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nanaslutt · 2 days ago

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At your mercy

ʚ pairing: sylus x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, switch!sylus & reader, “good boy” kink, dirty talk, teasing, restraints, riding, masturbation, finger sucking, nipple play

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“So…” You drawl, prowling around Sylus like a predator. He’s strapped to a chair, his arms bound behind his back while his legs are secured around the legs of the chair, spread wide. “How does it feel to be the one tied up and at my mercy?” Your foot presses between his spread legs, and his hips leave the chair as he scoots down, giving you more access between them.

Tilting his head back, his crimson gaze rakes down the length of your leg hungrily. “I’m at your mercy now?” He hums a thoughtful sound, gaze laser focused on your heel clad foot that slowly inches towards the bulge between his thighs. “Have you thought to consider I’m allowing myself to be at your mercy?”

Narrowing your eyes, you place your foot back on the ground and stand between his legs. You reach out to touch his chest, finger trailing from the column of his pale neck to where the first button of his shirt is undone. He gasps. “You do look like someone who is awfully willing to submit, right now.”

He laughs, but it sounds breathy when you teasing undo the buttons down his torso. Each scrape of your nails against sensitive skin makes his breath hitch. “Perhaps I’m being so still because the look on your face is too sweet to ruin. You look awfully confident right now, kitten.”

You hum, peeling open his shirt and pulling it out from where it’s tucked into his pants. It flares out, exposing his impossibly defined abs, and a chest that is rising and falling too quickly, betraying his calm demeanor. But you could tell his impatience from the bulge in his pants as well–and from how he was spreading his legs wider, he wasn’t ashamed of his reaction. “Having the leader of Onychinus like this…”

A half sigh half grumble vibrates in his throat when you undo the belt around his hips, clanking noisily in his quiet room, save for the soft music playing on vinyl in the background. “Heady? Your cheeks are flushed.”

His hips raise when you slide the belt through the loops, gathering it in your hands before discarding it to the floor. “You should see yourself.” He watches with rapt attention as you lean in and brush a finger over his pert nipple. He gasps at the featherlight touch, abdomen clenching. “You’re even red here.”

Sylus grunts, and the excitement in his pants twitches hard enough to be shown through his dark pants. With each touch, his eyes grow more lidded, until he almost looks tired, but you know he’s anything but.

Flicking your finger over his nipple for the last time, he grunts and jerks against his restraints when you pull away. “Sensitive?” You ask.

His smirk is dizzying. “I enjoy everything you do to me.”

With a mischievous look on your face, you wrap your arms around his waist and settle into his lap. His reaction is immediate. His deep groan finds its way to your core, making you clench around nothing. You can feel him so clearly under you, throbbing and twitching like crazy.

Lust filled eyes meet yours. “Getting excited? I thought this was supposed to be torturous for me?” He gasps, lips parting when you roll your hips against his bulge, trying not to show how much it affects you.

“So this isn’t? Me grinding on you like this, knowing we're so close, yet so far…” You lean in and lower your voice, speaking against the shell of his ear. “Knowing I’m dripping for you and you can do nothing about it, because I am in control… That isn’t torturous?”

When he doesn’t respond, you pull back and smile at the drunk look on his face. All teasing is gone, the look he gives you is almost scary, intimidating, and if he wasn’t restrained, you might have lost confidence. But you were in charge, so he could stare at you with pleading looks filled with dark promises all he wanted.

He parts his lips when you lean in, expecting a kiss, but you divert to his neck instead, laying kiss after kiss in his most sensitive points. He groans, and you can feel the vibrations pressed against you. His hips thrust upwards, and it feels too good to reprimand him verbally, so you instead sink your teeth into his skin.

His reaction is immediate. He laughs through a groan, biceps straining when he struggles. “So rough, kitten.” He thrusts his hip upwards again, and you respond with another bite. He grunts, gasping heavily. “So that’s it, this is my punishment for being greedy.”

Pulling away, your lips feel swollen when you look down at him. “And you’re not being a very good boy.” He groans at the name, and something inside your head clicks open and malfunctions.

Sylus. The leader of Onychinus, just moaned at being called a good boy.

“You moved on purpose because you wanted me to bite you, didn’t you?” You ignored the feeling of losing control in your mind, pretending to have composure and not give away that you had probably soaked through your panties.

Sylus cocks his head to the side, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pinching his chin, you tilt his head upwards, fingers finding his neglected nipple at the same time. His stuttered, deep groan and half eye roll nearly makes you cum. “Good boy’s don't lie, Sylus.”

He smiles, and he looks ruined. “Then punish me. I’ve been bad.”

It took an insurmountable amount of strength not to whip his dick out and sit on it in one go. He had to be punished first.

He groaned when you slid off his lap, purposefully pressing down on him while you did. Then, you dropped to your knees and parted his thighs. “Careful kitten, you don’t look like you’re getting ready to punish me down there.”

You smiled, not diverting your eyes away even while your fingers found his fly and unzipped it. His legs twitched. You pulled his slacks down a few inches, with his help of him raising his hips. They sat low on his ass, giving you just enough room to pull him out. But not before a little teasing.

You ran your fingers along the soft white hairs on his pelvis, dangerously closed to the half slack-half boxer covered monster in his pants. He thrust upwards, and you retaliated by pinching what little fat he had on the side of his hips, making his cock twitch.

“Pinching now?” He gasped, the deep baritone of his voice growing more gravely with his arousal.

You ran your hands up and down his muscled thighs, occasionally teasing his pelvis with your nails. “Down here didn’t seem to hate it so much.” Pressing the points of your nails against his naval, you scratched down his skin with little force, enough to leave red marks on his pale skin. His gasp was loud, followed by smaller grunts and heavy breathing. “Yeah, I don’t think you hate pain at all.”

He laughed at that, the sound expensive and rich. “I told you once before, kitten, I like everything you do to me. Scratch me, bite me, tease me, do whatever you want with me.”

Eyes on his, you dipped your fingers under the band of his boxers and grabbed the base of his cock. He inhaled sharply, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs fast enough. “Even if I don’t put this inside me tonight?”

His eyes flickered to your hand that pulled him out of his boxers, pants still on his waist. He looked good like this, half dressed and disheveled, with a drunk expression. “I’m not worried about that.” He replied confidently.

When you released him, he throbbed repeatedly, pearls of pre-cum beading on his tip before dripping onto his pants, leaving a sticky mess. “So confident.” Laying your head on his thigh just inches from his length. You caress his cock starting from the underside with a single finger, drawing it upwards until you reach the wet tip.

Sylus is breathing noisily now, chest rising quickly with his suppressed moans. His bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth when you rub his wetness around the head. “Does this feel good, Sylus?”

He smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. “Very good, kitten. Your fingers are so soft.” His heavy arousal bobs in front of you when you continue to collect his wetness on your fingers.

Pulling away, you sit back on your ass and spread your thighs, rubbing his pre together on the tips of your fingers. Sylus continues to spill on his pants, breathing heavily as he watches you. “What are you doing, sweetie?”

“You said my fingers were soft, I wanted to see for myself.” His lips part when you lift your dress and expose your panty-clad pussy to him, which is of course, soaked. You lift the band and slide your fingers in, not moving the fabric so he can see.

You groan in unison when you rub his mess around on your clit. Sylus struggles more now, looking pained to watch you touch yourself in front of him.

You gasp, running your fingers through your folds, spreading your legs to give him no real view. “You were right, s–so soft.”

His eyes are glued to your cunt, biceps bulge with his incessant pulling at his restraints, and the pool of cum on his pants is now so big it looks like he already came all over himself. “I have much, much more where that came from, sweetie.” He purrs.

You dip your fingers inside, and he moans watching you, even if his view is muted through the fabric. “Fuck.”

“I could fill you with me.” He says, groaning though you don’t miss the plea in his tone. “Anything you want.” He says, before shaking his head. “I know it wants to feel me, such a hot little thing, begging for me to fill it.”

You gasp, plunging two fingers in and out of yourself. “Sylus.”

Sylus’s gasps are stuttered. “Yes, kitten, let me help you. Use me. Sit on me and take everything I have to give.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, realizing you probably look as needy as him now.

He doesn’t look cocky when you pull your fingers out, though his fingers do lock onto them. He doesn’t even look triumphant when you spread your thighs around his hips and grip his base, pressing his soaked tip against your equally soaked entrance.

“What do you want?” You ask, gripping his cheeks with the hand you were masterbating with.

He grunts as you rub his tip through your folds, using him to rub your clit. “I want you to use me.”

You notch his head at your hole. “That’s it? Even if I finish before you and decide I don’t want your release? You'll take it?”

He nods, throat bobbing as he stares at your lips like a man starved. “Yes.” His voice is all gravel. “Use me.”

So you do.

Sliding onto him is bliss and agony, blending and swirling into pure relief in your gut. Sylus groans with you as you take him all at once, until you're seated on the mess of his pants. You don't spare a second before you hook your ankles on his thighs and start bouncing.

“Good boy,” you sigh, mess covered fingers slipping into his mouth. Sylus smiles around them before sucking, cleaning your fingers.

You impale yourself onto him over and over again, loving how good it hurts, loving how deep he fills you in his position. Your eyes roll back in your head and your head falls back. One hand steadies on his shoulder while the other pushes deeper into his mouth. He doesn’t even gag when you hit the back of his throat, but his eyes do water.

Yanking your fingers out, they’re sloppier than they were before, but Sylus has a big stupid grin on his face that wasn’t there before. “I could drown in you while you devour me.” Crimson eyes caress your face the way his hands would. “You look so beautiful taking what you need, what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” You gasp, fingers finding your clit and rubbing hastily when his cock repeatedly thrusts into that sweet spot in your inner walls.

He leans in and whispers against your lips. “Everything.” Then, his mouth is on yours, and you devour each other. It’s a battle for dominance, one neither is winning nor losing, but its so aggressive and feral and needy, and you fucking love it.

His and your sounds slip from the cracks of your kiss, and the wetness on his thighs only makes you get there even faster.

Blindly reaching behind you, you dip your hand into his boxers and find his balls, pulling them out with his cock you cradle them in your hand. Sylus breaks from the kiss to hiss through his teeth.

You grab his jaw. “Bad boy, did I say you could stop kissing me?” He shakes his head, a proud expression on his face, lips curling up at the sides. “You said you would give me everything.” You whisper against him, rocking your hips in a wavelike motion, stoking that fire low in your stomach. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

Sylus nods, “Yes ma’am.” He huskily grunts, before taking your lips once more. The kiss is louder and more urgent than before, and saliva spills from your lips.

Rolling his balls in your hand, they quickly become wet with the two of you dripping from where you’re connected. With your finger between you and your hand on his neck, it doesn’t take much longer before you're tipping over the edge.

“Sylus!” You gasp, “H-help me.”

You start to shake, orgasming around his cock, and he grunts, balls falling from your hands as you wrap your arms around his neck and let him fuck you through your orgasm.

“Can I cum?” He groans, hips losing their rhythm. “I need to stop now if I can’t cum.”

You shake your head, twitching and writhing from the prolonged high as his thrusts get rougher and rougher. “Give me it. Give me everything you have.”

His moans hitch, and a loud snapping sound makes you flinch. His arms are around you then, and hes using the leverage to lift you up and down as he fucks his cum inside you. His thrusts are sloppy and mean as he jerks and twitches wildly, fucking his orgasm as deep as he can inside you.

The two of you are holding each other tightly when he comes down. His thighs shake violently under you, and you can feel his cock throb inside you, softening with his released load.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” He whispers into your hair. You nod, nails digging into his back, and he grunts. “I hope you’re satisfied, because I think I really did give you everything just then.”

You laugh before pulling back, locking your legs around his waist. You both gasp when his cock jolts inside you. “Maybe I should, after all, you did break your restraints.” You raise an eyebrow at him with mock irritation.

He simply smiles, caressing stray hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear. “Do what you want with me, but don’t be surprised when you ring me out again and I’m dry.”

That makes you snort. “Would it hurt? To cum like that?” He goes to answer and you press your fingers to his lips. “I almost forgot about your fondness for pain.”

His laugh is deep, and it warms not only your heart but your entire body. Then, he leans back and gestures to his body. “As you wish.”

You laugh, falling into his chest as his humor blends with yours. You hold each other like that until the ache between your legs from him is too much, and he lifts you off.

#lads smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #sylus x you #sylus smut #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut

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v6quewrlds · 3 days ago

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imagine being joe's person.

author's note⠀⁎⠀suffering from major joey withdrawal. reads more like a character study/brain dump than anything else but enjoy <3

For as long as Joe can remember, he had been told by everyone - coaches, doctors, teachers, teammates - that his coolness was to be envied. In the pressure cooker of professional football, the ability to keep his nerves in check had been his superpower. He loved the feeling of the game slowing down when everyone else was speeding up, the way he could read the field and make split-second decisions that could change the course of a game. From the minute he stepped onto the field, he was in control. He was commanding the huddle, keeping his eye on the clock, setting up the play, and taking lead on the outcome. He thrived when he was in control.

But when he stepped off the football field and into the public eye, all of that control completely slipped away. He couldn't help but feel like he was performing, acting the role of someone named Joe Burrow instead of just being himself. It didn't help that the cameras and curious eyes followed him everywhere. Everyone seemed to be eager to catch him off-guard, eager to see the "real" side of him, eager to witness him lose his cool.

She had caught on to his nervous tells early on in their relationship. It was subtle at first, just a hint of a tremor in his voice when he cleared it before speaking, or the way he'd swipe his palms against his pants when he was about to be interviewed, even the way he would shift from side to side slightly when he felt uncomfortable. But over the course of their two years together, she had learned to read him like a book.

He would never admit it out loud to anybody but her, but Joe was terrified of letting his guard down. The weight of his ever increasing fame and the constant pressure of living up to expectations had turned his life into a tightrope walk. But with her, everything felt different. Her presence was like a gentle breeze that calmed the static in his brain. It was always just a touch, the smell of her perfume, or the sound of her approaching footsteps that could soothe him.

His foundation was always a top priority for Joe, and today was particularly special. The charity golf event was a chance to give back to the communities in southeastern Ohio and Baton Rouge that had supported him through his football journey. From the moment they started dating seriously, she had been by his side at every event, making herself available to support him in his philanthropic efforts. His mother constantly gushed about how she was the perfect partner for Joe, handling the social graces with ease, and contributing her talents to make sure the events ran smoothly.

She had a knack for making people feel at ease, a skill that Joe greatly admired. She had a way of connecting with people from all walks of life, and it was evident in the way the guests at the check-in lit up when she greeted them. Her genuine smile and warm handshakes made even the stiffest of the corporate sponsors crack a smile. Joe watched her from across the room, feeling a sense of pride swell within him.

The golf event was in full swing now. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the meticulously manicured greens. Joe's could feel his mind racing, his inner monologue murmuring his anxieties as he mingled with the guests as they arrived.

Between the never-ending carousel of guests, Joe would find himself glancing in the direction of the entrance, hoping the line would soon thin out and she would be by his side - where she was supposed to be. The hour reserved for check-in seemed to drag on with Robin and Jimmy occasionally stepping in to take some of the conversational weight off him. He loved them for it, he really did, but all he wanted was her comforting presence, her hand in his, her laugh in his ear.

Finally, she appeared, looking absolutely radiant in a simple white sundress that contrasted with her brown skin, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and a small black handbag in her hand. She made her way through the crowd, a vision of confidence and grace that made Joe's chest tighten. She had that special glow about her today, something that seemed to have been amplified by the excitement of the event.

Her eyes met his and he couldn't bring himself to focus on what the shorter, gray-haired man in front of him was saying. Everything around him blurred into a muffled murmur. She was everything he wasn't in social settings: poised, articulate, natural, and absolutely magnetic. As she approached, Joe felt his body relax, his breathing even out, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was by his side in an instant, taking her rightful place as she handed him a chilled bottle of water.

His hand gravitated to her waist, and he felt a wave of comfort wash over him as she leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against his back. He could feel his back straighten, his shoulders ease, and his breath deepen. The familiar warmth of her body began to ground him, bringing him back to the present, and reminding him that he was more than capable of remaining in control.

"George, Tim, this is my girlfriend," Joe introduced, his voice steady as he finally had the strength to redirect his focus to the guests. He watched with a proud smile as she offered the two men her hand for a handshake, easygoing greetings of "Nice to meet you," and "Thank you for coming," leaving her soft lips.

She tucked back into his side in an instant, her free hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, his hand wrapped around her waist once more. They made small talk with George and Tim, who both looked at Joe with a knowing smile, nodding their heads in approval at the mention of her name. Though they wouldn't have guessed it before she appeared by his side, they could see his nerves smooth out, his shoulders drop, and the tension in his jaw ease.

"So, how long have you two been together?" George inquired, sipping his drink and looking at the couple with genuine curiosity.

Joe's gaze flickered to her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he replied, "Two years now."

Her eyes sparkled with affection as she listened to Joe speak, her thumb idly tracing patterns on his back. "It'll be three years in August," she added, clarifying gently.

Tim, the taller of the two, chuckled and said, "Well, Joe, you're getting closer to the big 3-0. Maybe it's time to start thinking about settling down? I think you've got a pretty good candidate by your side. My wife was raving about her when they were setting up the check-in."

Joe felt his cheeks warm slightly, but the smile didn't leave his face. "I've already started planning, actually," he responded, surprising even himself with his decisiveness. Her hand stilled its motion on his back, her eyes widening in shock as she turned her face to meet his eye.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "That's news to me."

Joe felt a twinge of panic, realizing he had spoken before thinking. But the look on her face wasn't one of annoyance or upset; her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. He took a deep breath and said, "Well, I mean, I've been thinking about it. We've got a good thing going, and I can't see my future without you in it."

That was the truth. He often found himself wondering what life with her could look like beyond football. The dream with the white picket fence, curly-haired kids playing in the yard, her standing in the kitchen with a baby on her hip and a smile on her face when she welcomed him home. It was a picture that had started to form in his mind more and more often in the quiet moments between games and practices. At times, he questioned how he managed to be motivated to do anything that wasn't football before her - couldn't fathom how he managed to exist before her.

Her smile grew wider. "Is that so?" she said, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Very interesting."

Tim and George laughed heartily, their faces reddening with good cheer as they slapped Joe on the back. "Good for you, Joe," George exclaimed. "You're going to need someone like her to keep you grounded in this crazy world. Good luck, you two."

The conversation flowed around them as they found themselves in the middle of the bustling golf clubhouse. The air was filled with the chatter of excitement and the clinking of glasses as people mingled and shared stories. She leaned closer to Joe, whispering, "So, you're planning our future, without my input?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes searched his, looking for a hint of what he might be feeling.

Joe looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Well, I figured you'd be okay with it, given that you're a big part of it," he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the sudden seriousness that had entered their conversation. The room felt warmer, and not just from the bodies packed into the space. "I want to do this right, babe. I want to make sure you're happy, that we're both ready."

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek, the gesture unseen by the surrounding guests. "Joey," she whispered, "you always make sure I'm happy. I'm ready for whatever comes next, whenever it comes."

#&. joey b.#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x black!reader #x black reader #x black!reader #black!reader #black reader

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y3sterdaysproblem · 2 days ago

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⤷𝙛𝙬𝙗!𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚

⤷ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ; 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤!𝘧𝘸𝘣!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘹 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤!𝘧𝘸𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

{texts above are relevant to story}

cw: alcohol consumption

“chris!” you exclaim excitedly as you see the familiar blacked out bmw pulling up on the curb, pulling yourself up from the stairs you sat at outside the house you somehow ended up at. you were under the impression you and your friend would just be at her house, but when you ended up at a party with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, you knew you had to get somewhere you knew to ride out your drunken state.

he’s not even out of the car when you’re running up to the car and to the passenger door, trying to pull it open but failing miserably. “hey, chill,” chris says to you as he circles around the car, pulling the door open for you. “how much have you had to drink?” he questions as he watches you flop into the seat, the whole car wobbling from the force.

“umm,” you drawl out, turning your head up to look at him, eyes unfocused and darting around. “i’m not sure! maybe… nine drinks?”

chris’s eyes widen in shock as he looks down at you, noticing how hard it was for you to lock eyes with him. “nine drinks?” he asks, desperate to clarify.

“maybe more,” you mumble with a small shrug. “can we get like… taco bell or something?”

chris sighs and shuts the door on you, coming back around to the driver’s side and getting in. once he’s settled, he turns back to look at you again, seeing the messed up hair on the top of your head and the way your clothes seemed a little disheveled. he wonders for a split second if your state was fully to do with alcohol, or if somebody had put something in your drink without you noticing.

“yeah, we can get food,” he says, but doesn’t make any effort to move. “did someone slip something in your drink?”

“what?” you say, slinging your head around to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “think my drinks were just really strong.” you finally say when you process his words.

“okay,” chris nods, eyes scanning over your face to see if you were alright. “are you gonna throw up or anything?”

you laugh and wave a hand at him dismissively, shaking your head. “no!” you say, reaching forward to place your hand on his chest. “you know i’m not a bitch.”

chris laughs and grabs your hand, bringing it back over to your own lap. “didn’t say you were a bitch, just asking if you need a bag or something. don’t want you puking in my car.”

you narrow your eyes at him and turn your body in your seat, crossing your arms. “you called me a raging bitch the other day,” you huff, raising your eyebrows sassily.

he’s not having any of it, not wanting to play into your confrontational switch, so he turns his body back to the steering wheel and puts the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. “because you were being a raging bitch,” he says calmly, eyes scanning over the road as he sets out on the route back to his place.

“what, because I wasn’t with you?” you ask defensively, feeling heat starting to rise up your neck, getting worked up over something that wasn’t even a big deal. “am I supposed to ask you for permission every time I want to fuck somebody else?”

chris’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, jaw tensing at your words. he had to remind himself that you were only saying all of this because of the alcohol, but part of him wanted to fight back, wanted to put you in your place. “definitely not,” he responds lowly, eyes locked in front of him. “you really need to stop and think about what you’re going to say next.”

you scoff out a laugh and roll your eyes, turning back to sit straight in your seat, arms still crossed as you stare out through the windshield now as well, eyes still trying to focus on the road as it disappeared under the car. “still want food,” you mumble, lips pursed in a childlike pout. “you’ll get your food, just sit there and be quiet,” chris responds, reaching forward to turn the volume up to drown out anything you might say. you wanted to protest, but the heavy weight on your eyelids started to take over, and within the next minute you were asleep.

it felt like seconds had passed when the passenger door was being opened and chris was reaching down to touch your shoulder, shaking you lightly. “hey,” he said softly, trying to rouse you awake. “dude, get up,” he says louder, shaking you harder. you let out a groan as you come back to your senses, forcing your eyes open once again. “come on, let’s go inside so you can go to bed.”

you take another couple of moments to ground yourself and remember where you are, but you eventually swing your legs to your side and use every surrounding method of support to help you out of the car, feeling drunker than you did when you first got into it. “I feel awful,” you mumble once you’re standing in the driveway, reaching your hands up to rub over your face. chris just laughs and shuts the door before he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you up towards his apartment, his grip on you tight to keep you standing straight.

after stumbling up a couple flights of stairs and leaning on the wall while he unlocked the door, you both finally make it into his place and you immediately try kicking your shoes off, groaning when they don’t slip off with ease. chris chuckles at you again and crouches down to grab your foot to stop you, unlacing your shoes for you. “you’re a fucking mess,” he comments, straightening back up once both of your shoes were off, taking in your appearance.

your hair looked tangled from running your hands through it, and the way that it fell in front of your face made him realize you weren’t even aware of how messy it looked, your purse hadn’t even made it inside, left to spend the night in his car, and your makeup was smudged all around your eyes, already looking days old.

“you’re a mess,” you shoot back, bringing a hand up to poke him in the chest. “I am just… fucking…” you look down at yourself and groan, hands coming up to claw at your top. “get me out of this fucking corset.”

chris grabs your hands and pulls them away from your shirt, turning your body to guide you into his room. “alright, we’ll get you out of these clothes and you can pass out, yeah? sound good?”

you nod, more to yourself than anything as you walk into his room, immediately pushing away from him and going towards his bed, falling onto it face first. chris shuts the door behind him and comes to stand next to his bed, reaching down to rest a hand on the bare part of your back. “do you want to take your clothes off or sleep like this?” he asks, leaning down a bit so he could hear your muffled voice against his comforter, but between your slurring and your mouth buried in the blankets, he couldn’t make out your response, so he carefully rolls you over as to not jostle your stomach too much. “what’d you say?”

“off,” you repeat in a moan, laying limp on the bed with your head tilted to the side, eyes still closed.

“okay,” chris responds, his hands reaching out towards the button on your jeans. your head immediately pops up and looks down at his hands, then his face.

“woah, woah, woah!” you exclaim, reaching down with one hand to push his away frantically. “i’m drunk, chris!”

chris looks up at you with one eyebrow raised, moving to rest both hands on your thighs, your skin touching through the large rips in the fabric. “uh huh,” he nods, sliding his hands back up your hips. “which is why i’m taking your clothes off so you can go to bed,” he tells you in a slow, calm voice, like he’s explaining something to a little kid.

“oh,” you say in understanding, flopping back down onto the bed. “am I sleeping here?” you ask him as you feel his hands starting to undo your pants again.

“yeah,” he answers, pulling your jeans down and off of your legs, leaving you in your panties and a corset he can’t even begin to understand how to remove. “gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t puke on your back or something.”

“ew,” you answer, eyes staring up at the ceiling, providing no help for chris as he undressed you. he reaches down and scoops his arms underneath you to pull you into a sitting position, to which you groan in disapproval. “wanna lay down.”

“I know, but I need to get this… fuckass shirt off of you first.” chris is clueless as he stares down at it, although he doesn’t mind the view too much. he sees what look like latches at the front of the shirt, and he can’t help but wonder why somebody would wear this to go out drinking unless they expected to sleep in it that night. “i’m about to just cut this shit off of you.” he huffs.

“no!” you whine, reaching out to grab his shirt while you tilt your head up to look at him, eyes pleading. “don’t cut my clothes pleeease,” you drawl, tugging on his shirt. “i’ll show you how to take it off, c’mon, you’ve taken my clothes off like a hundred times.”

he couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head in disbelief at your words, but then he agrees and gestures to the corset, ready to learn. “alright, show me then.” he says, taking a step back to watch. you look down at the corset and groan a bit, hands coming up to squeeze the sides together. “just… push it… together… and undo it.” chris watches for a moment, and he thinks he understands, so he steps back up to you and starts to unclasp your shirt, eventually getting it off and leaving you on his bed in just your underwear. you gasp in a deep breath at the relief and flop back down, eyes closing instantly. “so much better,” you breathe out.

chris tosses the corset on the ground and keeps his eyes locked on you, trailing over your body. he admires you in a way he doesn’t think he ever has before, taking in your vulnerable state and recognizing the level of trust you must have in him to not only ask him for a ride, but to lay here so drunk you couldn’t even undress yourself and know that he wouldn’t do anything to harm you. it sent a shiver down his spine, and he had to pull his eyes away from you before he thought too hard about it, turning towards his dresser to grab a shirt for you to sleep in.

he walks back to his bed once he finds an old shirt that he knew fell past your hips, seeing you curled up on your side and most definitely almost asleep, if you weren’t already. he reaches down and pulls the shirt over your head, maneuvering your body through the shirt until he pulls it down on your torso, covering you up. you’re pretty malleable like this, so he grabs your body and slides you up on the bed and under the blankets, finally letting out a sigh of relief when you’re tucked in.

chris runs his hands over his face for a moment before he turns and gets himself changed as well, which just consisted of taking off the clothes he had thrown on to pick you up, leaving him in just his boxers. he debated sleeping on the couch, or the floor, or anywhere that wouldn’t be in your line of fire if your body decided to throw up, but ultimately he talked himself into just sliding into bed next to you, making sure to keep his distance on his side of the mattress.

his efforts didn’t last long, though, because not even a few minutes after he laid down, you were turning your body to face him and scooting closer until you could wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head on his chest, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

chris is taken aback at your action, his arm that’s now around you extended out in discomfort, not knowing what to do in this situation. you guys weren’t cuddlers, it wasn’t a part of your routine when you would sleep together. lay in the same bed and catch your breath, sure, but cuddling was never in the cards, so he couldn’t help the way his heart picked up at your newfound closeness. it almost felt more intimate than being inside you, like you guys had crossed a line he didn’t even know was drawn.

you let out another soft breath, nuzzling your face further into him as you settled in, not noticing his disconcertment. “chris?” you mumble suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. he hums, letting you know he’s listening. “if you just let yourself open up, you’d be a really good boyfriend to somebody someday.”

your words are clearer than they have been all night, and it makes chris’s ears ring and his face go pale, though it’s undetectable in the dark bedroom. he doesn’t answer, unable to find a good enough response, and he deems it unnecessary when he hears small snores coming from your parted lips, like you hadn’t just said something that was going to send him into a spiral for the remainder of the night.

he finally lets his hand come down and rest on your back, staring at the ceiling as he thinks over what you said, trying not to focus on your body weight resting on his, and the way your manicured hand sat peacefully on his stomach while you slept.

you’d be a really good boyfriend to somebody someday.

he found that hard to believe.

a/n: they’re becoming REAL

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thoughtfulfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Carpe Diem

Author’s Note: We all miss him. So I wrote the most romantic thing I’ve ever written.

A glass of chilled Savasana California Rosé sat in front of you, its diluted pink hue a stark contrast to the sweet yet crisp taste. With a fork in hand you begin to dig into the chicken parmesan with strozzapreti pasta, the chunky tomato sauce brings a rich and comforting smell that shifts your attention from the constant hum of the plane's engine. Eating dinner on a plane like this—silverware instead of plastic cutlery, wine served in real glass—felt oddly surreal. This whole trip did, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life.

You hadn’t always pictured yourself in this life—a corner office in Berkeley, managing accounts worth millions and rubbing elbows with executives. The internship you’d applied for during your junior year of college was meant to be a stepping stone, a way to pad your resume and have something cool to look back on the future. You hadn’t expected it to become the foundation of a career at a place ranked 7th among the largest biomedical companies by revenue in the world. And here you were sipping rosé in first class on your way to a solo vacation in Greece. Somehow, it had all come together. Your first year making six figures was surreal enough, but now the freedom to spend it on something like this felt even more unbelievable.

The hotel room you would be calling home for the next few days was stretched out like it came straight out of a travel magazine. Everything about it screamed neutral paradise, highlighting the warmth of the space. Plush pillows stacked neatly atop the Temper-Pedic king sized bed that earned the hotel all five of its stars with just one glance. The open layout gave the impression of a private condo, complete with a sleek mini bar and an espresso machine that practically begged to be used. The view from the top floor was breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made way for the vibrant blue skies that allowed the sun to shine at it's greatest capacity, reflecting off the marble from the streets of southern Athens below. And the colors were so dynamic; olive groves, fields of breathtaking wildflowers and citrus trees brought the city to life. Everything reminded you of a landscape painting, it was all so perfect you almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you were really here.

But before your Athens takeover could really commence, you needed a nap. Or three.

Day one passed in a blissful haze of recovery. After a nap that could have doubled as a small coma, you walked by the hotel’s pool, taking in the sparkling water and the soft chatter of other guests lounging under striped umbrellas. Breakfast that morning was a feast fit for royalty, an omelet folded to perfection, fresh fruit that tasted like sunshine, and Moustokouloura, a pastry so rich and sweet it felt like dessert at dawn. The concierge insisted you try Greek coffee, and when the steaming cup arrived at your door, its strong, earthy aroma greeted you like a wake-up call from the gods. You took it to the patio, sipping as you let the city below slowly introduce itself. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Athens was filled with color, sound, and possibility. This was freedom, pure and simple.

Feeling refreshed on your second morning after some extensive Tik Tok research about things to do in Athens, you walked around the streets of Plaka, by far the most recommended place on the site. And it didn't take long for you to understand why. The neighborhood was a collection of some of the most beautiful brick buildings, an array of restaurants with uniquely placed outdoor seating. The air carried the mingling scents of fresh pita, grilling souvlaki, and blooming jasmine. Laughter and snippets of conversation floated from café tables spilling onto the sidewalks, where diners lingered over plates of mezes and glasses of ouzo. You walked slowly, admiring every square inch of the place like you were going to commit every detail to memory, stumbling upon a store with random trinkets you figured you could take home to your friends and tell them what they were getting themselves into when you all would be in Greece together eventually. Now that you'd experienced this on your own, you couldn't wait to share this experience with them next time. The first person you spotted when you walked in was a tall man, well over six feet, broad shoulders with his back facing the door. He was sexy from the back which meant...no. You shook yourself out of the daydream about what this man could possibly look like because of course men in Greece looked better. That was some sort of law or something based on every movie you'd ever seen. The book shelf at the front of the store caught your eye first, a Greek guide book with common phrases for tourists to know, things that maybe Duolingo wouldn't think of so you grabbed it, scanning the pages for useful information. You tried to focus on the guidebook in your hands, but your nerves betrayed you. An older man’s gaze prickled at your skin, a quiet warning sounding in your mind. Maybe it was nothing, you told yourself. He could just be a curious local. But by the third lap around the shop and you could still feel his eyes in you, the goosebumps on your arms had turned into a full-blown alarm.

The man was closer now, his steps too deliberate to be a coincidence. By the time he spoke, his voice was low and overly familiar, the kind of tone that made your stomach twist. “Hi. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I just... couldn’t help noticing you.”

You swallowed thickly, hoping to keep the conversation short, sweet and with as little personal information exchanged as humanly possible. "Yes. Just visiting," you force out a smile.

"Ah I see, those are pretty," he gestures toward the necklaces in your hand, "pretty necklaces for a pretty lady. Does the pretty lady have a name?"

"Um," you wanted to take a step back, you wanted to walk away, but there was literally no way out of this situation because he was standing in between you and the exit. And for some reason you couldn't think of a fake name off the top of your head to give him. "It's—”

“Oh hey, babe. There you are,” a deep voice interrupted. Your head whipped around, and there he was—broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to rival a Greek statue. He had the kind of easy confidence that made your heart skip a beat. Mr. Broad Shoulders slid his arm around you, his touch casual but protective, the warmth of his hand anchoring you in place but doubling your pulse rate for a different reason. “Thought you wanted those charm bracelets, but you disappeared on me.”

“I got distracted.” Your gaze flickered upward, caught on the sun-kissed curl falling across his forehead. He smelled faintly of cinnamon, like he’d been leaning over a freshly lit candle moments before swooping in to save you.

The man takes a look at the two of you and apologizes, walking away without a second glance. You let out a sigh of relief, "thanks for the save, I really didn't know what to do and you just-I really appreciate it."

"No worries, I saw him following you around and thought it was weird. Glad I could help."

You look around to make sure the man from before, spotting him circling the back area with the pasties. "It's...very weird. He didn’t seem like he’d back down that easily."

“I’m Joe, by the way. Since I’m your boyfriend now, that seems like something you should know.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah, probably. Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Y/N, your very grateful girlfriend.”

Joe leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant just for you. “He’s still watching us. Mind if I sell this a little more?” Without waiting for an answer, he adjusted his grip, his arm tightening around your shoulders like he’d been holding you this way forever. It was seamless, effortless, entirely too convincing. And it left you speechless. All you could do was nod, looking up at him, thinking about how this guy might be the most gorgeous person you've ever seen.

The two of you moved around the store aimlessly, the conversation flowing like you’d known each other for longer than half an hour. Joe explained he’d been in Greece for a few days, taking time to decompress after a grueling work season. “Sometimes, I just need to step away,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that struck a chord.

“I get that,” you replied, sharing your own story of navigating your career and this newfound independence. You admitted, almost sheepishly, that sometimes your job didn’t feel like work because it aligned with your passions so perfectly. Joe nodded, his expression softening. “That’s how I feel,” he said. “I mean, this year it really magnified that for me. But sometimes when things don't go the way you hoped or planned, it makes the sacrifices worth more. Like not having as much free time when I'm working. Now, I have endless free time."

There was something magnetic about him—not just the broad shoulders and effortless charm, but the way he seemed so present. Every touch felt intentional, whether it was his hand on your back as you navigated tight spaces or his offer to buy the travel book you’d been thumbing through. You felt a strange sense of familiarity, like you’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it.

After carefully deliberating over the trinkets, you settled on matching necklaces for your friends. On your way to the register, a woman approached, her expression warm and animated.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but I just had to tell you—you two make the most stunning couple. The way you look at each other, it’s just... beautiful. Are you here on an anniversary trip?”

“One year,” Joe answered without hesitation, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“That’s incredible! Congratulations!” the woman gushed. “Athens is the perfect place to explore as a couple. Do you have plans yet?”

You chimed in, “Not really. We were just going to see where the day takes us.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rattled off recommendations, from must-visit landmarks to hidden culinary gems. You took notes on your phone, her suggestions igniting your excitement for the day ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe watched you with a kind of awe. The way your face lit up when you talked about exploring the city tugged at something deep inside him.

He’d spent the last four days locked away in his room, trying to process a season that had been equal parts triumph and heartbreak. It wasn’t just the physical toll of the game—it was the sting of being so close to the pinnacle and falling short. They had gone from 4-8 to 9-8 in what felt like the blink of an eye. The unmet expectations that he had for the team dulled his personal success a bit and he needed to escape after watching other teams prepare for their playoff runs while he cleaned out his locker. He just wanted to recharge and regroup…alone. And here you were, an unexpected spark in the midst of his self-imposed solitude.

When the woman finally bid you goodbye, you hesitated. Should you ask him to join you? The idea of spending the day with a stranger—no matter how kind and gorgeous—felt bold, maybe too bold. But being alone again felt... unbearable. You decided against asking because the thought of rejection was a step above unbearable, if at all possible.

“Well,” you began, your voice faltering slightly, “I guess this is it. I should probably head to my next stop now that I have a to-do list.” You forced a small laugh, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Joe nodded, his smile tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope you check off everything on your list.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tightening with each step. He wanted to stop you, to ask you to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was stand there, frozen, as the door swung open.

You paused just before stepping outside. Something tugged at you—a feeling that walking away now would be a mistake.

Turning back, you smiled shyly. “I just realized... how am I supposed to experience Athens to its full potential without my boyfriend? On our anniversary trip, no less?”

Joe’s laugh was warm, easy. “No idea. Luckily, I think I know someone who can help.”

“You’re always so helpful. I feel like I won the dating lottery.”

“Can’t disagree,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Alright,” you said, nudging him playfully, “let’s get out of here before your head gets so big it doesn’t fit through the door.”

He walked out with you, allowing you to lead the way to your first stop.

Fairytale Athens looked like an intense mix between the Garden of Eden and Alice in Wonderland. "This is...wow," Joe quips, the vast array of flowers on the ceiling, the pink bar area and the flamingos. So many flamingos.

You could tell by his tight expression that this place isn't really his scene. "We're not here for two hours of afternoon tea or anything," you reassure him with a smile, "Dimitra said that we should grab drinks before walking around Acropolis and that..." you glance at the menu in front of you, "...strawberry ginger lemonade? That might be calling my name." He shakes his head and orders a mint and cucumber lemonade for himself, your lemonade and two waters as you walk around the princess castle, taking as many pictures as possible before Joe walked back over with all four drinks in hand before heading to the incredibly famous tourist attraction.

The package you paid for allowed you to skip the line and head through a side entrance, your tour guide walking you through the history of the ancient sights along with details about the architectural styles, construction techniques, and the symbolism of the monuments. The faint echo of the voices highlighted the rich history of the place you were standing in, the warm air a stark contrast to the cool lemonade in your hand. It seemed like Joe was hanging onto every word as he helped you up some steep ancient steps, his eyes lighting up as the guide drove you over to the museum, going into depth about the Gods.

"This exhibit is Gods, Worship and Magic, one of the most popular sites this year. You guys can walk around and read about the different deities featured." Artemis' exhibit, caught your eye first.

Glancing down at the steel plaque, "goddess of the hunt, devoted to nature. Were you ever a Percy Jackson fan growing up?"

"I was more of a SpongeBob guy. And Star Wars. Definitely had a dinosaur phase that lasted a lot longer than I care to share," he looks up, wondering why in the hell he just told you that. "Do—do you have any humiliating stories you'd like to share with the class?"

He nudged you as you walked alongside him, his hand so dangerously close to yours. You had the biggest urge to reach out and touch him. So you did. Reaching out maybe an inch, you interlocked your pinky with his, making his heart take a leap in his chest, swinging your hands happily towards the Eros exhibit. "The god of—”

"Love and desire," he finishes for you. Just because he wasn’t a Percy Jackson fanatic, doesn’t mean he didn’t pay close attention to the Greek mythology unit in school.

"Look at the hands," you said softly, leaning in closer. "It's like they're...perfectly fit for each other, you know?"

Joe's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He was standing so close now, the faint scent of mint and cucumber from his lemonade mingling with the earthy air of the exhibit. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and low, "I know what you mean."

Your pinkies were still hooked, but now the little space between you felt electrified. You didn't dare turn to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see—or what he might see in yours.

"I do have an embarrassing thing to share with the class," you turn to face him and admire the excited look on his face, like what you're about to say is the most important thing in the world. "When I was little I was obsessed with Mama Mia." He gives you a puzzled look. "It's a musical that they turned into a movie. Anyway...it's about a girl that's getting married in a small town in Greece and the views just..." you pause, smiling at the memory, "...changed my life. I've always wanted that magical movie moment feeling. The music, the views, the…”

"Romance?" he finishes softly, a knowing look in his eyes.

You exhale, your cheeks warming as you nod. "Yeah...the romance. It was nice too." You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. "Doesn’t really compare to the real thing, though," you add, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment lingers between you. His gaze searches yours, his expression softening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Your heart stumbles, and suddenly you feel too seen. You clear your throat, breaking the spell. "I'm, uh, getting kind of hungry. We should grab lunch and head to the next spot."

Joe blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, like he wasn't ready for the shift. "Yeah, sure," he says, his voice gentler now. He watches you for a second longer than you'd expect, then nods. As you walk back to meet the tour guide, Joe finds himself wondering how you’ve managed to unravel him so quickly, leaving him wondering why he already feels so invested in figuring you out.

When you get into the Uber it's like a weight has been lifted off your chest. The museum, which was supposed to be a calm and educational experience was too stuffy and intimate by the end of the visit. In the car, you could have your own space, sitting as close to the door as you could to gather yourself and your thoughts. The driver was nice enough, he had chargers in the car and gave you water bottles, noting that the heat would steadily increase throughout the day. You noticed him stealing glances at Joe in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel like he was holding back words. The silence stretched until finally—“I’m sorry, man. I just gotta say…” he finally utters out, "I've been a Bengals fan since I was 8. And I woke up at ungodly hours to watch you play every week. Huge, huge fan."

You laughed at yourself in your seat, the pieces of the puzzle being put together. All of your focus had been on the day, spending every waking minute together and you didn't even fully process why he looked so familiar because the odds of that just sounded too insane to be real. Joe managed a polite smile, his usual ease replaced with a flicker of discomfort. You glanced at him, watching his jaw tighten just slightly as he signed the hat, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. Did he worry you’d see him differently now?

The car stopped near a bustling square lined with food trucks and small cafes. The aroma of grilled meat and spices wafted through the air as you wandered, your eyes drawn to colorful menus. It didn’t take long for the debate to begin.

"Joseph, the mini burgers are definitely better than the souvlaki cones. Be serious."

"No they aren't!" He argues, "you just need to try another one, here."

The souvlaki cone was tender and smoky, the tzatziki tangy and cool against the heat of the pork. But the burger—crispy bacon, the creamy richness of the mayo—felt indulgent, almost sinful. You savored every bite, laughing at Joe’s mock-offended gasp when you declared it the winner. "I hear you and I respect your wrong opinion. But the burger is just better I'm sorry. Do you want another bite?"

He shakes his head slowly, admiring you while you did such a mundane task, silently cursing himself at the fact that he chartered a plane to leave early the next morning. The two of you needed more time together. One day just wasn't going to be enough and the more time he spent with you the more apparent that fact became.

And then you took him on a boat.

It rocked gently, but Joe’s hands gripped the edge of the seat like the waves were threatening to tip them over. His gaze darted toward the horizon, avoiding the churning water below. “You’re really not a boat guy, huh?” you teased, your voice softening when his fingers tightened further. "I'm so sorry I had no idea. But Joe? We're literally in Greece, it's like, treason not to get on a boat here."

"Exactly, so I'm abiding by the law. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Your hand found his thigh in a quiet attempt to reassure him, and you felt the tension slowly drain from his muscles. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but the way his leg leaned ever so slightly into your touch sent a warmth through you that lingered long after. Aegina’s coastline unfolded before you, the white-washed buildings glowing under the sun, expansive trees swaying in the breeze. Joe stepped out first, offering his hand. His grip was firm, steadying you until your feet found the solid ground. You smiled up at him, the unspoken connection between you stronger than ever.

Just as Dimitra had described to you before, the pottery studio was tucked in a quiet corner of the island. Inside, the walls were lined with vibrant pottery, each bowl and vase a testament to countless hands shaping their stories, their glazes gleaming softly in the sunlight as you and Joe grabbed seats toward the back of the room. The instructor's notes were simple, to mold an item of your choice to keep at the end of the session, giving everyone creative freedom to produce a piece of their heart's desire. The clay felt cool to the touch, it's sticky and wet texture balanced wonderfully with the earthy smell that made your experience all the more relaxing and fun. Joe on the other hand, was creating a bowl with a lopsided shape, "it's supposed to look like this," he said firmly, biting back a laugh as you tried (and failed) to keep a straight face.

"Abstract art is still art. I just thought maybe...a quarterback would be better with his hands," you teased.

"Oh yeah? Let's see your work, Picasso." He took a break from his work station to scoot closer to yours, "shit, that actually looks pretty good."

You clean your hands off and move over to his station when he sets his chair back down. "I worked at my uncle's ceramic shop when I was little. It was his passion project so we all had to pitch in as a family and take turns," you helped guide his hand along the bowl, allowing him to smooth over the ridges efficiently evening out some of the misshapen parts. "I'm not saying I’m an expert by any means but I can get you to a point where your bowl can sit up by itself." Your fingers brushed his as you guided his hand, the soft pressure of your touch steadying his movements. Together, the ridges of the bowl began to smooth, though neither of you seemed in a hurry to let go. By the end of the session both bowls were done to the best of your ability, sort of bowl shaped, sort of not and full of personality.

"You’re good at this," Joe says, watching as continued to shape your bowl.

"Good at pottery?" you ask, laughing.

"Good at making things feel...easier," he replies softly. The pottery, he thought to himself, sort of mirrored your time together-unpolished, imperfect, but full of potential and that was both exciting and daunting. After your hands were clean, he grabbed your phone and snapped a picture of the two of you showing off your bowls.

"I was scared when you mentioned doing this at first, but I actually really enjoyed that. This," he gestures to his masterpiece, "is going up somewhere, maybe next to the trophy case at my parent's house. Funny enough, they also live in Athens. Ohio, not Greece," he clarifies.

"You might've missed your true calling," you tell him with a laugh, "here you are wasting your talents on football when the art community needs you."

"Yeah...sure," he laughs, holding onto the bags with your now fully dry bowls in them. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm ready to quit my day job. Quite frankly, I don't think the art world is ready for me yet. Although working that clay could have been really good wrist rehab."

There it was, that can of worms you'd been trying to navigate. You didn't want to push him to talk about the season or his job if he didn't want to. And now the door was open for you to ask. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to but...was it scary? You know, putting your entire life, all of your free time, your dedication to this one thing that you're obviously really good at. Putting in all that work and then one day it's all just...taken away from you?"

He stops walking for a bit and your breath hitches in your throat, fearing that you've pushed him too far. At the end of the day you were still a stranger to him and maybe that was too personal?

You could tell the question was kind of eating at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—”

"No it's fine. I just…yeah. I was terrified for a little bit. No one had been through this before—not at my position, not at this level. I had no blueprint, no one to turn to for advice. It felt like— walking on a tightrope in the dark, hoping I wouldn’t fall.

“The scariest part wasn’t the pain or the rehab," Joe admits. "It was not knowing if I’d still be...me when it was all over."

You tilt your head, searching his face. "You mean, the quarterback?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. Just...me. Without football, I really didn’t know who that was, how I was going to navigate fame and my private life and everything in between that comes with being me. Whatever that means. And I had an uncomfortably long amount of time to figure it out. Now that the wrist and my health is not an issue anymore and with everything that happened during the season I just felt drained afterwards. Exhausted honestly. And today's been exactly what I needed.”

"Today's been a breath a fresh air for me too. Obviously I didn't have 500 pounds of man laying on top of me but I get it on a smaller scale. Feeling like work is drowning you and nothing you do is good enough so you need to escape. This trip isn’t just a celebration," you confess. "It’s a reminder that I’m more than my deadlines and titles. My boss once called me at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, and I didn’t even blink before picking up. I guess I forgot what it felt like to just...be. I really needed a—”

"Reset," the two of you say at the same time, a comfortable silence washing over you as you continue to walk. "That’s kind of why I came here," you confess. "Not to figure out who I am, but...to remind myself I’m more than my job. More than what other people expect of me."

"Feels like everyone’s always watching, doesn’t it?" Joe says, his voice quieter. "Waiting for you to fail or...prove them right."

"Yeah. But I think we deserve more than that."

Joe sighs, nodding quietly, "We do," Joe says with a small smile. "And one day, when we get it, we’ll look back on this trip as the start of something different." He didn’t say everything he was thinking—some things needed more time to come to the surface.

"Sounds perfect, lead the way."

After you shared the world's greatest chicken gyro, you walked around Aegina a little more, realizing that you had no time to change before dinner and you'd been wearing the same clothes all day long. You walked into a small store, grabbing things off the shelf to try on. Joe was easy, settling for gray cargo pants and a blue striped knit top. Rummaging through clothes and anything that wasn't instant online shopping had become a bit of a chore and you were on a time crunch which made you feel even more rushed. You grabbed three or four dresses and had Joe sit outside the fitting room while you tried the stuff on, only stepping out to show him your favorite.

"What do you think about this?”

The baby blue square neck A-line dress hugged your body like it was created just for you to wear, it's length accentuating your curves in a way that almost had him physically picking his jaw up off the floor. He didn't think you could look any better before but you'd just shattered his expectations. "You look absolutely amazing," he says sincerely, his mouth feeling dry.

You glance at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Compliments weren’t new, but the way he said it—like it was the only thing in the world that mattered—left you speechless. You managed a soft laugh, pretending to study your reflection. "Thanks." After heading back to the fitting room to change, you grabbed all of your items and headed to the front to pay with Joe standing behind you in line. The cashier rung up your items and was getting ready to bag it when Joe added his clothes to the mix.

"Joe what are you doing? You're not paying for my clothes."

He handed over his card without hesitation, ignoring your protests. "I’ve got this," he said, his voice casual but his eyes portraying something deeper, like this was the most natural thing in the world to him. "Boyfriends are supposed to buy things. I think it’s in the constitution.”

"It's definitely not. And seriously, you don't have to do this."

"I got it, don't worry babe." The word slipped out so effortlessly that for a second, you wondered if you’d misheard him. But the way his eyes flicked to yours, briefly widening, told you everything. He realized it too—and yet, he didn’t take it back.You thanked him the entire walk back to the boat, his soft laugh sending warm and fuzzy feelings in your chest.

You were starting to acknowledge the growing warmth between you two, the way Joe’s presence seemed to make every moment feel right. The idea of saying goodbye felt heavier than it should after just one day, but somehow, it seemed inevitable. The next spot was inside a resort, they allowed you to change your clothes and head upstairs to the rooftop bar to watch the sunset. The drinks and the view had nothing on you, he quickly realized, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away. Everything just made sense today, the museum walk, the easy conversation, the boat ride. He didn't want to leave before but now the mere thought of packing his suitcase tonight made him upset.

"What are you thinking about over there?" Your words snap him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, just how much I'm going to miss it here. The peace, the incredible sunset..."

You. The word hung in the air for a while before he pushed it down and tried to move on.

"We should head over to there and get closer to the view, you can literally see the entire city from glass railing." You stood up first and grabbed his hand, practically dragging him over there. Luckily there wasn't anyone else in the area. "This is the most insane scenery. I don't get how anyone could get tired of seeing this everyday, I'd never be inside. I feel like we’ve been the physical representation of carpe diem."

He looks at you confused, "what does that even mean?"

"Carpe diem? It’s Latin for 'seize the day.' Basically saying not to focus too much on the future and live in the present to the fullest capacity.”

"I like that," he chuckles.

Long after the sun went down and most of your dishes were cleared from the table, the lingering sweetness of caramel on your lips was all you could think about, a fleeting pleasure that only made the impending goodbye sting even more.

"Joe I have to tell you something," he looks at you as you head over to stand in one of the private lounge areas, giving you his undivided attention. "I saw you this morning in the store. Your back was facing me but I don't know, you caught my eye. And I told myself I wouldn't say anything, I wouldn't go up to you and make small talk because I'm here on a solo vacation to be one with myself and-now I'm really glad that I know you."

A smile forms on the corner of his mouth, "I've been telling myself all day that this isn't real. That I could just let my guard down because in Greece, I don't have to be Joe Burrow. I can just be...Joe. You let me be exactly who I am, nothing more, nothing less. And honestly? This might've been the single greatest day of my life. I've had good ones, really good ones. But today is up there for sure." You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten until you could feel his arm against yours, his breath soft and warm on your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time lingering a moment longer, as if the air between you had thickened. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath just a whisper away, as his hand hovered near your cheek. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a spark through you, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you in.

You couldn't allow yourself to go there. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, not like this—but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it hard to think clearly. As much as you wanted this, to feel him close, to taste the sweetness of that kiss, the weight of knowing how fleeting it all was crushed down on you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you were afraid to want, a piece of yourself that you couldn’t let slip away so easily. If you already felt this strongly about him after a day, how were you going to make it through the rest of the vacation without him knowing how his lips tasted and how his strong hands pulled you in close, holding onto you like he'd rather lose everything than let you go. There was no way in the world you'd recover.

"We can't," you whisper, watching him drop his hand that had just been lightly caressing your cheek. "You're gonna leave tomorrow and I'm gonna be thinking about this kiss for a long time. And I can't," your voice trembles. "I don't want you to go, so I can't kiss you. I'm sorry."

"No don't—don't apologize. I get it." He still hadn't taken a step back, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check. "I can walk you back to your hotel? I haven't packed yet and I need to.”

"Sure, yeah that's fine."

The 15 minute walk felt like three seconds. You didn't want him to go. He no longer wanted to leave. "Y/N I—”

You wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug, silently begging him to stay, just for a few more days. His grip on you was just as strong, his heartbeat thumping rapidly against your body. There weren't enough words in the English, or Greek dictionary to describe how much you were going to miss him. To miss this day. "Bye Joe." That was it. That was all you could manage. The moment you let go of him felt like a piece of your heart stayed in his arms. There was no way to explain the ache in your chest as you watched him turn away, the pull to stay stronger than any rational thought.

Going to sleep that night sounded impossible. The day had started out so innocent and special and the adventure and emotional rollercoaster you'd been on during the day made it feel like you'd experienced a series of days all wrapped into one. You set your bags down on the ground when you got to your room, too tired to change out of your clothes and falling asleep on top of the covers as soon as you laid down.

The next morning you checked the time on your phone, it was 8am. Joe had told you yesterday he was leaving at 10. That meek little goodbye wasn't going to cut it. You didn't even have his number. After your teeth were brushed and your clothes were changed, you rushed out of your hotel and got in an Uber, on your way to Joe's resort. The 46 minute ride allowed you to come up with everything you wanted to say, how this was only meant to be for a day but maybe it could be more? Maybe you could come see him in Cincinnati or he could come to Berkeley or someway somehow you could figure out a way to make it work.

You thanked your driver, opting to speed walk into the lobby. The person at the front desk couldn't give you access to the room without a reason, even when you gave them the name Joe used for his reservation. Pulling out your phone, you showed her the picture of you and Joe that he took at the pottery place and she finally believed you.

"I'm sorry ma'am, he actually left this morning a bit earlier than planned. He checked out at 7am to get on the plane."

Your chest tightened as the words settled in—he was gone. Just like that, in the span of a few hours, everything had shifted. The chance to say what was left unsaid, the connection you had just begun to explore, all slipped away before you could even hold onto it.

It felt like a dark cloud loomed over you throughout the rest of the day. The sun, once so warm on your skin, now felt distant and cold. The flowers that had seemed so alive that morning now appeared dull, their colors muted, as though even nature understood the weight on your heart. While you ate lunch, you tried to people watch, although you quickly discovered that there were only couples surrounding you, sharing meals and laughing at each other's jokes which made you miss him even more. The only real bright spot of the day was your flower garden excursion, taking pictures of the newly bloomed bulbs and taking in their fresh scent. As the hours passed, you allowed yourself to breathe a little deeper, letting the moments of regret slip away as you focused on the simple joys of your surroundings. The beauty of the flowers, the calm of the gardens, it all reminded you that there was still peace to be found in this unexpected chapter of your life.

You were just beginning to let go of the weight on your chest, convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be. But as you laid your phone down beside you, the familiar ping of a message broke the stillness.

It was an DM request on Instagram. The message had two simple words.

Carpe diem.

For a second, your heart skipped, and you couldn’t help but smile. That phrase, so simple and yet so loaded with meaning, sent a wave of warmth through you. It was him. In a way, he had left his mark on you after all, even if he wasn’t here to say the words aloud. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. And though you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or if this connection would ever evolve beyond this brief encounter, in that moment, with his words glowing on your screen, you allowed yourself one final thought: Maybe this was only the beginning.

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic

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loojii · 3 days ago

Text

♥️ Prim and Proper ♥️

I've been asked before about more info about these silly characters of mine and even though I hoped to draw most of it I thought it would be nice to write it down too. I am not English or the best writer so I did ask chat GPT to format it better for me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Riddle x King of Hearts oc Simply how they met and to communicate Prim's personality a bit better! Like the King of Hearts, often forgotten but happy :) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Story under the line ~

Riddle’s POV

The Night Raven College library was Riddle Rosehearts’ haven—a place where rules were respected, order was preserved, and silence reigned supreme. At least, it was supposed to.

The soft symphony of pages turning and quills scratching was disrupted by bursts of giggling and whispers. Riddle’s brows furrowed, his concentration shattered.

The offenders were four girls from Lady Mystic College, currently permitted to use the library while their own was under renovation. They sat at a table in the far corner, their uniforms pristine and polished, yet their behavior anything but.

Three of them leaned in close, whispering and snickering, their laughter bubbling up despite the clear disapproval of nearby students. The fourth girl, however, sat quietly at the edge of the group.

Riddle hadn’t noticed her at first, his irritation focused on the noise. But as he rose from his seat and made his way toward them, she caught his eye.

She was smaller than her friends, with blonde curls tied into two neat pigtails. Her dark blue eyes flitted nervously between her tablemates and the books in front of her. Braces gleamed faintly while her upperlip rested on them. Unlike her companions, she seemed more like an observer than a participant.

“Excuse me,” Riddle said sharply as he reached their table.

The three louder girls turned to him, blinking in mock surprise. “Oh, hi!” one of them said, her smile overly sweet.

“This is a library,” Riddle stated, his tone clipped. “Your noise is disrupting others. Please keep your voices down.”

The girls exchanged glances and giggled again. “Sorry about that,” another said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.

The fourth girl looked up at him, her cheeks flushing pink. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her book. “We will be quiet, promise!”

Riddle’s frown softened slightly. She seemed genuinely apologetic, unlike her companions. But rules were rules, and they all bore responsibility for their collective behavior.

“Just keep it down,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, Riddle found himself standing in front of a particularly tall bookshelf, searching for a volume on advanced spell theory. The book he needed was on the highest shelf, just out of reach.

He huffed, rising onto his toes, but it was no use. He debated summoning a step stool when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Um... Excuse me,” the soft, slightly lisped voice said.

Riddle turned to see the blonde girl from earlier standing a few feet away. She was craning her neck, gazing up at a book several shelves above her head.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said quickly, flushing again. “It’s just... I can’t reach it.”

Riddle glanced between her and the book. “Neither can I,” he admitted dryly, stepping closer.

Her lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Oh, yeah-” she said, hugging her arms.

Riddle sighed, lifting his hand. With a precise flick of his fingers, the book floated down from the shelf, landing neatly in his grasp.

The girl’s eyes widened, a spark of wonder lighting them. “Wow! That’s so cool,” she said, her tone full of genuine awe.

“It’s basic magic,” Riddle replied, though he couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose at her reaction. He handed her the book.

“Thank you,” she said, her braces glinting as she smiled. “I’m Prim, by the way. I, um, wanted to apologize again that we were so noisy.”

Riddle studied her for a moment. There was a cheerfulness about her, a childlike wonder that seemed at odds with her companions. “Riddle.” introducing himself. “And it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Prim hesitated, her expression flickering with something uncertain. “They’re not always like that,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “I think they just... like having fun.”

“Just make sure to not disturb others when you’re in a public library. We prefer this place to be quiet.” Riddle said, not to scold her but he feared it may have sounded like that.

“No, you’re absolutely right! It’s basic rules.” She looked down at the book Riddle just got for her. “Thank you again, Riddle!”

Riddle responded with a simple nod and she hugged the book to her chest and turned back toward her table. Riddle watched her go, noting the way her steps seemed lighter, more confident.

For the rest of the afternoon, the library was quiet. But Riddle found himself distracted, his thoughts lingering on the small girl with the blonde pigtails and wondering if she would ever realize she deserved better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Riddle was once again settled in his usual spot in the library. The silence was pristine this time, and he relished the peaceful atmosphere. He had nearly immersed himself in his studies when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Prim.

The girl with blonde pigtails walked hesitantly into the library, clutching her books and bag. She scanned the room for a moment before her eyes landed on him. A bright smile lit her face, and she made her way over.

“Hi,” she greeted softly, her voice still carrying that slight lisp.

Riddle nodded in acknowledgment. “Good afternoon, Prim.”

To his surprise, she pulled out a chair and sat next to him, setting her books down. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s nice and quiet here.”

“As long as you keep it that way,” Riddle replied, his tone neutral.

Prim giggled and nodded. “Promise. I’ll be quiet.”

She opened her notebook and began working on what looked like several assignments. Riddle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her handwriting flowed neatly across the pages. Occasionally, she would hum softly to herself, though it wasn’t disruptive—it was oddly soothing.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “You’re alone today.”

Prim looked up from her work, her curls bouncing slightly as she tilted her head. “Oh, yeah. My friends are out getting lunch.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “They left you behind?”

Prim waved a hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “It’s fine. I had too much homework to do anyway. Besides, they’ll bring me something back.”

Her tone was so casual, so certain, that Riddle didn’t press further. But he couldn’t help the small pang of doubt that settled in his chest.

“They do seem to leave you out quite often,” he remarked, his voice carefully measured.

Prim paused, her pencil hovering over her notebook. Then she laughed lightly. “They don’t mean to. They’re just... busy. But they’re good friends, really.”

Riddle frowned but didn’t say anything. Her unwavering cheerfulness was admirable, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was excusing more than she should.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the soft scratch of pens and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. After a while, Prim closed one notebook and opened another, switching seamlessly between assignments. Riddle noticed she wasn’t just working on a single piece of homework—she seemed to be copying her answers onto three other sheets.

He glanced at her stack of papers. Each page was identical, and she was writing the same answers in the same neat handwriting on all of them. His brow furrowed.

“Prim,” he said quietly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why are you doing the same homework four times?”

Prim froze for a moment, her pen poised mid-sentence. Then she looked at him, her expression sheepish but still cheerful. “Oh, um... My friends forgot to do theirs, so I’m helping out. They’re really busy, you know, with... things.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “You’re doing their homework? All of it?”

Prim shrugged, her smile not faltering. “It’s no big deal. I’m good at this stuff, and they always help me when I need it.”

Riddle didn’t believe that for a second. He leaned back slightly, studying her. She seemed so genuinely kind, so eager to help, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that her so-called friends were clearly taking advantage of her.

Prim seemed to sense his concern because she added, “I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to feel useful.”

Riddle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Prim stood up, gathering her things into a neat pile. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” she said with a smile. “Could you watch my stuff?”

He nodded, though his gaze lingered on her as she walked away.

Left alone, Riddle’s eyes drifted back to her work. The identical pages spread out in front of him confirmed what he already suspected—Prim was kind, but her kindness was being taken advantage of.

As he leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to return, Riddle couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her. She was cheerful and kind in her own way, but it was clear that she deserved better than what her so-called friends were giving her.

When Prim returned, still smiling as brightly as ever, Riddle resolved to keep an eye on her. Someone had to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days went by and Riddle found himself walking through the courtyard, a book tucked under his arm. It was his usual route to the library, but the sound of laughter and chatter drew his attention.

Underneath one of the large oak trees sat the same group of girls from Lady Mystic College. Their voices carried easily on the breeze as they chatted with a group of Savanaclaw students who seemed far too pleased with themselves.

Riddle’s gaze immediately went to Prim. She was sitting on the edge of the group, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she nodded enthusiastically in response to the conversation. Despite her obvious effort to engage, none of the boys so much as glanced her way. Their attention was fixed on her three companions, who were leaning forward and giggling at every joke.

Eventually, the three girls stood, brushing themselves off and flashing bright smiles at the Savanaclaw students. “We’ll see you later,” one of them said, linking arms with another.

Prim started to stand, too, but one of the girls waved her back down with a quick, “Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?”

Prim blinked, then nodded quickly. “Sure! No problem!”

The group walked away, leaving her alone under the tree. She didn’t seem bothered, though. She pulled out a small lunch box and began unpacking it, her expression as cheerful as ever.

Riddle hesitated, his steps slowing. It wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t the type to meddle. Yet something about the scene nagged at him.

Prim’s so-called friends hadn’t even offered to include her. They left her behind without a second thought. And though she waved them off as if it were perfectly natural, Riddle couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right.

Before he could stop himself, he changed course and approached her.

Prim looked up as his shadow fell over her. “Oh! Hi, Riddle!” she said brightly, her dark blue eyes lighting up.

“Good afternoon,” he said, stopping a few feet away. He glanced at her lunch box and then at the empty space around her. “You’re alone.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, the girls went off with those boys. They didn’t want to intrude, and, well, it would’ve been rude for me to tag along since I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned, his grip tightening on the book in his hands. “They left you here.”

Prim waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s fine. I already had lunch anyway, and they asked me to keep this spot for them. It’s a nice spot, don’t you think? Nice shade, good view...”

Her voice trailed off as she gestured to the courtyard around them, clearly trying to paint the situation in the best possible light.

Riddle remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wanted to tell her that her friends shouldn’t have asked her to stay behind just to save a spot. That if they truly cared about her, they wouldn’t leave her sitting alone while they went off with boys who didn’t even acknowledge her.

But Prim’s smile didn’t falter. She continued to eat her lunch, completely at ease.

Riddle’s mind whirred. He had never been particularly skilled at making friends himself, and he often struggled with understanding social dynamics. Yet he couldn’t stand to see someone as kind and cheerful as Prim being so blatantly overlooked.

“Prim,” he said abruptly, his tone firmer than he intended.

She looked up, blinking at him. “Yes?”

“Would you... like to join me for lunch?”

Prim’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. “Oh, um, really?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yes,” Riddle said, a little awkwardly. “If you’ve already eaten, I could still use some company. That is, if you’re not busy keeping this spot occupied.”

Prim laughed softly, her smile brightening even further. “Well, I suppose the spot will still be here when I get back.”

Riddle stepped back, allowing her to stand. As they walked toward the cafeteria together, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit alone this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

The shade under the oak tree was nice, shielding them from the midday sun as the breeze rustled through the leaves. Prim sat with her three friends—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal—all of whom were laughing and chatting animatedly, their voices blending together in an upbeat melody of giggles.

Prim listened quietly, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her lips twitching upward in a small smile. Hazel said something that made Trinity snort, and Opal burst into another fit of laughter. Prim tried to join in, even though she didn’t entirely understand the joke.

They’re just so confident, she thought, watching them. “It’s one of the things I admire about them.”

Sometimes they’d say things to her that she wasn’t sure how to take. Like when Hazel turned to her mid-laughter and said, “Prim, I wish I could be as pure as you. So innocent!”

Prim chuckled along, though her cheeks flushed. They mean well, she reassured herself. It’s not like they’re being mean. I guess I don’t get all their jokes, so they’re right. It’s fine.

Then there was Trinity, who had tilted her head at Prim’s pigtails earlier and remarked, “Your hair is so unique, Prim. I’d never have the patience to deal with all those curls!”

Prim had thanked her for the comment, though part of her wondered if “unique” had been the right word. It was true, though—her hair never behaved like Hazel’s silky locks, Trinity’s sleek waves, or Opal’s perfectly tousled bob. But it was fine.

It was fine.

When a group of boys approached, Prim felt herself tense up slightly. She wasn’t used to being approached by boys—especially not bold, self-assured ones like these.

Hazel, Trinity, and Opal perked up immediately, their voices gaining a lilting edge as they welcomed the boys with coy smiles and casual jokes. Prim sat up straighter, her cheeks flushing pink as she tried to follow along with the conversation.

One of the boys told a story about his latest Spelldrive match, and Prim laughed softly at the right moment, hoping it sounded natural. But the boy didn’t look her way. None of them did. Their eyes were fixed on her friends.

She felt a small pang in her chest.

It’s okay, she told herself quickly. She isn’t his type. And that’s okay.

Her friends were tall, poised, and effortlessly pretty. Their hair shimmered in the sunlight, their makeup was flawless, and their laughter was infectious. Prim, meanwhile, was shorter, with unruly curls that seemed to have a mind of their own. Her braces made her mouth always stand open a bit, and as long as she can remember she talked with a lisp.

They’re just more... grown-up than me, she reasoned. And that’s okay. I’ll get there eventually.

For a fleeting moment, the pang threatened to grow into something heavier. But she shook it off, summoning her usual cheerful resolve.

I totally get it, she told herself, nodding slightly as if to reinforce the thought. I understand why they’d get all the attention. Besides, I don’t even need a boyfriend right now! I have my friends. And I’m happy for them. Really, I am.

When the boys eventually asked Hazel, Trinity, and Opal to join them for lunch, Prim was already smiling again.

“Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?” Hazel said over her shoulder as they stood.

“Sure! No problem!” Prim said brightly, waving at them as they walked off.

She settled back under the tree and reached for her lunch box. It’s fine, she thought as she unwrapped her sandwich. I packed a good lunch, and this spot is really nice. I’m totally fine. And they’ll be back soon anyway.

As she took a bite, she looked up and froze mid-chew.

Riddle stood a few feet away, his red hair unmistakable in the dappled sunlight. He was looking directly at her, his expression as composed and stern as always.

“Oh!” Prim swallowed quickly, straightening up and brushing crumbs off her lap. “Hi, Riddle!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

Riddle wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked her to join him for lunch. It wasn’t as though he usually sought out company during meals. Quite the opposite, in fact—he valued the quiet solitude that came with sitting alone, free from the noise and chaos of others.

And yet, here he was, walking toward the cafeteria with Prim by his side, her cheerful chatter filling the silence he usually preferred.

“I really didn’t expect you to invite me to lunch,” Prim said, her voice bright with surprise. “But thank you! It’s nice to have someone to eat with. It’s always fun!”

Riddle glanced at her, taking in her wide smile and the way her dark blue eyes seemed to light up with genuine delight. Her optimism was almost childlike in its sincerity, and though it was different from the carefully composed demeanor he usually gravitated toward, he found it oddly... refreshing.

As they settled at a table, Prim eagerly unpacked her lunch box again, chatting as she went. “So, do you always eat alone? Or do you sit with your dorm mates sometimes?”

“I usually eat alone,” Riddle replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s more efficient. The dining hall can be... chaotic.”

Prim tilted her head, nodding thoughtfully. “I get that. It can get loud sometimes. But it’s nice to have people to talk to, don’t you think?”

Riddle hesitated. Socializing had always felt more like a chore than a pleasure for him. Yet, as he watched Prim, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. “Perhaps,” he said finally.

They fell into a rhythm of small talk, much to Riddle’s surprise. Prim carried most of the conversation, her cheerful nature making it easy to follow along. She told him about her favorite classes, how she was still adjusting to Lady Mystic College, and how much she loved the library at Night Raven College.

“And the oak tree in the courtyard!” she added with a bright smile. “It’s such a nice spot to sit. Perfect shade, good view... It’s the best, really.”

Riddle nodded politely, though his thoughts lingered on why she’d been left there in the first place.

Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up. “You said earlier that your friends went off with those guys and left you behind. Does that happen often?”

Prim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, well... not often,” she said, though her tone wavered slightly. “They were just being polite, you know? It wouldn’t have been right for me to tag along if I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned. “But if they’re your friends, shouldn’t they have invited you in the first place?”

Prim hesitated, her cheerful facade faltering for the briefest moment. “I mean, they’re just... busy. And I don’t really mind! I’m happy to keep the spot for them.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Do you really think that’s fair to you?”

She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her lunch box. “Well, it’s not like they’re being mean or anything,” she said quietly. “They’re nice to me. And they’re so cool and pretty, you know? I’m lucky to have friends like them.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “Are they really your friends if they constantly leave you out? If they treat you like an afterthought?”

Prim’s shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, her ever-present smile wavered. “They have to be my friends… if they’re not…” she said softly, “then... it would mean I didn’t have any at all…”

Riddle’s chest tightened at her words. He’d never been particularly adept at comforting others, but the sadness in her voice stirred something in him. He’d always been strict, proper, and precise in his interactions, yet in this moment, he felt compelled to say something more.

“You do have a friend,” he said quietly, surprising even himself.

Prim’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Mm?”

Riddle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face heating slightly. “I mean... I wouldn’t invite just anyone to lunch. So if that makes you feel better... consider me your friend.”

For a moment, Prim simply stared at him. Then her face broke into the brightest smile he’d ever seen, her braces gleaming as her eyes filled with joy. “Really? You mean it?”

He cleared his throat, looking away to hide his own embarrassment. “Yes. Of course.”

“Yeah!” Prim said eagerly, her sadness forgotten as she practically beamed at him. “Yeah, I guess we are friends, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The park on Sage Island was quiet that afternoon, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chatter providing a soothing backdrop to Riddle’s thoughts. He didn’t come to the park often—it seemed frivolous to idle in nature when there were more productive things to do—but something had drawn him there today.

It was then that he saw her.

Prim was balancing on a low railing near the path, her arms stretched out for balance and her curls bouncing with each careful step. She looked utterly carefree, the sunlight catching the faint glint of her braces as she smiled to herself.

Riddle slowed his pace, his gaze lingering on her. The sight struck a chord in him—her innocence, her lightheartedness. She embodied a freedom he had never known.

Growing up under his mother’s strict rules, even the thought of such behavior would have been unthinkable. Walking on a railing? Playing games in public? There was no place for that in the rigid schedule of the Rosehearts household. And even now, as a college student, Riddle often felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, keeping him bound to the rules he upheld so fiercely.

Prim, however, seemed untouched by such constraints.

When she spotted him, her face lit up, and she hopped down from the railing with a bounce. “Riddle!” she called, hurrying toward him. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, straightening his posture.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said, her grin bright as ever. “Are you here for a walk too?”

“I thought some fresh air might be beneficial,” Riddle replied. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m on my way to the bookstore,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I need a new diary. My old one’s almost full.”

“A diary,” he echoed.

“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “I write about everything—what I did, how I felt, what made me happy. It’s nice to look back on later, you know?”

Riddle nodded, though he couldn’t fully relate. His own life had always been so structured, so focused on rules and expectations, that the idea of reflecting on daily joys felt almost... indulgent.

As they walked together, Prim continued to chat, her energy as boundless as ever. “I’ve been hanging out less with Hazel, Trinity, and Opal,” she said after a while, her tone casual. “It’s easier now that I have a friend.”

Her words caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. “You mean me.”

“Of course!” she said brightly, glancing at him with a sincerity that made his chest tighten.

He felt his cheeks heat slightly and quickly looked away. “I... see.”

Prim tilted her head, her expression softening. “Thank you for having lunch with me last week, by the way. It was really nice. I hope I wasn’t talking too much.”

Riddle shook his head. “You were fine. I didn’t mind.”

Her face lit up again, and she clasped her hands together. “I’m glad! I’ve been eating alone more often lately, and I think I finally get what you mean—it’s nice to have that quiet sometimes. It’s efficient, and I can actually focus on my food!”

Hearing her repeat his words from before made something stir in his chest. She wasn’t just cheerful; she genuinely listened.

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Prim spoke again. “You should come with me to the bookstore,” she said suddenly, her voice bright.

Riddle blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Why not? It could be fun! And I’m sure they’ve got plenty of interesting books for you to look at.”

He hesitated, searching for a reason to decline, but none came. “I suppose I could use a new reference book,” he said finally, convincing himself it was a practical decision. “Very well.”

Prim clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bookstore was small but inviting, its shelves packed with an eclectic mix of novels, journals, and academic texts. Prim headed straight for the section of journals, her excitement palpable.

“What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a diary with a floral cover. “Or this one?” She picked up another, this one decorated with stars.

“They’re both... adequate,” Riddle said diplomatically, though his tone lacked the sternness it usually carried.

Prim giggled. “You’re so formal, Riddle. You’re so cool.”

He stiffened, the unexpected comment catching him off guard. “I—cool is hardly the appropriate word.”

She laughed again, completely unbothered by his awkwardness. “I like it,” she said simply, flipping through the pages of a diary.

Riddle turned his attention to the nearest shelf, scanning the titles even as his thoughts lingered on her. She was so unabashedly sincere, so quick to express herself without reservation. It was entirely unlike him, and yet he found it oddly refreshing.

“What kind of books do you like?” Prim asked suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

“Primarily academic texts,” Riddle replied. “I don’t often read for leisure.”

“That makes sense,” she said with a nod. “You’re so disciplined, Riddle. I admire that about you.”

He glanced at her, momentarily speechless. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if her praise was simply the truth. “Thank you,” he said quietly, unsure of how else to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back from the bookstore was peaceful, with Prim happily clutching her new diary to her chest. She was chatting about the various things she planned to write in it—her favorite moments, her thoughts on the day, and even the little goals she set for herself. Riddle listened quietly, his hands neatly folded behind his back, offering the occasional nod or small response.

As they reached a crossroads in the park, Prim slowed her pace, her expression shifting slightly. “I should probably start studying when I get back,” she said with a small sigh. “I’ve got this one chapter that’s been giving me so much trouble.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “What subject?”

“Potions,” Prim replied, scrunching her nose. “There’s this one section about ingredient interactions that I just can’t wrap my head around. It’s like the words blur together every time I try to read it.”

He stopped walking, considering her words. He remembered studying potions theory himself the year prior. It wasn’t an easy subject, especially when it came to understanding the subtleties of ingredient dynamics. But he’d mastered it, of course.

Prim tilted her head, glancing at him curiously. “What is it?”

Riddle felt a flicker of hesitation. The idea of offering his help seemed straightforward enough, but his mind began to overanalyze. Would it be strange to suggest it? They were friends now, weren’t they? And helping a friend was a reasonable thing to do.

But what if she felt pressured to accept? Prim had always been eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel obligated. Still, she had said she was glad they were friends. Surely she wouldn’t find the gesture unwelcome?

“Riddle?” Prim’s voice was soft, her gaze searching his.

He straightened, pushing his doubts aside with a deep breath. “If you’re struggling with that chapter,” he began carefully, “I could help you study.”

He watched her expression closely, his heart beating just a little faster as he waited for her response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

Prim clutched her study books tightly to her chest as she walked toward Night Raven College. The path to the all-boys school was winding, but she didn’t mind. The weather was nice, the air crisp, and her heart felt unusually light.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the day before, when Riddle had offered to help her with her potions studies. It had been so unexpected, and the moment he’d asked, she’d said yes without hesitation.

Of course, she was grateful for his help. Riddle was brilliant—he knew so much, and she was certain he’d explain things far better than her textbook ever could. But more than that, the thought of spending time with him made her genuinely happy.

She smiled to herself, her steps quickening as she remembered the feeling. She’d made an actual friend.

In high school, she’d been alone more often than not. She tried to fit in, but it was like she didn’t quite know how. Her curls were too unruly, her braces too shiny, and her lisp made her stumble over words when she was nervous. She remembered watching other girls gather in groups, laughing and chatting easily, while she lingered on the edges, hoping to be noticed.

When she’d started college, she promised herself things would be different. She’d make friends this time, no matter what. And she had—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal had been quick to include her. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that their kindness only went so far.

Prim sighed softly, her grip tightening on her books. Her so-called friends weren’t really nice to her, not in the way that mattered. She knew that. But wasn’t it better to have bad friends than none at all?

At least, that’s what she used to believe.

But then there was Riddle. He was so different from anyone she’d met before—kind in his own quiet, composed way. He didn’t laugh at her or make her feel small. When he talked to her, it felt like he actually saw her, not just the odd girl with the curls and the braces.

Riddle is a real friend, she thought, her heart fluttering.

She almost started skipping as she neared the gates of Night Raven College, her excitement outweighing her nerves. The idea of walking into an all-boys school was a little intimidating, but she didn’t let it bother her. Riddle had offered to help, and she was determined to make the most of it.

When the imposing gates of the school came into view, Prim spotted a familiar figure waiting for her.

Riddle stood with his hands clasped neatly in front of him, his posture as straight and proper as ever. He spotted her immediately and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, his tone formal but not unfriendly.

“Hi, Riddle!” she greeted, her voice bright as she hurried up to him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, gesturing toward the campus. “I thought it would be best to guide you directly to my dorm. Night Raven College can be... confusing to navigate if you’re unfamiliar.”

She nodded eagerly, her nerves momentarily forgotten. “I really appreciate it. I’ll try not to get in the way too much!”

Riddle gave a small shake of his head. “You’re not in the way. I offered, didn’t I?”

Her smile widened at his words, and as they began walking, she glanced around, taking in the grand architecture of the school.

“It’s such a big campus,” she said, her awe evident. “It must be amazing to go here.”

“It has its merits,” Riddle said simply, though there was a faint note of pride in his voice.

Prim followed him through the gates and into the courtyard, her excitement bubbling up again. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain—Riddle was her friend now. She can’t wait for tonight, when she can write in her diary about today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

As Riddle led Prim through the gates of Heartslabyul, he noticed the usual shift in demeanor among his dormmates. Students standing idly by quickly straightened their postures, their conversations quieting as they noticed him. It was routine, of course—expected behavior from those under his jurisdiction—but it wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to.

Prim, however, seemed to notice. She glanced around curiously as they passed a group of first-years who hurriedly bowed their heads in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Housewarden!” one of them called.

Prim blinked, slowing her steps slightly. “Housewarden?” she repeated, looking at Riddle.

He cleared his throat, feeling a faint warmth creep up his neck. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am the housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Her eyes widened as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now!” she said, her voice light with realization. “No wonder everyone is so respectful around you. You’re in charge!”

Riddle frowned slightly, his usual composure slipping just a little. “It’s merely my duty,” he said, trying to downplay the significance.

Prim, however, seemed delighted. “That’s amazing, Riddle! You must be really good at what you do for them to listen to you like that.”

Her praise caught him off guard, and he quickly turned his attention back to the path, his face warming further. “It’s nothing remarkable. Let’s continue to my room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they reached his room, Riddle opened the door and stepped aside to let Prim in. She hesitated for a moment before walking in, clutching her books tightly.

“I’ve never been in a boy’s room before,” she said with a small giggle, glancing around.

Riddle stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on the doorknob. “It’s just a room,” he said quickly, closing the door behind them.

Prim wandered further inside, her eyes wide as she took in the neat, organized space. The room was larger than she had expected, with a tidy desk, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a large canopy bed. Everything was perfectly arranged, a reflection of Riddle’s meticulous nature.

“This is so nice!” she said, smiling as she turned to him. “It’s so... Riddle.”

He blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s so neat and organized,” she said, laughing lightly. “It just feels like you. I love it.”

Her laughter was high but not too loud often accompanied by a snort. It was infectious and Riddle found himself relaxing slightly.

Prim grinned, plopping herself onto the edge of the chair near his desk and opening her books. “Okay, ready to study?”

He nodded, pulling out a chair for himself and settling in beside her. “Let’s begin. You mentioned you were struggling with ingredient interactions?”

As they worked through the chapter, Riddle was surprised by how focused Prim was. Though she had trouble grasping some of the concepts at first, she listened intently to his explanations, asking thoughtful questions and jotting down notes.

Her enthusiasm was refreshing, and Riddle found himself genuinely enjoying the session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock at the door interrupted them just as Prim was beginning to understand a particularly tricky concept.

“Come in,” Riddle called, glancing up.

The door opened to reveal Trey, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. He smiled when he saw them. “I thought you two might want a snack,” he said, placing the tray on the desk.

Prim’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow! These look amazing!”

“They’re still warm,” Trey said with a chuckle. “Help yourselves.”

Prim picked up a cookie and took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “These are so good!” she said, her voice muffled slightly by the cookie.

Riddle picked one up as well, though he was far more reserved in his reaction. “Thank you, Trey,” he said politely.

Trey turned to Prim, bowing his head slightly wearing a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Trey, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Prim sat up straight and returned his smile with one of her own. “Nice to meet you too! I’m Prim!”

Trey smiled knowingly, glancing between the two of them. “Well… Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading out.

As the door closed, Prim turned to Riddle, her smile as bright as ever. “Your dormmates are so nice. And these cookies? Best study snack ever.”

Riddle nodded, feeling a faint sense of pride in Heartslabyul’s hospitality. “Trey is an excellent baker,” he said.

Prim grinned, holding up her notebook. “And you’re an excellent teacher. I’m actually starting to get this now!”

Riddle looked at her, his expression softening. “You’re a quick learner,” he said. “You just needed someone to explain it in a way that made sense to you.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Thanks, Riddle. Really. You’re the best.”

His face warmed again, and he quickly turned back to the open book in front of him. “Let’s continue,” he said, his voice a little tighter than usual.

Prim giggled, taking another bite of her cookie before diving back into her notes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his thoughts kept wandering. It wasn’t the material that distracted him—he’d long since mastered the subject—but rather Prim, who was sitting just a little too close.

She was leaning forward slightly, her notebook open as she jotted down notes, the end of her pencil tapping lightly against her lip in thought. Her blonde curls framed her face in soft spirals, bouncing faintly with every movement. Her braces gleamed when she smiled, the colorful elastics drawing his attention in a way he didn’t expect.

When she spoke, her slight lisp added an unexpected charm to her words, her voice full of enthusiasm even as she struggled with the material.

Riddle frowned slightly, feeling a warmth creep up his neck. He wasn’t used to this—having someone so close, so lively, so...

He surprised himself when the thought crossed his mind: She’s kind of cute.

The realization made his stomach twist, and he quickly looked back at his book, his posture stiffening. Focus, Riddle, he scolded himself silently. You’re here to help her study, nothing more.

Still, it was difficult to ignore her presence, especially when she turned to him with that bright smile, her gratitude shining in her eyes.

When their study session ended, Prim packed up her books, her smile never fading. “Thank you so much, Riddle,” she said for what felt like the tenth time. “You’re seriously the best. I actually feel like I understand this now!”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice clipped as he tried to maintain his composure.

Riddle walked her back to the gates, insisting on showing her the way in case she would get lost. Walking back they made a bit of small talk and Riddle could feel the stares. But he tried to ignore them, he was just walking his friend out.

Prim slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing when they arrived at the gates. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks again!”

She waved cheerfully before walking back to her own dorm, leaving Riddle alone.

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. The session had gone well, but he couldn’t shake the strange fluttering sensation in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in the Heartslabyul lounge, Riddle sat with a book in hand, though his thoughts kept drifting back to Prim’s visit.

“Hey, Riddle!”

He looked up to see Trey and Cater approaching, both wearing knowing smiles.

“How did the study session go?” Trey asked casually, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“Was she nice? Fun? Cute?” Cater added, leaning in with a teasing grin.

Riddle frowned, not catching the implication. “It went well. She understood the material by the end, and she was very polite.”

Cater’s grin widened. “Oh, ‘polite,’ huh? That’s it?”

“She seemed... eager to learn,” Riddle continued, ignoring Cater’s tone.

Trey chuckled softly. “And you were okay with her being in your space? You usually don’t let just anyone into your room.”

Riddle hesitated, adjusting his tie. “She’s a friend,” he said finally. “It’s natural to help a friend, isn’t it?” Calling her a friend almost made him feel proud.

Cater exchanged a look with Trey, his grin turning sly. “Right. A ‘friend.’”

Before Riddle could respond, the lounge door burst open, and Ace and Deuce strolled in.

“Hey, Housewarden!” Ace called, plopping down on one of the couches. “We heard you had a guest today.”

Deuce looked confused. “Guest?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, smirking. “A girl.”

Riddle’s grip on his book tightened. “What of it?”

“C’mon, spill! Is she your girlfriend or something?” Ace asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated grin.

Riddle’s face turned red, and he slammed his book shut. “O-of course not!” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Ace burst out laughing, clearly enjoying himself. “Whoa, calm down! I was just asking.”

“She’s a friend, nothing more,” Riddle said firmly, glaring at Ace.

Deuce, sensing the tension, elbowed Ace. “Knock it off, Ace. You’re being rude.”

“What? I’m just curious!” Ace said, still grinning.

Riddle stood abruptly, his expression stern. “If you’re finished with your childish remarks, I have work to do.”

He strode out of the lounge, his cape billowing behind him, leaving the others behind.

Trey shook his head, though he was smiling faintly. “You pushed too hard, Ace.”

“Aw, come on,” Ace said, leaning back with a laugh. “You can’t blame me for asking. Did you see how flustered he got?”

Cater grinned. “I don’t know, Ace. Maybe he’s just new to this whole ‘having friends’ thing.”

“Or maybe,” Trey said with a small chuckle, “he’s starting to realize that having a friend like Prim might be a little more important to him than he thought.”

None of them noticed the faint blush creeping up Riddle’s ears as he listened just outside the door, his grip tightening on his book.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #prim

522 notes · View notes

yameoto · 19 hours ago

Text

kiramman motherdaughter doubleteam

tw; cassandra + caitlyn x f!reader, pussyfucking, voyuerism, masturbation, objectification, gagging, being passed around on kiramman cock, mommy issues, family dynamics, no incest unless you count their cum mixing inside you. wc; 2.8k

“my daughter is quite fond of you,” cassandra muses thoughtfully, like you’re not ass-up, pussy-clenched, bent over on the kiramman desk; two, slender, pale fingers elegantly fucking the juices out of your cunt.

while you’d love to engage in mommy gossip over tea, your pretty little head isn’t quite capable of doing more than blindly rut back against gloved fingers. even if your ears perk up at the mention.

“what does that—ngh— fuck—“

“language, darling.” cassandra slaps your cunt, hard. you hiss, arching back, traitorous pussy deciding it really fucking likes that, and sending a surge of wetness gushing out and dripping over her palm. you arch back, and the retort making its way out of your mouth is rudely interrupted by the way she deftly folds her fingers into a fist. quelled, you settle down, thighs still stinging.

"and i suppose—mmgh—she didn’t—hah.. tell you?”

“no, but i know.” cassandra hums, index hooking. your eyes roll back, as cassandra continues to muse. or, pretend to muse. you’ve been under her thumb long enough to know every twitch of her expression, every dip in her tone, every curl of her finger—is calculated, and intentional. “her gaze lingers."

“she doesn't mind that her mother takes home girls her own age?” you pant, squirming away from cassandra’s hand as she pinches your thigh.

“girl.” cassandra corrects, gloved hand leisurely grasping you by the chin and pinning it upwards, to face her, unable to squirm away from the steely jade of her eyes. girl, singular. it’s nothing close to ooey-and-gooey affection, but the clarification makes your heart glow nonetheless, heat flooding to every buzzing cell in your body. it also makes you pathetically, impossibly wetter. cassandra smiles as you gush around her fingers, nerves humming under her touch.

“she wouldn’t. so long as i turn a blind eye to the unending stream of conquests she has in and out of her room.” cassandra sighs, flicking against your clit. you arch upwards off of satin sheets, thighs quivering—and cassandra only takes the opportunity to thrust her digits further upwards. you thrash, like puppet thrust upon a stick.

“takes after her mother,” you gasp, and her chuckle is a pinch less poised than usual. “suppose she does, hm?"

you cum all over her gloved fingers, silk soaked to the bone.

to be perfectly honest, you were only half-lucid during that whole affair. can you blame you? one can only concentrate so much when you’re being finger-fucked to oblivion on a councillor’s desk. you hadn’t thought much of cassandra’s words, or caitlyn’s supposed fascination in you. until, well—

“mother, i don't see what could have possibly warranted dragging me out of office just to—”

the moment you come into sight, caitlyn stops, mid-way through flicking the stub of a pen, up-and-down with boredom borne vigour. she’s draped over one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, head tilted back, elbow lent lazily over the side of the seat. she straightens, gaze flickering between you and her mother.

you stare at caitlyn. she stares back, alabaster-cut cheekbones flushing a dark-hued pink.

cassandra slinks into the other armchair, one leg draping elegantly over the other. “i told you it’d be worth the wait.” she teases, easily, superiority exuding out of her every pore. caitlyn is stock-still; a deer frozen in the headlights, because surely her mother can’t mean—

“look at her, darling.” cassandra beckons you closer, and you fall into step, obedient. her cryptic smile, widens—gloved hand outstretching, to skim the silken fabric up your thighs. her nail drags upwards, and both caitlyn and you visibly shiver. “hot, wet and inviting.”

caitlyn bites her lip, conflict playing out comically over her face, like a gargantuan tent isn’t rising at her crotch. for one, she loathes to concede any victory to her mother. on the other..

(gods, how caitlyn has wanted and wanted. it's shameful. she’s caught glimpses of you, throughout the estate, for the past year. flitting in and out, from her mother’s room—her office, sometimes. the thought should make her nose wrinkle and gaze avert, like it had done so, with all the other women her mother used to bring home. yet, you.

the pull you have is magnetic. perhaps, that’s why she hasn’t seen a single other verdant soul grace her mother’s bedsheets, since you. not that she makes a habit of peeking. it’s just—she’s wondered. she’s wondered, with her hand wrapped her dick and croons muffled by her sheets, how you’d feel around her cock, instead. because she swears that nightgown her mother lent you used to be hers, and the thought of it—skimming up your thighs, dampening against the hot flush of your cunt—

caitlyn is spry, young, quick-witted— and admittedly hormonal. she’s in the prime of her life, and the prime of her libido; too. deathly curious, too, what has made her mother come back to you—over and over and over again. what’s so special about you that you’ve made caitlyn cum into her fist, over and over again, despite never sparing her more than a second glance.)

“you can’t seriously expect me to..” caitlyn splutters, cheeks blooming red. “now? here? in front of you?”

“don’t act all shy, now. for a decorated enforcer, your sleuthing skills are lackluster."

caitlyn burns, bright-red. she's well-aware of the incident her mother is talking about. that was once. besides! she thought someone was being impaled on a stake, in there, for gods' sake. she’d almost brought the guards!

“besides," cassandra rolls her wrist, idly, "you think i’d let you handle precious goods unattended? you could break her.”

both you and caitlyn bristle; you, at the suggestion that you could be broken by this kiramman girl who is certainly fit, mind you—but break? really? caitlyn, at the dig at her self-restraint. through she’d probably smart at any barb her mother threw at her her.

“i can be delicate.” it’s like the implication is the nail in the coffin, and she’s undoing her trousers with exaggerated reluctance, like her fingers aren’t quivering in contained eagerness. “don’t look.” she demands of her mother, like a child slipping into the fitting room. the buckles of her enforcer uniform come undone, and a flash of inky-blue trim sends the hairs raising at the nape of your neck, especially when caitlyn’s fly falls away and her thighs splay open, hand curling around her base and tugging her dick out and—oh.

now, you understand why you might break.

caitlyn is.. well-endowed. (oh, cassandra is rubbing off on you in more ways than one). her length itself clean-shaven, like her mother—and the smooth, erect forth of her cock practically preens under the attention, blue-green veins climbing up its trunk. her tip is flushed a brilliant pink, and for all caitlyn’s feigned nonchalance; precum builds a shiny glaze at its slit, at the precipice of gushing out. she tucks her trousers below her balls, eyes flitting over to meet her mother’s, stare flaring to one of defiance.

caitlyn scowls, but you can't help but notice the shallow pace of her breath—the way her forearms tense, rapid fluttering beating at your chest. can't help but notice the way her cock throbs, tall and aching, and how she can't tear her eyes off of you.

“go on, dear.” cassandra urges, sly, and you startle, because you've almost gotten lost in being a passenger to the kiramman’s family squabbles—forgotten that for now, all you’re sinking onto her daughter’s cock. caitlyn gasps, hips jerking upwards.

she's hesitant, at first; rolling her hips, experimentally, and you suppress a gasp when her cock slips deeper, unintentionally. caitlyn grunts, and when she starts going she starts going, because—fuck—can you blame her? she gets lost in the ocean of your pussy, how it swallows her, and her mother is right. hot, wet, and inviting.

you can't deny you're enjoying this. each moan that caitlyn dislodges from your throat is even more encouragement for her dick to plunge deeper, length to stretch you wider. perhaps it’s unjust—but even as your head falls back and you whine in approval, shivers crackling down your body—you can't help but compare the two, just a little. (cassandra's motions have always been painstakingly controlled. each crook of a finger, curl of a knuckle, thrust of her cock; carefully poised, deliberate, and intentional. caitlyn, on the other hand—is fluid and freestyle and just a little sloppy. her ruts driving with a shaky force, like she's trying her damndest best to keep a rhythm but is trembling with the effort to hold on and not just plow into your cunt like a jackhammer. she's good. you can tell caitlyn has done this before, many times. just, perhaps not as many times, as her mother.)

"darling, posture."

caitlyn freezes, balls-deep. her head lifts in gobsmacked disbelief at her mother's voice, hands remaining clamped down over your thighs, dick twitching. you stifle a mewl at the loss of friction.

"posture?" caitlyn parrots, eyes narrowing, even as her back goes ramrod and shoulders square on instinct, like an automatic response to her mothers’ tone. then, annoyed at her own reaction, caitlyn thrusts, hard, as if to prove a point. the both of them ignore your subsequent whimper. “my posture is just fine, thank you very much.”

cassandra's nails drum against your collarbones, hand still carding through your hair. it takes everything in you not to nuzzle upwards into the offering, because you know cassandra despises your neediness. loves it, too. but you're not quite in the position to test how she feels, today.

“is it just fine, dear one?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly, as caitlyn’s thrusts come in rhythmic slams, the other girl’s pants almost as uneven as your own. “i—nghhm—yes.”

“and is my daughter treating you well?”

caitlyn scoffs, but her hands tighten on your hips, nails digging crescent indents into skin. your eyes flicker open to meet caitlyn’s own, and you’re expecting to find that beautiful, forever, narrowed-eye glare of hers that is so instantly recognisable.

instead, what greets you is fawn-like cerulean; wide and imploring. approval-seeking, under her mother’s scrutiny—under your control. it’s like she’s holding her breath, even as the slams of her hips.

“ngh, caitlyn—“ you gasp, like a prayer, and the kiramman heir seems to dissolve at the sound of her name on your tongue, wobbling as she clings to your hips like she might just die if she were to be separated.

her throat bobs, and her hips shudder, a low groan wracking her body. and, and—

“don't finish.” cassandra interjects, command rolling off her tongue, firm and declarative, leaving no room for argument. “a little practice in self-control would be good for you.”

“mother,” caitlyn protests, elongated and pleading and irrestrainably whiney, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. her cheeks are blossomed red, flushed to the bone—strings of saliva connecting the plump part of her lips as she ruts into you, grip bruising.

“don’t whinge.” cassandra admonishes, and caitlyn’s hiss is guttural, almost physically pained by the frustration—but she holds herself back nonetheless. “if you think i am having my daughter’s sloppy seconds, you think wrong.”

it’s as if the room has dropped in degrees. caitlyn, livid with the tension of what you can feel, drawn tight against the hot flush of your body. cassandra, whose gaze is as impenetrable and indomitable as ever. the both of them; cut-throat and frigid—like the meeting of stalagmites and stalactites, crashing into one another.

your pussy clenches, because gods, this is hot. caitlyn audibly lets slip a hiss, when your walls tighten around her poor, sensitive dick. it’s almost inevitable when she cracks, first.

it’s that first twitch in her brow that waivers the white flag, and she her jaw tightens and her eyes go wild—before she forcibly wrenches herself out from you, eyes rolling back as her cock squelches free— promptly blows her load all over the carpet.

caitlyn folds to her knees, black-blue eyes peer upwards, both wounded and aggrieved; like the world has done her wrong by not having her cum inside of you. the way she’s positioned is almost heartstring wrenching—if it weren’t for how her hands curl around the base of her cock and she arches back and hisses, shamelessly jerking the rest of her high, off. thick, white spurts of cum splatter, some on the glossy wooden panels—but most on the carpet. carpet, worth some-twelve families’ fortunes and now marred by fat, creamy streaks of white, clinging to filaments that’ll indubitably harden come sunrise.

caitlyn pants, wiping spit with the back of her hand. her eyes meet her mother’s, satisfaction uncoiling in her gut, along with the leftovers drizzling from her tip.

“are you quite done?” cassandra exhales, as her daughter empties herself out over their living room floor.

“yes.” caitlyn says, petulant. her expression is as still as stone—yet anybody could see the smug gleam in her eye.(of course, a day doesn’t go past in piltover nowadays that that kiramman brat isn’t uttered. perhaps, the moniker has more truth to it than you’d thought.)

cassandra seems to torn whether this is the right time to discipline her daughter, though she doesn’t account for you and your incessant neediness, because you’d just been so full and now you’re so empty. it’s burning a hole right in the pits of your stomach, and you need to be filled. you need it. cassandra, for all her patience— has waited long enough.

your pussy opens up to cassandra’s cock with an obscene squelch, walls stretching, thighs quivering outwards as you welcome the familiar girth, and isn't that something? that coming home equivocates to cumming over her cock.

cassandra cants her hips upwards, just barely— and after the (sloppy, but earnest) viciousness of which caitlyn just fucked you; it's not enough.

“more—need—more, cass—“

poor choice of words. you should know better than to throw nicknames around so flippantly, around her daughter, no less. cassandra’s grey-tinged stare turns glacial. if there's anything she's has ever taught you—it’s how to be good.

"and just where did your manners go?” cassandra’s head slants, lips curling, and you know you’re in for it, now.

through glassy eyes and a heavy head—you watch as she peels the glove from her hand and—ah. they’re the ones from earlier. still filthy, drenched in your residue. it brings flush of shame to your cheeks—mouth opening to whine; yet you’re cut off by the way she swiftly stuffs them in your mouth. the salty proof of your lust shoves down the back of your throat. you choke. it stifles your mewling like a charm.

heavens. cassandra is struck by just how much she adores you, as she rocks you on her dick. your gaze; so glossy and starry and bright, tears burning behind your eyes around your gag. she goes slow—lulls you into a false sense of security with the gentleness in her pace—before she viciously drives her hips upwards every so often, and pounds. the push-and-pull is undoing. you gasp around your make-shift gag each and every time, making the most delicious sounds as you do so.

caitlyn has long since sulked back to the armchair at the side, watching the scene with as her dick twitches, still standing tall and proud as your slick glistens, coating its length. cassandra takes her time. not sparing a glance at her daughter, the pace of her teasing out the both of you. caitlyn grouches, grumbling to herself all the whole. the sounds that come out of your mouth are much less becoming.

“take it,” cassandra orders coolly, into your ear, weathered hands clasping your jaw. she twists herself in, and you buck with a gasp when you feel hotness flood through every being. cassandra grunts, and the slip-up is barely decipherable through the cotton in your head, but you can feel the way she pumps you full with her cum with complete clarity, spasming around her cock.

when cassandra finally empties herself–pushes you up, and off of her, her movements are gracious and dignified, as if she didn’t just fuck and fill you full until your pupils slipped back and your cunt oozing with white. by the time she's done, caitlyn has made another mess against mahogony, and the younger is too fucking desperate to even bother with the illusion of control. too desperate to give a single flying fuck about the fact her own mother's cum is pulsing out from your pussy in sticky waves, that the second you're out of cassandra's hands—you're in caitlyn's. she shoves you back on the rug, fireplace licking warmth against your cheeks—though its nothing compared to the roar of sheer, blinding sensation that blazes up your core when caitlyn rams her cock inside you. groaning, girth splitting you open as she mounts you, just like that, in the middle of the living room.

cassandra reclines, back against the armchair, cock hanging between her legs. her lips curve, upwards, and she takes a sip of her tea. she has more to give you, after all. she'll just have to ensure caitlyn doesn't snap you in two, first.

#yam talks #arcane #arcane smut #cassandra kiramman #cassandra kiramman x reader #cassandra kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman smut #trans!caitlyn #trans!cassandra #dead dove do not eat

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fushiguho · 16 hours ago

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✰ crashing out over boss!nanami frustratedly pulling you into his office to punish you have a word with you about your inappropriately short, pinstriped skirt for the third time this week.

cw ass + pussy spanking

“sir, may i ask what this is about?” you grouse, freeing your arm from his tightening grasp as he closes the door behind you. “you could’ve called my desk.”

in a few long strides, he’s settling into his swiveling, leather chair, an enervated sigh dragging from his lips. one of his polished loafers rap against the sleek floor, something of a scowl pulling at his hardened face. the room dissipates into an eerie silence, nothing but the monotonous hum of the air conditioner resounding off the frigid, glass windows.

“hands by your side.” is all he murmurs, stoic and mean.

you huff an incredulous breath. “what?”

“i said hands by your side. please.”

scoffing, you roll your eyes, muttering your discontent below your breath as you drop your hands to your side. just as he thought, the entirety of your palm extends past the pleated hem of your skimpy little skirt, deeming your attire an inappropriate violation of dress code.

wordlessly, his narrow eyes rake over your body, cock swelling at the sheer amount of exposed skin. he lets off a humorlessly breathy laugh. in his eyes you might as well be nude, sauntering around the office in a blouse that gives way to the shape of your breasts and a skirt that does little to hide the color of your pretty laced panties.

after some thought, he eventually grumbles. “do you… like pissing me off? does that get you off?”

coyly, you shrug, fingers reaching for the hem of your skirt in a vain attempt to make it appear longer. absentmindedly, the tips of your sleek, pointed heels dig into the tiled floor, your gaze falling away to avoid his. it’s rude, you know it is, but how are you supposed to maintain the eye contact that he so often demands when he looks at you like… that.

“look at me.”

and you do, peering up almost instinctively from the tiled floor to observe the way he tilts his head in thought, swallowing you whole with those low, authoritative eyes, his gaze perilous. a ponderous finger smooths over the stubble adorning his cheek, conjuring up the ultimate punishment for such a salacious crime.

“come here.”

now, you’re bent over his warm, burly lap, that pinstriped skirt hiked above your reddened ass while a big hand smooths over your prickling skin. thwack! you squeal, body shuddering from the force of the impact, an electrifying heat swirling deep in your core. thwack! this time you’re biting down on the inside of your cheek, swallowing the moan that threatens to pry your lips apart.

“how long must your skirt be to be considered appropriate?” the timbre of his cold, demeaning tone makes your stomach sink.

you swallow thickly, cunt aching. “f-fingertip length.”

thwack!

“again.”

“fingertip! fingertip length, fuck.”

nanami hums in what can only be described as satisfaction as you writhe against his lap, hips pushing into the air while he disciplines you the best way he sees fit. a hand is smoothing over your sore, achy skin, nimble fingers curiously skimming the soddened fabric of your panties.

a pretty little sound is leaving your gaped mouth when he mindlessly pushes them aside, baring your warm, sloppy cunt. he laughs in his disbelief, taken aback by the several, sweet gossamers of arousal that stretch between your lips and the cotton of your panties. so much for learning your lesson.

another hand his forcing your skirt further up the fat of your ass, the striped fabric bunching around your waist. the soft pads of his fingers are brazenly spreading you apart, putting that poor, sopping pussy on display and for him. nanami watches as your desperate hole tightens around nothing, wordlessly begging to be touched, fucked.

“ridiculous.” he mutters, yet his fingers are circling over your swollen clit once. twice. “you’re getting off on this, huh? oughta’ spank her too.” leaning down to whisper into your ear, nanami smiles something wicked. “look at you humping yourself on my hand like that… you want me spank that pretty pussy, don’t you?”

you’re nodding, pleading, begging as you nastily arch into his touch, shamelessly rutting your aching cunt against the hand that paws at you. god, you are just so fucking pretty and utterly desperate. bent over like such a whore, whining for him to punish you or fuck you or finger you. it doesn’t fucking matter.

a loud gasp is parting your lips when the tips of his fingers land against your pretty cunt with a lewd plap! your arousal clinging to the pads of his digits, splattering almost obscenely and staining his freshly pressed slacks. plap! plap! plap! your entire body is shuddering from the electrifying impact, a shameless moan spilling past your lips.

“god, you’re ridiculous.” nanami laughs, his breathy chuckle sinister in bass as he pulls your wet panties back into place before smoothing your skirt down. “you have an hour to go home and change your clothes. we’re done here.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s forcing you off of his lap and sending you on your merry way, but not without his handprints adorning the fat of your ass and the fleeting memory of his fingers teasing and spanking your cunt. and you’re the ridiculous one?

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idolomantises · 2 days ago

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I find Sarcastic Chorus's video on why he's quitting Helluva Boss really interesting but I'm kind of baffled by the number of people straight up not understanding his reasoning for quitting. I think it's interesting how both his video and the online reaction to it is basically the consequences of modern fandoms treating art like its something to mindlessly consume and not worth analyzing and critiqing, or else you're consuming it "wrong".

Like his argument isn't that he hates the show or that he was forcing himself to criticize the show, in fact one of his main problems was that he couldn't be MORE honest in his reviews because of how fans would react to it. The problem was that when your job is to analyze a show, and it has way too many problems to ignore, and you're dealing with a hyper-sensitive fanbase that's hostile to criticism, you end up feeling exhausted or flat out disinterested in reviewing it.

I actually find it really concerning that fans are coping so hard with him quitting that they're framing it like its his problem because he was "looking for problems on purpose" when it was pretty obvious that it genuinely makes him kind of miserable trying to pick apart the show's issues. I remember when he was SO confident that Hazbin Hotel would be amazing and "prove the haters wrong" only for him to acknowledge that it was a complete mess. I'm honestly more confused by the fans who watch a reviewer and then get mad when he... reviews things. It's not even that they disagree with him, but the audacity to even point out very noticeable flaws in the product is enough to set them off and accuse him of being a clout chaser and a hater. Like do you want to see a review or did you just want to watch someone lie to you and blindly praise a series for 30 minutes, because i find it really odd that so many fans are insistent that he should've done the latter.

I also got pretty annoyed by this insistence that he wouldn't have turned on this show if he didnt criticize it and "turned his brain off" instead which is the same stupid excuse people gave for Hazbin's sloppy writing. and I just find that just... baffling? Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, as extremely flawed as they are, are clearly shows made with the clear intention of being taken seriously. Ffs the crew calls Helluva Boss "queer Bojack Horseman". Helluva Boss tackles topics like abuse, trauma, classism, racism, toxic relationships and redemption and Hazbin Hotel tackles themes like sexual trauma and abuse, redemption and religious oppression. But the problem is that both shows do it so poorly that people genuinely think that it's meant to be slop content that you're just supposed to turn your brain off and listen to.

I'm not going to forget when these fans were treating Helluva Boss's season 1 like peak queer representation and writing and insistent that Angel Dust was this amazingly well written gay male character that people only hated because he was messy and imperfect. Honestly kind of funny that I was chastised for saying that Angel Dust is just a sex joke only for the show, the crew, the merch, and even the damn playbill reduce him to just that. Slapping on trauma (especially knowing that its more of a fetish than a genuine exploration on male sexual abuse) doesn't really negate the fact that Angel Dust is poorly written. Side note: his fans are way too unhinged and aggressive, its getting very weird.

So its funny to me that now that Helluva Boss season 2 completely nose dived and Hazbin Hotel is a sloppy mess that feels more geared for children than adults, that now people are being told they're not allowed to analyze these shows or even pay attention to their problems, and are treated like idiots for doing so.

I think the problem is that I kind of think fans also notice the lowered quality of writing in both shows. because why aren't people actually defending the writing and character progression? instead of "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because his criticism is incorrect and misses these points" its "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because he should have shut his brain off and treated these shows like its cocomelon for adults"

#txt #deeply fascinating fandom. lol if i had a fanbase treat my tv show like this id be so annoyed #imagine doing all that hard work and effort only for your fans to be like 'oh no guys its bad on PURPOSE youre not supposed to analyze it!'

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rafeysbangs · 2 days ago

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⋅˚₊୨୧↷ bf!rafe loves your lingerie sets

warnings ; suggestive !, pretty fluffy - nothing else, rafe refers to reader as baby :)

notes ; i bought new lingerie today so here's a fic based on how my very real boyfriend rafe cameron acted when i showed him ( i'm gonna go touch grass now xo )

"raaafe, i've got a surprise for you..."

you sang as you walked through the door of your shared condo, trillions of bags in hand. he mumbled something in response from the bedroom, distracted by something on his phone - probably work related - so you snuck into the bathroom, plotting to grasp his attention.

the door creaked open as you stepped into the bedroom, the soft click of your heels against the hardwood floor drawing rafe’s attention from where he was sprawled lazily across the bed. his phone slipped from his hand onto the mattress, forgotten the second his eyes landed on you. his gaze swept over you slowly, taking in every detail of the lace hugging your curves, every inch of skin it left exposed.

he froze, his mouth slightly open, the corners tugging into a faint, incredulous smile. “what-” he started, his voice rasping, but the words caught in his throat.

you shifted under his gaze, tugging at the hem of the delicate fabric even though it did nothing to cover you. “stop staring,” you muttered, your face burning as you glanced away.

“stop staring?” he repeated, pushing himself up from the bed so quickly it startled you. his eyes stayed locked on you, wide with disbelief. “baby, how am i supposed to stop staring when you walk in here looking like this?”

“it’s just lingerie, rafe,” you mumbled, trying to play it off even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“no,” he said, shaking his head as he crossed the room, his bare feet padding against the floor. his hands found your waist without hesitation, his fingers firm but gentle, his touch warm against your skin. “it’s you in lingerie. don’t downplay it.”

you laughed nervously, trying to step back, but his grip held you in place - not forceful, just steady, grounding. “you’re being dramatic.”

he tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “dramatic? baby, i’m not even playing it up enough.” he leaned in closer, his breath brushing over your ear. “do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?”

your breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. his thumbs brushed over the lace, and he shook his head, his eyes softening as they roamed your face.

“don’t hide from me,” he said when you started to glance away again, his voice quiet but commanding. he cupped your chin, tilting your face back toward his. “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, and i’m not just saying that.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you whispered, your cheeks flaming, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible not to believe him.

“i’m not,” he insisted, his voice firm but full of affection. “you walk in here looking like an actual dream, and you think i’m gonna let you downplay it? not a chance.”

he bent down slightly, his forehead brushing yours as his fingers traced idle patterns over your sides. “you don’t even need this stuff to have me losing my mind over you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “but this? this just isn’t fair.”

you laughed despite yourself, your nervousness melting under his touch. he pulled back enough to catch your eyes, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “there’s that smile,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “that’s my girl.”

before you could respond, his lips found yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to savor you. his hands slid up your back, skimming over the lace, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

“you’re staying in this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice dropping lower. “because we’re not leaving this room for a while.”

his words sent a shiver through you, and you barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands roaming like he couldn’t get enough of you.

and from the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world, you were starting to think maybe he couldn’t.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

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motorsportbarbie13 · 3 days ago

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A Package Deal - epilogue 1

In which Lando has doubts about his worth.

warnings: angst and talk of parental death. fluff at the end tho. pairing: lando norris x singlemom!reader word count...idk like 2k? maybe less!

A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - A Package Deal - Part 6

"Today was...a lot." You sigh, collapsing into bed beside an already tucked in Lando.

"Mhm." Lando's reply is quick, a sound devoid of any emotion that has your head swinging over to where he sits beside you.

You, Lando, Stella and the rest of your family had spent most of the day moving things from your old house into the house you and Lando had purchased a few weeks after returning home from Switzerland. Both of you had wanted a fresh start as a new family and this home was supposed to be your new beginning. Something about his demeanor right now though had alarm bells ringing in your head.

"Everything okay my love?"

At this point in your relationship, you and Lando could pretty much communicate solely with an exchanged look across a room and a change in posture. You could tell when something was off with your fiance.

"Are we sure Stella should be calling me dad?"

If you had been asked to predict what was bothering Lando before he had opened his mouth, the question he asked you as he sat avoiding your stunned look was simply not even in the top 1,000 things that could have been on that list.

"I'm sorry, come again?" You try so hard to keep your anxiety and anger in check at the absolute audacity of his question, hoping that he has a good reason to be questioning his role in Stella's life.

The same heavy weight of anxiety sits on Lando's shoulders, unable to look you in the eyes. "I mean, I'm not." He says softly. "She has a dad. He died but I can't replace him. I shouldn't want to replace him."

You stare at Lando for several moments trying to come up with a response. This was certainly not the conversation you had anticpated having tonight, not after spending nearly 12 hours moving house but, here you were. Lando and you hadn't talked much about your ex. There wasn't much to say. You had dated when you were teenagers, got pregnant by accident as teenagers sometimes do, and by the time you had Stella you had gone your separate ways. He had been a good dad to Stella in those eight months before the accident, of course, but he had never connected with Stella the way you had when she was a baby.

Gingerly moving over so you're shoulder to shoulder with Lando, you lay your head on his shoulder. Relief that washes over you when he drops his head onto yours and takes your hand in his, playing with your engagement ring while he sits quietly.

Lando wasn't having second thoughts about you and Stella, about his commitment to either of you. Absolutely not. He was insecure and worried about stepping into a role that he thought he didn't deserve.

"Lan, Stella was eight months old when Chris died. You're not trying to replace him but you're the only dad she's ever known, baby. Where is all this coming from?"

If you know Lando like you think you do, you're pretty sure somethings got his anxiety up and he's worried himself into a spiral where he's convinced himself that he's not good enough or worthy of the family that he's got now.

And when he opens his mouth to explain, your suspecisons are confirmed.

"When I was packing up Stella's room today, I came across a few pictures of Chris holding Stella in the hospital." A bright shock of pain slices through Lando's chest at the thought of that picture and the feelings of jealousy that had come with seeing it for the first time. He couldn't believe how jealous he had felt knowing that he had missed that with Stella. With you. How he'd missed seeing you pregnant for the first time, how even when you started a family together like you'd talked about countless amounts of times, he'd never truly be the first one to have a family with you. He had spent the rest of the day thinking about how maybe he didn't deserve to have Stella call him dad anymore, how he hadn't earned it because there had been someone before him.

"I just don't want her to grow up thinking I'm trying to take his place. She has a dad already and what if resents me for stepping into that dad role when she's older? What if I don't deserve to be her dad?"

The pain in Lando's voice has your chest squeezing so painfully it becomes difficult for you to breathe. "Lando." You whisper, interlocking your fingers with his as you nuzzle deeper into his neck. "Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You pause, waiting for him to at least confirm he's going to try. When you feel him nod against your head, a small humm emanating from his throat, you continue. "Stella was eight months old when Chris died, she has no memories of him. You are the only dad she's ever known, okay? You. Do you understand me?"

"But what if..."

"No." You interrupt, tone a bit harsher than you intended. "Nope, you need to stop right there with the 'what ifs', Lan. Chris and I were friends for a very long time before we even started dating. I knew him very well and I need you to trust me when I tell you that he would be very much on board with Stella calling you dad."

Lando lifts his head before tilting your chin up so you can finally look at him in the eyes. His brows are furrowed and he's looking down at you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Like he doesn't have the confidence in himself to believe what you're saying is true.

When he doesn't say anything further, you continue. "That little girl that I just finished tucking into bed adores you. She thinks the absolute world of you, my love. She was the one to call you dad in the first place, and if there's one thing i've learned since becoming a mom its that sometimes you have to trust that what your kid is saying is the truth. They're little humans with feelings and thoughts and beliefs of their own. Stella wouldn't call you dad if she didn't want to."

Your chest rises and falls faster at the end of your little speech, eyes searching Lando's for some kind of hint that you're getting through to him.

And you are. Lando's chest aches with the truth that he knows you're telling him. "I just don't think I could stand knowing I screwed something up with her. That I was a bad dad to her because I'm not really her parent."

You can't help but laugh at that and Lando's brow tugs together in confusion. "Baby, you're more of a parent than you realize."

"What do you mean?"

You reach down and capture Lando's hand in yours before giving it a squeeze. "You're not a true parent until you spend a majority of your time wondering if everything that comes out of your mouth or every decision you make is going to somehow screw up your kid. It's natural and it doesn't mean you're a bad parent."

You take Lando's face in your hands, pulling him towards you. When your nose is a breath away from his and you can almost feel his lips dusting over yours, you grin. "That makes you a good parent, Lando. And an even better one because you're helping raise a baby you didn't make. Stella is as much your baby as she is mine or Chris', do you understand me?"

Tears sting at the back of Lando's eyes. He hadn't realized how much seeing that picture of Chris and Stella in the hospital had bothered him. He felt guilty for ever being jealous of Chris, for being cold to you, for questioning Stella's judgement of her own feelings. All of it comes welling up in his chest, this feeling of overwhelming guilt threatening to drown him for a moment. You can see it happening, the panic attack coming on that you've witnessed before. You know how hard he is on himself, how much he wants to be perfect for everyone else because letting anyone down is akin to a waking nightmare.

"Listen to me." You beg, willing him to open his eyes so he can see how serious you are right now. "Lando, look at me."

Lando's eyes flutter open after a moment and you smile at him. "You are a good dad. The perfect dad for Stella, I swear to you. The first thing she asks me when I pick her up from school is always 'Is Lando home yet?' but since we came home from Switzerland, it's always 'is dad home yet?' Dad. That little girl sees you as her dad and that's the best gift you've ever given me. Do you remember what you told that horrendous PR girl last year?" You pause and Lando chuckles, that day last year in Miami flashing before his eyes.

"You told her Stella and I were the center of your world but you know what? You're the center of mine and Stella's world. I don't think you realize how important you are to other people, to us. Neither of us could survive without you, and that alone makes you worthy of being my husband and my little girl's father, okay?"

Tears stream down both of your faces as the words you've just said hang in the air between you, heavy and silent. You stay quiet, the reverberation of your words etching themselves into Lando's bones. He knows you're right, of course you are. But knowing you're right and beginning to believe it by himself? That was proving to be a little bit harder. But your words help him realize that he's doing a better job than he might think he is.

"Okay." He rasps out before covering your lips with yours, deperatly trying to show you just how much he loves you.

yourusername (private) posted

128 likes liked by lando, BFFSarah, yourdad and others yourusername loves of my life. (tagged: lando) lando prettiest girls i know >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

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miange1 · 1 day ago

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THANOS

male reader, thanos being pushy, bathroom sex, i'm a heavy believer thanos loves rough sex, aphrodisiacs, reader pretends he feels nothing for thanos, reader is a Korean speaker yet race is not mentioned, italics means switching to english, homesickness, anal fingering, being forced to stay quiet, thanos has a big dick and you cant prove me wrong, im 100% sure he's experienced in every kind of sex possible, brian moser typa freak, reader isn't a virgin he just hasn't had say gex

"Ah! You're alive!" He smiled, coming to hug you tight in his arms. He took small note of how you looked at him, how happy he was even after many people had died, there was no reason to be happy.

Yet to him, there was. He was seeing you, and he was head over heels just for you. He would pull multiple things just to make sure you wouldn't be hurt in the slightest, whether it meant keeping you close to him, or having others die just to keep you by his side.

Scoffing, you shoved yourself off of him and squinted your eyes towards him. "Don't touch me. You're weird." His voice turned whiney as he did the exact opposite, throwing his body into your shoulders and hanging off of you. "Come on, this ain't primary school is it? I don't have any cooties." He shook you slightly noticing that you laughed, he swore he heard it but you shook your head and frowned— claiming you did nothing of that sort.

"He has no interest in you." Nam-gyu came up behind him, patting his arm. Thanos shook his head, "No, he does. He just doesn't know it yet." Nam-gyu gave him a weird look, looking back over at you and watching as your expression changed when you went to your own group of choice. "See that? He didn't smile at you." Thanos planted his palm on the brunettes face, ignoring him and shoving him off.

"Oh— dude!"

"Shut up." Thanos kept his eyes on you, but his words directed towards his friend. "I can tell when someone is playing hard to get, it's easy." Nam-gyu shrugged, "I can't tell."

"Well of course you can't." Nam-gyu made a noise of offense. What was that supposed to mean?

Night fell, and everyone just wanted to sleep. Needed a break, especially you. It was pathetic to you, your stomach hurt and you felt like crying every single second. You missed your mom, and you just wanted to go home. You wanted to eat at the dinner table with her again, you wanted to mess around again, and feel happy. But now you were here just because you thought this was a quick way to get money.

"Fucking scam.." you muttered, getting from your mattress to head off to the bathroom. It was quiet, the floors squeaky underneath the unbranded shoes you wore on your feet. This whole situation was unsettling.

You took a moment, splashing a bit of water on your face to clear your head.

Multiple thoughts that ran through your head had been interrupted by the door opening. "I'll be out in a minute.." thinking it was a guard, you wiped your face and got ready to leave.

"Leave? I just got here."

Oh, thanos could just hear your eyes roll before he even saw you. "Why the long face, hm?" His purple hair blurred passed you as he leaned on the sink, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him. When you didn't pull away, he already knew he had you.

"It's none of your business." He looked up a bit, shrugging. "Good point. But I don't like that answer." God he was annoying.

A harsh breath pushed from your nostrils, taking a moment to think about what to say. You thought, and you thought, but then you thought too hard and your lip started to quiver slightly. Eyes getting watery, trying to get something out but it was silent and Thanos didn't expect this from you.

He himself stuttered a bit before he took into action, feeling your hand pull away slightly he tightened his grip and pulled you closer. The usual smug look was much more caring and considerate truly wanting to hear you out. "I'm sorry I just.." more broken sobs came out.

"I'm sick..sick, of this. I want to go home, Thanos I want to go home." From a few inches away, to hugging yourself into his chest he allowed himself to have his arms around you.

A slight smile tugged at the edge of his lips, it's not that he was going to fake comfort you because he really did feel sorry. It's just that this was his chance.

He stopped hugging you for a moment, opening his necklace, taking out an orange pill and offering it to you. "It's something that will make you feel better." He mumbled a small, "I promise." After seeing your suspicious face.

You grabbed it, observing it a bit. "Thanos. Is this a sex drug?" He eyes averted a bit, lips going into a thin line. Your face had pure disbelief, but you popped it anyways. Before he could even smile, your lips connected with his and you backed him into the stall of the pink doors.

The two of you were already hard, grinding on each other and practically swapping spit. His hands were kept on your hips, making sure you stuck to him like glue and didn't part from him.

"Oh fuck.." your voice, God he loved your voice and he needed to hear more of it. His lips came to your neck, open mouthed and sloppy and making sure marks were left for others to see that he finally had you.

Your fingers went to his hair, gripping them due to the pleasure he was bringing you. Damn he was good even if he was just dry humping you and sucking your neck. It made you think how many times he must have had sex before this as well, making you feel just a bit jealous.

You gripped tighter, pulling his head back so he could look you in your eyes. You shivered a bit feeling saliva drip down to your collar bone. Gross. "Fuck anyone after this, and I'll kill you myself." He giggled like an idiot, nodding his head. "Yes sir."

His tongue came to suck on his own fingers for a bit, while his other hand worked on pushing your pants and boxers down. "This gonna feel weird, just give it a minute." His joking tone dropped, giving you a bit of a feeling in your dick. He sounded like he wasn't high 24/7 though the two of you were high off of an aphrodisiac. It was just attractive.

His fingers prodded for a moment, before pushing in and you had instantly yelped. He pushed your head into his shoulder, shushing you. "It isn't that I care." He spoke softly into your ear, "But it would bother you if someone heard, hm?" His painted fingers moved inside of you, thrusting in and out and he knew exactly what he was doing and it had you crumbling right then and there, you were sure he was holding half your body weight up.

"Thanos, Thanos, fuck.." He himself had groaned, his own eyes rolling back hearing you moan out just for him. His fingers pulled out, making sure you kept still. "Don't move too much." Your eyebrow cocked a bit, what did he mean? He took out his own, tip red and sensitive as he messaged it up and down just a bit.

But you, your eyes were wide with surprise and almost regret. "No." He looked back up at you, "No?" But he needed a yes.. "No. No way is that gonna fit." Oh, that was it. He almost thought you were gonna leave him like this. "Oh, but please." He put your chin up, kissing at your neck again to keep you distracted.

"It's only gonna sting a little..tiny.." He pushed inside, too eager to wait it out and go inch by inch. You winced, hitting his shoulder as even more tears pricked at your eyes yet they were tears of pleasure.

"Shush, hey hey, stop moving." You whined and complained. What did he mean stop moving? This fucking hurt! But he only had so much time to prep you up.

"Slow, go slow—" "I am going slow." The feeling of his girth stretching you open was pain you never felt before, yet it felt so good at the same time. Groans turned into moans and whimpers, your harsh grip turning into soft squeezes on his clothes from each thrust he was giving you.

"Shit..so tight.." As much as he had wanted you to moan loud for him, you were getting a bit too loud yet you couldn't help it. He kept you preoccupied by kissing you, muffling your noises down just a little bit.

He was so damn close, could feel your pre on open skin and could feel himself pulsing inside of you, he was so close—

"Player 230, and 231."

#bottom male reader #squid game x y/n #squid games #squid games x reader #squid game x male reader #squid game #player 230 #230 squid game #thanos #thanos x reader #thanos x male reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong x male reader #thanos x you #thanos x y/n

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 2 days ago

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juno - spencer reid x afab!reader

reader finds out how good spencer is with kids and can't keep the thoughts from pouring in

requested!

genre: fluff, smut wc: 2179 warnings: established relationship, daydreamer!reader, talk of pregnancy, p in v, unprotected sex(duh), brief breeding kink, i love yous, reader has hair?

my first time ever writing smut!!! keep your pitchforks to yourself please!!!

You've known for a long while of your boyfriend's affinity for the young souls out there. Perhaps he was one of them. Perhaps he was just an overgrown one of them. It was something spoken about early on, his love for kids. He mentioned that he's the godfather of his coworker's little boy and how he's always wanted one of his own. A boy or girl, it doesn't matter. As long as he got to raise one with the fatherly love he never quite received.

That was all fine and well to know until you actually got to see Spencer with a child. Babysitting Henry was supposed to be a way of letting JJ and Will have some fun for once. It turned out to be much more confusing. He was sweet, gentle, and spoke in a soft tone that drove you oddly insane. When he started doing card tricks, you thought your heart would explode.

That's why right now you're sitting in the car completely silent. You've never been one to shut up so it's no surprise that he knows something is off. It's not your fault that you're suddenly lost in an alternate reality in which you're in a large house with a small baby. Maybe two. It's not like you wanted to get started right away. Nonetheless, something about the idea was appealing.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks softly, eyes narrowed.

Technically, yes, you're fine. Too many thoughts but fine.

"Yeah, of course," you hum. "You were really good with Henry today."

A bright smile breaks out on his lips as he lets out a breath that's just barely a laugh. "You think?" his brows furrow, glancing over at you almost nervously.

You nod, shoulders loosening. "I do." While fiddling with your necklace, you add, possibly with too much meaning, "you'll be a really good dad."

His face turns red and he focuses on the road. Before long, the thoughts swarming in that head of his refuse to stay inside and he speaks gently, "is that what you're thinking about?"

A topic you've talked about—your tendency to daydream. It's not a thing you've kept hidden. In fact, it's your favourite pastime. However, it's a little awkward to tell your boyfriend that you're imagining him getting you pregnant.

But you were never a good liar.

"Yeah," you admit, fingers still at the pendant on your chest, eyes watching the passing scenery and streetlights.

"And?"

To that, you're not sure there's any response that doesn't seem insane.

"And what?" you ask cautiously.

After a quick glance in your direction as if he's testing the waters, he clarifies, "are you opposed?"

"To what?"

"Kids."

Oh. Well, no, not in the least. The idea of raising a family with Spencer is thrilling and you believe it's something you do want. You've always liked kids and kids have always liked you but the thought of seriously settling down has never truly crossed your mind. Until now, you suppose.

You shake your head, eyes lingering on his jawline. "No. You know that," you mutter softly.

"I do... but we've never talked about it. Just because you like children doesn't mean you necessarily want them," Spencer says like it's the most simple thing.

"True." The singular word is almost impossible to hear. You add gently, "but, I do."

He nods, turning his head to look at you in a way slightly different than all the other times. You can't quite place it, though. What you do know is that it definitely caused some major butterflies in your stomach. Then again, that happens a lot. But when his right hand moves from the steering wheel to your thigh, you're sure that look meant something. Something good, you think.

You're even more sure when, the moment you get to his apartment, he kisses you deep, lips parting to make way for his tongue. It's not rough at all. Loving, mostly. Like he's ensuring that you know you're cared for. You smile wide, unable to stop the giggle from leaving. Pulling back with an equally lovesick smile, he laughs, "what?"

Hardly a second later, you place another peck to his still grinning lips before answering with a bright, "what's going on?"

His eyebrows raise. "Nothing... I don't know what you mean," he says in easily a whole octave higher than usual. Your eyes narrow as you search his eyes.

You beg dramatically, "tell me."

He sighs then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up. "About what you said... in the car... you meant it?"

"What I said...? About kids?"

Spencer nods. "Yes."

"I meant it, yes." It's spoken hesitantly. You're not positive where this conversation is heading.

"I just... like the thought," he shrugs, leaving you to walk towards the bedroom.

Really confused and a little intrigued, you follow, watching him start to unbutton his cardigan. "The thought?" you hum, crossing your arms in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Of you... pregnant," he mumbles like he doesn't want you to hear, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground before picking it up to put it in his laundry bin.

He didn't need to say it like that. He could've said the thought of starting a family, of having a child. You're not a profiler but the way he decided to word the sentence makes you think something bigger has been revealed. Freudian slip or intentional, he's not telling you everything that's on his mind.

"Pregnant. Really?" You picture it and, perhaps it's because you'll be the one carrying it, but all you seem to be able to picture is chubby ankles, morning sickness, and mood swings.

Simply, Spencer nods, eyes finally meeting yours. You smile up at him sweetly as his hands come to cup your face. "There's just—I don't know... something appealing about it. About being the one to..."

Now, you get it.

"Oh. Like—oh! So, that's what...?" you babble purely out of shock.

Who knew Spencer Reid had the fantasy of impregnating you floating around in his brain?

His hands drop to your shoulders, squeezing gently. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—just forget—"

To his surprise, you cut off the soon-to-be-ramble with your lips on his. It takes a second for him to understand what's happening but he does, mouth moving against yours eagerly, his hands sliding up to your face. While smiling, you drag your hand down his neck and to his tie, tugging it loose. Once he clues in to where you want this to go, his fingers slip under your shirt, gripping your waist firmly. The tie comes off, dropping to the floor and, soon enough, your shirt's gone, too.

He takes a few steps to the bed before lowering you onto it carefully. As if handling glass, he glides his hand down your stomach, to the button of your jeans.

"Can these come off?" he pants against your lips.

Nodding desperately, you whisper, "yeah."

With a nod back, Spencer unbuttons the jeans and pulls them down your legs. His palms slide up your thighs as he presses another kiss to your mouth. "Go lay down?" he suggests softly.

You comply immediately, moving up on the bed and laying your head on the pillows to watch him undo his shirt one button at a time. Next, his belt comes off. And then his pants. When he's left in only boxers, he positions himself above you before kissing down your neck. Your back arches and he uses the opportunity to move his fingers to the clasp of your bra.

You aren't at all unfamiliar with his skill but, every time, it continues to catch you off guard how, in a few minutes, you're at his mercy, willing to do anything he asks of you. Then again, when are you not?

He tosses the bra aside to join the rest of the discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. His attention is, of course, then drawn to your chest, one of his hands grabbing at you while the other suddenly starts small circles over your underwear.

"Spencer, I don't need that," you mutter breathily. You don't really want his hand at the moment.

His head lifts from your neck, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Spencer asks quietly, "are you sure?"

There isn't much you're capable of doing at the moment so you nod. He takes the answer and hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your panties. His eyes fall directly to the newly revealed area the same way they always do, adoration spilling out of him at the sight of the collecting wetness. A small smile on your face, your hands drift down to take off his boxers.

With the last barriers removed, your lips connect again and his hand moves to line himself up with you. The kiss breaks when he looks down to watch himself push into you, a whimper leaving you and a shaky breath leaving him. He quickly bottoms out and you whine.

Softly, he murmurs, "you okay?"

"Yeah, just," you laugh, "...full."

Spencer breathily chuckles with you, nodding like he's trying to get himself together. "Right."

After a deep breath, his hips start slowly, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of each other again. No matter how many times you do this, you still always need a minute to get used to him. Your breaths come out in gentle pants and occasional whimpers until he speeds up and you can't contain yourself. Desperate moans of pleasure spill from your lips as he moves.

"Doing so good—feels so good," he mumbles, eyes now screwed shut.

"Really, really good," you nod eagerly, voice soft. Your hands paw at his back in search of anything to hold on to.

The sensation is almost too much you think you might burst. Although, when he starts to whimper, that's when you really lose it. The way he sounds and the way his face scrunches up, it's intoxicating. You need more of it.

You cry with want, "harder... please."

Like always, he attempts to give you everything you need and desire. He nods, hips quickening and lewd sounds coming from your bodies. A small gasp leaves you. Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to hit your deepest point. It's a feeling you'll never quite get used to. The moment he reaches that spot, it's never long after that it's over.

Letting out a gasp, you clench around him, causing his movements to falter and become more frantic. A breath quickly leaves him before he's asking, "inside, right?"

You whine, "mhm," dangerously close to slipping off that ledge. Your mind brings you to images of you pregnant, his baby growing inside you. This time not so scary. You imagine this moment in a very different time, when his release will signal a new start and not just an end.

His mouth finds your shoulder, pressing careful kisses to the skin. The hand not holding his body weight finds the sensitive point between your legs, eliciting a loud moan from you. Desperately, you cling to him, arms wrapping around him for any more contact. That familiar feeling builds deep in your gut and you whine, finding your eyes rolling back.

It happens quickly, the finish line getting closer and closer until it's gone and you're in another universe of pleasure. Your hips try to escape but Spencer doesn't let that happen. His hand moves from your center to your hip, holding you down with little force. The fog clears just in time to watch him reach that very same ecstasy. Lips parted against your shoulder, he whimpers, movements becoming even sloppier until they slow.

The odd warmth spills from you. His breaths come heavy as he relaxes against you and pats your head—an interesting choice of affection after sex but somehow suitable. When he pulls out, you sigh shakily, watching him go to the bathroom. Before long, he's back with a damp cloth. He opens your legs again, running the fabric over you with a tenderness you couldn't possibly describe.

He joins you after discarding the cloth. An elbow holds him up so he can look at you, looking so perfect, lips swelled and hair splayed delicately over the plush pillows. He's staring. Mind wandering, he pictures a world in which you're rounder and perhaps with a ring on your finger. You're deep into pregnancy, probably grumpy with him but he doesn't care because you're his. Only his, forever.

Again, not today, not now, but someday. When the funds are appropriate and you know it's the right choice. Not that he ever doubted.

Just above a whisper, he says, "so... that doesn't mean I want—"

"I know. I'm glad," you grin, still quite dazed but completely content.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he sighs. "I love you."

"I love you," you mutter back.

As previously stated, Spencer Reid is a man that's good with kids. You presume he's even better with you, though.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut

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hockeyboistrash · 3 days ago

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operation get luke a girlfriend | l.h

summary: jack is tired of watching his brother pine over his best friend so he takes matters into his own hands to get you both to admit your feelings for each other. His plan, however, goes horribly wrong.

this idea popped into my and had to write it. I've never written for Luke so I hope I've done it justice. this one has been cooking for a while so I hope you enjoy. This is basically 4.2k words of best friends to lovers.

@star2fishmeg this one's for you 💖

You and Luke were best friends. You would do anything for each other. It could be after midnight but you would still pick Luke up after a roadie. Luke would ditch a game of Chel with his brothers if you were having a bad day, bringing you your favourite food and movies. Whenever asked about it the same three words would be spoken. ‘We’re just friends.’ No one was convinced though, especially Jack. Watching his younger brother pine after his best friend was painful to watch. He wanted nothing more than his brother to be happy. You brought him out of his shell. Luke was quite reserved around people unless you were his family so Jack and Quinn were surprised when he said more than two words to you the first time you met.

It didn’t faze Jack that Luke was dressed up to go to a party, only smirking at him as he got his stuff together. He saw the way your eyes lit up when Luke agreed to go to your party and how his brother bit his lip to try and hide his smile after you hugged him. It was obvious there was something more between the two of you and Jack hoped tonight one of you admits it.

Luke wasn’t normally one for parties and he has a game tomorrow but when you invited him he couldn’t say no. The party playlist you curated was playing as he slipped into your apartment. It didn’t take long before he heard his name being called from across the room. “Luke! You came!” You shouted, flinging your arms around him while Luke wrapped his arms around your waist instinctively.

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” He mumbled, loud enough so only you could hear him. Luke was glad you couldn’t see his face, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Well I appreciate it.” You told him, your lips tugging into a grin. “Let’s get you a drink.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the makeshift drinks table. Luke looked down at your intertwined fingers, liking the way it felt. He knew he shouldn’t though because you’re his best friend. Best friends aren’t supposed to miss the feeling of your hand in his when you let go. Luke missed the warmth of your hand in his cold one. He could shove them in his pocket to try and warm them up but he preferred the alternative, holding your hand. “Earth to Luke.” You waved your hand in front of his face, giggling as you brought him out of his inner spiral.

“Yes. Sorry. Thank you.” Luke stuttered out.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, eyebrows tugged into a slight frown, worried about him as he was a little distracted.

“Everything's fine.” He told you, trying to cover up the fact he was thinking about holding your hand again. You weren't convinced though. You've known Luke for a couple of years now and you knew when he wasn't being entirely honest with you. You also know he likes to downplay everything.

“I know it's easier said than done but you don't have to worry about tomorrow. You're going to defend like hell out there and win.” You said, giving his forearm a comforting squeeze. Luke loves your positivity. It's contagious and never fails to make him feel better. He knows that there's no way the team will win every game but you still tell him he will and he still goes onto the ice with a pep in his step. “Maybe you'll even score a goal.” You winked, your laugh was music to Luke's ears. He could kiss you right now. He wanted to kiss you but there's no way you felt the same about him so he buried those thoughts deep in his mind. He would rather bury his feelings than risk losing his best friend.

Your name was shouted from across the room before Luke could think of a witty comeback. You grabbed his hand and started dragging him with you. Luke’s eyes widened seeing the karaoke set up. “Not gonna happen.” Luke said, shaking his head vehemently.

“Relax Luke, I wasn’t going to make you sing. I just- This is going to sound dumb.” You started, biting your lip slightly. “Basically I kinda agreed to sing one song on the karaoke machine with Maria but now I’m nervous and, I don’t know, I thought having you there would make it not as bad. It’s dumb I know.” You rambled.

“It’s not dumb.” Luke mumbled. He was taken aback by your admission. You were one of the most confident people he knew. “I’ll be standing right here, cheering you on.”

You grinned, thanking him before going over to your friend. She handed you a microphone as the start of the song began playing. Your eyes twinkled as they found Luke in the small crowd of your friends that was gathering. To him, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. He was so engrossed in your performance that he didn’t notice he wasn’t the only one watching you intently until someone nudged him, his drink spilling over his hand. “They’re amazing aren’t they?” They shouted over the music, gesturing to you at the front of the room. Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about this guy that made his skin crawl. He grunted in agreement hoping he got the hint that he wanted to be left alone until you came back over. He didn’t.

Luke didn’t even get a chance to greet you before the guy next to him did. He didn’t remember you mentioning anything about a new guy in your life. You told each other everything. Your new friends, any potential boyfriends or girlfriends, anything that is going on in your lifes so he was confused when you greeted him. “Luke this is Scott, Scott this is my friend Luke.”

‘Friend’ That stung a little. Luke wasn’t sure why though because it was true, you are friends yet hearing you introduce him to some guy, who you may or may not be hooking up with, as a friend caused an unfamiliar feeling to bubble inside.

“I’m gonna head out.” Luke mumbled, leaning down so only you could hear him. He wasn’t in the mood to third wheel which is what it felt like to him. Luke only knew you and your roommate at this party and only came for you.

“Oh, okay. Let me walk you out.” You said trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. You made the short walk to the front door, handing Luke his coat. “Thank you again for coming. I know you have a game tomorrow so it means a lot that you came.”

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” Luke shrugged. He could add so much more, he wanted to in fact yet there was something holding him back, maybe it was the rational side of his brain that knew if he continued speaking it would change everything. He wanted to tell you that he knew coming would make you smile and he loves your smile. He wanted to tell you that he misses you when he’s gone, wanting to spend all the time he could with you.

“Well, I’ll be there tomorrow night, front row wearing number forty-three.” You told him, your lips turned up into a smile. It was contagious causing Luke’s to do the same. He loved when you wore his jersey.

“See you tomorrow.” Luke said, giving you a quick hug. You didn’t let go though, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“See you tomorrow, Luke.” You said, turning quickly to the door and heading back inside the party.

Luke stayed frozen in the hall, staring ahead. He didn’t miss the way Scott was watching the two of you. He must have watched you kiss Luke. You kissed Luke. On the cheek. Something neither of you have done before. The most you have done was hug each other but never kissed. Luke was glad you went back inside so you couldn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Luke wasn’t exactly sure how he made it back to his and Jack’s apartment but he did. It was like he was on autopilot. Locking the door behind him. Slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat up. “Luke?! Is that you?! You’re back early.” Jack called from his spot on the couch where Luke left him earlier in the evening.

“Y/N kissed me.” Was all Luke said before heading to his room leaving Jack shocked.

“What the fuck.” He mumbled, surprised at his brother's confession. Jack immediately rang Quinn to inform him of the revelation, ignoring the time difference.

“This better be good.” Quinn greeted, sighing at being interrupted and wondering why his brother is still up so late.

“Hello to you too.” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Thought you’d want to know Y/N kissed Luke.”

“What?!” He shouted down the phone. “Are you sure? When? What?!” Quinn was lost for words. He knew his brother was madly in love with you and that you were madly in love back, anyone with eyes could see that except you two. Their mom also picked up on it.

“I don’t know. He didn’t elaborate.” Jack said. “It’s time though.”

“Jack, don’t.” Quinn warned, knowing exactly what he was on about. This wasn’t the first time he brought it up but Quinn was insistent that they shouldn’t meddle in their brother’s love life. Jack was bored of waiting for either of you to make the first move and decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Too late. The plan has been made. Operation get Luke a girlfriend is a go.” Jack said, ignoring his brother's concern and hanging up on him.

-x-

Jack had a plan. It wasn't a great plan and Nico told him that at any opportunity he could. All he could do was shake his head at his teammates' antics knowing that once Jack had an idea there was no way to stop him.

“We need to somehow find out if Y/N is dating this Scott guy.” Jack said, his voice low in case his brother walked in. They had just finished practice and were sat in their stalls in various states of undress. Jesper and Dawson leant forward, hanging on every word.

“We could just ask them? Aren't they coming to the game tonight?” Nico suggested while Jack gave him an incredulous look, like that was the craziest idea he's heard.

“Or we could invite them round to the team party and ask them about how their life is?” Dawson piped up.

“Yes! That's it!” Jack exclaimed, making Nico roll his eyes because that was basically his idea, just more straightforward.

“Won't Luke ask Y/N to come?” Nico asked.

“Nah he's freaking the fuck out that he's ruined their friendship or something.” Jack told them. He finally got it out of his brother what had happened last night. That you were talking to this guy, Scott, and then you kissed him when saying goodbye and then you haven't messaged him about the kiss. Luke was convinced it was the end of the friendship he knew and loved. “So we gotta give them a little push.”

Nico shook his head, getting up to go to the shower just as Luke was coming into the locker room. “This is a terrible idea.” He mumbled, wanting no part of it.

-x-

Your eyes lit up when you saw Luke leaving the locker room, your lips tugged into a smile just as bright. The Devils had just won so you're not sure why your best friend didn't look his usual happy self after a win. His eyes landed on you, surprised you're here and wearing his jersey. He made his way over to you, his strides large so it didn't take long for him to stand in front of you.

“You still came?” Luke said, struggling to hide the surprise in his tone. He could feel his finger twitch by his side, the urge to tuck the stray bit of hair behind your ear strong.

“Of course I came. Did you not want me to come?” You asked, worried that you overstepped. You looked down at your shoes, wanting to hide from his gaze.

“No, no. I'm glad you came. I want you to be here. It's just- I didn't hear from you all day so I didn't know if you were still coming.” Luke stuttered out, hating that the thought of him not wanting you here crossed your mind. “I want you here, Y/N.” He reiterated, silently pleading for you to look at him again.

“I'm sorry I didn't message you today. I had a little too much to drink after you left and then I didn't wake up until midday. I thought you'd be too busy at that point so I didn't want to bother you.” You admitted, looking back up at him. Luke wanted to tell you that he's never too busy for you. It was on the tip of his tongue but as always his brother has the best timing.

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed the moment his eyes landed on you.

“Hey Jack.” You smiled at the older boy. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks Y/N.” He grinned, not realising he was interrupting something or not caring. “You're coming to the team meal, right?”

“Team meal?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed. You looked at Luke hoping for some clarification.

“I was going to tell you.” He told you, rubbing the back of his neck. “The team is having a little get together next weekend and you're invited if you want to come.” Luke could kill his brother right now. He was going to ask you himself but now he’s worried you're going to think he didn’t want you there. The rational side of him knows he's just overthinking however ever since the kiss his thoughts have been in overdrive.

“I'd love to come. As long as I'm not intruding.” You said, biting your lip slightly, a nervous habit of yours. You always felt a little weird going to team events, official or unofficial ones, as Luke’s plus one because you weren't dating. That fact you were very much aware of.

“You're not intruding, Y/N. All the guys would love it if you came.” Jack assured you. “Besides, we need someone to keep this guy in check.” He teased earning an eye roll and a playful shove from Luke and a giggle from you.

“Well I'll be there.” You confirmed. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Oh, errm, I think Cap is sorting all that out so better ask him.” Luke told you, trying to get you to leave for a moment so he could curse his brother out.

“I'll go and do that.” You said, spotting Nico across the corridor. You gave Luke's hand a little squeeze and smiled at him. “I won't be a sec.”

Luke watched you go over to Nico and Dawson, waiting until you were out of an earshot before scowling at his brother. “Why on earth would you mention the dinner when you know I haven't asked them yet.”

“Didn't know you actually were going to ask them.” Jack shrugged. He was trying to hide the amusement this situation gave him.

“Well I was and now Y/N's going to think I don't want them there.” He hissed, keeping his voice low so you can't hear them.

“They're not going to think that.” Jack told his brother even though he knew it was no use. Once Luke had something in his head it was hard to change his mind. “Y/N is in love with you! It's so obvious but you refuse to see it.”

“We're just friends.” Luke insisted, trying to convince himself more than Jack.

“Friends don't do what Y/N does. Friends don't kiss.” He pointed out. Luke clenched his jaw, trying not to make a scene. That was the last thing he wanted right now. All he wanted was for Jack to shut up, to stop him giving him hope knowing it'd only bring him heartbreak. Luke couldn't handle your rejection.

“I'm not interrupting am I?” You asked, your smile fell when your gaze landed on Luke. You rarely saw Luke angry. You knew he got angry on the ice but this was different. The last time you saw him like this, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, was at a bar and some creep was hitting on you, not taking no for an answer.

“Not at all.” Jack said, slightly shaking his head at his brother before walking away, leaving the tension hanging. Luke was about to follow but you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, willing for Luke to look at you instead of staring ahead.

“Everything's fine, Y/N.” He hoped you would let it go. The problem with being best friends though is you know when something is wrong.

“Luke, you don't have to keep things from me. I know something is wrong.” You said, searching his face for any reaction, the silence killing you. “D-did I do something wrong? Please tell me if I did something wrong.”

“I-I'm sorry.” He had to get out of there. It broke his heart being the cause of your hurt but he didn't want to make things worse. “Jack’s my ride and I-I have to go.” Luke stuttered out before walking away to join his brother.

“Luke, wait.” You pleaded softly but it was no use. He was gone. You didn't want to cause a scene so you willed the tears that threatened to fall to wait until you got home.

“You alright, Y/N?” Nico asked, making you jump slightly not realising there were people still in the corridor.

“I'm fine.” You said with a forced smile. Nico saw right through it but he didn't want to bring it up. What he was going to do is kill Jack. He knew it was a terrible idea to interfere with Luke’s love life and now he may have ruined their friendship. “I better go too. Got a lot of work to catch up on. Great game tonight though.” You rushed out before hurrying to your car, wanting to put as much space as possible between you and the arena.

The moment you got home you made a beeline to your room, ignoring your roommates calls. You threw Luke’s jersey off, the material feeling uncomfortable on your skin. You were spiralling, pacing the room as your mind went over every little detail from the past couple of days. One minute you were discussing summer plans and inviting him round to your party and the next you're kissing him. That's when the realisation hit.

“You're home early.” Your roommate said, leaning against the doorframe. “Thought you'd be hanging out with Luke tonight.”

“He probably doesn't wanna see me ever again.” You mumbled, face down on your bed.

“Don't be ridiculous of course he does. You're his best friend.” She sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “What happened?”

“I kissed him last night.” You admitted, biting your lips slightly feeling nervous under your roommate's gaze. “And now I've ruined everything.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked and you told her everything. From the way you felt brave enough to kiss him on the cheek goodbye to not hearing from him all day. Then you told her what had happened at the rink. She listened as you spilled every thought and feeling you had without judgement. She let you get everything off your chest before chiming in. “It sounds to me that Luke is being stupid. He’s so in love with you that it’s kinda sickening sometimes. I swear he’s permanently got heart eyes whenever he sees you. Just give him a little time, you know how in his head he can get.” You nodded, taking in her advice knowing she was right.

-x-

You weren’t going to come to the team dinner. Even though Luke has apologised for what happened after the game and you were talking again something felt off between you. It was like there was an elephant in the room that neither of you were talking about. Jack had texted you, persuading you to still come and so did Dawson and some of the other guys. That’s why you were standing in front of the door, finding the motivation to knock on the door.

Nico was the first to greet you, answering the door when you finally knocked. He took your coat, hanging it up on the coat rack by the door while you walked down the hallway to the living room where you were met with a chorus of hello’s.

“Damn, Y/N! Got a hot date after that we don’t know about.” Dawson called from the breakfast bar, a drink in each hand. You couldn’t help but look down at your outfit, feeling a little self conscious. You knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way but now you were worried what you were wearing was a bit much. Luke wanted to assure you it wasn’t too much, that you looked beautiful tonight. Well to him you always did.

“Nope. No hot date.” You told him, your eyes not leaving Luke as if it was him you were telling. They followed him as he excused himself to the kitchen, not missing the way blush dusted his cheeks. You decided to join him in the kitchen, wanting your best friend back and the only way that would happen is by talking to him. “Hey.” You greeted, making Luke jump slightly.

“Hey.” It was soft, like he didn’t want to ruin the silence. Your eyes raked over him, taking in every detail in case this was the last time you saw him. From his curly hair, which you enjoy running your fingers through, to his hands, which you miss holding.

“Please tell me if I read the situation wrong. That you didn’t want me to kiss you goodbye.” You said, your directness surprising Luke a little. “Because right now I feel like I’ve ruined everything.” You waited for an answer, the silence killing you. Your eyes flickered over Luke’s face looking for any reaction, willing for him to respond, but nothing.

You took that as your answer, leaving Luke alone in the kitchen and heading out of the front door, grabbing your coat on the way. You didn’t care if everyone saw what happened. At this rate you would never see the team again. You didn’t stick around long enough to hear their concerned questions or to see Luke realise what you were saying.

“Y/N, wait!” Luke called after you, running down the street in a t-shirt and jeans. Even after everything you were concerned he was going to catch a cold or something.

“Luke, what are you doing? Where’s your coat? You’re going to get ill.” You rushed out, fretting over him. He hadn’t even noticed he didn’t grab his coat. That was the last thing on his mind, the first being you.

“I don’t care. I had to catch up with you.” He told you, pulling you to the side so you weren’t in peoples' way. “I’m sorry.”

“Luke-” You sighed but he continued, wanting to get everything off his chest.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve been a shit friend recently. I’ve just been so in my head about everything and that’s not an excuse but I’m sorry. If anyone’s ruined anything it’s me.” Luke rambled. “You kissed me but I thought you were going out with Scott so I tried to put distance between us which was very stupid of me because I realised I hate being apart from you. I liked that you kissed me though.”

“Y-you did?” You asked.

“Yes and I wish I could kiss you back this time.” Luke said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. They were cold but you didn’t mind. It felt natural, like they were where they belonged. “If you want me to, that is.” He added, not wanting to overstep. You didn’t trust your voice to reply to him, to tell him yes you wanted to kiss him. That you wanted him to do that for the longest time. You leaned up, brushing your lips against his, an invitation for him to kiss you. It was soft, Luke wanting to savour every bit of it. Your lips were sweet from your lip balm, a fact he would remember for a long time. “I love you, Y/N, and I’m so sorry I was too chicken to do anything about it too.”

“Well you weren’t the only one who was scared.” You assured him. “I love you too.” Luke couldn’t help but smile hearing those words come out of your mouth. You leaned up to kiss him again, his cold skin touching yours making you shiver. “Let’s head back and get you warmed up.” You said about to walk back to Nico’s apartment when Luke stopped you.

“Or we could just go back to mine.” He suggested, not wanting to go back to everyone just yet.

“Fine but you’re having a warm shower. I can’t have your mom or your coach kill me because you got sick.” You told him.

“But it’d be worth it though.” Luke grinned and he was right. It would be worth it because you are in love with your best friend.

#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #nhl

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