about you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was kidnapped by your father and brother as they got talking about anything and everything while your sister-in-law and mother dragged you into the kitchen, shutting the door and sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Holy shit, gem! He’s a dream.” Your sister-in-law gushed and you rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t bring him home sooner.”

“Yeah well family gatherings aren’t really his thing. He only came because mama invited him.” You told them and they nodded. “What happened to this being a no kid thing? Not that I’m upset to see my babies but I kinda told Logan that the kids weren’t going to be here.”

Your mom just shrugged. “I decided that the kids are old enough now to be part of the Christmas party.”

“Mama, they're four and seven. Me and Jordan weren’t allowed until we were eighteen!” You argued and she just rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on, gem. They’re not bothering anyone. They’re playing in the garden and when it gets to food time, they’ll be happy as Larry while they stuff their faces. Your boyfriend’s safe from the ankle biters.” Your mother teased and you glared at her.

“Mama, I'm serious. Logan is- he… he’s been in the army and fought a lot of wars mama. Not to mention everything else that has happened in his life. Sometimes the kids can be a little overwhelming and I don’t want him to feel like he’s being squashed okay? I want this to be a good thing for him. I want him to like coming to spend time with you.”

Your mother had an almost regretful look on her face and she frowned. “I’m sorry, love. It really was a last minute decision. I’ll warn the girls not to sneak up on him okay? And you let him know that if he’s had enough of them he’s more than welcome to disappear upstairs for a while to calm down.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Logan were finally given free reign to move, done being interrogated by everyone and you both found yourselves perched on a bench in the garden. “I don’t know why you were nervous, bub. Your family is lovely.”

“They can be a little over the top sometimes, that’s all. I kinda told my mom a little white lie in that you get startled because you were in the army. Just so they know not to let the kids jump out on you or my brother to pull any stupid airhorn pranks.”

“But I was in the army.” Logan said dumbly and you just looked at him.

“Yes, decades ago, Logan, I’m aware. The white lie is kind of that you recently served and that you don’t have metal claws that could decapitate my nieces if they spook you.” Logan simply hummed in agreement and shrugged.

“I got used to being jumped up on in the school, I should be fine. Thanks for trying to look out for me though, baby. ‘ppreciate it.”

“Always, Lo.”

~~~~~~~~~~

After food had been eaten, you and Logan had tidied the dishes away and Logan went upstairs to go to the bathroom when he was ambushed.

“Hi mister.”

“You're auntie’s husband.”

The girls appeared out of basically nowhere, Logan senses only just managed to pick up on them before they jumped out, preventing the decapitation you had predicted. He chose not to mention the fact that you were not married, knowing that he’d just lose the argument with the girls anyway.

“Yeah I am. Emilia and Hatty, right? Your auntie talks a lot about the two of you.” Logan said, leaning against the handrail as he spoke to them.

“Do you wanna play princesses with us?” Hatty asked with a big grin and Logan froze.

“I’d love to kid but I gotta finish helping your auntie put away the dishes.”

“Then why did you run away upstairs? Gramma says it’s naughty to run away from chores.” Emilia, the oldest, pointed out, hand on her hips and she glared at Logan.

“I’m going to the bathroom and then I’m gonna go back downstairs.” Logan shot back, already knowing that this wasn’t gonna end well for him. It was then that Emilia put on the crocodile tears.

“B-but… but I thought auntie’s husband was gonna be fun. W-why won’t you play princesses with us? D-do you hate us?”

“What?! No, no of course not. I got stuff to finish up downstairs kid and-.” When tears started pouring out of her eyes, Logan was quick to walk the rest of the way up the stairs, shaking his head.

“Fine, fine. Let me go to the bathroom and then I’ll play princesses, goddamn it.” Her face broke out into a grin immediately and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She’d played him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was twenty minutes later that you noticed Logan’s absence downstairs. You had assumed that your parents or brother had dragged him into the living room but when you walked in and found him not there, you became confused. “Is Logan not in here?” You asked and they all shook their heads.

The quietness coming from upstairs was immediately alarming and you and your mother shared a quick glance, Louise also clicking on as the three of you made your way to the stairs and walked upstairs.

You could hear Emilia giggling and Hatty talking to someone that clearly wasn’t Emilia. When you walked into the spare room, you saw Logan sat on the bed, back against the headboard, Hatty sat on his lap, painting his face in makeup, and Emilia sitting beside him painting his nails.

“Oh my god…” Logan just looked at you, his gaze stern as both your mom and Louise were speechless. “What… you went to the bathroom? How on earth-?”

“Uncle Logan is playing princesses auntie gem!” Hatty said, grinning and turning too quickly, almost falling off of Logan’s lap and off of the bed but his arm was quick to wrap around the top of her arm and pull her back up.

“What did I tell you about being careful?” He scolded gently and she shrugged, looking back towards you. “I was trying to come back down but someone had other ideas.” He shot a glare at Emilia and you knew what had happened.

“She did the tears-.” You started and Logan nodded.

“She did the tears.” He confirmed and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Logan stood from the bed, a pair of purple fairy wings on his back and makeup on his face, his nails painted sparkly silver. “This better wash off.”

“Not yet! You have to let me take a picture.” You told him and he was quick to shake his head. “Oh come on, baby! Please? Pretty please? Wade has to see this. You promised you’d tell him how it went.”

“Wade will not be seeing it. The bastard won’t let me live it down.” You gave him your best pouty look and he groaned, shooting you a look before turning to your mother. “Your daughter is evil. Completely and utterly evil.”

~~~~~~~~~~ “OH. MY. GODD!! Peanut you look absolutely stunning! Oh my god, you have to introduce me to these children. Oh please, please, please, sugar lips.” Wade begged as he looked at your phone. “Invite them over for easter. I’ll be such a good host I swear! We can have makeovers and everything.” Wade squealed and you caught Logan’s eye. The man looked defeated. Wade was definitely NOT going to let him live this down.

This was way longer than intended but it just kept writing itself and I couldn't stop 😂 Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment, let's chat!

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

Requests are also open if there is anything that people want me to write 💛

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