#just..tired earlier -question mark-

[affableramen]

when they finish earlier than you

mature content including sexual themes; established relationships

Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Baizhu

Wriothesley

He groans with emotion but it’s only a few seconds after he realises that you’re still beneath him, still haven't come. Wriothesley looks at your widened, surprised eyes and agape mouth. 

“Bloody hell—”, he spits with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry, we haven't seen each other for a while and I—”

Wriothesley gently caresses your hip, while chuckling and looking at you half-blushing. “Shit, I must have missed you too much.”

It’s not a problem for him to bring you to the peak with his mouth or hands. 

Tartaglia

He squirts his release with a loud moan, pressing you close to his chest, his face buried into your neck. Those little bites shall leave radiant marks.

“Oh my god…” Ajax moans into your neck. “Oh f-fuck—I—”, he pats your back, “Fuck, I have never come so fast before. It’s not my fault, peanut, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He jokingly says, hiding his blush into your neck so you have no idea of it. Ajax is incredibly embarrassed and frustrated with his manhood that got too sensitive too soon.

Neuvillette

Neuvillette feels embarrassed and upset over losing his composure so quickly. He usually lasts long, and finding himself in such predicament gives way to the feeling of guilt and frustration.

“Darling, we can go one more round to get you satisfied. Please forgive me, my love.”

“No need to, Neuvillette, the both of us are tired. We can do it anytime during the week.”

“But I feel so guilty for coming first and not giving you the release you deserved. Let me at least satisfy you with my hands.”

“I don’t mind that, but please don't stress yourself out too much. It’s just sex, we can do many times better later. Nothing changes between us if you simply came early.”

Neuvillette caresses your face softly and speaks with emotion.

“You know that I usually last. I feel so defeated right now.”

To comfort your husband you place a kiss on the centre of his palm.

“Cumming early doesn't make my love to you fade, Neuvillette. In all honesty, I’m glad if I make you so excited that you can barely hold it together.” You give one other awkward but loving smiles. 

Pantalone

“I—I apologise. I did not foresee that, darling”, with a perplexed, disoriented look Pantalone pulls away. He gets purchase on the clean towel and covers his body in shame. A terrific sight, so rare for the Ninth Harbinger who is usually unabashed, especially in intimacy. 

“Oh my—how pathetic!”

You try to comfort him, saying that he must have been both too excited and tired after work, which ended up in premature peak, but Pantalone seems too distressed and angry at his inability to control himself as he quickly vanishes from the bedroom. 

Ayato

With a stiffled moan Ayato finishes, but somehow it feels so wrong - releasing much earlier than you, when his significant other’s orgasm is in question. 

Ayato grabs the towel and wipes himself clean, while looking down at you, your legs still thrown on his shoulders. 

“Oh my goodness”, he laughs at himself, but the laugh is nervous, not cocky or proud as it usually is. The man’s ego seems to die out ridiculously soon, as quickly as he finishes this time.

“We’ll have to go one more round after that…” he hisses, his member still very sensitive. “Once I get ready again.”

Capitano

“Hngghh—” 

Capitano pulls out with a well-heard grunt and pulls you closer to his chest. You are lying on top of him, your bodies are slightly wet when he makes a remark:

“I apologise, wife. It seems my stamina betrayed me tonight”, he gives a smooch to your cheek, brief but filled with devoted emotion. “Maybe if you stay a while like this, I can satisfy you longer. What do you think?” He delivers yet another kiss, this time to your neck. His voice sounds much quieter and he gently runs his hand through your hair.

“We should really stay together tonight. I feel like I need you more than ever. And not a word about this to anyone.”

Dottore

“Dottore, get out of the bathroom, immediately.”

“No!” A grunt and a curse escape from the inside of the bathroom. “I must learn what caused the fail in performance.”

“Dottore, I’m happy either way. Besides you looked quite funny.”

“FUNNY—she thinks I’m funny”, he utters to himself under his breath. “I’m going to check this little idiot for ruining our bedtime.”

Your amused laugh can be heard from the bedroom, as Dottore’s anger at his own manhood looks funny.

Alhaitham

“Oh, Y/N—f-fuck!” Alhaitham certainly does not expect himself to cum prematurely. His face looks red and his expression radiates emotion. You swear you have never seen a face sexier than this. You didn't know that he could ever be able to cum so hard (and so soon). 

Alhaitham scowls, looking at you. “What? You think this is funny? It’s just a one time occurrence.” Another moan escapes his mouth and he covers his face with his hand. “You shouldn't see me like this—”

Dainsleif

Dainsleif falls onto the bed, utterly defeated and pulls you with him. You notice how heavily he is breathing and judging by the perplexed look on his face, never he did expect rushing his own release. He was shocked, to say in the least.

“Don’t look at me like that. You think you’ve defeated me?” Dainsleif groans when you move to his chest. “I will make you finish twice next time, and believe me—much earlier than me.”

Baizhu

Baizhu lets out a moan he did not expect coming and immediately covers his mouth. His face is red and silly when he looks down at you. He is blushing extraordinarily, and the buds of sweat roll over his chest as he towers over you. 

“Let’s pretend this did not happen, my dear”, he runs his hand down your lips and onto your neck. “Oh my goodness, how embarrassing.”

Yet you just give him a sincere laugh. “Baizhu, it’s alright. I enjoyed it immensely.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

you shouldn't be (down here with me)

sequel: you shouldn't be (up here alone)

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Rating: M (for mature, nonsexual content)

Notes: This popped into my head this morning and wouldn't leave me alone so here you go; not beta read.

Warnings: Reader has suicidal thoughts; reader has a breakdown; Jack Abbot's A+ Coping Skills; Jack Abbot's insistence in eye contact; canon-typical medical chat; bed sharing

Summary: When you're almost shot at work, your body snaps into autopilot as your mind goes into overdrive. Jack has always recognized parts of himself in you—he knows a mind teetering on the edge when he sees one.

I was gonna let him do it

"Another four of dilauded."

I was gonna let him do it

Your movements are automatic. You can feel the nervy glances thrown to you every few seconds. You know they're all waiting for you to crack, to say that you need a minute, to sub in for you so you can rip off your PPE, run to the bathroom, lose it.

I was gonna let him do it

You can't blame them—you had a gun pointed at your head half an hour ago. They don't know that you'd almost been resigned to it in that moment.

I was gonna let him do it

"Call surgery, let them know he's stabilized."

You turn, pick the phone up, dial, pause, relay the message.

I was gonna let him do it

--

"You alright?" Ellis asks as you pull your bloody PPE off, tucking it into the in by the door. You shrug, nod, hold your hand out for the spray of purell from the wall-mounted dispenser as you head for central. You pointedly ignore North Two, where the man is being held as the cops talk to him.

"Doing okay, champ?" It's Shen this time, and his use of 'champ' garners him a sidelong glance and a raised brow. He takes your muted wrath in the spirit with which it's meant, holds both hands up in easement before he skirts around you to finish filling out a chart.

You stop at your computer, leaning over it logging and eyeing the results of a blood test on a case earlier in the shift. You feel someone stop beside you, figure that they'll move on their way, that they're waiting for someone to clear before they move again.

I was gonna let him do it

When the presence lingers, you don't have to look up to see who it is. You know that a simple nod will send him on his way for at least a few minutes, but you don't think you can look at him, not right now.

"Something I can do for you, Dr. Abbot?"

Your smart question is met with silence, and you pull in a deep breath through your nose. You brace yourself before you pull yourself up to your full height, meeting his eye.

You know immediately that it's a mistake.

Jack is looking at you the way he looks at a troubling case—discerning, dissecting; trying to pinpoint where the pain is, what fix he can apply, prescribe.

"You're not sending me home." It's meant as a request, but it comes out as a plea. You know that your firmness missed the mark when his head tips to the side, just a little. His eyes dart to North Two, hold there for a moment.

"Tell me what you need."

"To be here," You insist, "To work." To not think about it

A short nod, just enough to let you know that you're good to get back to your job. You bow back over your computer, expect Jack to leave. But—

"If you change your mind—"

"I won't." You're too tired to be embarrassed by the fact that you answered too fast. And as Abbot turns away, you just catch on his sigh, his mutter of, "No, you won't."

--

When his hand lands on your lower back on your way out of the ER, you figure he's just keeping you moving—maybe to sop you from turning around and making this shift a double, or to help you avoid the couple of news vans and reporters that have pulled up.

You let him steer, even as that steady pressure keeps up for block after block. You don't even realize where you are until Abbot stops, fishes into his pocket for a set of keys. You look up at the unfamiliar door, mind racing as Abbot unlocks it. He turns to you, holds it open, waits.

You should tell him off. What the fuck was he thinking, bringing you back to his place like some stray puppy? Never mind the fact that this man is your boss, that this is wholly inappropriate.

You should go back to your apartment, shower, get into bed. Maybe schedule an emergency appointment with your therapist.

But you also know that you probably shouldn't be alone right now. Your apartment will be too quiet; your head will be too loud. That was half the reason you'd insisted on staying at work. You glance down the block, consider, then slide past him and step inside.

--

You take your time looking around—eyeing the books, the mail, the photos, the knick knacks—the little things that make somewhere home. You turn back to Jack just in time to see hm changing his shoes, putting a high-backed house shoe on where his boot usually covers his prosthetic.

Neither of you speak as you put your bag down and he takes your jacket. He disappears down the hall of the apartment, returns with a stack of fabric. You take it, cataloguing a towel, a washcloth, a pair of sweatpants, a shirt.

"First door on the left. Put your clothes in the hamper in there, I'll wash 'em." He nods toward the hall. "Go on."

--

You expect yourself to break down the second the warm water hits your skin. But as you stand in the steam, the toll on your body takes precedent. Your head is pounding; your feet are throbbing; your back and neck ache.

I was gonna let him do it

You draw in a deep breath, bracing your hands on the wall to ground yourself.

I almost let him do it

Your jaw tightens, stomach churning as you think back.

Gun muzzles were always described as cold, but this one was warm—probably from being tucked against the man's body. You can still feel the weight, the press of it, the slight waver and brush as his hand had shook. You can hear the click of the safety.

Your mind had gone quiet in that moment.

You'd just leaned in, and told the man that he'd only be making your shift better.

It had been enough to shock the both of you.

It had caught him off-guard long enough for you to try and disarm him, to call for security as the the two of you had struggled, sending the gun skittering under the bed as the treatment bay filled with security, fellow residents. Ahmad had the guy in a headlock in seconds; Abbot was between you and them before you could blink. When he'd asked you what had happened, all you'd managed was to point toward the bed, to say, "Gun."

The cops had tried to give admitting shit for it, but you'd waved them off, insisted, "He didn't seem—When he came back, he wasn't like that. I was trying to assess him. I must've moved too fast, he freaked. They couldn't have known, they didn't do anything wrong, so don't—don't."

Shen had tried to talk you into going home; Ellis had bombarded you with questions. Abbot told them to back off. He hadn't asked you if you were alright; he hadn't tried to make you go home, either.

"Where are you going next?" He'd asked. You'd just nodded toward the board, answered, "Hyperkalemia, South Three," and gone on your way.

--

You can smell coffee when you step out of the bathroom. You glance back in, making sure you clothes are safely tucked into the hamper before heading back into the living room. Jack passes you on the way, hands you a tv remote, says, "Mugs are on the counter."

"Thanks."

You get yourself a cup of coffee, tuck yourself into the corner of his couch. You consider the remote for a moment before setting it on the coffee table.

I was gonna let him do it...Wasn't I?

Were you? What the hell would that have done to everyone around you? Were you so far gone that you hadn't thought about how it would effect everyone else in the department? What would the patients have done when they'd heard the pop? You know your fellow doctors would've come running—what if he hadn't stopped with you?

Your lower lip wobbles. Tears prickle at your eyes, and the well of panic and fear and resignation that you'd been waiting for spill over. You sit with the mug of coffee in your hands, letting go to swipe at tears and sniffle every few seconds.

You've calmed by the time Jack comes back out. You know that you look hellish; your burning eyes must be red-rimmed, bloodshot. He sits down on the other end of the couch, nods toward the tv.

"Nothin'?"

"Feel free," You croak. Jack huffs, picking up the remote and turning it on. You listen to the tv as he flips through a few channels. You glance between it and him a couple of times.

"You're not gonna try to get me to get some sleep?" You ask.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"God no."

"Okay," Jack gives a small shrug. "I can never turn it off right after a shift."

"...Huh."

"What?" He frowns, glancing toward you.

"Just uh...Implies that you're ever able to turn it off...At all."

A smile unwittingly pulls at your lips as Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to the tv. You lean back against the couch, scrubbing your hand across your eyes. The sounds of a baseball game make you pick your head up, brow furrowing as you squint at the tv.

"There's a game on a eight in the morning?"

"I recorded it."

Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you nod.

"We can watch something else," Jack adds.

"No. No, this is good."

--

You don't focus much on the game. Now and again, the tears flow, and you let them run quietly until they ebb. You dab them with your borrowed shirt sleeve.

Jack manages to wait until the seventh inning stretch before he asks:

"You talking to anyone?"

"I have a therapist."

"You speak to 'em regularly?"

"Mhm."

"They know about this?"

"About what?"

When he doesn't answer, you glance toward him. You expect open reproach, but Jack watches you with patience—and maybe a little pity. You push a sigh through your nose as you turn back to the tv.

"I talk to her about the day to day stuff, you know, not the...Grippy sock stuff."

"So you don't think about this every day."

"No."

Jack hums; you see him nod in your periphery.

"I had a bad day," You hurry to add, "We all have them."

"Not bad enough to tell someone threatening to shoot you that they're about to make your shift better."

Your head snaps to Jack, stunned—you'd omitted that from your report. But he just tips his head, shakes it again.

"I was one exam room over. I put two and two together when you pointed out the gun."

A lump forms in your throat as you burn with shame and embarrassment.

"I didn't—" It bursts out of you as the tears well again. "I wasn't—No one was supposed to know—"

Jack's across the couch in a second, pulling you into his chest as you sob. His hand curls around the back of your neck, thumb sweeping your nape as you shake against him. You feel his breath against your hair; you think you feel the pressure of a kiss, but it's gone as soon as you register it.

"C'mon." It's a soft urging as you slowly calm.

"Where 'm I going?" Your tongue feels heavy; your voice is thick from your crying.

"To get some sleep."

"I'll sleep here."

"You'll get better rest in a bed."

"I'm not taking your bed, Jack."

"You'll be more comfortable."

"I don't care. They need you in working at the Pitt."

Jack's hand slides around your neck to gently grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"We need you, too." His hold on you stays firm as you try to look away, bu he won't let you. He gives a small nod, searching your eyes. "I need you. Okay?"

You muster a small, short nod, sniffling.

"I'm still not taking your bed."

He sighs, but it doesn't stop the smile growing on his lips.

"Stubborn little so-and-so," He mutters before pushing himself off of the couch, holding a hand out to you. "Come on."

You take it, letting him lead you down the apartment hall again. You take a cursory look around his bedroom as you had his living room a few hours ago. You climb ungracefully into the neatly made bed, snuggling under the covers.

Jack takes a moment longer, drawing the blackout curtains closed, leaving only his bedside lamp to light the room. You roll onto your side, tucking your hands under your head, watching the play of his back muscles beneath his shirt as he leans down, removing his prosthetic and massaging the skin there for a moment.

He glances back and gives a small smile when he spots you watching him.

"All set?"

"Not gonna read me a bedtime story?"

He snorts, reaching out and shutting off the lamp before shuffling under the covers himself.

"Keep it up and you're sleeping on the couch."

You smile into the darkness as he settles down beside you. You can feel him watching you—maybe waiting for you to fall apart again, to offer reassurance.

"...Sorry I cried on you," You mumble.

"I prefer it to having a patient pee on me."

"Oh, well in that case—happy to oblige."

Your eyelids flutter as his hand smooths over your cheek. "Get some sleep."

"Mmkay."

You hold your breath as his hand slides down your cheek, over your shoulder, trailing down your arm. As his fingers skim across yours, you impulsively catch hold of his hand. You're certain he'll give your hand a squeeze before pulling away, but Jack goes still, and you fall asleep with your fingers tangled together.

--

"Hungry?"

You nod, shuffling closer to the table where a pizza box is laid out on his small table.

It had been strange to wake up alone in a bed that wasn't yours, and it had taken a few moments to remember where you were, and how you'd gotten here. Your freshly washed clothing had been neatly folded and waiting for you when you woke up, but you'd stayed in your borrowed clothing.

"You up long?" You ask, sitting at his table.

"Mm," He shrugs. "A bit."

You narrow your eyes slightly, fishing your phone out of your pocket to eye the time.

"How long was I asleep?"

"You got a good five hours."

You grunt, taking a slice leaning back in your seat, muttering, "New weekly record."

"What do you usually do when you can't sleep?"

"I don't know. Read?"

"You need some new hobbies."

"11-8, we've got a report of an assailant with a knife–"

You glance over as Jack hurries to stand, watching him go into the living room and switch something off. Your brows raise as he comes back, amused by the way he studiously avoids your eye and settles back in.

"...Was that a police scanner?" You ask knowingly. His answering grunt is enough, and you stifle a laugh. "So let me get this straight: you hang out listening to the police scanner like you're fricking Batman, but I need some new hobbies?"

"Alright."

"Are you actually fighting crime when you're off shift? It would explain your go-bag."

"I like to be prepared."

"Uh-huh." You smile as Jack shakes his head, picking at a piece of pepperoni on his slice. "Thanks for letting me crash."

"Sure. You needed sleep."

"I mean...I mean crash-crash."

"Just glad you came in."

"You didn't think I would?"

"Wasn't sure." Jack takes a bit, leans back in his seat. You don't have to look to know that he's watching you; to be able to feel him winding up. You figure you're going to get a speech, but—

"Tell me next time you feel like that."

You wince, wind up to argue, but Jack holds a hand up to stop the argument.

"I don't need to know what you're thinking word-for-word. But tell me if it's getting...You know."

"Scary?"

"Does it feel scary?"

You consider it, picking at the crust on the slice. "...Last night did."

"A man put a gun to your head. That would scare anybody."

"...Yeah." You draw in a deep breath. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"When you're thinking about going to the roof." You think for a moment that you've gone too far; Jack's brows pop up, jaw muscle ticking as he clenches it. You wait for him to tell you that you've overstayed your welcome, o give him back his clothes, take your half-eaten slice and get out.

But instead he leans across the table and holds his hand out. Deal.

You take hold of his hand, pump it once, and you both settle back to finish eating.

--

"You coming in tonight?"

You give him a knowing glance as you pull your jacket on, and he smiles, nodding.

"I figured you would," He adds, "Never hurts to ask."

"I guess."

"You could take the day. Everyone would understand."

"I need to get back in there."

"Exposure therapy."

"Something like that."

You pick your bag up, slinging it over your shoulder. "I know I said it before, but thank you. Seriously. I don't, uh..." You trail off, looking around his entry way. "I don't know what the last few hours would've looked like if I'd gone home."

Jack closes the gap between you, tipping his head to catch your eye, and smiling when you do.

"Anytime."

And from anyone else, you'd think they were just trying to console you, but in that moment, you know that he means it. You nod, reaching out and giving his arm a gentle squeeze and a pat before turning away.

"See you in a couple'a hours."

sequel: you shouldn't be (up here alone)

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[spicyspiders]

Professor Howlett

logan howlett x male reader smut

3.7k words

cw: power imbalance (logan is the reader's professor), age difference, rimming, virginity kink, thigh fucking, size kink, and spit as lube.

“This is utterly disappointing,” Professor Howlett tosses your paper down onto his desk with a thwap. The sound makes you jump, but you quickly steel yourself before he can look up and see how your calm expression is beginning to break.

You have to clear your throat before responding, though it does little to stop the lump you feel forming in your throat, ”I tried my best, professor,” you respond, keeping your eyes locked on the paper littered with red pen marks.

“Did you?” Professor Howlett questions angrily, making you jump once more at the tone, “because this sure as hell doesn’t read like it!”

“Professor, I-” you try to explain, but he cuts you off. 

“The first paper you wrote got the highest grade in the class, and then you go on to write this?” He asks, waving the red pen he used to mark up your paper angrily in the air as he speaks. If you weren’t biting your lip hard enough that at any second you thought it would bleed, you would laugh at the display. 

He looked at you expectantly, and with how angry he looked, you didn’t think any explanation that you could give would be enough. You had to try and do so anyway, knowing the sooner you spoke, the sooner you could leave his office and contemplate dropping his class or dropping out of college in general. 

You suck in a shaky breath before you respond, “I’m sorry, professor,” and when his angry expression doesn’t falter, you continue, “I knew I didn’t give myself enough time and knew I just had to take the hit to my grade and do better on the next paper.”

The man in front of you lets out a bitter laugh, “so you waste my time?”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir,” you respond, slouching down into the chair, trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You look up at the man across from you after a few moments of awkward silence, meeting his eyes as you try to calm your racing heart. 

He lets out a long sigh before he speaks again, “I must have set my expectations for the rest of your assignments too high,” he passes the paper across the desk until it sets in front of you, “I apologize.”

You can feel anger welling up in your body at his words. It was one bad assignment, it’s not like you were now some lost cause. “I can still write a paper just as good as the first one,” you snap before snatching the paper off the desk. “I told you,” you huff, angrily unzipping your book backpack to put the paper inside, “I didn’t give myself enough time, which won’t happen again,” you stand up in a flash, the chair shooting out from behind you fast enough you’re surprised it didn’t tip over, “I apologize, professor.”

“Hey hey hey,” Logan says, racing around the desk to grab your shoulder. He turns you around slowly from where you were about to stop out of his office and slam the door behind you, “I don’t want this to impact your grade.”

”It already is,” you spit, not angry at him, but angry at yourself. You remember getting the notification this morning that your professor had posted the grade, the number immediately turning your mood sour. 

“It’s okay,” Professor Howlett says, running a soothing hand down your shoulder, “I’ll give you a week to rewrite the paper and give you full credit back.”

“I’m not rewriting the paper,” you say with a bitter laugh that sounds a lot like Professor Howlett’s did earlier. 

“I know you can do better than this,” Professor Howlett responds, crossing his arms along his broad chest. 

“As you’ve already said,” you say, rolling your eyes, “I’m not writing an extra paper,” too tired to even think after you stayed up all night bullshitting the paper you had turned into Professor Howlett, you put the decision in his hands: “so what do you want to do, professor?” You ask tiredly.

You stare into Professor Howlett’s eyes, waiting for the man to make his decision. He looks back at you, observing you closely with his dark eyes. You are on the edge of feeling uncomfortable by the time he’s made up his mind, a look that you’re unable to pinpoint settling over his face. 

“Take off your bag and put it in the chair,” he commands, the lone tone of his voice making you shiver. 

“Okay,” you respond shakily, now back in front of him with your bag resting in the chair, “now wh-”

Your back collides with the door, and then a second later, his lips collide with yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth and feel his tongue enter the opening, the appendage sliding wetly against yours. 

Too caught off guard to respond to the kiss, Logan moans against your unresponsive lips, one of his hands going to your chin to angle your head so his tongue can move deeper. His other hand you can hear beside you fiddling with the lock, and when the knob finally clicks, you can barely hear it over the sound of Professor Howlett’s breathing after he pulls away from the kiss. 

“Professor-” you begin, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, your mind too confused on whether you should push him away or pull him closer. You’ve already crossed the line you never thought you would cross. Sure, you had your fantasies dating back to the first day you walked into class, but you thought those would just stay in your head, only coming out in breaths of the professor’s name when your mind would wonder when you touched yourself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” you correct yourself, trying to bite back a moan when Professor- Logan pushes his thigh between your legs, “I don’t think-”

He cuts you off with yet another kiss, but this time, you crane your neck to pull away from the kiss, trying your hardest to ignore the weight of your cock chubbing up in your pants. 

The second kiss ending abruptly does nothing to discourage Logan, instead, it gives his lips a new area to map out. “You drive me insane,” Logan moans against the column of your neck, his stubble digging into the sensitive skin. “So smart,” he says kissing down until he reaches the collar of your shirt, “so beautiful,” he whispers, moving to press his forehead to yours, “yet you barely talk in class,” he says, pressing his lips to yours once more, but this one much softer than the last. 

There wasn’t a participation grade outlined in the syllabus for Logan’s class like it was for some of your other professors, meaning you weren’t going to talk if you didn’t have to. Sometimes you did, feeling bad when he would ask a question and no one would respond immediately, hating the awkward silence. And now that you think about it, those were usually the nights your mind would think of him while your fingers were wrapped around your cock. Good job or good answer Logan would say, the praise lighting a coil of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“It’s only for me to see, is it?” Logan asks, his hands moving to hold your hips possessively, “only I get to see how smart you are,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, seemingly answering his own question. His lips go to the racing pulse point on the side of your neck, his teeth sinking into the skin. 

The bite burns, making your mouth fall open with a whimper, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure. Logan’s hot tongue runs over the mark, trying to soothe the pain with warmth. You give way to the feeling, letting your head fall back onto the wooden door, giving Logan more room to work. 

You bury a hand in his dark hair, running your fingers through the dark locks. Logan pulls away at the feel of your fingers in his hair, his eyes now darker than they once were, his pupils dilated in lust. You stare at each other once more before, taking in Logan’s already disheveled appearance with his dark eyes, messy hair, and crooked tie.       

You respond to the next kiss Logan initiates. It’s softer than you expect, at least, it is at the start. It begins to heat up when you tighten the hand in Logan’s hair to change the angle. You both moan when your tongues meet once more, spit mixing together. 

Logan wraps an arm around your lower back so you can stumble your way to the couch that sits against one of the walls of his office. Your lips break for air when you feel the back of your legs meet the cushions, your chest heaving as you suck in lungfuls of air.

Logan pushes you down onto the couch before one of his hands yanks at his tie, pulling it through the neckline of his sweater, and then he throws the garment away as if it has offended him.  Next comes the black sweater, leaving him with dark slacks and a button-up shirt. 

You feel your cock throb in your pants as you watch Logan lower himself onto his knees. He pushes his way between your legs, his hands going to your hips to get your pants down in a pool between your ankles. 

Your breath comes out in a stutter when Logan leans down, his nose coming into contact with the bulge in your underwear. He runs his nose along the length of your cock, then his tongue runs along the same path, paying extra attention to the wet spot on the cloth that rests over the head of your cock.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moan when Logan gets your underwear out of the way and swallows your cock. Logan takes it deep enough for you to feel, the hot, wet, constriction of his throat, his hand finding balance on your thighs. 

Logan’s breath puffs wetly against the head of your cock when he pulls away, his spit hardly having the chance to cool and dry as Logan runs his tongue up the length of your cock. He doesn’t take it as deep when he sucks it back inside his mouth, instead, he focuses on the suction. The hot suction of his mouth pulls a glob of precum from the head of your cock onto Logan’s tongue, the older man groaning at the taste.

The vibration through your cock makes your hips jump, sending your cock back deep into Logan’s throat. The movement catches Logan off guard, causing the man to gag around your cock, his throat convulsing wetly around the hard length of your cock. 

You pull the hand over your mouth and put it into Logan’s hair, trying to run your fingers through the strands soothingly. “Sorry,” you gasp, swiping your thumb under Logan’s eyes to wipe away the tears that fell. 

Logan surges up to pull you into a wet, messy kiss. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“M’sorry,” you repeat. 

Logan chuckles softly, “it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks.

Your stomach tightens at the pet name, affection coursing through your body. You place your hands on Logan’s belt buckle, already knowing how much you’re going to struggle trying to get his pants undone and out of the way. 

It takes you longer than you want to get his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, and Logan doesn’t make it any easier when he presses, chaste, soft kisses to your mouth. Once open, Logan stands to get his pants down and off, the large bulge of his cock trapped behind his underwear. 

Just the sight of the bulge has you feeling intimidated, while at the same time making your mouth water. Anticipation joins the mix of lust and intimidation in your gut, which all combine into a feeling of pleasure that has your cock throbbing in the air. 

You place your hands on his waistband, Logan’s hands coming to rest atop yours a second later. With Logan’s help, you push his underwear down slowly, watching second by second as his cock is revealed to you.   

Your fantasies did not measure the actual size of his cock in all of its long and thick glory. It hangs heavy in front of your face, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. Past the length of Logan’s cock, his balls hang heavy and full. This up close, you can also smell his musk: heady and all Logan.

A broad palm cupping your cheek draws your attention away, turning it instead to Logan’s face. A wave of heat washes over your body when you realize that in the moments where you were taking in the appearance of Logan’s cock, the man had pulled the rest of his clothes off. The button-up now lays in the pile with the rest of his clothes, giving you a full view of his broad, muscular chest. 

“I’ve never seen you so distracted,” Logan says with a smirk, his thumb running along your cheekbone. 

“What?” You question back, your voice breathy. 

Logan’s smirk broadens into a full smile, “I asked if you wanted to take that off.”

At a loss for words, you can barely think of a response, “oh,” you decide. 

Logan chuckles softly, his other hand running along the slit of his cock. When he pulls it away, a strand of precum follows the pad of his finger. Logan pushes his finger past your lips, still open in the shape of the soft oh you just let out. 

You suck at his finger when it touches your tongue, the salty taste lighting up your tastebuds. You hear Logan groan when you suck harder, wanting to get to the flavor underneath and see what Logan himself tastes like. 

Logan’s finger comes free with a slick pop, “let’s get the rest of this off,” he says. 

You only had your shirt and shoes to get off, and what should have been an easy, less than a minute process, felt like a lifetime. Logan tenderly pulled your shoes and socks off, one and then the other. Your shirt was next, coming off slowly with two broad palms sneaking up your shirt. Logan’s lips followed the path his hands made, all the way up to your lips that he kissed after your shirt was tossed away. 

Logan got back into the familiar position he was just in, but instead of sucking your cock, his mouth went lower. He bit into the meat of your thighs, and though you couldn’t see the one on your neck, you were sure that it matched the new ones he was making. 

“Roll over,” Logan commands, pressing a kiss to the mark he just made on your left thigh. Logan maneuvers your body into the position he wants, leaving your body pressed to the front of the couch, and your feet hanging over the cushions in front of Logan.

You press your forehead into the wall in front of you, feeling the puffs of Logan’s breath along your back, “do you have lube?” He asks in a low voice, his lips running across your skin. 

“No,” you reply, your body tense as you try not to shake in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his head coming to rest against your shoulder, “that’s okay,” he says, and you feel your body relax, “I can get you wet enough,” With how big his cock was, you doubt it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Logan’s first step to getting you to be what he says is wet enough is with his tongue. He starts with soft swipes of his tongue, letting you get accustomed to it. It wasn’t like it was hard, especially with the combination of the rough stubble on his face, which only added to the pleasure. 

The next step is spit, which, really you could say goes with the first. You already feel as if there’s enough of it already there from Logan’s tongue, a large extent due to when Logan kept pushing his tongue as far as it could go. It left you clenching down on the wet muscle, clawing your fingers into the couch as it massaged your walls. 

Logan didn’t let up and moved to spit a glob of spit onto your hole when it relaxed after pulling his tongue free. Caught off guard, you jerked forward, your cock coming into contact with the cushion of the couch. The friction had you gritting your teeth trying to stay quiet, hoping that because it was nearly five in the afternoon on Friday, most of the people in the building were already gone. 

Logan was quick to press the spit into your hole with a thick finger, all the way down until you were clenching down on all of it. “There we go,” Logan whispers from behind you, the wet heat of his breath on your shoulder. 

You turn your neck to face him, gasping into the kiss he presses to your lips. Logan swallows the moan that’s punched from your chest when his finger finds your prostate, the older man groaning as you clench down on his finger. 

Logan pulls away from the kiss at the same time his finger is pulled free. You feel the couch shift as Logan moves, the man making his way back down face-to-face with your hole. You’re proud of yourself for not jumping as hard when Logan spits on your hole a second time, the glob going deeper than the first after opening your hole just with one finger.    

“Does it burn, baby?” Logan asks, now that he’s using two fingers to chase after the spit instead of one.

”A little,” you whine around the burn as he scissors them apart. Almost like Logan can read your mind, he brushes his fingers along your prostate when the burn feels like it’s becoming too much. You feel precum leak from your cock, staining the upholstery. 

”That’s normal for your first time,” Logan says, pressing kisses along the shell of your ear. 

”I’ve done this before,” you respond, pushing back into Logan’s fingers. 

”Someone’s fucked you?” Logan asks, his arm coming to wrap around your stomach, right above your hard cock.

”Just my fingers,” you respond quietly. 

“How many?” Logan asks, his fingers coming to a stop. 

“Four,” you grit out, clenching down on his fingers like you’re wordlessly trying to get him to continue. 

Logan lets out a dark chuckle. He lays his hand on top of yours, his big hand bigger than your own. He stretches his fingers out, showing you how they compare in size. “That’s nearly your whole fist,” he says, his fingers starting to move again. 

“Need more,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers. 

“Shh,” Logan coos, “I know,” he lets out a warm breath at the back of your neck, “I can’t fuck you,” he says, pulling his fingers free slowly, “not like this.”

”Please,” you whine, louder than the one before. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he responds, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. You feel his weight on the couch shift once more as he spreads your thighs apart. It’s a tight squeeze trying to fit the both of you on the couch, but Logan makes it work. 

He pushes his cock between your thighs, right below your balls, already tight against your cock. He grips your hips tightly before he begins thrusting, only taking a few jerks of his hips before you push your thighs together around his cock. 

The sound of Logan’s groan behind you travels from his chest to your back, letting you feel how good you’re making him feel. ”Does that mean I was the first?” He asks, one of his hands moving to wrap around your cock. 

“What?” You asked, confused, your mind cloudy from the pleasure. 

“Am I the first to touch you like this?” Logan questions, his voice a low growl. His fingers are slick around your cock, gliding along the length. 

You nod quickly, too close to the edge and overtaken with pleasure to even say a single word. You cum to the feel of Logan’s hand around your cock, his teeth biting possessively into the skin of your shoulder, and his cock nudging your balls. Ropes of cum shoot from your cock, staining the couch in his office. You probably won’t be able to look at couches ever the same again. 

Logan’s hand shoots up to your mouth, covering your lips as you moan, overtaken by the pleasure of your orgasm. You rest against his palm, falling forward while at the same time tightening the slick valley of your thighs.

Logan muffles his moan in the crook of your sweaty neck when he cums. It nearly burns, making a bigger mess in your thighs and on the couch. 

In a blur, Logan gets you onto his chest, his back now resting on the couch, “you okay?” He questions, his hand running softly along the sweaty expanse of your back. 

“I don’t think I can move,” you respond, still riding the high of probably one of the best orgasms you’ve had. 

Logan laughs loud enough that your head shakes against his chest. Moments later, when you’re nearly lulled to sleep by the ticking of the clock in his office, Logan speaks, “I’m sorry for getting so frustrated with you,” he says softly. 

“What do you mean?” You question, craning your head to look up at the man.

“I see how smart you are,” he answers, his voice a low rumble, “it made me frustrated to see you not working up to your potential.”

“I said I was sorry,” you immediately respond, not sure if you should pout or roll your eyes.   

“I know, baby,” he says with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “I know,” he leans down to press your lips together softly, “I just wanted to explain myself.”

This time you did roll your eyes, too fucked-out to try and control your expression, “I’ll write a better paper next time,” you grumble, moving to lay your head down once more over his chest.  

[wosoloml]

crawling back to you II leah williamson x reader

warnings: toxic, hidden relationship, jealousy, angst

summary: After hiding their relationship for years because Leah was still in the closet, they eventually broke up. Yet, they always found their way back into each others lives.

wc: 1,3k I based on this request

"it´s been two years, Leah. Why are you still referring to me as your best friend and roommate to your teammates? You didn´t even tell Keira about me?! She's your best friend!" I yelled at Leah, more out of frustration than anger. I'm so tired of hiding this relationship, of hiding myself behind the 'best friend´ label.

leah being in the cloest was never a problem for me - for us. But since rumours about her dating her male best friend were a thing it as hard to keep everything private. Growing up in milton keynes it was hard to be openly gay.

"Y/n you know its hard for me to tell everyone we are dating. We both know how they reacted after Keira came out to them. She still suffers from it and i dont wanna experience it please undertstand that." leah tries to explain her situation to me and i wish i could understand her the way i want to. But im too hurt.

"I should understand you? Have you ever tried to understand me? I can't do this anymore, Leah. You deserve someone who can handle this - but I can't. I'm sorry, Lee. It's for the best if we break up."

I say the words with tears in my eyes, my voice barely holding steady. It's a hard decision, but itt's one I have to make.

Being with Leah from the time I was 14 to now, at 17, has meant everything to me. I'm so grateful for the past three years, but I just can't do this anymore.

---------

"Y/N, I BOUGHT US TICKETS FOR THE NEXT GAME AT JOIE STADIUM!"

My girlfriend's excited voice echoes through our shared apartment. It's been seven months since I moved to Manchester and three months since we started living together.

"I'm already excited!" I shout back while checking who City's opponent is. Of course - it's Arsenal.

It feels strange to be thinking about football again, especially after breaking up with Leah almost a year ago. But maybe she's not even playing anymore.

Little did I know, she's been captaining the squad for the past year.

Our seats are incredible, giving us a perfect view of the pitch. As the teams walk out, my eyes immediately land on the captain's armband wrapped around Leah's arm. A strange sense of pride swells in my chest. Playing for the Gunners - leading them - had been her dream since she joined the club so many years ago. Seeing her live that dream now brings an unshakable smile to my face.

My thoughts are interrupted when my girlfriend starts chanting loudly, her passion for the game contagious. For a moment, I forget my ex is even on the pitch.

I never told Sarah about my past with a certain blonde Arsenal player.

I could feel Leah's eyes on me the entire game.

A part of me wanted to tease her, so every time she came over to take a corner, I laughed extra loud at whatever Sarah said or kissed her deeply-just to make a point.

I wanted her to see what it felt like to be in a relationship that didn't have to be hidden. To know how beautiful it is to be loved loudly and openly.

Later that evening, my phone buzzed.

leahwilliamson wants to send you a message. My heart started racing. My eyes widened as I read her message.

'Cute little show you put on earlier today.'

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just sent back a few question marks. It didn't take long for her to reply.

'The way you laughed extra loud at whatever that girl said. The way you kissed her while checking to see if I was watching. I don't care, Y/N' . My blood starts to boil.

----

"Y/N!!"

I snap out of my thoughts as my coworker calls my name. I hurry over to the counter, my eyes widening.

'Can you serve them? I need to make a quick call.'

I manage a nod, but then I notice here - Leah. Sitting in my cafe. With another girl.

I take a deep breath, forcing a polite smile. "Hey, what can I get for you?" I ask, keeping my tone professional.

Leah smirks. "ll have a matcha latte. And what about you, babe-?" She turns to the girl beside her. "A flat white, please. Thank you" the girl says with a warm smile.

I already don't like her.

"Give me one second"

I know exactly why Leah is here - to get under my skin. And it's working. But beneath the teasing, beneath the smug attitude, it just hurts.

Seeing her be so open, so affectionate with someone else. calling her pet names, touching her without hesitation - it stings in a way I can't ignore.

Whenever we were out together, she barely even said my name, let alone held my hand. Now, she's making sure I see how different things are.

Every time I glance at their table, Leah is already looking at me, eyes filled with something I can't quite place. But I do notice how touchy she is, how overly flirty she's being.

And it makes my blood boil. I text her 'now we are even'. Her eyes darkened as she read the message.

-------

The club was alive with loud music, the clink of glasses, and the smell of sweaty bodies. It was my best friend's 25th birthday, and we decided to celebrate it in our hometown, London. I was also hoping it would serve as a distraction from my recent breakup. After two years of dating Sarah, she ended things last weekend because I couldn't bring myself to tell her I loved her. It's not that I didn't care about her or that I wasn't in love, but things felt different. The only woman I will ever truly love is Leah. Forever.

Suddenly, someone bumped into me, spilling their drink all over my shirt. "Oh god, I'm sorry!" They said as I looked up, meeting their eyes. It was Leah. Who else could it be?

"I didn't know you were here" she said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, it's Anna's birthday today, and I thought Id come back to London for the occasion" I replied. "What about you?"

Leah seemed taken aback by how easily I kept the conversation going. "Actually, we won the league today. It was the last game of the season against Aston Villa, and we won."

The conversation flowed naturally, and then, unexpectedly, she asked THE question.

"So, is your girlfriend here?" she asked.

"No,†I said "we are not together anymore." "Oh, really? Im sorry to hear that. Funny enough, my girlfriend broke up with me two weeks ago" she replied, a look of surprise crossing her face. I was stunned, my eyes widening in disbelief. The tension between us shifted, and an unfamiliar but unmistakable feeling of missing her washed over me.

After that, we kept texting and even FaceTimed a few times. The vibe was strange but oddly familiar, as though we had never stopped talking, despite having broken up over 3.5 years ago. Nothing had really changed.

---------

"Happy one year, baby!" Leah greeted me with breakfast in bed and the most beautiful bouquet of red roses. I couldn't have been happier with her by my side.

Even though she had a game on our anniversary , it didn't make the day any less special. I cheered her on from the 'Friends and Family' section, proudly wearing her name on the back of my Arsenal jersey. When she scored the winning goal, she celebrated by making a special gesture just for me.

Right person, right time.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Just Say You Had A Bad Dream

Player 001 x Reader [SMUT] 📸

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: you guys know each other from High School.

You woke up a prison room. Not like the guy at the train station advertised AT ALL. Beds lined the walls, with you could only assume 500 people fluttering around, in the same confused state as you. You looked at the giant X and O that marked the floor along with the dividing line. You stretched, muscles tensing as you did.

Some dudes in pink walked in with masked shapes and all of a sudden the room confusion was broken and turned into angry shouting. You saw names and faces on a screen above them, including their debt. You prayed yours wouldn’t show, a cool ₩10.9 million would’ve been embarrassing until you heard a shocking number.

“10 billion won” the room went silent. All looking around for the guy who somehow racked up that much. Silence was quickly broken by him brandishing his debt. You rolled your eyes and laid back down.

Time Skip:

Voting time. After that first game, you were intrigued, wanting to know what else there was to play. The death hadn’t scared you a bit, after all, instructions were clear: move AFTER ‘red light’ and you’re dead. Just like in the real game, you’re out.

“Player 013” your number was called as you walked to go press the O button, regardless of the X’s trying to get you to change your mind. You stood quietly in the back awaiting dinner or bed time, you were hungry and tired. Fuck this you thought, I just wanna eat.

“Player 001” you turned and saw none other than Hwang In Ho. When he joined your vote he joined your group until the pink guys were gone.

He seemed to make friends quickly with another guy, some guy who was screaming earlier during Red Light Green Light. You stood behind him in line for dinner.

“No Fucking way. Hwang In Ho???” You said surprised when he turned his face.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He looks at you alarmed.

“I’m here to play the game” you say coolly.

“How did you- why- how did you get here?” He asks sternly, pulling you aside.

“Uh same way you did?” You shrug.

“No no no no” he whispers quietly looking around seemingly towards the guards and cameras. “(Y/n), you can’t be here”

“Why not In Ho”

“You can’t call me that either”

You look at him. “Why not?”

“I can’t explain now, but I will eventually. Call me something else.” He looked towards that screaming guy before looking back at you.

“geoboki (turtle)?”

“Seriously, (y/n)?” He deadpans. “You haven’t called me that since high school.” You giggle.

“Well if I can’t call you by your real name, I’ll call you by your nickname, turtle boy” you poke him.

“You know, I really do miss you” he sighs finally. “Look do me a favor, approach me while I’m sitting with those guys later, I’ll make sure you survive” he grabs his food and walks away. Survive? Why would I need him to survive.

Time Skip: Later that Night.

��Come on, dude, I hate to be the one but I have to pee” you say as the pink guy shuts the window. “Fuck this” you say. You hadn’t used the bathroom all day, guess it was too much adrenaline coursing through you before you finally settled down.

“Hey, don’t you hear the lady? She has to pee.” You heard In Hos voice come out from behind you. “Matter of fact, so do I, open up” he bangs on the door. The door soon opened.

“Thanks geoboki” you whisper.

“Listen I need to talk to you” he pulls you into the men’s bathroom and drags you to a stall. “Look, be mad all you want and hate me later but I’m the only chance you’ve got at surviving this shit.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I run them.” He says. “I am the Frontman. They can’t kill me, I am their boss” he searches your face for a clue on what you’re thinking.

“So if I stay with you, I can survive?” He nods. “Okay.” You shrug. “I’m assuming I’m sworn to secrecy?”

“Yes, (y/n)” you nod slowly.

“Can I ask a question?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’re the policies about sex in a bathroom stall?”

“What?”

“We’ve done it once, back in junior year, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember” he smiles faintly as he remembers.

“Just while we’re in here for old times sake” you smile as you press your lips against his. He returns the kiss tilting his head to deepen it further. He sat on the toilet and pulled you onto his lap, you ran your hands through his hair.

“My God, your kisses haven’t changed” he groans before reattaching his lips to yours. He begs entry into your mouth with his tongue, you denied him. You feel him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his erection that’s in the middle of a war with his pants. Pulling a moan from you before pushing his tongue in your mouth.

“Talk about not changing, you pulled the same move on me 15 years later” he chuckles kissing you again. His hand slips into your pants, shoving a finger right into your core. His finger presses on your g-spot, rubbing against it. You feel his thumb tease your clit, having found it by memory. “No, no, I want you” you moan out.

“Then it’s me you’re getting.” He growls, standing up. He pushes his pants down and pulls your down. You kick off your shoes so you can free yourself. He picks you up and slams you against the stall. Dropping you on his angry cock. A guttural groan comes from inside his chest. “Fuck, why are you so tight?”

“Saving myself for you” you joke. He begins pounding into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving HICKIES on every bare square inch. You moan as he does, raking your fingers through his hair, you reach down into his shirt and dig your claws in.

“Oh god, (y/n), please. I want them to bleed” he groans as he fucks you. He angles and begins hitting your gspot, you nails dragging down his back as he did.

“I’m gonna cum” you groan as he kisses your lips. “Fuck I’m gonna cum”

“Hold it, I’m not done using your pussy yet. It feels too good”

“No no no don’t make me hold it. I can’t hold it” you say erratically. Beginning to lose your grip on reality as your close your eyes and see the entire alignment of the planets behind them.

“I said fucking hold it. I’m close but I’m not done” he growls. He presses his lips to yours again as he starts to moan. You share moans as you both near the climax. “Fuck” he drawls. He thrusts impossibly harder into you. “(Y/n) we’re gonna cum at the same time, I fucking swear. Count down to 5” he says into your neck as he moans.

“5” you say, your voice high and whiny”

“4- fuck I’m gonna come I’m gonna cum” he repeats before making a final thrust into you. You wrap your legs around him to keep them from shaking, feeling the knot inside you finally release, he lets out a few guttural moans as he thrusts slightly and empties himself into your pulsing pussy. You begin to hear your mixed juices hitting the floor in drops as you kiss each other. Heatedly making out yet again, his cock still inside of you. He sits down on the toilet with you on him as you both sigh heavily, your head dazily falling onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck, I missed you”

“Yeah, I fucking missed you too” he replies pulling hair out of your face.

After getting cleaned up, the pair of you shamefully walk back into the room. Walking to your beds which were by the group of newly found friends were sleeping soundly.

He sat on his bed, gearing up to lay down and sleep the remainder of the night. As you turned to your bed, you felt his hand grip your wrist and pull you into his bed.

“What if they see us cuddled together in the morning” you jokingly as his arms wrapped around you.

“Just say you had a bad dream” he yawns and pulls you into his chest, spooning you. You quickly fall asleep in his arms.

[xxblairexxss]

Cherry tomato?

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

In which you did a Tiktok prank on your boyfriend and he nearly fainted.

You were sprawling on the couch, giggling and chuckling at your phone. You had been watching Tiktok and there was this trend going on where you told your dad or significant other about a $100 for a premium air so you wanted to try it on Charles.

Charles didn’t reply and you didn’t expect him to. He had a meeting with a brand so he had told you earlier that he won’t be able to reply to you immediately but you told him it won’t be a problem as you wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Hi, baby.” Charles came home and placed his watch on the dining table before giving you a peck on your cheek.

“Oh, hi!”

“Where did you go today? I thought you said you had no plan?”

“Ah, I went to get these!” You popped a slice of cherry tomato into your mouth and offered one to him. Charles then went to your side and leaned over so you could feed him. “It was crazy expensive, wasn’t it?”

He was already walking to the fridge to get himself a drink while still chewing on the cherry tomato. “Sorry?”

“I can’t believe it was that expensive!” You threw in another cherry tomato into your mouth.

“The cherry tomatoes?”

“No, the air!”

Charles frowned before closing the fridge and ambled his way back to where he was by your side. He was clearly confused, it looked like he had question marks all over his head and you had to control your laughter. “What air are you talking about, baby?”

“The tire pressure! I never knew they charge you £50 per tire!”

“What? Who told you that?” Charles tilted his head to catch on your gaze.

“The guy at the tire shop! He was like ‘you have to pay £50 for this’.” You mimicked the way the guy supposedly talk.

“Was he trying to tell you a joke?”

“No, he wasn’t! I was supposed to pay £200 for all four tires because he told me all of them were under-inflated but he gave me a discount so I only had to pay £100 which was a good deal because that meant I paid what…like £25 per tires.”

“Wait, wait. Slow down. I’m confused.” Charles shook his head as if he was trying to shake off those question marks and pushed the bowl of cherry tomatoes away so you could stop munching on them and pay attention to him. “So, you are saying that you paid £100 for the air?”

“I paid £100 instead of £200, yeah.” You shrugged and pulled the bowl closer to take another cherry tomato.

“Baby, stop.” He held your wrist before you could touch them.

“Why?”

“You paid £100 for air?”

“Yes, mon beau. It was a good discount I know. He probably gave the discount because I looked pretty today.” You retracted you arm away from his grip to go back to the cherry tomatoes.

“Stop, stop.”

“Charles!” You scowled at him and crossed your arms.

“They didn’t give you a discount, they scammed you!”

“What? Why?” You could get an Oscar for the facial expression alone.

“You were supposed to pay 50 cents for it. No one paid that much! Are you crazy?” He gasped in horror and looked like he could faint any moment.

“It wasn’t me! It was the guy!”

“I’m gonna give them a call.” He heaved a sigh and was about to walk away to get his phone before you casually replied, giving him another heart attack.

“He said it was a premium air.” You tried making it sound like a mumble but it was clear, clear enough to make his ears red as he turned back to look at his girlfriend who looked so nonchalant that he wished he could knock some sense into her head.

“What did you say?”

“It was premium air. He said it was more crisp than the normal one.”

“Baby, my blood pressure has reached my head and I’m getting goosebumps. Please tell me this is a joke.”

“I’m not joking! I paid them cash.”

“You paid them cash? Why would you pay them cash? Now we can’t even file a complain because we have no proof.”

“They said they only accept cash. Do you want another cherry tomato?”

“Oh my god, baby.” Charles had no other words to continue this conversation so he just heaved a sigh again and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

“I’m just kidding! It was a prank.” You giggled and stroked on his back.

“What?”

“It was a prank!”

He stood up straight and pinched on the middle of his brows. “Please don’t do that again. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You should have seen your face! It was so cute!” You chuckled and pinched on his nose.

“No more cherry tomatoes for you. Give me that.”

“Wait, no!”

[nyoomfruits]

wrote a little carcar drabble with the tsgc for the prompt 'a helping b wash up (whether it be their hair, body, some blood off their hands, etc). enjoy!

Everything hurts. Oscar should’ve seen this coming, really. You don’t really go flying into the barriers at the speed he did without getting at least some bruises. At least there were no broken bones, or internal bleeding. Actually, back in the hospital, because they made him go to the fucking hospital, he’d felt fine, really. Little beat up, yeah, but fine.

But now, now that he’s alone, back in his hotel room spread out on the large queen sized bed, the adrenaline starts wearing off and the pain starts seeping in.

He should get up and shower, he knows. He still finished most of the race, and while he’s long changed out of his race suit he’s still gross and sticky underneath his McLaren polo. But the bed is soft, so soft, and getting up means moving and moving means more pain and maybe he’d just. He’d just rather not, right now.

Which is obviously exactly when there’s knock on his door. It’s not Mark, because Mark left an hour ago after making Oscar promise he’d try to get a good night’s sleep. He saw Lando in the paddock already, big sad eyes and worried hands skimming over his body, but Lando is Lando so Oscar knows he believed him when he said he was fine and just needed to sleep it off.

It’s not his family, because his family is all the way on the other side of the world. His mum had called, earlier, worry etched into her voice. He tried to reassure her, but he’s never been good at that. She’s always been too good at reading him. But no matter how good she is, she’s not magic, so even she can’t condense a 16 hour plane ride into merely two hours.

Which leaves. No one. Which means Oscar is not really planning on getting up to answer. Except the knocking gets louder. More persistent.

Oscar sighs. Takes a deep breath. Hauls himself off the bed and shuffles his way over to the door. His ribs are the worst, where the siding slammed into them on impact. His arms are pretty bruised too, and his legs. He takes a deep breath, and swings the door open. “What,” he asks, hoping to deter whoever has decided to bother him right now.

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He breaks Oscar’s name up, like always. Os-kar. “You are okay?” He sounds breathy, like maybe he ran here. Which is stupid. Because Carlos is not. They’re not.

“I’m not up for sex, if that’s what you’re asking,” Oscar bites, like he always does when Carlos does something that catches him off guard.

Carlos deflates a little, like Oscar answered the question without answering the question. “I am not here for sex,” he says, and that’s even more baffling because. Because that’s all they’ve been doing, really. That’s. That’s what the thing is. They shop u to each other’s hotel rooms, they fuck, they leave. They don’t do whatever Carlos is doing right now.

“Okay,” Oscar says. “Bye.” He goes to close the door, but Carlos’s foot wedges in between. Oscar briefly considers repeatedly slamming the door close anyway until Carlos gives up and removes his foot, but that would give Carlos the satisfaction of knowing he actually managed to rile Oscar up.

“I need to make sure you are okay,” Carlos says.

Oscar pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s tired and hurting and gross, and he so does not want to deal with any of this. “I am fine. Didn’t they tell you I was fine? Just some bruising. It’ll heal. Could really use a shower, but that’s it.”

Carlos eyes scan over him, like he can look through Oscar’s drawstring jeans and McLaren polo and actually assess the bruising underneath. “Why didn’t you?” Carlos asks.

“What,” Oscar asks. His head is starting to hurt too. He wonders if he has any body parts left that don’t hurt, at this point.

“Shower,” Carlos says. “You left the track an hour ago.”

“Are you stalking me or what,” Oscar bites, but when Carlos just stares at him, relents with a sigh. “I’m. It hurts, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I crashed into the barrier at an ungodly speed and now I hurt. Happy?”

Carlos looks the opposite of happy, mouth pitching down and brows knitting together. “Where?” He asks. The eyes are back, scanning, scanning, scanning. It unsettles Oscar unlike anything else.

“Everywhere,” he says, because he’s tired, and he hopes that if maybe he just admits Carlos will start the process of leaving him alone.

It’s the wrong thing to say. Carlos moves his foot forward and, catching Oscar by surprise, manages to push his way into the hotel room. “Show me.”

“What? I’m not… Jesus, Carlos, I just told you I’m not having sex with you right now,” Oscar says. They’re in his hotel room and yet Oscar feels like he’s playing an away game with how confusing Carlos is being right now.

“Oscar,” Os-kar “Show me.”

Stupid stubborn bull headed Carlos and his stupid inability to just let things go. Oscar sighs, and pulls off his polo, gently, but still making himself wince, before throwing it on the floor. “There, happy?” He says, testily, frowning at Carlos.

Carlos sucks in a breath through his teeth, steps forward. Mutters something like “Ay, cariño” that Oscar doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to understand right now, and then tentatively reaches out to brush at Oscar’s side, where the bruising is the worse. He’s being so gentle about it, so soft, and Oscar shivers, even though the hotel room they’re in isn’t cold at all. “Alright, let’s get you in the shower,” Carlos says, and it’s so clear he isn’t taking no for an answer, and it’s so clear he worries, and Oscar is so incredibly tired.

So he makes his way to the bathroom, lets Carlos help him take off his pants and his socks and his underwear before getting into the shower. Carlos has undressed too, and Oscar can’t help but look when he’s not looking. He’s seen Carlos naked a million times at this point, but it never tires.

The shower is big enough for the both of them, and Oscar breathes a sigh of relief when the hot spray hits his back, washes of the grim and hurt and pain. He hisses when it hits a particularly nasty scab, but overall the water is lovely, soothing, helped by Carlos gently soaping him in, running his big hands over Oscar’s shoulders, his chest, his arms.

“I saw,” Carlos says, breaking the silence that has fallen over them. He’s turned Oscar around, is gently rubbing soap onto his back, so Oscar can’t see the expressions on his face. “I was three cars behind you and I saw-“ Carlos breaks off then, and Oscar feels him pressing his forehead against Oscar’s neck. “I cannot do this anymore, this thing that we have.” He continues, and suddenly Oscar is glad they’re not facing each other, because he is pretty sure the look on his face is embarrassing.

“Oh,” he says, and he tries to sound unbothered, but he is so so so tired, and Carlos showed up and took care of him and he was lulling himself into a false sense of security, a false sense of something, and now the rug is being pulled right from under him. “Okay.”

“I want more, Oscar. I want all of it. And I know you can’t give that to me and that is okay, but I can no longer just be something casual with you when I have all these feelings.”

Oscar feels like the rugs been shoved right back under him again so hard it’s making him trip up over it. “Feelings?” He says. He turns around now, because he needs to see. He needs to know if this is real if this is. If Carlos means what he is saying.

Carlos is looking at him, big sincere brown eyes. “I am in love with you, Oscar,” he says. Os-kar, it’s the most beautiful thing Oscar’s ever heard. “And I cannot be with you if you do not love me back.”

Carlos goes to step away then, which is so incredibly stupidly absurd, that Oscar doesn’t even blame himself for yelling “Wait!” a little too loudly and reaching out to grab Carlos’s wrist. “You don’t get to… What is wrong with you? You get in a shower with a man and confess your love to him and then you leave?”

“Don’t you want me to?” Carlos asks, tilting his head to the side, and god. He’s so infuriating. If he was not so tired, not so beaten down, Oscar would kiss him right now. Tell him he was in love with him too. But that all feels to big and too heavy right now so all he says is, “Stay. Please stay.” And hope Carlos understands.

And Carlos does, because Carlos has always been able to understand Oscar in ways Oscar doesn’t even understand himself. So he steps back under the shower, soaps Oscar’s hair, rinses it off. Wraps him in a giant towel as they get out, bundles him into bed.

Carlos’s arms are warm and soft around him as he settles into the sheets. Me too, he thinks. Me too, I love you too. And hopes Carlos understands.

Carlos’s arms squeezes around him, very gently. Oscar falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[russo-woso]

Our bubba || Alessia Russo x pregnant!reader

Masterlist

Warning labour and delivery

Summary After nine chaotic months, your bubba finally enters the world

-> Part of A New Adventure universe

“Come on, bubba. Please come soon. Me and mama want to meet you.” Alessia whispered against your bump, her thumb rubbing over it absentmindedly.

She had taken the day off - deciding not to go to training - and instead stay at home to support you in the final few days of the pregnancy.

You’d gotten to the stage where you were done with being pregnancy.

You just wanted your little girl here.

Your back was killing, Your feet were so swollen they looked like balloons and your whole body ached.

Alessia was doing everything she could - back massages, foot massages, everything.

Despite all her help, you were done with the pregnancy.

“She’s too comfy in there.” You joked, offering a small tired smile as your head fell back against the sofa in exhaustion.

“Bad night?” Alessia asked, her eyes full of sympathy as she pressed a few kisses to the top of your bump.

“Maybe two hours sleep? Your daughter really gets confused with day and night.”

“Sorry, baby. Why didn’t you wake me?” She whispered, her lips finding your cheek.

“You looked so cute when you were asleep.”

“My love, we’re in this together, you should have woken me up. How about I make you a cup of tea and you get into bed, have a nap and then we’ll go on our walk later.” Alessia suggested, as you nodded along. “Come on then, love.”

You’d woken up to an uncomfortable cramp in your lower bump.

It wasn’t painful - more so uncomfortable.

Alessia was sprawled out next to you, scrolling away on her phone.

You closed your eyes, seeking the sleep that you desperately needed.

Unbeknownst to you, your daughter had a different idea.

She decided to listen to Alessia’s words earlier that morning and decided that she was making an appearance today.

You’d closed your eyes for two minutes before the cramp turned into a painful sensation - a shooting pain searing across your bump.

You pushed it aside, the possibility of it being a braxton hick high.

But with no surprise, the pain appeared a few minutes later.

“Lessi?” You mumbled, attempting to turn to her but failing miserably as your body flunked back onto the maternity pillow.

“Hiya, baby. Nice nap?” She questioned, pecking your cheek a few times before resting her face in your neck.

“I think it’s time.” You revealed, watching Alessia’s cheeks turn from red to white in a matter of seconds.

“She’s coming?”

“I think so.” You smiled, an excited expression on your face - the complete opposite of Alessia’s.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s call the midwife.”

You’d spoken about the birthing plan when you reached the thirty week mark.

You’d been torn between having a hospital birth or a home birth but in the end you decided to go with a home birth - loving the idea of your baby being born in the house that you’d experienced everything in - from the moment you saw the two lines to the first kick and now the birth of your daughter.

“Lessi, I’ve just had the first contraction. I think we’ve got some time.” You explained with a chuckle, her panic being entertaining.

“Okay.” She breathed, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Our little girl’s coming.” You whispered, the realisation hitting.

“I love you so much for doing this for us, baby.” Alessia told you, kissing your temple gently.

“I love you too, although I don’t know if I’ll be saying that later.”

“I doubt it.”

The day had been filled with memories that would never be forgotten.

It had been long and painful but as soon as you heard the words - you can now push - you knew everything was worth it.

Your daughter was nearly here.

“She’s coming, baby. She’s so close.” Alessia whispered, rubbing your back as tears welled in her eyes.

You gripped her hand impossibly tighter as you felt the pain of the ring of fire.

“This hurts so bad.” You croaked, Alessia’s heart breaking at the sight of you in pain.

“I know, my girl. Our bubba’s so close though. I can see her head.”

You groaned as you felt a contraction coming.

You leant your arms on the bath tub, your head laying in them.

You pushed as hard as you could, encouragement from your midwife and Alessia urging you on.

“Her heads out now.” The midwife announced

“She’s got hair, love.” Alessia said with a smile, watching in awe at how your body was pushing itself to new limits to welcome your daughter into the world.

“Mum, would you like to deliver your baby?” The midwife asked Alessia who nodded - her face full of emotion.

You lifted your head up slightly, looking around the room.

You’d been in the bathroom every step of the pregnancy.

This was the room where you spent every morning throwing up, this was the room where you’d first seen them two lines and now this was going to be the room where your daughter enters the world.

The candles flickered as the soft tune of Never grow up filled the room.

In the background, you could hear the midwife explain to alessia on what to do.

You gritted your teeth as a contraction hit.

“Push, baby.” Alessia whispered gently, helping to guide your little girls head out. “You’re doing so so good, love. One more push.”

“I… it hurts.”

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry you’re in so much pain. Our little girls so so close. One more big push.” Alessia whispered, pressing a comforting kiss to your temple. 

You scrunched your eyes closed as you pushed for the final time.

“Baby, remember if it’s negative, we can try again.” Alessia said, her eyes finding yours as you sat on the toilet, your leg bouncing as you waited for the timer to go off.

You nodded, taking a deep breath in.

The timer rang, breaking the silence in the room.

After stopping it, alessia turned to you, kissing your head gently before reaching for the test.

“Ready?” She asked, as you nodded with a hopeful smile.

Flipping it over, Alessia’s breath hitched as she read the word over and over.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant, love. We’re gonna have a baby.” Alessia exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes as she enveloped you in a hug.

“It worked?” You cried, pulling away from the hug, your hands resting on the back of Alessia’s neck.

“It worked.” Alessia confirmed before pressing her lips on yours.

The kiss was full of love and hope for the future that was growing inside of you.

Alessia’s thumb moved across your bump, a small flutter being felt before a hard kick.

Alessia looked up at you with wide eyes, checking with you to see if she felt the same thing.

“Did you feel it?” You asked her, and she nodded.

“Was that the first time?” Alessia’s questioned, you nodding before resting your hand over Alessia’s.

“They can tell their mummy is here.” You said, watching as Alessia smiled with tears in her eyes.

“Come on, bubba, kick for mummy again.” Alessia whispered, kneeling down in front of your bump.

The sun was setting as you laid on the blanket, the cake in front of you along with two wine glasses.

Alessia’s hand was entangled with yours, her other hand resting on your growing bump.

“Are we ready?” Alessia whispered, looking at the cake - boy or girl - written on top of it.

“I think so.” You smiled, the two of you grabbing a wine glass each before looking away from the cake.

“Three… two… one.”

You both pushed the glasses into the cake, still looking away before nodding to one another.

Turning your head, you were met with a bright pink cake.

“A girl. A baby girl.” You whispered, alessia kissing your head as you took in the memory that would last forever.

“A baby girl.” Alessia repeated, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of a daughter - your daughter.

A cry filled the room as alessia placed your daughter on your chest.

“You did it, baby. She’s here.” Alessia sobbed, a hand pressed against your baby’s back.

You looked up at alessia with tears running down your face before leaning in to press a kiss on her lips.

“Hi, bubba.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to your baby girls head. “I know, that was really tough, huh?”

“I’m so proud of you.” Alessia said, rubbing your back.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The midwife asked Alessia who nodded, wiping her tears from her eyes.

The blade sliced through the cord as alessia smiled with pride, her eyes pooling with tears.

Your daughter’s cries died down as alessia rubbed her back gently.

“She’s perfect.” You whispered, your voice breaking as you peered down at the baby - your baby - on your chest.

“She is, baby. You did such a good job.”

“We did.”

The two of you continued to look at the baby in awe, a glimpse of the future and the hope it held flashing through your mind.

Alessia was lying on the bed, your baby girl on her chest, fast asleep.

The midwife had not long gone, having stayed for a few hours to make sure everything was okay with the both of you.

Your daughter was perfect - her weight, her reflexes, everything.

You were just closing your eyes when a small cry was heard from Alessia’s chest.

“It’s okay, bubba. Mummy’s here. I’m always going to be here for you, bubba. I’m going to be there when you take your first steps, I’m going to be there when you say your first word, when you score your first goal, when you start school. You’ve got so many amazing aunties who are also going to be there. And two uncles who are crazy but they love you so much. You really do have a lot of people who love you, little girl.” Alessia began, her voice soft as her hand rubbed the baby’s back, soothing her back to sleep. “You’re a dream come true for me and mama.”

“She really is.” You murmured, moving slightly to rest your head on Alessia’s shoulder.

“Me and mama love you so much, bubba.”

• alessia and y/nrusso posted •

Liked by leahwilliamsonn, ellatoone and 164,284 others

Florence Kaia Russo 🤍

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Pretense

Synopsis: An afternoon of pretense that makes Ser Aemond question all that he believes and the possibility of him wanting more than what his station is fit for. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader becoming closer, infatuation, Jealousy, Aemond Discovering Emotions, Fluff, Fake-Marriage PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I was giggling and kicking my feet the entire time writing this

“Sister, you’re absolutely flushed! Was lord Arthur here?” Your brother asked with a teasing grin, making you scowl at him as he sat across from you. As always, you were in the gardens of the summer palace with your sworn protector watching over your day-to-day activities, minus a second knight, much to Aemond’s relief. “Oh, shut up!” You muttered, looking upon your lap and bringing your clammed, cold hands up to your cheeks, attesting how heated they indeed were. “I’ve never seen you like this,” Your brother grinned as he poured himself a cup of tea and refiled your own cup as well. You grumbled and rolled your eyes as you urged your face to be rid of the flush that spread throughout. 

Aemond gritted his jaw. Not only did he have to suffer watching as Lord Arthur tried to engage with you throughout the whole of the morning— and you utterly besotted by every little thing he did. Now, he had to hear the recollection of events as your brother had joined you in the gardens, offering no reprieve for your knight, who was already growing tired of the thought of Lord Arthur. “Do you think he will be the one you shall choose?” You choked on your tea, and Aemond’s gaze turned lethal at your brother’s question. 

“Gods, brother— I barely know him!” You exclaimed, trying to find your napkin, but it had fallen from your lap; luckily, your knight was quick to retrieve his handkerchief and offered it to you. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” You say and dabbed your lips. “Seriously, brother, enough with such subjects.” You say, and Aemond silently agrees as he returns to his post behind you. “You must think of your betrothal soon— you are of age, sister. Father and I are drowning in a sea of parchment, and as much as I want you to stay in our home and care, I would very much like the countless scrolls addressed to me by the eligible bachelors of the realm cease! Just earlier, I was rudely woken before the first light with a scroll marked ‘urgent,’ but it was simply a proposal for your hand!” 

You shook your head. “Why are you pressuring me into a betrothal and marriage when you yourself are not burdened by such matters? Should you not be married first? You are, after all, older than me and are set to be the next king,” You raised a brow, and your brother failed to find a response to your query, simply changing the subject altogether. “So, are you ready for the end of the summer ball?” You bit your lip to hinder your laugh at your brother’s tactic to change the subject. 

“Not quite— Theodore had accidentally ruined my gown,” You pouted, wholly dismayed by your pet cat who had used your dress as his own scratching post. “I’ve sent a raven home to ask the maids to send another, but I do not think it would come in time,” You sighed, troubled as to what to wear for the ball that would take place in two days' time. “Then go to town and have another made,” Your brother shrugged as he finished his tea. You furrowed your brows, “You would let me leave the castle?” You questioned in surprise. “As long as you bring your guards and do not run off again to god knows where.” Your lips parted, uncertain if your brother was being serious. “Truly? Do you mean it?” You questioned as he stood. “Yes, we need you looking your best for Lord Arthur, lest he becomes uninterested and leaves you to be a spinster.” He teased and quickly placed a chaste kiss on your temple before running off before you could retaliate at his jest. 

“Your hood, princess,” Aemond said, tugging at the hem of your cover to conceal your face. “Do not fret so much, Ser Aemond. All of this disguise makes them more suspicious,” You say as you walk along the town with your knight by your side. Aemond disagreed, but he stayed silent; he turned behind the two of you to ensure the other knights were still in tow and the other guards he ordered to patrol throughout the town were by their post. 

“Flowers for the lady?” A florist called at Ser Aemond by the side of the alley, urging him to take one of her bouquets. Aemond ignored the call, but you were distracted by the pretty flowers. “Ooh…” You trailed, bemused by the colorful display, burying your nose into a bouquet of lilacs. Aemond waited tensely as you made conversation with the vendor, hoping you would not be recognized. “Princess—“ He whispered, tugging at your arm as he saw the woman starting to realize who you were. “Enough formalities… would not want them to grow suspicious, would you not, Aemond?” You whispered as you turned to your knight, addressing him without formal titles for the first time. Aemond licked his lips, an odd sensation spreading through his body as you addressed him solely by his name. 

“Such a pretty girl you are… it’s a shame your husband would not buy you flowers,” The vendor suddenly sighed, rendering Aemond still in his spot. He expected you to deny such claims, but you only laughed at the vendor’s tactic of trying to sell her flowers through guilt. “It truly is a pity… before, when we were courting, he would just send me flowers without me even asking for them!  He would send them so often and in such large quantities that it turned my father’s home into a garden; even bees began to swarm it! Now, not even nagging or arm pulling would urge him to pick up a simple wildflower off the street!” You laughed, along with the woman who readily brought your pretense. Aemond just stood there, his cheeks flushed, and he felt his erratic pulse at the tip of his ears. “What happened to you, husband? Has marriage with me truly changed you?” You asked with a smile, your eyes urging him to join in your deception. 

“Come now, wife, we must get going,” He said and handed the vendor a few coins along with the bouquet he observed you liked the most and hastily took your arm to drag you to the seamstress. You laughed and yelled a quick ‘thank you’ to the woman who seemed happy enough that her most pricey bouquet was bought by what she believed were husband and wife. “That was fun,” You laughed at your pretend husband, who was too rigid as he walked by your side. “You could have been discovered, princess! What were you thinking?” He said, exasperated. You sighed and shook your head, taking the bouquet from his hand, letting your fingers brush, and you felt how cold his touch was. “What would get me discovered is your persistence in calling me princess. Come now, Ser Aemond, address me by my name, or have you forgotten it already?” You teased, but Aemond did not find the matter amusing at all— if anything, this visit to the town had made his already tense manner more austere. 

“Fine, keep calling me princess and have them discover I’m here— create a commotion and arouse more dang—“ Aemond sighed and finally uttered your name, unchained by any title. You smiled triumphantly up at him, but only an uncomfortable expression could be seen on his face as his stomach was in a knot. “You’re starting to offend me now. Am I that disagreeable that you could not even pretend that I am your wife for the afternoon?” You asked as you linked your arm with his. Aemond swallowed thickly at the question you proposed, when he did not answer because he his nerves and emotions that he always tried to conceal were starting to get the best of him, you felt dread pool in your gut. 

You stayed silent until you reached the seamstress’ shop, finally letting go of your knight’s arm. You talked with the woman who ran the shop, who as well did not know your true identity. Aemond stood by the door as you began to be fitted for your gown. “Sir, you need not stand by the door. Come, sit and have a cup as you wait for your wife,” An elderly man approached, ushering Aemond onto a seat, and he began to question if you two truly did look like husband and wife because the smallfolk readily believed and assumed such notions. 

“How lucky you are that your husband joins you with such errands; I could not even get my husband to accompany me to a simple walk along the town square!” The seamstress laughed as she measured the length of your arm. You laughed, turning to Ser Aemond with a teasing glint in your eyes as they were completely oblivious to who you were, too distracted with what they assumed to be a couple completely enthralled and devoted to one another. “Hm… it truly is rare to find such a man,” You smiled and returned to face the mirror, Ser Aemond shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he felt his heart flutter further. “Here you are, lad,” the old man offered him tea and sat next to Aemond. 

“So, how long have you two been married?” He questioned casually, trying to converse with a man who never enjoyed such things. “A—a year,” He said stiffly, sipping the hot liquid, his eye going to you, who he knew listened to the conversation even if your gaze was focused upon the fabric selection you were presented with. “Quite new— how long did you two court?” Aemond was asked, and his hold on the cup tightened as he could not dismiss the prying old man, for you will surely scold him. “Five years,” He muttered and saw the shock on the stranger’s face for the long courtship. “Her… her father had disapproved of the match— it took time to convince him.” 

“And convinced he was,” you interjected, making the two men turn to you. The old man smiled, “Lucky lad you are, such a comely wife who’s ready to defy her father’s wants— you rarely see that now. Girls are too afraid to go against their father’s order and have themselves disowned.” The man sighed, and Aemond stilled as you approached. “Better to have love and be destitute than be miserable with a dowry,” You shrugged. “What color do you think, husband? The pink or the cream?” Aemond licked his lips as you and the man expectantly looked at him, waiting for his response. “The cream, wife,” He answered, urging himself not to stutter as he was finding it harder to breathe with each moment of your pretense. “Very well, if my husband says to pick the cream, then I shall wear a cream-colored gown,” You smiled further and returned to the seamstress, giving her the preferred fabric of Ser Aemond. 

When it was time to settle the payment, Aemond stood beside you by the counter. “Could it be finished by the morning after next? We could pay more,” You say, and the seamstress eagerly nodded. “Of course, and what name should we place when it is collected?” She questioned, making Ser Aemond nervous, for he himself could not think of a pretend name. “Seraphina,” You pretended, and Aemond hindered his confusion to show how effortlessly you thought of a name. 

When you exited the shop, Aemond could not restrain himself to ask the question in his mind. “Where did that name come from?” He questioned, confusing you for a moment. “Seraphina?” You asked as you two walked arm in arm to the outskirts of town where the royal wheelhouse waited. Ameond nodded, and you shrugged, “I’ve read it from a book before, and truthfully, that is the name I would want for my daughter if I ever have one,” You say, taking another whiff of the bouquet Ser Aemond bought for you. “Our daughter, you mean?” He asked, gathering the courage to join you in your pretense fully. Your eyes widened, and a laugh escaped your lips as you tore away your knight’s armor— a rare grin on his thin lips that made your heart beat faster. “Yes, of course,” You laughed, still keeping up with the charade that was wholly easy to do.

When the ball commenced, Aemond was no longer glued by your side but rather at his true place, which was by the distance— a mere knight guarding his princess. He stood by a pillar a few yards away from you, but he could still hear your voice, listening to your conversations. “Look, Lord Arthur is to approach— sister, your cheeks are already blushing!” Your brother laughed, making you roll your eyes and pinch his side. In truth, a blush no longer crept up to your cheeks, not even when Lord Arthur invited you to dance or when he placed a kiss on your knuckles. 

Aemond stood on his post with his jaw gritted tightly, and his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. The lord pulled you flush to him, and the song began. He watched you dance around with the lord with the gown he had helped pick and with the flowers he bought for you, adoring your hair— his mind straying to the afternoon where you and he were husband and wife to sedate his mind and preoccupy him from the truth that a mere knight like him would never deserve a princess. 

Taglist: @anukulee @ladyriverasafespace @rebeccawinters @gayfiretruck @bellarkeselection @eraenaa

[strungnews]

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?

It’s the same question Mark always asks when he’s in a pinch. Always seemingly there when he needs you most, covering his ass multiple times because of his recklessness.

“What would I do without you?”

He asks then again, feeling your fingers brush and dry the tears away from his face.

“Probably burying your head into a pillow and making a terrifying print of your face on it.” You joked. He always appreciated that about you. Light hearted at the best of times, even if it seemed inappropriate for the moment. He never cared if you were blunt like a bad knife, he’d rather you were straightforward than be full of twists and turns.

“Dick.” He sniffles. And you give him that old comforting smile, an infectious thing you have that always makes him smile back.

“What would-I do without you?” He says breathless. Dry heaving onto damp sand, coughing up more of the salty water. His lips feel chapped, despite being soaked to the bone.

“Dead, bloated in the water. Fishes wouldn’t even eat you with how much hair gel you put on.” You pat his back, harder this time. And he coughs up violently and grips at the grains below. An appreciative grin graces his face when he finishes, looking a lot better than earlier.

His hair flops to his forehead on queue, he opens his mouth in defense, but only shakes his head slowly. The droplets of water flickering on your face and knees.

“Yeah, probably.” He agrees hoarsely. The sun beats down on him when you stand, the shade of your shadow now gone to comfort him. “Let’s get you some water, real ones.” You say, offering your hand as he looks up to watch you, the sun blinding him.

He takes your hand, gripping at it tight, and you pull and pull for him to stand. Clashing back down to the sandy ground when you fall back with him; laughing.

“You were supposed to lift me up!”

“You’re too heavy!”

“What would I do without you?” He says, quietly. Leaning his head on your shoulder while the two of you look outside the window of his room, the moon being the only source of light.

You wrap your arm around his shoulder, and let him lean to your chest as he gently breathes. His hair devoid of product, only the smell of fresh laundry clinging on him as you inhale.

You shrug lightly. Hand rubbing his arm up and down in a slow motion, your cheek mushes on the crown of his head when you answer. “Lots of things,”

You feel him shake his head. Sighing deeply.

“Thats a lie.” He mumbles.

“Why would I lie?” You ask, quick and genuine. Now watching his chest rise and fall while he plays a circle on your leg. A heavy shrug against you.

“Dunno, to cheer me up I guess?”

“Well. Is it working?” He bristles, silently laughing and he shakes his head no.

“You suck at this.”

“Better than nothing.” You kiss his head, an act you’ve done on numerous occasions in the time you became his best friend. He moves and faces his body completely towards you, wrapping you in a hug.

“Thank you.”

“What would I do without you!” Mark cheers, jumping up and down in joy with you in his arms. You jostle and stumble in his hold, a bit sick from all the movement.

He lets go, and spins around. Taking the letter of acceptance and pointing at it with a huge smile on his face.

“I can’t believe it! Im going to college with Amber!” That stung. More than the time you were bitten by the beetle he found on the side of the road.

Still, you shrug it off. A sly smile and jab to his arm.

“Well, let’s just say you’d be out there working at Burgermart till the smell of grease stuck to you till death.” You and him laugh.

“Still, if you didn’t help me with the studying, i’d probably have to go someplace else! No thanks to William for the help.” He grumbles, putting it back down on the counter, a bit more tired than his usual energetic personality a few moments earlier.

“I can’t screw things up with Amber, not this time.” He says, more to himself than for the both of you. You lean back on his cabinet, nodding.

He talks some more, but you don’t listen. Your ears going fuzzy and hazy while staring down at the ground. He’s recalling moments and times that you’ve already heard of before, it seems like he’s got it all figured out.

“What would I do without you?” He smiles, taking Eve’s hand in his. His face is practically beaming, expression screaming ‘i love you’ when he looks at her.

He used to say that to you.

Mark finally introduced Eve to you, but you already had a feeling about her before everything. The missions, the attacks, you already knew who it was with the way he spoke with such fondness.

Why couldn’t he do that with you?

“Shut up, dork. Are you gonna order or what?” Eve’s gaze flitters to Mark, then you. Giving a big warm smile that you have a hard time giving back.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just get my usual, same with you?” He asks, you. Eyes finally peeled away from Eve, staring at you.

“Yeah, you know my usual.” You say, and smile. Closing the menu and sliding it to the middle of the table. Watching Mark handle the waiter to order everyone else’s food.

“So, tell me. Is Mark as much of a geek as he is now?” Mark sweats at her prying tone, a pleading expression as he looks over at Eve and you.

There’s nothing you can do, nothing to do. Only to fake it till you make it, hopefully on the other side.

“Man, wait till you hear about that one time he blamed me for leaving dirty laundry in the bathroom. He had the gall to say those dog printed boxers were mine!”

Eve’s laugh bounces in your head like an echo chamber. It kind of makes you smile, having this effect on him and her.

“Please, stop.” Mark begs, and you lean in to the table to continue.

“And after that, he made up a whole complicated story to try and get off scott free. Can you believe that? Him throwin’ me under the bus because he can’t admit those were his?” Eve’s in hysterics. Something about the way you spoke and told the story, made it out to be funnier than what had actually happened.

“Oh my god.” Mark’s red, from embarrassment or shame, you don’t know which it is. But you’re cherishing the moment each second.

“What do I do without you?” You sob. Ugly crying right beside his unconscious body, shaking like a leaf battling against the violent winds.

It’s been day since he’d last woken. A day since you saw his broken arms and bruised body. Blood covering him like it was his skin.

You haven’t cried this much since he had told you about him and Eve, haven’t cried this much since you fell on your bike as kids. With Mark bandaging you up with stickers to try and cheer you up. It hurt, so much.

Each day passing by, you could feel him slipping. Slipping from your memories, from your routine, from your heart. He was outgrowing you in more ways than one. He’s more now, not just that awkward teenager you once knew, always holding your hand when going from place to place. Not that light hearted boy you knew and grew up with.

He’s more, and you’re just less.

“Im scared, Mark. Can you even hear me?” Your voice trembles. Gripping at the white blanket that covers his lower half. Too scared to actually touch him, too scared to even look at him.

He doesn’t reply, can’t. The constant sound of his heart monitor beeping and beeping further solidifies something you didn’t want to come to terms with. Something you didn’t want to face. So you pull away, wanting to be gone from the now suffocating room.

“I would have died without you.”

No one’s visited him today, thats what you thought at least. You were always the first one to come and visit him, and the first one to leave. Not wanting to take up too much time for the other people who’d visit, you were considerate like that.

But the room has voices inside, muffled. And that sentence, that one sentence. It was as clear as day. You couldn’t even make out the rest, but that one, that was the only thing that reached your ears.

You shouldn’t be eaves dropping, shouldn’t be sad, or angry. Shouldn’t feel entitled to Mark at all. But why did it hurt?

“I guess I’m doing this without you.”

You stopped talking or contacting with Mark all together. A month had passed-and nothing. Not a peep or even a word from Debbie. You were nothing to him now. Thats what it felt like.

But thats a selfish way of thinking. He had a life now, a half brother, a girlfriend even. He had responsibilities one person shouldn’t even be burdened with, and you’re here throwing a pity party for yourself.

You knew that, fuck you knew that. But you didn’t want to know it. Refused to acknowledge it. Knowing it now clearer than ever, was gut wrenching.

The old and worn photo album your mother had put together was nostalgic. You can recall certain moments when she’d stick these on, watching and recalling the events while she glues it on.

It spans to birthdays and events, to milestones and your many few ‘firsts’ in life.

Even that one time where you had boldly kissed his cheek for a photo, now it was forever captured on the book.

There’s a reason this was hidden away in the back of her closet, but it came beckoning to you like a voice.

Landing on a memorable photo, you trace the edges of the page. It was Halloween, dressed up as a typical sheet ghost with jagged holes for your eyes, and Mark as ‘duct-tape man.’ You smile. Fond of the memory of having to help with removing it in the bathtub, making sure he didn’t end up bald and ripping his skin off.

You shut the book. It smells like old memories and childhood.

“I guess I know what you’d do without me.”

a/n: haha jonathan I am questioning my mark

[cimmanonrowl]

Gods & Monsters

Part One | Chapter Navigation

Pairing: aaron hotchner x criminal daughter!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, forbidden relationship, unprotected rough sex, creampie, begging, innocence kink, rutting, somnophilia, a little cnc and panicking, dirty talk, pure filth, sir & daddy (only used thrice) kink, dom/sub undertones, innocent!reader, vague to inaccurate crime and law enforcement details

You woke up in the middle of the night. As you always have in the past few weeks. The room was covered in darkness; with only the faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. And in every gentle blow of the wind, the white fabric on the open veranda door sways in a mellow rhythm.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and rolled to your side, your heart hammering a little faster as you reached your phone on the bedside table and unlocked it. 

No reply.

Your last message to Aaron, sent hours ago, still marked as unread.

You stared quietly at the screen, your eyes tracing over the last words you sent. It was just something simple: a question about his day, followed by a smiley face, light and casual. You were bored earlier so you decided to reach out to him. You even sent him a picture of the chocolate cookies you baked... but to no avail.

He’s probably just busy, you caught yourself saying in your head. The thought was firm with no edge or flicker of doubt. Aaron has his own life, a tedious job, and his own things to deal with. You knew that. Maybe he got caught up with work again, or he’s out with his team, or maybe he’s just tired; too exhausted to do anything but fall into the comfort of his bed and sleep.

Or maybe he simply doesn’t feel the need to reply to your unimportant message.

Your mouth felt dry with that thought. And the silence of the night pressed stealthily against your ears.

Milk. That was enough to draw you out of bed, your feet touching the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. The mansion was still— the kind of quiet that would usually lull you back to sleep. Usually, this meant your father and his men were out for a business matter. Sometimes, Father dear was just too hung up on alcohol and drugs that he forgot to come home at a decent time.

Quietly, you pushed open your bedroom door, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The mansion in which you recently just moved into was heavily guarded just like the past ones.

You stepped into the hallway. Even though it’s only been a couple of months, every painting and corner of the dimly lit hallway was familiar to your senses. You expect to be the only one awake in your household, aside from the night guards. The kitchen would be empty as always.

But halfway there, a sound caught your ear— a murmur, low and indistinct, drifting from your father’s office.

You halted in your tracks, your ears perking at the noise. The door to your father’s office was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light cutting through the darkness of the hallway. The murmur becomes clearer as you inched closer— three, maybe four voices, deep and serious, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. 

“We fucking need it done by tomorrow,” one voice complained, rough around all the edges. “The delays are making them antsy.”

“Do you fucking think I don’t know that? Tell those motherfuckers to wait.”

You froze.

The other voices, they’re strangers to you. But you recognize that voice immediately. Your father’s unmistakable deep and commanding one. Yet you were used to this, used to crossing paths with different vile men your father worked with.

“What about the feds?” another voice asked. “They’ve been sniffing around more than usual.”

There was a low and dangerous chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let them. They won’t find anything.”

“The fuck you mean let them? Are you seriously still convinced that you don’t have a mole in this hellhole?”

Then there was a pause, the kind that felt like everyone was holding their breath. They know about the mole. Of course, they do. They’ve never had delays in their operations such as this before. Only an idiot would count it as a mere coincidence.

You leaned in, your ear almost touching the door, careful not to let it move even a fraction.

“All of your operations were interrupted by the feds.”

You heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, and then the clink of a glass being set down. “I don’t think it’s my men you should be poking your nose about. What about your men?”

“Are you fucking saying that my me–”

“What about the witness?” the first voice intercepted, quieter now, as if the words themselves are too dangerous to speak aloud.

“Taken care of,” your father replied with a sharp sigh, his tone so cold it chills your blood. “Permanently.”

There was a murmur of approval from the others, and you can vividly picture them nodding in agreement. Maybe even smiling. You pressed closer, trying to make sense of it all, but your thoughts were a tangled mess of fear and confusion.

“How much are we expecting on this one again?” another man asked, his voice gruff and heavy with tobacco smoke.

“Enough to keep everyone happy,” your father replied. “This is our last big score for this month. After that, we lie low for the meantime.”

There was another pause, and you heard the rustle of papers, the sound of something being slid across the table. “It’s all here,” your father muttered. “Everything we need. We move three nights from now.”

“Three nights?” the second voice echoed, surprised. “Why not tomorrow?”

“Yes,” there was no mistaking the steel in your father’s voice. “Because I said so.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as the meeting continued. They speak in half sentences, in code words, as if they know someone might be listening.

And then, as suddenly as it began, there was a sudden scraping of chairs, a loud cough, followed by the sound of feet moving. They were wrapping up, and you realized with a jolt that you need to move.

The stairs were just a few steps away. You could bolt downstairs and go straight to the kitchen as you intended. But instead, you slipped back into your room, closing the door silently behind you, and wished that the silence of the night would lull you back to another restless sleep.

When morning finally came, warm light filtered through the thin curtains and into your room. Bones popped beneath the covers as you stretched, your mind foggy with sleep. Yet you forced yourself to sit up, the blankets sliding off your shoulders.

For a moment, you contemplated reaching your phone and sending a message to Aaron. You couldn’t wait to tell him about everything you heard last night. But with the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway outside your room, you thought your information could wait until after breakfast.

You pad softly to your closet, slipping into a pair of fluffy pink slippers before making your way out of the room. You were still wearing your nightdress, a soft, pale blue cotton gown that fell just below your knees. It looked delicate, with a lace trim at the neckline, something you have had for ages. The fabric clung lightly to your skin with every move, the morning air cool against your bare arms.

When you passed by your father’s office, your thoughts immediately drifted back to the conversation you overheard last night. It felt distant now, almost like a dream, but there was this familiar tension in your chest that you knew all those things had happened.

“Morning, sweetheart,” your father greeted you, his voice deep and steady as you stepped into the dining area. “Come, have some breakfast.”

He gestured to the empty chair beside him. Father dear and Harwin were already seated at the table. The dining room was bright with morning light, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the scent of eggs and toast. Your father sat at the head of the table as always, while Harwin sat across from him, his posture straight, his eyes immediately flicking up to you as you entered.

“Good morning,” you replied softly, forcing a smile as you approached the table. 

You were aware of how you must look— the nightdress, the slightly tousled hair, the way the morning light catches on your skin. You seem almost ethereal, innocent. But there was nothing innocent about the way Harwin’s eyes followed you as you move. It was not leering, no. Not inappropriate either, but it was there— an intense, piercing look that made you acutely aware of every step you take.

You slipped into the chair next to your father, feeling Harwin’s gaze settled on you. His expression was carefully neutral, but you could sense the way he was assessing you, as if he was trying to see right through you.

“Good morning, Miss,” he greeted, his voice polite and almost formal. He offered you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I hope you slept well.”

You nodded, and your hand trembled lightly as you reached for the glass of orange juice in front of you. “I did. Thank you, Harwin,” your voice was quiet as you replied, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile calm of the morning. 

But even as you say it, you know it was not entirely true. The remnants of last night’s tension clung to you, making the hair at the back of your neck rise, your breathing almost heavy.

Your father cut into his toast in rough movements. “Harwin will be spending more time around the house,” he said casually, his tone leaving little room for you to react. “I have some business that’ll keep me away, and I want to make sure you’re looked after.”

Business.

Your stomach tightened at his words. You glanced at Harwin, who was still watching you with keen eyes. You know this wasn’t just about keeping an eye on the house— this is about you. 

And the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

Harwin nodded in agreement with your father’s words, his gaze still fixed on you. “Just a precaution,” his tone was even, as if this was all perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable. “I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”

Safe. The word echoed in your mind. You know what it really means— under surveillance, monitored, controlled. It’s not protection. This is not about your safety; your father wants to keep you on a leash, and you can already feel it tightening around you.

The corner of your lips twitched as you gave him a smile. “Thanks, Harwin. I appreciate it,” you said instead, dropping your gaze to the plate in front of you.

Your father continued eating, his attention seemingly on his breakfast, but you knew better. He’s always watching, always aware, and now, with Harwin here, you know you are under a different kind of watch.

But, at least, Harwin was polite enough to keep his distance. Though you could always feel his gaze following you, measuring every step you take, every breath. For the entire day, your father’s orders became clear— Harwin was here more than to protect you. He was here to ensure you don’t stray, that someone will watch every move you make.

“Harwin,” you called out softly before glancing over your shoulder. “Do you think we can go to the mall later?”

He seemed unfazed by the request, silently watching you lay on a lounger by the poolside with an open book perched on your lap. “No, Miss. If you need anything, I can have some of your housemaids to shop for you.”

“But I want fresh air?”

“We’re outside at the moment, Miss.”

“Yes, in our garden.”

He frowned a little. “The air is fresh as far as I can tell, Miss.”

And with that, you heaved a deep sigh. 

As the sun began to set, you found yourself in your room, your phone clutched in your hand. The events of the past hours have left you feeling trapped and cornered like a mouse. The walls of the house seemed to crumble in on you– it was suffocating.

You opened your messaging app, your fingers hovering over Aaron’s name. It’s been a day since he last responded, the silence from his end gnawing at you, but you couldn’t wait any longer. You need to see him. Besides, you have the information he surely needs. He would have no choice but to respond to your text this time.

Can we meet? you typed slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. You add the details quickly— I have the information. The usual spot?

You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the send button. But then you pressed it, the message shooting off into the void, your hope clinging to it like a lifeline.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Then your phone buzzed in your hand, with Aaron’s name lighting up the screen.

On my way, was all he said. And for some reason, it was enough. It has always been. So you sighed in relief and smiled to yourself.

Right then and there, you knew what you had to do next. Escaping Harwin’s notice won’t be easy, not with him and the other guards roaming the mansion, but you were determined. You have done it before, though never with this much at stake. 

Taking a deep breath, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, something that will help you blend in. You grabbed a small bag, stuffed it with a few essentials, then waited for the right moment to finally move.

The silence of your house made every step and the creaking of hinges amplified. From the window, you see one of the guards patrolling the perimeter, his flashlight cutting through the growing dusk. You know there was another by the front gate, and probably more stationed at various points around the property. Getting past them will be tricky, but you have mapped out a plan in your mind.

Harwin was downstairs. The front gate was obviously not an option, not with him and the guards so close. Instead, you decide on your usual route— through the back, where the bushes and trees provide more cover and the lamp posts are seldomly lit.

You waited until a house helper passed by outside your room, her back turned. You moved quickly and quietly down the hallway as you slipped out, sticking close to the walls to avoid any creaking floorboards. The house, large as it is, felt stifling.

With quick strides, you reached the back staircase, your heart pounding in your ears as you descended. The kitchen was just down the hall, and beyond that, the back door that leads to the garden. But you were not alone.

From where you were standing, you heard footsteps— another house helper, moving through the kitchen. You held your breath, peering around the corner just enough to see her pass by, her attention focused on checking the locks. She didn’t see you, didn’t know you were there, but you almost choked on your saliva as you bit your tongue.

As quickly as she moved on, you seized your chance. You slipped into the kitchen, the cool tile under your feet grounding you as you cross to the back door. Your hands shook in fear and panic as you unlocked it, praying it didn’t make too much noise.

And it didn’t.

The garden is shrouded in twilight as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting your face. And for a moment, you felt a rush of freedom. You can’t remember how many times you’ve done this before. But it never, ever felt easy. You doubt it will ever be.

You slipped through the gate, closed it carefully behind you, and took off running down the back alley. You didn’t stop running until you were several blocks away; your lungs burning, your legs aching. Only then do you allow yourself to slow down, and breathe. 

It was almost a two-hour commute to the motel where you usually meet up with Aaron. The neon sign flickered in the dusk with a dull glow over the empty parking lot. You made your way to the room you know so well, pulling out the spare key Aaron gave you exactly a year ago.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the thick curtains drawn shut. It was a modest place; a little different from the lavishness of your spacious room but you’ve loved this as much. With a soft thud, you dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, your breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. The silence here is different from the silence at home— this one feels familiar, and light.

You checked your phone quickly, hoping to see another message from Aaron, but there was nothing. A small pang of worry settled in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Aaron never broke his promise. He said he was coming, and you trust him. All you have to do is wait.

Your eyes started to droop as you lay down on the soft mattress, the adrenaline of your escape wearing off. You felt drained. Your legs aching. You curled up on your side, your phone clutched in your hand, waiting for the sound of his knock on the door.

But the minutes dragged by and your eyes fluttered shut, and before you knew it, after a long while, you fell into a deep slumber.

“Angel… fuck…” someone’s hot breath fanning over your ear roused you from the depth of your sleep. “You feel so good…”

You stirred and attempted to stretch your arms, even move your legs when all of a sudden, you felt it. The cold air licked the bare surface of your naked body. A low whine rumbled through your chest as you slowly, groggily so, blinked your eyes in confusion. Your vision was unfocused for a moment, sending you into a flight of panic as you grew aware of what was happening.

“Who-” the question was left hanging in the air as soon as Aaron’s thumb found your aching clit.

His hard cock was pressed against your desperate cunt, sliding through your wet folds at a rousing pace. A quiet gasp escaped your lips as he continued rutting his girthy cock against your swollen clit. You have no idea how he managed to undress you without waking you up. Although it didn’t surprise you, you’re still curious– about how expert and knowledgeable Aaron was with every sexual act. And right now, a thin sheet of sweat was slowly covering your body.

“Aaron– sir–” you whimpered once more, unknowingly bucking your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “What… what are you doing?”

He let out a deep groan. “You look so sweet sleeping, angel… couldn’t… help myself…”

“Feels so good…” you mewled in return, feeling your dripping cunt clenching in pure desperation for something to fill it up.

The sensation was new and overwhelming. One of Aaron’s big and calloused hands was kneading your breast, pinching your sensitive and taut nipple every now and then. While his mouth was just as busy— his tongue more so; sucking and nibbling, and biting your nipple as his cock slid through the folds of your dripping pussy.

A growl rumbled through his chest.

“Can... can I slide in the tip…” he whispered in a gruff and breathy voice. It sounded vulnerable and demanding, and desperate at the same time. “Just the tip, angel. Hm? Just the tip, I promise...”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping both of his strong arms propped at either side of your smaller frame. “Just the tip…”

“Fucking hell…” you heard him murmur as he lined the head of his big cock against the entrance of your fluttering cunt. “This is so wrong, angel, but fuck… I never wanted to ruin anyone so badly until you.”

“S-sir…”

His teeth sank lightly at the curve of your collarbone. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, you hear me? I want my cum dripping out of your tight cunt.”

You shivered at the vulgarity of his words. Maybe it was forbidden. Maybe this was wrong. Maybe this will not end up well. But maybe this is the reason why you can’t seem to get enough of it, of his warmth, and his cock ramming in and out of you.

“Aa- Sir!” you screamed loudly, dragging your nails along his arms, your toes curling in pure, white-hot pleasure.

Aaron peppered your cheeks, your lips, and your forehead with light kisses, murmuring his quiet apologies as he forced his big cock inside of you. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, angel… I’m sorry…”

His promise now long forgotten as you felt the intoxicating burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt. You should’ve known better than to believe his promise. 

“You look so good like this, gorgeous…” he whispered in your ear, his big hands roaming your body as if memorizing every corner of it. “Is this what you wanted, huh? Is this why you kept texting me? Can’t get enough of my big cock, little girl?”

You nodded abstractedly. “M-missed you… I missed this…”

Aaron’s lips tugged to a menacing smirk.

“Is my innocent angel turning into a dirty whore?” he taunted, halting his movement. You could feel his hard cock throbbing inside you, rubbing your walls just right. And when you didn’t answer his question, you felt a sharp slap at the side of your thigh. “Answer me, baby. Are you my whore now?”

“Yes, sir… yes… only for you…” unshed tears stung the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me how bad you want it, angel...” he sounded mocking, his voice light with arousal. “Beg for my cock— no, no, no. Don’t you fucking dare look away.”

You shook your head weakly. “D-daddy…”

A high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt him slowly dragging his cock out of you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in humiliation. Your legs clung to the back of his thighs in a desperate attempt, locking him in place. Aaron even had the nerve to chuckle as he saw your tears streaming down your pretty face.

“P-please… please… sir…” you said breathlessly. “I want your big cock, sir. Please… please fill me up with your cum…”

Aaron’s cock pulsated against your walls as he heard your words, your voice as sweet and gentle as he first heard it. He clenched his jaw and whispered tauntingly. “Yeah? Is that all you can say, angel?”

“I need it, please… Aaron… Sir… please… I’m a good girl…”

“Are you?” he perked one of his thick eyebrows before ramming his cock inside you once again, hitting a spot so deep you rolled your eyes.

“I- I am…” you nodded frantically, taking a fistful of the sheet in your hands. “I waited for you, sir. Only you. Your big cock… only you, Aaron…”

“Did you touch yourself while I’m away?”

You tried closing your thighs a little as you felt his thumb pressing light circles on your swollen clit. “I- I did, sir. Yes- I thought about your cock… I want your cock so bad…”

“And what did you think about, little girl?” he grunted, pounding his cock slowly and shallowly, his thumb still rubbing your sensitive nub.

Your legs shook as you felt your incoming orgasm. “How good you fuck me. Your cum inside m-me… I always dream of it, sir… before I go to bed… I always want to hear your voice.”

Aaron’s thick eyebrows tugged together as his focus narrowed down on giving you pleasure. His cock continued assaulting your warm cunt, hissing and grunting every time you clench deliciously around his cock. The sound of your loud moan and his heavy breaths intertwined together, your eyes rolling back with the intense pleasure of your upcoming orgasm.

“Please, please… sir, please… make me cum…” you whispered hoarsely, your voice full of desperation. “So close. ‘M so close.”

“Yeah, little girl? Cum for me, then…” his thrust became even more vigorous, firmer. “Show me how good girl you are, baby. Go on, angel.”

“Aaron!” his name came out a scream. “I’m coming! I’m com–”

Your vision blurred out as intensely your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your legs trembled and clamped shut, making Aaron growl in the tightness of your cunt. It took him all the self-control not to cum then and there; seeing the pleasure on your face, the tears on your cheeks, your beautiful lips hanging in a silent scream.

Fuck. 

He’d go to hell for corrupting the innocent girl you once were.

“Sir…” you whispered weakly, your voice spent and quiet.

But Aaron paid you no mind. He hasn’t come yet. And he had no plan on letting you go after just one orgasm.  He wants to ruin you. To take over your being. He wants you to realize that he has all the control. He owns you, from the very first day he laid eyes on you, to the very first night you spent together. When you desperately opened your legs for him, you were his. He owned you since then and he can do everything he pleases.

Effortlessly, he pulled you up and switched your positions. He was now lying on his back, his piercing eyes focused on you as you scrambled to find your position on his lap, your legs still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm.

“I haven’t cum yet, little girl.”

You nodded quickly, understanding just well what he meant by that, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. “Yes, sir…”

“Make me proud, angel. Show me how good of a whore you are.”

Aaron let out a loud hiss as you lined the head of his leaking cock on your wet entrance, fluttering in anticipation as it welcome the familiar stretch. You let out a satisfied sigh, feeling your inner thigh wet with arousal and your release, and all Aaron could do was shiver as he felt the wetness the moment you fully sank down his cock.

With your palms resting on the soft surface of his stomach, you forced your legs to bounce up and down his hairy cock. Every once and a while, you’d clench around his girth unconsciously, which only made Aaron shut his eyes and pound into you harshly.

You moaned loudly, meeting the way his hips desperately chases yours. “Ah! Ah, s-sir!”

“You feel so good… so w-warm..” he mumbled dazedly, wetting his lips with his eyes closed. “This cunt’s heaven, baby. Fuck. You’ll send me to hell— fucking hell! Yes, clench that pussy tighter, angel! Fuck, I’m coming!”

You bounced even more desperately, fueled by his moaning, and his heavy breathing. The hoarness of his voice, the way the veins in his strong arms popped out, and how his big hands gripped your hips so tightly it left red, angry marks.

He fucked into you like you’re nothing but a fucktoy. Like you’re something he can discard— like you’re something he will discard the moment he reaches his high. And you’d be lying to say you don’t find that idea hot.

You clenched your cunt tighter, holding his hands that were wrapped around your hips.

“A-Aaron! S-sir! Ah!” his cock found the spot only he can reach. “I’m coming again, sir! D-daddy! Ah! Aaron, please, more! Fuck me harder, daddy!”

Aaron didn’t say anything but a loud growl rumbled through his chest. His chest heaving in sharp, restrained breaths.

“God, angel…” he rasped quietly.

A strangled sound of what seemed like your name escaped his lips. You let him take over, let him ruin you the way he wanted, his hand firm on your hips as he fucked into you. And the moment you felt his hips stutter, warm ropes finally spilled inside you; his big cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep into your willing cunt.

You heaved a sigh of satisfaction, tossing your head back with your eyes closed, feeling perfectly sated and elated at the moment.

If this is heaven, you will never, ever come down.

Even if it means you would beg God to forgive you.

As always, replies, likes, reblogs- everything is highly appreciated! I'm only planning on writing 5 chapters for this series. And please be aware that I'm not promising any happy ending. This will end up in angst unless something changes my mind. Also, listen to Lana's Gods & Monsters and feel the vibe of this series! Have a good day and drink your water! <3

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @readergf, @urbrazysimp, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @yiiiikesmish, @luv-unknwn, @thatonepersononline, @ilikwgirls, @ssamorganhotchner, @antonia29, @fandomtookoverlife, @hotchnerwife, @wandererseye, @marisamarisa @l0kilaufeys0n7, @promptly-mercy

[bbokicidal]

Lollapalooza '24 'Lix Edition ;]

Warnings : Suggestive content (MDNI, 18+)

"What was that?"

Felix slides the cream colored vest down his shoulders and lets it drop to the couch decorating the small dressing room backstage. He'd allowed himself to be a bit more -- out there, one might say -- exposing his entire front to the city of Chicago and millions online for the second half of their performance. "What was what?"

Your finger directs to the vest splayed on the couch cushions, looking far less threatening now that it was off of his body. "You wore just that on stage for the second set. Are you crazy?"

"Maybe," He's quick to retort, giggling as a smile blooms over stretched lips. "But STAY seemed to like it." His tongue pokes between his teeth as he watches you stand from your seat, coming to him to plant a kiss on his lips. It's quick and light, soft as can be while your hands slip up your boyfriend's bare sides.

Felix is more than happy to return the kiss when it's received, but he's a bit caught off guard when your tongue slips between his lips to tangle with his own. As his eyes slip shut and his hands find way to your arms, a moan escapes from his throat - muffled by the way your mouth molds against his. The way your tongue slides over his own, lathes against his and fights to caress every inch of his mouth is something he'll never get tired of - but he is on a schedule.

"Baby," He hums, spit slick against his lips as he mumbles into the kiss, "I have to go out and say goodbye to the crowd, still."

But as he takes a step back in attempt to break the kiss, you follow him forward and reach a hand past to lay it upon the door. It thumps shut and latches the moment his back presses to the heavy weight of it, securing your privacy for a moment more.

"They can wait."

-

"Not wearing the vest anymore?" Changbin chuckles at the end of his question, barely getting the final word out before he's cackling to himself in amusement. Seeing people's reactions to their sweet baby Aussie nearly shirtless on stage made Bin laugh harder than it should.

Felix looks up as he fixes the microphone hooked around his ear, blinking in light confusion before looking back down at the tank top he'd worn earlier - now once again adorning his body. "Ah," He chuckles, smile gracing his lips. "Y/N got a bit jealous earlier, said only she could see me like that.~"

Changbin's eyes roll, once again in amusement, as he steps away and towards the stage to bid their crowd a farewell.

Jeongin, who'd been lingering behind and still fiddling with his headset, turned one-eighty to see you loitering in the dressing room doorway. You exchange smiles with the maknae before giving him a wave, to which he nods and turns back around to follow the others.

And after seeing the way you looked at him expectantly, he decided he would keep it to himself that he'd witnessed Felix exit the dressing room moments before - tugging his tank top down to cover his torso now littered with bruises and bite marks from what could only be your pretty mouth.

[neocrias]

making out with NCT Dream

warnings: slightly suggestive; some of the stories may be longer than others (we got a bit carried away lol sorry); reader insert; gn reader (mostly)

pairings: dream and reader

gender/aus: fluff; established relationships (or not); casual fling;

other units: 127 II wayv

Mark

You had enough of clubbing. You didn't even know why you had come in the first place. While all your friends already had a date and were dancing happily on the dance floor, you were waiting anxiously on the bar stool with a brightly colored drink in your hand that you sipped from time to time. Was it too stupid to want a fairytale prince to show up and save you from the situation you'd gotten yourself into?

— Do you always come here? — The line startled you, and you turned your stool to the side, ready to roll your eyes at whoever had the nerve to throw that old, lousy line at you. However, you're surprised when it's followed by an adorable giggle and the big shiny black eyes that stare at you when you turn to see the boy. — I'm sorry, I know that was terrible. 

He was beautiful. His insecure smile and low posture revealed that he seemed a little nervous about the interaction - and you found that adorable. He seemed completely harmless.

The boy introduced himself as Mark, and you also introduced yourself to him. He went on to ask a few simple questions, such as “did you come with your friends?” or “do you like the place?”, which didn't spark much of a conversation, but were enough to keep you talking. He shared some information about himself, and you began to notice that with each question he asked, Mark leaned a little closer to you. This made you think that perhaps he wasn't as innocent as you had thought, even if his posture still indicated a certain shyness.

This didn't disappoint you, however, since ever since you had caught sight of Mark's sparkling eyes and trembling lips, you knew you wanted to kiss him. And, after buying you a drink and continuing the gentle but warm conversation, you noticed that even with the close proximity between your body and Mark's, he seemed to have no intention of advancing on you in the way you wanted. Even with his lapses of confidence, leaning his arms lightly on the bar counter, or staring into your eyes without looking away with a look of admiration while you said trivial things, he gave no indication that he was going to go any further without your total acquiescence.

That's why, realizing how much Mark seemed to be asking for that kiss, you leaned in at the rare moment when he stopped talking and closed your eyes, moving closer. 

Even though he was shy, Mark understood what it meant - even too quickly - and was firm in holding the back of your neck and returning the kiss, slowly and almost torturously at first, only to become stronger and faster towards the end. Mark's free hand on the counter reached for yours and rested on top of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your heart almost exploded with the tenderness of the newly met boy at that moment, and you felt that this would be just the first of countless kisses between you and Mark. 

Renjun

You were lying on the sofa, trying to finish one of the countless novels you'd ordered a month earlier while Renjun was painting for what seemed like hours. You actually wanted to spend this time with your boyfriend, but he hadn't been able to take a moment to do what he likes for so long that you didn't want to interrupt him, so you just waited.

However, the waiting became more and more difficult as the hours passed and he didn't finish, and you couldn't even read the book in your anxiety. Tired of waiting, you got up from the sofa, leaving the book behind, and walked over to your boyfriend who was sitting at the table.

You hugged him around the shoulders, putting your face in the crook of his neck and giving him several kisses that made him laugh with happiness. Renjun gently released the brush so as not to dirty the drawing and leaned his face back and wrapped his arms around your neck, keeping you in that position. You took advantage of this and left a chaste kiss on his lips, making him smile even more.

Suddenly he closed his eyes and frowned in confusion before asking: — Mary Jane, is that you?

— Oh, you're so funny! — You replied ironically. — You finished?

Renjun turned to face you, putting the painting aside. — I'm neglecting you, aren't I? — He asked with a sad smile. 

— No! — You were quick to deny it. — I just missed you.

He stood up, still holding each side of your hips, then brought one of his hands up to your face to push your bangs out of your face. Slowly, he brought their faces closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, before finally bringing their lips together in a tender, romantic kiss. Renjun has a way of making you feel loved.

— What do you want to do? — He asked.

— You can finish your drawing, Junnie, no problem.

— I'd rather kiss my beautiful girlfriend a lot more.

To disguise your happy smile, you bit your lower lip, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and ran your fingers through his soft brown hair. You kissed once more, deeply, and you felt him take small steps forward, leading you both towards the sofa.

Jeno

You don't know how you got into this delicate situation and you don't know how you're going to get out of it without revealing your feelings. Jeno has been your best friend since you were four years old, you two practically grew up together, went to the same schools, had the same friends, liked the same things. With such closeness, it's no surprise that you fell in love with him. Jeno is beautiful, after all.

To disguise the fact that you were completely obsessed with him, you tended to be a little thicker than you would have liked, always cracking some stupid joke to pick on him. Sometimes you decided to take it to a more physical level, putting your foot in front of him to make him trip, or squeezing the water bottle to splash him in the face when he drank.

Jeno always returned the pranks. You understood each other like that. The problem was that I miscalculated all the negative endings that “play fighting” could lead to.

Jeno is strong, much stronger than you, thanks to the gym addiction he developed during his teenage years. It would be easy for him to knock you down or hurt you even if he didn't mean to, which is why he refused, but you kept pushing and provoking him until Jeno gave in.

Now the sight of the muscles tensing around you made you nervous. Jeno noticed your heavy eyes, he also noticed the little bites on your lips every time he pulled you slightly tighter. Your reactions were a confirmation of what he had suspected for some time and a relief for the conflicting feelings he felt.

Jeno has had a crush on you for a while and used to get jealous every time a guy hit on you. Fortunately, he was able to disguise his own feelings behind a facade of protection, when in reality he wanted to be the one to have you.

You tried to knock him down, but that only made Jeno's grip around your forearm increase, he pulled you closer then grabbed one of your legs knocking you to the ground. You let out a gasp of surprise, still half out of breath he knelt over you, one leg on either side of your hip, as you tried to push him off he grabbed both your arms, pinning them against the floor. Your eyes were wide open, your lips parted, you were breathing heavily and Jeno just wanted to kiss you until you were panting harder.

So he did.

He kissed you with a ferocity that made you let out a low moan of fright and relief, returning the kiss as if you depended on his lips to live. You wiggled your fingers, wishing you had something to hold on to, but Jeno didn't let go, not even when he moved his kisses down to your neck and shoulder. You were already confused and out of breath, but you weren't going to stop him.

Haechan

Haechan is a teasing little pest, always having fun with your annoyance and when you make out it's no different. You don't know why you're still with him, but you have even less reason to stop.

This was the third time he'd approached you only to pull away when you tried to kiss him and it was wearing on your patience. You rolled your eyes and regretted following the boy to the empty balcony, leaving your euphoric friends playing Just Dance behind - at least there you'd only be bored and not completely annoyed by the boy in front of you.

— Oh — He cooed at you — poor kitty wanna kiss me so bad, don't you?

— Asshole! — You replied.

Haechan laughed out loud, throwing his head back as he wrapped his arms around your hips so that you wouldn't run away. — Don't be like that, pretty.

You turned your face away, not wanting to look at him and Haechan pouted, even though he knew you wouldn't see. It was really fun to annoy you, but now he had to think of a way to get you to stop being angry with him.

— You look beautiful when you're angry, you know that? — He asked. He held your chin, turning your face towards him, but you looked away. “Sulky”, he thought. — Hm? — he insisted once more, giving you several kisses in a row and a few more kisses on the cheek.

— You're ridiculous, you know that? — You snapped back, trying to stay nervous, but you couldn't stay angry with him for long. I guess that explains why you've been together for so long.

— You love it!

— Do I? — you asked and he arched an eyebrow as if daring you to lie to him. — Maybe I do.

Haechan smiled and finally kissed you. A real kiss, with tenderness and desire mixed just right. His hand is still holding your face, holding you in place so that you wouldn't escape.

Wanting to provoke him back, you bit his lower lip as soon as he started to pull away and pulled his hair back tightly. Haechan laughed out loud at your audacity and stared at you with heavy eyes. He pushed his tongue against the inside of your cheek and pulled your hair harder, making your head go back and you let go of his hair in surprise. 

— Why aren't you my girlfriend anyway?

— You never asked.

— Do you want to be my girlfriend? — Haechan asked instinctively, as if he'd been waiting for this opportunity for ages.

— I'll think about it.

You joked, but the teasing smile on your lips said everything Haechan needed to know. You were his, just as he was yours.

Jaemin

You regretted coming to this party the moment you got in the Uber, but you'd already spent too much money on the costume to stay at home now. That explains why you're looking for an empty place to hide from the mess of sweaty bodies crammed into the small living room.

— Why are you alone in this corner? Not enjoying the party? — A sweet voice interrupted your regret session, and you turned around to face a boy with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

You knew him well, Na Jaemin, the popular guy in your calculus class. Always giving nice smiles to classmates, teachers, janitors, always getting the best grades, doing the best in extracurricular activities - it's no surprise that he's so popular. What is a surprise is that he noticed you at all.

— Oh, I'm not very good at parties — You replied and automatically wanted to beat herself up for sounding so weird. He'd certainly stay away from you now.

— Poor little thing can't get along? — Jaemin cooed at you, finding your clumsiness funny.

You didn't realize Jaemin's real intentions and that made it all the more interesting for him, who was amused by your naivety. In his eyes you were such a pretty, shy, perfect little thing for him to destroy. In contrast, all you could think about was how nice he was to talk to you and hang out with you when he could have been enjoying the party.

Although amusing, Jaemin was getting tired of you not understanding the hints he was giving you, making it clear that he wanted to kiss you. Then, without you realizing it, he led you down the hallway to the bedrooms, where the guests had been warned not to enter - Jaemin didn't have to worry about being the master of the house.

Then he got closer, one step closer to you every minute. “Silly girl”, he thought as he noticed you walking backwards to create distance between the two of you, not understanding what he wanted. Impatiently, Jaemin circled his arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

He smiled mischievously when he saw your wide eyes and pressed your lips together. Your knee buckled with the hunger with which he kissed you and your eyes closed enjoying the moment, your hands instinctively going up to his shoulders and squeezing hard.

You sighed when he pushed you - gently - against the wall, your free arm supporting the weight of his body as he sprinkled your face, neck and lap with quick kisses and you sank your painted nails into the back of his neck.

Chenle Jeno, your best friend, invited you to watch his basketball game with the boys because that day there was going to be a get-together at the house of Chenle, one of Jeno's friends, after the game.

You hadn't met Chenle before, in fact, you'd only talked to Jaemin and Jisung for a short time before, so you were feeling overwhelmed by the idea of going to a party at the house of a guy you didn't know - but it was because Jeno asked you to.

In the end, it was pretty smooth, the boys were nice, especially Chenle.

He was charismatic, handsome and polite and you didn't avoid watching him during the match. You felt more attracted to him with every basket he made but, despite noticing the quick glances Chenle gave you, you didn't have the courage to approach him.

But he wasn't going to leave it at that, after all, he thought you were pretty the second he laid eyes on you and, after making sure that you and Jeno were nothing but good friends, he made his move.

— Nice of you to come — He said, taking a seat next to you on the wooden deck of the pool and offering you one of the glasses he was holding.  — Did you enjoy the game?

You agreed with a simple “uh huh” as you tasted the drink, it was vodka with energy drink, far from your favorite but fortunately he made sure it wasn't too strong. — You nailed it! — You complimented, turning her face towards him with a restrained smile.

— Yeah? — Chenle asked with a cocky smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He tilted his head slightly to one side before saying. — Good, because I decided that all my baskets would be for you as soon as I saw you arrive.

He smirked as soon as he saw you blink repeatedly and look away in embarrassment. He held your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your face back to his with a mischievous grin. Chenle noticed the way your eyes drifted down to his mouth, he noticed the way you nervously clamped your lower lip between your teeth, he really wanted to kiss you right then.

He brushed his thumb against your lip, making you release it, and leaned in, kissing you the way he wanted to. Chenle sneaked his hand down to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling them slightly, making your head tilt in the direction he wanted.

Finally, Chenle bit his lip as soon as the kiss ended, but remained with his forehead pressed together and his eyes closed until you were forced apart by the incessant shouting and joking of the friends who had come to take you back to the party.

Jisung

Jisung is a shy boy. In the few classes you attend together, he keeps quiet most of the time, when he's not sleeping at the back of the room. Anyone would think he was just a weirdo, but you know better, his silly, clumsy ways were just the surface of what he was really like - Jisung could be quite silly when he wanted to be.

You should be in your classical literature class right now, but Jisung managed to convince you to skip it, just like all the others. Honestly, you don't know if you're going to be able to pass this class with the amount of absences you've collected because of the upperclassman, but that's okay... Jisung always makes it worthwhile.

He was leaning against the red brick wall, his knees slightly bent to be closer to your height and his legs slightly open so that you could stand between them. Jisung was also holding your hand, playing with the delicate ring on your ring finger, amused at how small your hand was compared to his.

He smirked as he pulled you closer, making you stumble with the sudden movement and, to avoid falling on top of him, you rested your free hand against his shoulder.

— Have I mentioned how pretty you look in red? — He joked in a condescending voice, knowing full well what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes before answering: — You've been more creative, Jisung.

— Can't I compliment my girl anymore? 

— What do you want in return? — You replied without believing the lack of ulterior motives behind the boy's compliments.

— A kiss is enough — he smiled and pushed the tip of his tongue against your cheek before continuing — in thanks.

 You rolled your eyes again, but you wanted it as much as he did, so you let him press your body against his and press your lips together in a deep, slow kiss. Jisung's hands were around your hips, which kept your bodies glued together, sneaking up under the hem of your red T-shirt, leaving an icy trail that chilled your heated skin.

When he reached the curve of your waist, he gently scratched your skin, just to feel you shiver - he made a mental note to thank Chenle for this tip later - and in retaliation you tugged at the brown strands at the back of his neck. Jisung sighed, but that wasn't enough. He brought his hands up again, covering the cup of your bra with his big palms and gave it a shallow squeeze. In shock, you pushed yourself back, away from him - for your own safety and sanity.

— Just a kiss, huh? As if! — You complained, making the boy laugh.

— As if you didn't like it.

[chiipay]

BLUE LOCK ADDITIONAL TIME!!

Tw: reader is known for being very tired and exhausted all the time + also savage i think.

”is _______ sleeping?”

”looks dead to me.”

”should we wake them up?”

”Nah let's just dump them with water- like they did to us”

”Do you seriously want to dump a bucket of water on ________? Have some dignity, raichi!”

” does my face look like i gave a damn?”

I. Team Z

As team Z gathers around your sleeping figure on the cold floor, the other was figuring out what to do with you sleeping as bachira's hand sneaking up to hold your face gently before.....

SLAP!

A loud smack ringing into the team Z walls, the other quickly to turn their heads to meet with bachira's hand that has made contact with your left cheek that has now printed with red hand mark- that belongs to him-

” woah... _______ still asleep! Looks like they gave no sign of waking up sooner too!”

”BACHIRA!!”

”what? I was curious.”

II. Second selection

” You look tired.” niko tilted his head to look at your poor expression of choice.

”mhhmmm fine.. I've to walk back and forth because shidou's fought someone- I'm going to dieee-” you groaned tirelessly.

”hmm shidou?" He questioned.

” just a random player here. You'll meet him someday. He's nuts.”

”I see...” he hummed while staring at his feet.

” What do you see?” you grin widening hearing his comment.

”huh? Oh. Haha. Not funny” he looked up to you under his bangs as his lips form a small smile understanding your humour very well.

Well this isn't so bad ain't it?

III. WORLD FIVE

”should i visit Harajuku or Kyoto?" Pablo asked.

”i don't know...stop asking me about places- I barely stepped outside of my own house..” you snickered.

”tell me where to find some ladies in kimonos?" Adam Blake chipped in as well making you more uncomfortable than you already were.

”..uhh i don't know maybe Kyoto? i heard they're popular with that...? Am i a tourist council or something?” you sighed.

V. U-20 VS BLUE LOCK

The Itoshi Sae is staring at your soul. You could tell even though you're staring at something else you could feel his eyes piercing on your back- goodness he's scary. No wonder he got haters...

” hey uhm.. Itoshi. Sorry about shidou earlier.” you turned to face him.

".... it's fine.”

” okay...”

It was the most awkward conversation you had with someone. You probably will avoid itoshi sae.

....

A/n : that's all ig sorry for disappearing. Alright imma head back to hibernation again who knows i might even won't wake up (⁠*⁠・⁠～⁠・⁠*⁠) might as well be dead for awhile. Take care of yourself! Make sure to eat and drink! Don't starve yourself to death! Stay healthy! Bye.

[aventurineswife]

Hii! It's the same Anon who asked the sibling like Reader with the Astral Express! Could I request another one, but with Reader welcoming Sunday with open arms? Thanks!

- 🌱

A Place to Belong

Summary: Sunday, a new member of the Astral Express, finds himself unsure about his place among the crew. You welcome him with open arms, offering kindness and reassurance as he begins his journey of healing and self-discovery. Through heartfelt conversations and genuine connection, Sunday starts to see the Express not just as a means of redemption but as a home and family.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Comfort and Healing, Emotional Introspection, Light Humor, Fluff with a Hint of Melancholy.

Warnings: Mentions of past mistakes and guilt, Subtle references to emotional trauma, Themes of redemption and self-acceptance.

The Astral Express hummed softly as it floated through the endless expanse of stars. You stood by the observation window, gazing at the universe outside, yet your thoughts lingered elsewhere. Himeko had announced earlier that a new member would be joining the crew today—someone named Sunday. From her tone, it was clear he carried a past as intricate as the galaxies you traversed.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement. Welcoming new members to the Express had always been your forte. Something about offering a safe space to someone starting anew warmed your heart, and you hoped today would be no different.

The sound of measured footsteps broke your reverie. You turned, and there he was.

Sunday stood with an ethereal grace that could only belong to a Halovian. His hair shimmered under the soft lights of the cabin, and his golden halo, marked with eye-like symbols, floated behind his head like a quiet sentinel. His eyes, sharp yet melancholic, scanned the room before landing on you. A faint flutter of his feathered wings—adorned with golden studs—betrayed his hesitance.

You smiled warmly and stepped forward. "You must be Sunday. Welcome aboard the Astral Express. I’m [Name]."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze distant as though weighing the significance of your words. Then, with a small nod, he replied, “Thank you. It’s...a pleasure to be here.” His voice was gentle, airy, yet carried an undercurrent of weariness, like a lullaby sung by someone too tired to sleep.

You tilted your head, reading between the lines of his composed demeanor. “It’s okay to feel a bit out of place at first,” you offered. “Everyone here has their own story, their own baggage. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore.”

His wings shifted slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps?—crossing his face. “You’re kind,” he said softly, his halo shimmering faintly as though reflecting his emotions.

“Kindness is free, you know,” you teased, though your tone was lighthearted. “Let me show you around. I think you’ll find the Express is more than just a train. It’s a home.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding. “Lead the way.”

As you guided Sunday through the train, pointing out everything from the archives to the observation car, you made sure to keep the conversation easy and casual. He listened intently, occasionally offering a quiet comment or question. Still, his responses were measured, as though he were testing the waters of trust.

When you finally reached the lounge, you plopped onto one of the plush sofas and gestured for him to do the same. “So,” you said, leaning forward, “what made you decide to join the Express?”

Sunday’s wings folded neatly behind him as he sat, his eyes lowering. “I’ve...been searching for something,” he began slowly, his voice tinged with an almost imperceptible sorrow. “Redemption, perhaps. A way to reconcile the choices I’ve made with the person I wish to become.”

You listened without interruption, sensing the weight of his words. When he paused, you spoke, your tone gentle but firm. “I think the fact that you’re here means you’ve already taken the first step. Nobody on this train is perfect. We’re all just trying to do our best, one day at a time.”

Sunday looked at you, his expression softening. “Do you believe that even the most flawed among us deserve a second chance?”

“I don’t just believe it—I live by it,” you replied earnestly. “And you’re no exception, Sunday. Whatever you’ve been through, whatever mistakes you’ve made, you’re here now. That counts for something.”

His halo flickered faintly, and for the first time since meeting him, a faint smile touched his lips. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” he murmured.

“Hopefully someone you liked?” you joked, leaning back with a grin.

Sunday chuckled softly, the sound light yet laced with a bittersweet undertone. “Yes,” he said simply. “Someone I liked very much.”

The hours passed in easy conversation, your words weaving a tapestry of welcome and understanding. By the time the train dipped into a calm pocket of starlight, Sunday’s guarded demeanor had relaxed ever so slightly.

“Thank you, [Name],” he said as you walked him to his quarters. “For...making this easier than I expected. I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smiled, giving him a playful nudge. “That’s what siblings are for, right? You’re part of the family now, Sunday. And family looks out for each other.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the melancholia in them seemed to lift. “Family,” he repeated softly, as though testing the word. “I think I’d like that.”

As he stepped into his room and the door closed behind him, you felt a sense of fulfillment. Sunday might have been searching for redemption, but here on the Astral Express, he had found something just as important: a place to belong.

[huellitaa]

girl's guide to academic success: ep 1! ⊹˚. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 this post focuses on: actively rooting for success! ♡ part 2 -> ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. organisation

first off, have something to organise ur academic life with! i personally use notion (which i'll add later) but u can use anything as long as it's cute, convenient, unique and accessible to you, your life and your schedule specifically. especially as a visual learner, i like to have somewhere i can dump literally everything regarding a singular area in my life, so i do this for almost everything along with school and i highly recommend this <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. recognition of talents & improvements

analyse your strengths and weaknesses. think back on tests, exams, marks, and analyse which ones you got highest and lowest on. dont beat urself up for it, obviously; it's just to check which subjects you're doing good in and which ones have room for improvement. for example i love science but im not the best at it sometimes and we had an assessment recently and i didn't get as high as i'd like so i wrote down a little list on a piece of paper in my pencilcase for the topics i got the least in for me to study on my own to practise later.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. laying out goals

set down specific goals; i like to do this week by week accustomed to my schedule that week in my school notion page along with images and vision boards based on the term/semester, but you can do it for the week, the month, the year, anything as long as its helpful to you

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. productive planning

plan accordingly based on ur time energy. when creating any to do list or productivity plan dont pile a ridiculous amount onto it that just leaves you stressed and overwhelmed because that defeats the entire point; this works the same for academic plans and goals and lists etc.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. extra credit

put extra work in to the subjects you know will help you in the future. for example, for my personal aspirations i need to excel in english, history and textiles so i always try my absolute hardest and put my all into those lessons and do extra studying for them in my free time where i can. school is to prepare you for the future so take advantage of that

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. asking questions

please don't be shy to ask questions! that's what teachers are there for and you won't have them forever so take advantage of it while you can! you can even do it in that little window of time just after class if ur too nervous to ask in class. for example, on my last english exam i went to my teacher after class and asked about what i needed to improve on to get the marks i missed next time, and he told me i added too much detail and some other things so i wrote it down and am keeping a note of it to remind me to improve on that next time! (i got top of my class though so i didnt mind. still kind of pissed i added too much detail though)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. participation

participate! ok im saying this as someone who still struggles with social anxiety a fair amount but if u wanna get higher marks and get on good terms w ur teacher i 100% recommend this. i don't do this in every class but i do it where i can and when i'm confident in my answer, and it's really intimidating at first but what i did is i did it first in the classes i felt most comfortable on and continued from there. it gets easier every time i swear, and nobody's judging you; they'll forget about it after five minutes. plus, what would they be judging you for? being smarter than them?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. prioritising ur health

this is mentioned a lot in these types of posts but if you're tired or burnt out or overworked or just feel like you need to take a break then do. do the best you can and compromise like i said earlier if you need to, just make sure u are prioritising yourself over anything. <3

──★ ˙ ̟🎀inspo

──★ ˙ ̟🎀my notion

i also really recommend this layout by @honeytonedhottie ♡

all my love 🩷✨💬🎀💗