#no one is in a rush so they drive with no thoughtfulness or urgency

[dilfenthusiast]

I feel like every time I drive at night there’s someone driving with their high beams on. And I’m not even talking about headlights that are bright LEDs, I mean actual high beams. Either someone driving at me and blinding me, or someone driving behind me and retina blasting me via mirror reflection and lighting up my whole car cabin, making it hard to see the road in front of me.

And don’t even get me started on the number of people driving with their headlights off because they think their Daytime Running Lights on and they think it’s enough? But then their tail lights aren’t on and you almost run into them because they’re driving a black car.

I’m starting to believe that it’s a detriment to society that we allow people to “learn” to drive from their parents. Like if their parents are shit drivers and don’t know about cars and don’t explain how to use their cars, we perpetuate the problem. Genuinely starting to think we should move towards driving schools like Japan in order to get a license, not just memorizing road signs and then being released onto the road.

“I failed my permit test 5 times and my driving test 3 times before getting my license hehe” you should not be driving. Honestly.

And I understand this also leads to discussions of public transit (more people who don’t like driving and don’t want to should have the option of a robust and reliable network of bus and rail) and privilege (driving schools cost money, not everyone has parents who can teach them) but like … that’s for another post.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Very first - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Request: First time with Lewis. I had 5 requests for that and I hope I did it justice (sorry for how long it took for a couple of those requests)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, all sorts.

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +5K

a/n: Haven't written in first person in so long, but all the drafts felt better like this. Also, it's huge, ops. Hope you guys like it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

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It was easy with him, too easy maybe, but that's what made it so damn nice.

“So,” I started, turning to him with a half-smile. “You want to come up?”

We’d spent the morning driving through the countryside, talking about everything and nothing—his races, my job, the ridiculousness of the price of avocados.

His eyes met mine, and I could see the question there, like he was trying to read me. “You sure?”

It was cute that he was being cautious, but come on, we both knew why I was asking. I nodded, keeping my voice light. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the countryside air or just the fact that we had spent the day away from the madness of London, but today felt different.

Calmer, somehow.

I led him up the stairs to my apartment, trying not to think too much about how it had been a while since I’d let anyone in here.

Literally and figuratively.

“Welcome to my humble abode” I said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

He hesitated in the doorway, taking it all in.

My place was small, but it was mine—books, plants, a blanket that I was probably too attached to. It wasn’t flashy like the places he was used to, but I liked that about it.

“Nice place,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“It does the job” I replied with a shrug, kicking off my shoes. “Make yourself at home.”

He followed suit, slipping off his sneakers and setting them neatly by the door. “It suits you. Feels… grounded.”

I let out a soft laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

He leaned against the counter as we headed into the kitchen to grab some water.

But when handed him the glass, and our fingers brushed, it was fireworks all over again. God, how was I still reacting like a teenager with a crush?

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “So, today was fun.”

“It was,” I agreed, taking a drink to give myself something to do with my hands. “It’s nice to get out of the city for a bit. The countryside’s got this whole other vibe.”

“Yup” he said, setting his glass down. “Nice to just… let it go.”

“Even from the racing?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Especially from the racing,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

There was a beat of silence, and I could feel the shift in the air between us, that tension that had been simmering since our last date starting to bubble up again.

The last time… well, things had gotten pretty heated until his phone rang, snapping us both out of it.

It was a close call, but I’d pulled back, sticking to my rule. No rushing into things. I’d done that before, and it never ended well.

But this time, he was making it very hard for me to stick by that rule.

I wanted him, and from the way he was looking at me, I’d take a pretty good guess he wanted me too.

I took a step closer, letting my hand find his. That simple touch was all it took for the tension to skyrocket, and before I knew it, we were closing the distance between us, lips crashing together in a kiss that was anything but tentative.

His hands were on my waist, pulling me closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

God, the man could kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were, who you were, and why you ever thought not doing this was a good idea. His lips were soft, but the way he kissed me was anything but.

There was urgency there, a hunger that only fueled into my own, and I could feel it in every brush of his lips, every tug of his fingers on my shirt.

I pressed myself against him, deepening the kiss as I let my hands roam up his back, memorizing the feel of him.

The muscles there were as solid as they looked, and I couldn’t help but think that this man was literally built for this kind of thing.

I mean, I had the image of what he looked like shirtless—hell, half the world did—but feeling it under my fingers was a whole different story.

He let out a low groan against my lips, and I was losing myself in the kiss, in him, and for a second, I almost didn’t care about anything else. Almost.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. “Y/n…”

The way he said my name, low and rough, made me want to pull him back in and never let go.

But there was something in his voice that made me pause.

“Yeah?” I whispered, my hands still resting on his shoulders, my eyes closed shut.

“I just… I don’t want to rush you” he said, his voice soft but serious. “I know last time… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again.

Damn, he was really being careful, wasn’t he? But I appreciated it. More than I’d probably let on.

“Lewis” I started, taking a breath. “I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

He studied me for a moment, like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. Not this time.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I nodded, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw tentatively. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all it took.

He kissed me again, and this time, there was no holding back.

And damn, if it wasn’t about time.

We barely made it through the hallway before his lips found mine again, pressing me against the wall with just the right amount of pressure.

God, he was good at this. I could feel the heat between us, the urgency in his touch making it clear where this was heading.

“Bedroom?” I mumbled against his lips, not really wanting to break the kiss but knowing we couldn’t just do this against the wall like teenagers.

Although, thinking it back the idea didn’t sound so bad.

As soon as we stepped inside his eyes landed on the teddy bear sitting in the middle of my bed. Of course.

“What’s this?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pointed to the bear.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to let him see how much I loved that he was trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s Mr. Bear, and he’s not going anywhere, so you’ll just have to deal.”

“Mr. Bear?” He picked it up, inspecting it like it was some kind of artifact. “Well, I guess I’ll have to make sure he approves.”

“He’s a tough cookie” I quipped, crossing my arms and giving him a look. “But you might want to focus on impressing me instead.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he murmured, setting the bear down gently on the bedside table before turning back to me, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something much more intense.

He stepped closer, his hands finding the hem of my shirt. “Can I…?”

I sighed, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Lewis, if you ask me for permission one more time…”

He grinned, but there was something softer behind it. “Just making sure, love”

“I know,” I cut him off, my voice softer too. “But trust me, I want this. I want you.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, slipping his hands under my shirt and lifting it over my head.

His fingers grazed my skin, causing goosebumps down my skin as he took his time, clearly trying to be as gentle as possible, maybe even allowing for the time for me to back off.

It was sweet, really, but I was starting to get impatient.

“Lewis,” I said, a warning in my voice.

He chuckled, his hands moving to the waistband of my jeans. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop asking.”

“Good” I muttered, stepping out of my jeans as he slid them down my legs.

When I was finally standing in just my lingerie, his eyes roamed over me, and I could see the want—was it also awe? —in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” I said, my voice teasing as I reached for the hem of his shirt.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine with a tense stare.

“That you’re fully dressed” I replied, tugging at his shirt. “Especially when half the world uses your abs as gym inspiration.”

He laughed then; a deep, genuine sound that made my heart skip a beat. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

He raised his arms, letting me pull the shirt over his head. And yeah, the man was every bit as ripped as I had imagined.

I already knew what was under there, but damn, it was something else to see it up close like this.

And the tattoos. Those damn tattoos.

I ran my hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, and he watched me with that same intense gaze, like he was studying every move I made.

It was intoxicating, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered at that second.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Much” I whispered, my fingers trailing down to his abs, feeling them tense under my touch.

His breath hitched slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile.

It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling a little overwhelmed by this. He might be Lewis Hamilton, but right now, he was just a guy standing in front of me, and I was the one making him nervous.

He softly guided my chin up and smiled, that stupidly soft and loving smile, before leaning into my lips, my hands exploring his back, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach.

He took his time though, his hands sliding up my sides to my back, and only then pausing at the clasp of my bra.

With his lips still hovering over mine he breathed into me. “Can I…?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yes, Lewis. You can.”

And with that – and with his lips back on mine – he undid the clasp, letting the bra fall away as his hands moved over my now bare skin

Finally. And damn, if I wasn’t loving every second of it.

His lips started to trail from my collarbone down to the swell of my breasts, taking detours to worship every inch of skin he found on the way.

By the time his mouth reached my belly, I was practically trembling with anticipation.

When his fingers brushed the lace of my underwear, I couldn’t help the hiss that escaped my lips.

He paused, looking up at me with those deep, dark eyes that seemed to see right through me. Without a word, he moved back up to capture my mouth with his, as if soothing the impatience brewing inside me.

And I was impatient. The slow, deliberate pace was driving me insane, and he knew it.

I kissed him back hard, my hands roaming down his sides until they found the waistband of his boxers.

I was more than ready to speed things up, and as I slipped my hand under the fabric, I was pleasantly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Guess the rumors weren’t exaggerating,” I murmured against his lips, my fingers brushing over his length.

He responded with a low growl, one hand angling my head as he kissed me again, harder this time, effectively shutting me up.

But he never stopped me from continuing my exploration. I traced the outline of his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched under my touch.

Knowing I could get this kind of reaction from him was a high I probably wouldn’t get over for a minute.

When he finally broke the kiss, I met his gaze, silently asking for permission to go further. “It’s all yours, babe.” He chuckled, a sound that made me want to attack him and hide all at once.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down.

The moment his dick sprang free, I couldn’t help the way my breath caught in my throat.

He wasn’t impossibly long, but he was definitely above average, and the girth—God, the girth—was enough to make my pulse quicken.

He was watching me, of course, catching every flicker of reaction on my face.

When he noticed my wide-eyed surprise, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. His smile was warm, reassuring even “We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded, grateful for his patience even as it frustrated me. I returned his smile, my fingers wrapping around his length. His breath hitched the moment I touched him, and I couldn’t help but bat my eyes at him playfully.

“Gosh, you’re trouble” he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

I grinned, taking my time as I began to pump him, feeling the weight and heat of him in my hand.

When I reached the tip, I leaned down to press a kiss there, delighting in the way he shivered at the contact.

“Sensitive here, huh?” I teased, looking up at him.

Whatever retort he had in mind was lost when he dragged me back up to his lips, his hands firm on my hips as he effortlessly maneuvered me onto the bed, pressing my back against the headboard.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine. “I’m good, love. But we need to make sure you’re ready” he murmured, his statement a promise to my ears.

Before I could respond, his mouth was on me again, trailing kisses down my body with single-minded focus.

When he reached my inner thighs, he took his time kissing through the fabric of my lace underwear, and I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips.

“Don’t tease,” I breathed, hating how desperate I sounded.

He giggled—that soft, infectious sound that I’d grown to love. “Just making sure” he whispered, his fingers hooking around the strings on my hips, slowly pulling the lace down and off.

As he finally took in the sight of my exposed cunt, his expression shifted into something almost reverent, like he was savoring the moment. He leaned down, leaving featherlight kisses on my outer lips, the gentle touch driving me wild.

“Lewis” I groaned, the frustration in my voice clear. “Please.”

He smiled against my skin, his breath hot against my thigh. “Patience, love. I’m just getting started.”

The first tentative lick sent a shockwave through my body, and my hands immediately grabbed at the sheets, fingers curling tight.

Every nerve on me was on fire, heightened by the slow, deliberate pace he was setting.

And just when I thought I might float away, he hooked an arm around my hips, anchoring me in place. His other hand found mine, fingers intertwining, as if he needed to connect with me anymore.

His eyes never left mine, and even if I wanted, I couldn’t really stop watching as his tongue lapped up my clit. A gasp escaping my lips as the pleasure spiked through me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, barely coherent.

He continued, his tongue moving with just the right pace, not rushing, just giving me enough to keep me teetering on the edge.

When he felt I was wet enough, he let go of my hand, moving it down to tease at my entrance with a single digit.

“I’ll need words from here, love” he murmured, his voice muffled. “Tell me what you like.”

“Don’t stop,” I managed to say, my voice shaky, almost pleading. “Just—don’t stop.”

With a grin, he slid a single finger inside me, his own hiss vibrating through the room as he felt my walls.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed, a note of awe in his voice. “This is gonna be heaven.”

He took his time, exploring with just that one finger, feeling around until he found the spot that had me squirming under him. When he hit it, I couldn’t help the moan that tore from my throat, my hips bucking involuntarily.

“Found it” he said with a satisfied smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

Then he added a second finger, the light stretch already making me gasp.

He started a scissoring motion, opening me up, getting me ready. All the while, his tongue didn’t let up, lapping at my clit in perfect rhythm, just enough to keep me on edge without pushing me over.

The wet sounds filled the room, mingling with my ragged breathing and his low murmurs of praise.

He was studying me, like he was learning exactly how to make me fall apart under him.

After what felt like an eternity of this sweet torment, he finally pulled back, sitting on his heels.

I watched as he switched to his middle and ring fingers, angling them just right before sliding back into me.

The feeling was delicious, and when he curled his fingers and found that spot again, I cried out, my hips lifting off the bed.

“Easy” he murmured, his free arm holding me in place as he started a relentless up-and-down motion.

His thumb brushed over my clit, making my breath caught in my throat and my head spin.

I was completely at his mercy, the pleasure building and building until I could hardly breathe.

The wet noises from where his fingers worked inside me were obscene, mingling with the desperate little sounds I couldn’t hold back.

He kept on the soft praises, but they were swallowed by my moans as I got closer and closer to the edge.

And then it hit.

My vision went white, and all I could do was hold onto his arm on his hips, feeling the waves of pleasure crash over me again and again. My whole body tensing before it felt like it had shattered into a million pieces.

He didn’t stop until he was sure I’d ridden out every last bit of it, his fingers slowing their movements but never letting up until I was trembling beneath him.

Only then did he pull his fingers out.

When I finally came back to myself, I found him watching me with a look that was equal parts smug and adoring.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as if sealing the moment. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice gentle now.

I could only nod, too blissed out to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

And then he had the nerve to ask if I had one more in me, and again all I could do was nod.

But apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. “I need words,” he insisted, and barely managed to get out “Fucking hell, you’re not leaving me without the rest.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t deny how endearing it was.

How many green flags could one guy have? Annoyingly checking every damn box.

When he went to his wallet, I knew what was coming next.

He handed me the condom packet, giving me that same patient, earnest look, like he was asking if I could handle one more thing.

I reached for him, giving him a few more pumps just to feel him twitch in my hand. Sliding the condom on, I could feel the heat building again, a rush of anticipation making my heart race.

He adjusted our position like he was handling something precious—placing a pillow just under my back, so deliberate and thoughtful.

But when he rested his dick on my inner thigh, all those coherent thoughts I had left my brain like it was suddenly a foreign language, and I remembered the girth.

Holy shit. How was I supposed to handle that?

The weight of him, the sheer size, and the fact that I was supposed to take it in?

Was this man sculpted by the gods or what?

And why did I have to get stuck on how considerate he was instead of focusing on the absolute insanity about to happen?

Before I could spiral any further, he came up to me, his lips brushing mine, dragging me back into the present. “We’ll take all the time you need, okay?” his voice like honey, smooth and sweet.

And there I was, rolling my eyes again, even as the warmth spread through me.

I wanted to snap back, something sassy on the tip of my tongue, but then his tip entered me, and all I could do was hiss at the sensation.

He kissed me through the first thrust, his dick practically ripping through my walls, and my hands automatically went to his back, nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life.

I tried to breathe, tried to adjust to the stretch, but when he finally stopped, I realized he wasn’t even fully in yet.

My eyes shot down, and sure enough, he was still focused, his breathing controlled, and all I heard was a low murmur, “Geez, you really are tight.”

I felt his arms on either side of me, solid and reassuring, and I squeezed them gently. His eyes instantly found mine, filled with concern, and I had to smile softly. “Move, Lewis. Just please, move.”

And then he did, thrusting into me with an agonizing slowness, deeper with each motion, until finally, I felt his balls press against my ass, and he sighed like he’d found what he was looking for.

My mind, however, was a different story.

Holy shit, how was I still breathing? I was split open in the best way possible, and all I could think was how the hell was this man real.

I was sure each thrust was going to create its own memory, and I was teetering between wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and begging him to go even harder.

But there was something about how he moved—deliberate, careful, like he was savoring every second, every reaction I gave him.

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world, was enough to push me over the edge again. And I could tell he was holding back, trying to keep control, trying to make sure I was okay, even as his own need was practically vibrating through his body.

God, I’m so screwed, and not just in the physical sense.

I was falling, fast and hard, and there was no stopping it now.

Not when he felt this good, not when he was this good to me.

Every thrust made me crave more, made me cling to him tighter, made me want to lose myself in him completely.

Lewis’s focus was entirely on me, and it was like he was memorizing every gasp, every twitch, every reaction.

It was overwhelming, in the best possible way, but still I needed more.

I wanted to be the one in control, to feel him from a different angle, to see what this man—this ridiculous, considerate, and sexy man—would do when I took the reins.

Leaning into his ear, I whispered, “I want to ride you.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I felt him tense beneath me, half-worried, half-hopeful.

It was adorable, really, how he tried to mask his excitement with concern.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, and there was that hint of amusement in his voice, but I could also hear the edge of desperation.

Did he really want this as much as I did, maybe even more?

“We’ll take it slow, right?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.

I sat up, pulling away just enough to guide him to sit on the bed, and as I moved into his lap, I could feel his heart on his chest.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto his dick, feeling every inch stretch me again, filling me completely.

My lips parted in an involuntary gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as I adjusted to the sensation.

His hands found my waist, gripping tightly as if grounding himself, and when I finally opened my eyes, he was staring at me with that same soft smile that always managed to break through my sarcasm.

I couldn’t help but smile back, pulling him into a kiss, the kind that had me wrapping me around him.

I started moving, rocking back and forth, feeling the friction build and spiral.

The kiss broke when he moaned against my lips, a sound that only spurred me on, making my moves harder, seeking more.

His hands guided me, helping me rise and fall on him, and every time his tip brushed against my cervix, I saw starts. It was so intense it almost bordered on pain.

I let out a cry, my body trembling at the sensation, and he immediately stilled, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and it was almost ridiculous how serious he was, but also incredibly sweet.

I looked down at him, half breathless, half in awe of how he managed to be so considerate, even in the heat of the moment. “Going to be even better when you drag that other orgasm out of me, like you promised.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He started to thrust up and I matched him, riding him faster, until I could feel that familiar tension coil tightly in my belly.

I wasn’t going to last much longer, and by the way he was groaning beneath me, neither was he.

A few more thrusts, and I stilled, holding him down by his abdomen, feeling the shift in him as he realized what was happening.

He searched my face, and then his expression shifted as he felt my walls clenching around him, my legs shaking as I came undone.

I couldn’t keep myself upright, collapsing into his chest as wave after wave washed over me.

Lewis took that moment to start thrusting again, riding out my orgasm, and I was vaguely aware of the way he was holding me, like he didn’t want to let go.

I could feel his rhythm faltering, and it wasn’t long before he let out a deep grunt, his fingers digging into my waist as he held me in place and his moans were all I heard.

We were both breathing hard, tangled together, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

It was just us, in this moment, and I couldn’t help the ridiculous surge of affection for him.

Who knew I’d end up here, wrapped up in the arms of a guy like Lewis? But here I was, completely wrecked and somehow, already craving more.

As I eased off his lap, I heard a low moan escape his lips, and I giggled as I looked down at him, sprawled out on the bed with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" I teased, reaching down to carefully remove the condom, trying to catch the mess inside. He didn't even respond, just lay there looking like the cat who got the cream.

I slipped off to the bathroom, tossing the condom in the toilet before taking a moment to pee—because there was no way I was dealing with a UTI when I had Lewis to myself like that.

And just that thought was ridiculous on its own.

When I came back into the bedroom, Lewis immediately pulled me into his arms, almost like he was afraid I’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He was sweet in the aftercare, his voice soft as he asked, “How was it? How do you feel?”

I could hear the concern laced in his tone, but that grin was still there, tugging at the corners of his lips.

It was impossible not to smile back, even as I decided to mess with him a little. My fingers wandered lower, tracing the lines of his lower waist, and I looked up at him with a teasing glint in my eyes.

“You know” I started, trying to keep a straight face, “I always thought you were a shower… I’m glad to see you’re also a grower.”

Lewis giggled, his chest vibrating under my chin as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah” I grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I mean, it’s only fair to acknowledge all of your… talents.”

He shook his head again, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. “And here I thought I had you speechless.”

“You did” I assured him, my fingers dancing across his skin again. “But I can’t stay quiet for long.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer, his hand running up and down my back in soothing strokes. “I’m glad. It’s part of your charm.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through me at his words. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

His grin softened into something more tender as he looked down at me. “You make it easy to be sweet.”

I pretended to look annoyed, but the smile on my face gave me away. “Okay, that was disgustingly cute. But fine, I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it?” he teased, his hand coming up to gently brush my cheek “What if I want to be disgustingly cute more often?”

I hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “I guess I could get used to it… as long as you keep up the other stuff too.”

He giggled again, that carefree sound that I was quickly falling for. “Deal. But just so you know, I’m planning on sticking for a bit.”

I smirked, resting my hand on his chest. “I think I can manage that.”

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[bethsvrse]

contrary to popular belief, I feel like Logan would be a big softie during sex. like if my guy loved you, he’d absolutely hate the idea of hurting you (obviously he’s totally open to you hurting him though, have you seen the scene where he sticks a cigar on his hand?)

logan doesn’t want you to be scared of him. the thought of you flinching away from him or feeling any sort of fear would kill him inside. instead, he’d be slow, making sure you’re comfortable with every movement. i can imagine his voice dropping to a husky whisper, murmuring praises against your ear as he thrusts in and out. he’d call you his good girl, keeping you close, his breath hot against your skin. "that’s it, sweetheart... you're perfect, you know that?" he'd murmur between each thrust, his rough hands stroking your skin tenderly. "so damn good for me... my beautiful girl."

"Look at you, takin' me so well... you drive me crazy, you know that?" he’d brush his lips against your ear, whispering, "You're all mine... no one’s.” each word is meant to remind you how much you mean to him. there’s no rush, no urgency—just him savoring every second with you, making sure you know you’re safe in his hands

[littlelamy]

rafe x 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚's𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭!𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 

the room was softly lit by the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow over the luxurious bedroom. you sat perched on the edge of rafe’s bed, your silk victoria’s secret robe draped loosely over your shoulders, teasing the lacy lingerie beneath.

across the room, rafe leaned against the doorframe, his eyes roaming your body with a mix of desire and admiration, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.

“you’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice deep and filled with a playful edge. the hint of mischief in his tone made your heart race.

you shrugged, biting back a smile. “why not? it’s just for us.”

rafe pushed off the doorframe, stepping toward you with a smile. there was something electric in the air, a shared anticipation that made the moment feel charged.

he took the camera from the bedside table, adjusting the angle slightly as he set it up, his eyes never leaving yours.

“just us,” he repeated, his voice low as he moved closer, his hands slipping beneath your robe to pull it off your shoulders.

the fabric fell to the floor in a soft rustle, leaving you feeling exposed but excited. his fingers grazed your bare skin, and you felt a shiver of excitement ripple through you.

“you look like an angel,” he whispered, his lips brushing your neck. “my angel.”

you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but rafe’s touch anchored you in the moment. his hands slid down your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together.

the camera stood silently in the corner, capturing every moment as his lips hovered just inches from yours, teasing you.

“this was your idea, remember?” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. “you said it’d be fun.”

“and you agreed,” you shot back, your voice breathy as your hands found their way to his shirt, tugging it up over his head.

rafe grinned, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more intense. he pulled you down onto the bed, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that sent your pulse racing.

his lips found yours, and the kiss was anything but gentle, filled with urgency, need, and passion.

“you drive me crazy,” he muttered against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the delicate straps of your lingerie. “seeing you like this… you’re going to ruin me.”

you giggled softly, running your fingers through his hair. “that’s the point, rafe.”

the heat between you both grew, and soon, you were lost in each other. his touch was familiar but electrifying, every caress sending sparks through your body. the camera, forgotten in the moment, quietly recorded every whisper, every soft sigh, every moan.

rafe’s eyes locked onto yours as he traced the curve of your jaw with his thumb. “i love you like this,” he said, his voice low and rough. “just you and me. no one else.”

you leaned into him, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “i trust you, rafe.”

rafe sat up suddenly, a new spark in his eyes. without saying a word, he reached for the camera, pulling it off the tripod with a confident grin. the sudden movement made your pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft as you watched him.

he switched the camera to handheld mode, adjusting the focus as he framed you perfectly through the lens. “i want to see you up close,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intensity. “i want to capture everything.”

the thought sent a thrill through you, making your breath hitch. rafe’s eyes were locked on you, not just through the camera, but with that possessive, hungry gaze you loved so much.

he slowly circled the bed, the lens following your every move as you lay back against the pillows, your body on full display for him.

“don’t hide,” rafe ordered softly, his voice taking on a commanding tone as he zoomed in slightly. “let me see you.”

your body responded to his words, a rush of heat spreading through you as you stretched out on the bed, giving in to his gaze. his lips parted slightly as he captured every curve, every detail, the camera becoming an extension of his desire for you.

"you have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, lowering the camera briefly as his gaze flickered over you in person. he leaned closer, bringing the camera back up to capture your face, the tension in the room thick enough to make your heart pound in your chest.

you smiled, the power of his attention igniting something bold in you. “what are you going to do about it?”

rafe chuckled, a low, dangerous sound as he set the camera down on the bedside table, angling it so it could still capture the both of you. “you’ll see,” he murmured, his voice a promise.

he climbed back onto the bed, his hands finding their way to your skin again, the heat between you undeniable as the camera continued to record. but now, every moment felt more intimate, more charged with the knowledge that rafe had captured you the way he saw you: powerful, beautiful, and completely his.

finally, after what felt like hours, you both collapsed back onto the bed, your limbs tangled together, breathless and content. rafe turned off the camera, his eyes meeting yours with a soft smile.

"i’m keeping this forever," he said, his voice rough yet affectionate.

you laughed, rolling over to lay your head on his chest. "just don’t let anyone else see it."

rafe ran his fingers through your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist. "no one else ever will," he promised, his voice low and serious. "this is just for us."

[thriftedtchotchkes]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

[joelmillermylove]

Where we belong Pt.2

Joel Miller x f!reader

“The First time”

Summary: It’s yours and Joel’s first time and it’s so much more then you had dreamed of. Warning: 18+ smutty themes, readers and Joel’s first time having sex together and is described in the story. Tender and passionate fluff. Age gap. Word count: 890 A/N: You guys! I got so many sweet and amazing comments on Pt.1 and it means the world to me! I hope you all love Pt.2 as well!

←Part One • Part three →

It’s a quiet night, with the world outside still and calm. You’re at Joel’s place, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and safety. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp, casting a warm, soft glow over everything.

You and Joel are sitting close on the couch, the remnants of dinner pushed aside, forgotten. The conversation has slowed, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the quiet hum of the night. There’s a tension in the air, not of uncertainty but of anticipation.

Joel’s hand finds yours, his fingers interlacing with yours in a way that feels so natural, yet electric. You look up at him, and the intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch. There’s something unspoken between you, a mutual understanding that this is the moment you’ve both been waiting for.

Joel’s hands trembled slightly as he reached out to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, a mixture of desire and fear. He had been through so much, had lost so much, and the thought of opening his heart to you—of giving you the part of himself he had guarded so fiercely was overwhelming.

But you knew this was different. This wasn’t just about need or lust; it was about love. The kind of love that had grown slowly, tenderly, over the years you had spent together as close friends.

“You sure about this?” Joel’s voice was husky, barely a whisper as he searched your eyes for any sign of doubt.

You nodded, leaning into his touch, your hand covering his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed. In the next moment, Joel’s lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was as tender as it was fervent. His mouth moved against yours with an urgency that spoke of all the times he had held back, all the moments he had wanted this but hadn’t allowed himself to take it. You could feel the years of longing in every kiss, in the way his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

When his lips left yours to trail down your neck, you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tilted your head back, offering him more. Joel’s breath was hot against your skin, and the soft growl that escaped his lips sent a wave of desire through you. His hands were rough, calloused from years of hard living, but they moved over your body with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He treated you like something precious, something he was afraid to break.

When you’re both finally bare, Joel takes a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with awe and love. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

As you lay back on the bed, Joel followed, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you feel safe, protected. There was no rush, no frantic need to hurry. Joel took his time, exploring every inch of your skin, memorizing the way you responded to his touch. Every sigh, every moan that slipped from your lips seemed to drive him further, made his kisses deeper, his touch more insistent.

When he finally entered you, it was slow, deliberate, and you felt your breath catch in your throat at the intensity of it. Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with so much love, so much adoration, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes. This wasn’t just about the physical connection; it was about the emotional one, the trust, the love that had been building between you for so long.

With each movement, each gentle thrust, Joel whispered your name like a prayer, his voice thick with emotion. You could feel how much he needed this, needed you, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your bodies moving together in a perfect, unspoken rhythm.

Time seemed to stand still as you made love, the world outside fading away until there was nothing left but the two of you. Every kiss, every touch was a promise—a promise that no matter what happened, no matter how dark the world became, you would always have each other.

As you reached the peak together, Joel buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, and you felt the weight of his love in every shudder, every gasp. When it was over, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a shield against the world.

You lie there in the quiet aftermath, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Joel presses a kiss to your forehead, his hand gently stroking your back as you both come down from the high.

“I love you,” he murmured in the curve of your neck, his voice raw with emotion “I always have”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a warmth that you knew would never fade. “I love you too, Joel. Forever.”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

if you go I go

Dr. Oscar Piastri had always been a man of few words, his life dominated by the cold precision of surgery and the quiet solitude that came with being the best in his field. Yet, when he met you, everything changed. You were the light to his dark, the calm in his storm. You filled the silence of his world with laughter, joy, and warmth. To Oscar, you were everything—the pulse that kept him going, the reason he woke up every morning. He loved you more than words could express.

The two of you had been married for two years, and it was your wedding anniversary. Oscar was known for being meticulous, but even he couldn’t keep up with the chaos of the day. As much as he wanted to surprise you, he had been so focused on work and the pressures of his surgical career that he’d forgotten to plan. You, being the loving and understanding wife, had taken it upon yourself to surprise him with a gift—a token of your love for him.

It was early in the afternoon when you decided to go out. You had picked out a sleek, beautiful wristwatch for him, something to mark the special occasion, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he opened it. He had always worn the same old, worn-out watch, and you knew he’d love the new one.

But fate had other plans. As you were driving home, a car ran a red light, crashing into your vehicle with a terrifying force. The impact was deafening. The world around you spun out of control as the car flipped, the screech of metal on metal and the shattering of glass echoed in your ears. You tried to scream, but the pain—sharp, sudden, and all-consuming—cut off your breath. Your head collided violently with the steering wheel, and the world went dark.

Oscar’s day was just beginning to take a turn when his phone rang. At first, he thought it was another case, a consultation, or an update. But when he saw the name of the hospital flash on the screen, a chill ran down his spine. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical—but Oscar could hear the faint tremor, the underlying urgency that spoke volumes. His heart sank when he heard your name. He didn’t need to hear the details; the panic that gripped him in that moment told him everything he needed to know.

Without hesitation, he rushed to the hospital. The drive was a blur, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t even remember the route he took, but all that mattered was getting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

When he arrived, the first thing he saw was the stretcher—the one carrying you, the love of his life. The sight of you, so pale, so still, sent a wave of panic crashing through him. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe, or if his legs would even hold him up. The world around him felt like it was collapsing. His perfect, peaceful world had been torn apart in a split second, and all he could do was watch as they wheeled you past him, unconscious and battered. The stretcher was stained with blood, and Oscar’s heart clenched, his thoughts spiraling into an abyss.

“Oscar, we need you in the OR,” a nurse called out, snapping him out of his trance.

Oscar nodded, but his eyes never left you. He followed the team as they rushed you into a trauma room. The fear in his chest was suffocating, but he forced himself to push it down. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

Once inside, the beeping of monitors filled the room, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock him with its mechanical nature. He was no longer the detached surgeon—the one who had learned to separate himself from his emotions. As he looked at you, barely recognizable from the blood and bruises, all the walls he’d carefully built around his heart began to crumble.

Your breathing was labored. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around your head, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding. You had fractured ribs and internal injuries, but it was the internal hemorrhage that worried him the most. A small tear in one of your arteries had gone unnoticed earlier, and now it was slowly, quietly, tearing you apart from the inside.

Oscar could feel his hands trembling as he worked quickly to assess the damage, each moment more desperate than the last. His mind was a mess, but he had to keep it together. He had to save you.

But seeing you like this—the woman who had been his sunshine, his reason for waking up every day—made him feel more helpless than he’d ever been. His wife, his world, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His professional mask was shattering, piece by piece, as his panic threatened to overwhelm him.

He was a doctor. He had saved countless lives. But you? You were different. You were his. The thought of losing you was unbearable.

And then, in the sterile chaos of the trauma room, when he couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore, the words escaped him, a whispered confession that broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to die,” Oscar muttered, his voice rough with emotion. His hands shook as he held the scalpel, his mind racing with terror. “I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have…”

There was no response from you, only the steady hum of the machines and the frantic activity around him. But Oscar couldn’t stop. He worked tirelessly, desperately, knowing every second was a battle for your life.

The next few hours were a blur, but in the depths of his mind, he couldn’t shake the haunting thought that he was about to lose everything.

Somehow, against all odds, you made it through. The surgery had stopped the bleeding, and though the road to recovery would be long and uncertain, you were alive. But for Oscar, the terror of nearly losing you didn’t go away so easily. The fear still clung to him, gnawing at him in the quiet moments, in the spaces between breaths.

Months had passed since that day, but the memories never fully left him. They lingered, haunting him in the dark corners of his mind. And on one particularly restless night, the memories came crashing down with full force.

Oscar awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The nightmare had been so vivid, so real, that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost you all over again. In the dream, you were gone, your blood spilling out in front of him, his hands unable to stop it. He had been too late, and in the horror of that realization, his world had turned to ash. No colors, no joy, just a hollow, aching void.

He sat up in bed, gasping for breath, his chest tight, his hands trembling. His pulse was erratic, and the cold sweat clung to him like a second skin. The nightmare felt like a cruel replay of his deepest fear, and it made him feel helpless, powerless, and empty in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since the day you were injured.

His heart was heavy, and despite his desperate attempts to calm himself, he couldn’t escape the feelings of loss and dread that had consumed him. He slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake you, and stumbled down the hallway to the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. His body shook as the sobs he’d been holding back for months finally broke free.

He was a doctor. He was supposed to be strong, unshakable. But right now, in the silence of his home, with the memory of that nightmare still fresh, Oscar felt completely shattered.

You awoke to the cold emptiness of your bed. The space beside you was vacant, and a chill swept through your chest as you noticed Oscar was gone. Panic stirred in your heart. You knew something wasn’t right. As you slipped out of bed, your bare feet padded softly across the floor, the house eerily quiet, save for the soft sniffling you could hear coming from the living room.

When you found him, the sight of him—slumped on the couch, his face buried in his hands—broke you. Oscar, the stoic, the composed, was in pieces, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

His body trembled as he cried, a raw, heartbreaking sound that shattered your heart. You knelt beside him, your hands gently touching his shoulders.

“Oscar…” you whispered, your voice filled with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot, his face streaked with tears. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to feel it all—the fear, the grief, the terror of losing you again.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I saw you… I saw you die, and I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know how to live in a world where I’ve lost you. I don’t know how to breathe without you.” His hands gripped your shirt as though he were afraid you would slip away again.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly against you.

“I’m here, Oscar,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m right here. And I’m never leaving you. You won’t lose me, I promise. We’ll face this together, always.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. “I was so scared… I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

“You don’t deserve this pain, Oscar,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he clung to you, the warmth of his body pressing against yours like a lifeline. “But you do deserve me, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his eyes raw and red from crying. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his professional armor was gone. There was no mask of calm detachment, no wall of control. There was only Oscar—the vulnerable, terrified man who had almost lost the love of his life and couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Oscar said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in this chaotic world. Every day I wake up and I see you beside me, and it’s like the world is okay again. But when I lost you… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Everything went dark. I couldn’t stop it… and I still can’t shake that fear.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. His hands trembled against your skin as if he were afraid to let go of you, to face the world without you by his side.

“You don’t have to fight this fear alone,” you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. “I’m here, Oscar. I’ll always be here. You can lean on me. We’re stronger together. We’ll always find a way through the dark, no matter how much it hurts.”

Oscar’s lips parted, his gaze softening as he searched your face, looking for reassurance in the depths of your eyes. For a brief moment, the frantic anxiety that had consumed him faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. He took a shaky breath, his hands finding yours, holding them with an almost desperate intensity.

“I thought… I thought if I lost you, everything would shatter,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “But then I realized something. I don’t have to face this alone. We face it together. You’re not just my wife. You’re my strength, my heart, my reason to keep going. And I’ll never let that go. I’ll never let you go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned in, kissing him gently on the forehead. “And I’ll never let you go, Oscar. You’re my heart, too. Without you, I wouldn’t be whole. We’re a team, always. Together, we’re unbreakable.”

A moment of silence passed, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But in that silence, there was a peace—an understanding that neither of you could imagine life without the other. The fear, the pain, and the scars of that near-loss would always be a part of you both. But it wasn’t the end. Not now. Not ever.

Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, his face buried in your neck as he finally allowed himself to rest, to let go of the suffocating anxiety that had gripped him so tightly for months. He felt the warmth of your arms around him, the steady beat of your heart, and for the first time in so long, he let himself breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but full of emotion. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. “Always. And I’ll never give up on you. We’re in this together.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the quiet calm of the moment fill the empty spaces where fear and grief had once lived. Slowly, the tension began to leave Oscar’s body, his breathing evening out as he finally allowed himself to relax in your embrace.

The nightmares that had haunted him for months didn’t vanish overnight. But in your arms, he found something he had lost: hope. The kind of hope that only love could give. He knew the road ahead would still be hard, that the scars would never fully fade. But as long as you were by his side, he could face anything.

Oscar gently pulled away, his eyes searching yours with a softness that only you could bring out of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, fragile but real.

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he murmured, his hands holding yours. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled, your heart full of love. “You never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. Not now, not ever.”

And as you both sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you realized just how deep your love ran. It had been tested, scarred, and nearly shattered, but through it all, you had come out the other side stronger, more united than ever.

Because without each other, neither of you would have survived.

But with each other, you were unstoppable.

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ POST-MATCH

Warnings: afab body and breasts, reader is mentioned to wear panties, PIV unprotected sex, pwp (the plot is that leona breeds you 🙄 is that not enough plot? /j), against the wall, semi-public sex?

Word count: 800

A/N: This was fueled by this fanart and the club wear card of course. My humble offering to the fandom🛐

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

There are a few things in life that drive Leona out of his typical indolent demeanor. Amongst those things was spelldrive. In hand with this sport was the high after a successful match, the rush thrumming through his veins not calming down yet.

You don’t know when Leona noticed you were amongst the crowd cheering for his team, but after rubbing in the opposing team face's the win, his eyes found yours.

And next thing you knew, Leona sneaked you into a locker room, cornered you to the most hidden wall, pushed you against it, and the famished lion feasted upon you.

The high from the tournament’s success was far from over, given the hungry way Leona fucked you. With an intensity and vitality that you would never imagine the lethargic lionkin capable of.

Yes, the Leona you often discovered sleeping in the botanical garden, the one who would sneak a nap during classes, the so-called lazy housewarden of Savanaclaw...One should get the gist.

Straightforward—that was more like Leona’s style. There was no shortage of words, as you understood his desires from the beginning. Besides, acting like seeing his skin glow from the sweat running down his neck and cheeks didn’t affect you in any way would be a blatant lie on your part.

“Didn’t expect you to be this eager,” Leona’s hot breath tickled your ear, restless fingers having no mercy whatsoever as he rubbed your clit. “All I did was touch you a bit, and you managed to swallow all this in one go.” He pulled away in a languid pace to make sure you felt the hefty drag of his dick inside of you before he snapped his lower half into you with a loud smack.

You’d try to refute him; the mere thought of him smiling smugly provoked you. To your dismay, however, he occupied his other hand with stuffing your mouth with his fingers to keep your tongue in place as you moaned around them.

Despite his confident exterior, the lion man himself believed to be intoxicated by you. He can’t recall a moment he has ever felt this amount of pleasure before, the snug and wet feeling of your pussy around him. His eyebrows knit together, canine teeth teasing your shoulder and threatening to bite down from the hazy delight.

Leona's ear flicked at the distant sound of footsteps approaching.

“You hear that? Someone’s outside. Do your best to not moan too loud, unless you want them to hear?” He taunted you, the idea of stopping to wait for them to leave not even crossing his mind.

Thanks to Leona’s lion-like attributes, he was able to pick up on the sound of footsteps before you did. They came from the outside, and thus, he didn’t deem it necessary to stop. However, whoever was on the other side of the wall would hear everything if you moaned louder.

Regardless of the slow movement of his thrusts, his fingers toyed with your nub in a near cruel manner. In fact, it was lecherous how drenched you were, his digits coated in your arousal and easy to stroke them against it. When Leona dragged you in here, there was a lusty daze clouding his mind, where he barely bothered to pull your panties down, left forgotten halfway in its path down your legs. The poor fabric stretched to its limits, digging into your skin.

You didn’t realize it then, but you’d found his urgency to have you right there and in that moment undeniably hot. 

You gasped his name (albeit with not much success because his fingers were still in your mouth) the moment he sped up without warning, your body close to collapsing if not for his firm grip and the wall you leaned against.

The people who were outside were talking about the spelldrive match, complaining that the team that won played dirty and that was the reason for their success. When your gasp slipped without you meaning to, they fell in silence for a good second before picking up the conversation where they left off.

You reached behind you to pat Leona on his side in an attempt to send him the message to slow down, your resolve to stay quiet near to its end. You felt his chest, which was pressed against your back, move with a chuckle—he found your predicament amusing. He didn’t slow down, but his fingers left your mouth, and now you could bite your lip to quiet yourself. You looked down; your sight drifted to where his sex sloppily met yours, the above vulgar display of your juices mingled with his.

After what felt like forever, it sounded like those people outside were walking away.

You whined under your breath; your climax approached with little hindrance. 

Leona manhandled your torso into an upright position again, hand squeezing your chest as he held you in place. At last, that desired orgasm along with his came, dick shoved in and out of your battered cunt.

After a while of his movements slowing down until he was still, Leona groaned when he slipped out of you. Some of his cum dripped down...

“Not bad, herbivore,” His hand smacked your ass, further embarrassing you. “I’m looking forward to seeing you around more when I play.”

You were about to ask him to help you dress again, but he beat to it by crouching down to grab your underwear and helped you by pulling it up again. He released the fabric once it was in its place so the elastic would snap against your hip.

“Hurry up before your friends notice your absence…If they haven’t by now, at least.”

[hiraethwrote]

contents : MDNI, no pronouns used but written with feminine reader in mind, horny satoru, suggestive, one curse word, no use of y/n, very rushed, probably some writing errors wc < 1k

an : got an opening shift in a few hours, but i just woke up and can’t fall back asleep so enjoy this

imagine spa night with satoru.

he’s very much onboard with the idea, because he knows you’ll be wearing one of his t-shirts that hangs over your criminally short pyjama shorts — it drives him absolutely crazy.

you’re sat straddling him, and he rests his big hands on your soft thighs, his fingers slowly creeping under the edge of your shorts — but he’s not allowed to travel any further before you quickly pluck one of his stray eyebrow hairs, his hands reactively squeezing your flesh.

your giggles fill the room, teasing and taunting him, calling him such a baby for his over-the-top reaction — it was just a little hair, after all.

it earns you a dramatic pout, eyebrows knitting together as if he is requesting sympathy for his immense pain. you just continue to laugh at him, before going in for another pluck.

this time his strong hands squeeze harder, causing you to yelp. you capture his face in your hand to keep him directed towards you. he’s unable to hide how he’s a little amused by the sound he caused, unintentionally (or so he says).

“sit still”, you demand. you readjust yourself to get a better angle of his eyebrows, accidentally applying pressure to his crotch, feeling how it slowly causes his bulge to grow. “you’re so easy,” you tease, sucking in your cheeks. inching closer to his face with the tweezers, you desperately try to ignore the very prominent pressure under you.

his expression is changed now, frustration switched out with playfulness — satoru is no longer interested in spa night. his digits make their way further under the fabric with clear intent, tugging softly at your panties. it’s his turn to chuckle, when he feels the staggered breath you let out in order to calm yourself down, brush against his face.

just as you’re about to go in for another hair, his hands secure around your legs in a firm grip before he abruptly stands up. “satoru,” you squeal, arms snaking around his shoulders for support.

he sits you down in the bathroom sink, wincing when the cool porcelain gets in contact with your naked skin. placed snuggly between your legs, he leans forward, ignoring your cute complaints as he captures your lips in a lustful kiss.

you’re flush against his bare chest, heat seeping of him in waves while his fingers dig into your thighs with a sense of urgency, leaving modest indents in your skin.

a shy whimper escapes him when you pull away from his affection. “thought you wanted spa night-“

“oh, fuck spa night,” he breaths, instantly going in to reconnect your kiss, that quickly turn deeply passionate — needy. your fingers start to grasp at his shoulders, just as desperate to feel him as he is you. with a self satisfied smirk, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling the cutest sounds roll past your your tongue which has his blood boil.

spa night with satoru always ends in the bedroom.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Nine

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, the gurls (Steve and Javi) are catty in this one but Steve deserves it, Javi has a filthy mouth, we get him to beg, unprotected piv, oral (m!rec), secret relationship/age difference mention, angst at the end but it's resolved

word count: 5.6k

series masterlist

Something was burning. 

The smell hit you in your sleep, causing you to stir awake with a sour face. You looked over at Javi’s side of the bed, but it was empty. You rushed to your feet, grabbing Javi’s robe and hastily wrapping yourself in it as you rushed to the bedroom door. You expected the apartment to be engulfed in flames from the foul, bitter smell, but were greeted with a far more amusing sight when you whipped the door open. 

Running around the kitchen with the urgency of a contestant on a cooking show, Javi and Steve tried their best to air out the smoke coming from the stove. 

“What the hell happened?” you asked, pinching your nose. Javi’s wide eyes met yours, a frown already etched onto his face. 

“We were trying to surprise you,” he said, almost bashfully. “But Steve took his eyes off the bacon—“

“I wasn’t in charge of the goddamn bacon,” Steve interjected. “I was in charge of the pancakes and look—“ He gestured to the stack of golden brown pancakes on the kitchen island. “Perfect.”

“I told you to watch it while I—“

“The hell you did—“

“I know I did,” Javi replied, rubbing his eyes as he walked over to where you stood in the doorway of the bedroom. He dropped his hands to your face, cradling your jaw as he leaned in for a gentle peck. “Sorry for the rude awakening, cariño.”

You smiled, tugging him closer by the belt loops of his jeans just to kiss him again. “S’okay.”

“We could go out to eat,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“We can’t,” you sighed, tilting your head back to look into his eyes. “Or did you forget about the whole secret relationship thing?”

“No, smartass.” He gave your ass a small tap. “I was thinking we could get something on the road.”

You raised a brow. “The road?” 

“Yeah, Steve wants to go visit my dad,” he said, suddenly looking shy. “Thought you could come along and…meet him, I guess.”

“You…want me to meet your dad?” you asked, stifling your shock. 

“Yeah, I mean…if you want,” he said, shrugging. “I want you to meet him, but not if it’s too much or too soon for you.”

“No,” you said, lifting a hand to rest against his chest, his heartbeat wild beneath your palm. “I want to, as long as your dad doesn’t mind?”

“He’s kind of been asking to meet you for a while now,” Javi said, biting his lip. 

“You told him about me?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “After our weekend together.”

“Javier Peña,” you crooned, running your hand over his heart. “A softie underneath it all.”

“For you,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips. “So is that a yes?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed. “Just need to go home and shower first.” 

“I’ll drive you,” he said. “Just let me help Steve destroy the evidence of his failure first.”

 After battling Steve for the passenger seat, the three of you headed out for Laredo. Javier stopped at his favorite burrito place and got the three of you breakfast for the road with the condition that Steve doesn’t, in Javi’s words, eat like a fucking animal in the backseat.

The two of them carried on like siblings, bickering and teasing one another with a playful undertone that showed the deep-rooted fondness underneath all that masculinity. You stayed relatively silent, enjoying their chatter while you finished a paper for Dr. Brown’s class that was due at the end of the week. Javi’s hand made itself at home on your knee, his thumb brushing soothing strokes against the ribbed fabric that sent a throbbing ache between your legs. He seemed clueless to the fact that all it took for you to want him was a single glance, that all it took for you to need him was one simple, innocuous touch. The fucking menace had no clue just how badly your body craved his, and if he did, he certainly refused to show you any mercy. 

When you stopped at a gas station in a small town off the highway you were offered a moment of alone time with Javier as Steve went inside to “handle business” in the restroom—you didn’t ask him to elaborate. 

“How’s the paper coming?” Javi’s head was tilted back against the headrest, the hand that was on your knee now resting against the back of your seat. 

You shut your laptop and set it on the dashboard before tugging Javier over the center console for a kiss. You held onto the curve of his jaw, your thumbs stroking over stubble as he parted his lips to move with yours, a dark rumble slipping straight from his mouth into yours. You let out a soft whine at the sound that only spurred Javi on, one hand coming to rest on your hip with a needy squeeze. 

“Need you so bad,” you confessed, nibbling on his bottom lip. Javier’s hand slid from your hip to the apex of your thighs, a soft sigh slipping from his lips as he let his palm cover your heated core. “Take me into the bathroom and fuck me, Jav.” 

“Jesus,” he groaned, letting you get your fill of him as you trailed your kisses down the line of his neck to his thumping pulse. “Not enough time to make you come, hermosa.” 

“I don’t care,” you said. “I just want to feel you.”

Javier let his head fall back against the headrest as your hand wandered up his thigh to cup him through his jeans. “Baby, shit—“

The backseat door opened, abruptly ending the heated moment. You both straightened yourselves in your seats as Steve climbed in with a bag of snacks in hand. 

“Got y’all some water,” he said, handing the cold bottles to both of you. “Since you’re so goddamn thirsty for each other.” 

“You saw that?” you laughed, covering your face with your hands. Javi pried them away with a smirk, bringing them up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

“This could be you if you, I don’t know, talked to your wife?” he said, shooting a glance back at Steve. “Jealous ass.”

“Just wait,” Steve said. “Eventually it’ll all wear off and then you’ll be flyin’ out to Florida to sleep on my couch.”

“I prefer my bed and the woman keeping it warm,” Javi said, lacing your fingers together as he pulled out of the parking lot. “And unlike you, I don’t let pride get in the way of that.”

“Javi,” you said, giving him a lighthearted scolding. “Don’t need to kick him while he’s down.”

“He’s kicking me while I’m up,” he argued with a smile. “Besides, Steve could use some tough love.”

“I’m right here, jackass,” Steve said. “And this argument ain’t my issue. Connie needs to understand that I’m allowed to make my own decisions about my career.”

“And she’s allowed to divorce your ass for not taking her and Olivia into consideration.”

“Who’s Olivia?” you asked, turning in your seat to look at Steve. You watched as his look of pride shifted to one of guilt. 

“It’s his three year old,” Javi said. “Who he left at home all because he doesn’t want to own up to his shit.”

“Jav, you’re treadin’ on thin ice,” Steve warned. “Keep my daughter outta this.”

“She’s affected by this, you fucking idiot,” Javi said, refusing to back down. “I don’t give a shit if you’re pissed at me. Whatever it takes to get you back to your family so you can keep them, I’ll do it.” 

“And what the fuck do you know about family, Javi?” Steve asked, his tone so calm it was unnerving. “Hm? All those years fuckin’ prostitutes teach you a lot about the family dynamic?”

Javier shook his head, his jaw clenching as he watched the road. You wanted to turn around and tell Steve to shut the fuck up, even if only for your own comfort. It wasn’t as though Javi had kept his past a secret—he’d told you all about the activities he got up to during the DEA and you didn’t judge him for it or the women he slept with—but the thought of Javier fucking someone else always soured your stomach to the point of genuine nausea. 

“I’ll drop the subject, Steve,” Javi said, his tone flat and sharp at the same time. “But you’re the one that’s going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions, not me. Try to put the blame on me, try to discredit me to my girlfriend, do whatever you think you have to do to feel better about putting yourself above your family. But when Connie and Olivia decide they’re done with you, don’t come to me asking why I wasn’t there. I’m here now, telling you to own up to your shit. Do it or don't.”

The rest of the ride was silent and tense. You busied yourself with your paper, Javi busied himself with focusing on the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel, and Steve busied himself with sulking in the back seat. 

It wasn’t until the three of you arrived at Javi’s dad’s ranch that the air between them lightened. 

Javi kept close to your side, his hand wrapped around yours as he walked you up the gravel path to the front porch of his father’s two-story farmhouse. 

“You nervous?” he asked in a whisper as he led you up the steps of the front porch. 

“A little,” you admitted, glancing back at Steve who was smoking a cigarette by the car. “You alright? Things seemed a little tense back there.”

“That’s just us,” he said, raising his hand to the front door and knocking. “Steve needs to hear the truth from someone. I don’t really give a shit if he hates me, just as long as he makes shit right with his family.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if we got into a fight and you just left,” you said, shaking your head. “I probably wouldn’t let you come back. Especially if we had a kid to worry about.”

“That’s not my style,” he said, lifting a hand up to lovingly pinch your chin. “I meant what I said. I like my bed and I love having you in it. I’m not going to fuck that up for anything.”

“Because you love me,” you mused, stepping closer. 

“Mmhm,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around the small of your back to pull you into his side. “First woman I ever loved.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed, giving his chest a playful swat. 

“I’m dead serious,” he said, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. “You’re the only woman who’s had me this way. Try and remember that the next time Steve brings up my past.”

“The next time he brings up your past, I’ll just remind him that I don’t view those women as competition,” you said, pecking his lips. “They all taught you different shit. In fact, remind me to send a thank you card to the woman who taught you how to eat—“

“Mijo,” an older, rougher, voice with a slightly heavier accent than Javier interrupted the filth you were about to say, causing you to turn towards the man with a wide eyed look of embarrassment. 

“Pops,” Javi greeted, chuckling at your expression as he let you go to pull his father in for a hug. 

“Chucho!” Steve called as he stomped his cigarette out into the dirt. “How the hell are ya, old man?” 

“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said, fixing his attention on you. “You must be the woman my son won’t shut up about.”

You gave Javi a smile, squeezing his hand. “I hope so, Mr. Peña, otherwise he’ll be in trouble.”

His father laughed, extending his hand. “Call me Chucho, mija.”

You nodded, letting him go off down the stairs to Steve with a finger wagging. “That wife of yours should kick your ass.” 

Javi let out a deep breath, relief washing over his face. “I haven’t brought anyone home since I was a teenager. Thought I was gonna pass out for a second.”

You laughed, hugging his arm. “Your dad’s cool.”

“Until you piss him off,” he added. “But I can’t imagine you’ll ever see that side of him. Now, Steve on the other hand…”

“He doesn’t like Steve?” you asked, furrowing your brows. 

“He likes him, but he’s big on family,” Javi explained. “And right now, Steve’s being a dick to his family.”

“Well, since they’re busy, why don’t you take me on a little tour?” you asked, biting your lip as you nudged your head towards the open front door. “Show me your old bedroom and all that.”

“Do you want to see my bedroom, or do you want to see my bed?” Javi asked, lowering his voice in a way that made you throb with need. 

“Like you’d actually fuck me with your dad and Steve here,” you whispered, licking your lips as you stared at his. So tempting, so full, so capable of making you feel good. God, you hoped he wasn’t bluffing. 

“Is that a challenge, cariño?” he rasped, brushing his lips over yours. You slid your hands up to his chest, anchoring yourself with your hands gripping the leather labels of his jacket. “I love a challenge.” 

“Javi,” you sighed, forcing your head to turn towards the men still locked into their passionate conversation. “Don’t play with me right now, I must be ovulating or something. I’m…needy.”

“Me too,” he husked, bringing his lips to the hinge of your jaw. Your breath hitched as he placed an open mouthed kiss there before skimming his teeth along the line of your neck, punctuating it with a lovebite. 

“Your dad’s twenty feet away,” you whispered, swatting at his chest. 

“He can’t see anything this far even if he was paying attention,” he mumbled, lathing his tongue over where he’d nipped at your sensitive skin. 

“Take me somewhere else,” you managed, half up in the clouds from the feeling of Javi’s lips on your skin. “Say we’re going to pick up lunch or something.”

“And then what?” he asked, pulling back to look at you with lust glazed eyes. 

“Then I want you to fuck me in the backseat of your car,” you said, gathering what remained of your wits. “I’m sure you know a backroad or two where we won’t get caught.”

Javier grinned, nodding his head before lacing your fingers together. He walked you down the porch steps, your feet crunching over the gravel as the two of you reached where Steve and Chucho stood talking. “Pops, we’re gonna go grab some lunch to bring back.”

“Mmhm,” Chucho hummed, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at your joined hands. “Take your time. I’m going to take Steve out to the field and put him to work with the cows.”

“I didn’t agree t’all that,” Steve said, holding his hands up. 

“Well, your wife didn’t agree to you re-signing, but you had no problem doing that.”

Javier’s hand never left the inside of your thigh as he drove you through a seemingly never ending labyrinth of dirt roads before finding a spot nestled in a line of trees, not a soul around for acres. 

“Get back there,” he ordered as he climbed out of the car. You bit your lip, scrambling to undo your seatbelt so that you could climb over the center console into the backseat. Javier opened the door on his side and slid in beside you, his hands already reaching for your face as you swung your leg over his lap to straddle him. He laid his head back against the head rest, studying you as you sat breathless and needy on top of him. “So fucking beautiful.”

“I need you so bad,” you whined, reaching for his belt to undo it. Javier sat back in his seat to give you more room, both of you watching as you took him out of his jeans and gave him a long, languid stroke. “Look at you…” You licked your lips as a droplet of his arousal spilled down his head and onto your fist. “You need me, Javi? Hm? Want me to sit on it?”

Javier groaned, his hands flexing on your thighs as you continued to stroke him slowly, his cock twitching in your palm with each pass. “Baby, fuck.”

“That’s not a yes,” you purred, cunt throbbing at the sight of him coming undone over your teasing. 

“Yes, baby,” he panted, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “Sit on my dick, cariño.”

“Ask nicely,” you said, leaning forward to ghost your lips over his. 

“Please,” he begged, filling the gap between you with a kiss to your jaw. “Want to watch you ride me out here in the open.”

You let out a sigh, tipping your head back to give him better access to your neck as you tilted your hips forward to grind your clothed center against his bare cock. “Feels so good, Javi.”

“Yeah?” he murmured beneath your ear. “You wanna come like this first? Get that pussy nice and wet for me?”

“Fuck,” you whined, resting your head on his shoulder as your rocked your hips, angling your clit to brush against the ridge of his tip with every thrust forward. 

“Just like that,” he murmured, hands settled on your hips to guide your rhythm. “Use me, baby. Doing so fucking good.” 

The only sounds to be heard beyond the birdsong in the distance were your breathy moans and Javi’s deliciously filthy praise in your ear as you chased your orgasm. Your hands gripped the top of the seat behind Javi’s head for leverage as your movements grew erratic and uncontrolled, your high within arms reach. 

“Come on, hermosa,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your ear. “So close, baby. Just keep going.”

“Javi,” you whined as your climax took hold, turning you into a crumpled mess of ecstasy on his lap. Javier held you tight, kissing your temple as you recovered. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he rasped, his hands sliding down the small of your back to slip underneath the band of your leggings, grabbing the globes of your ass to pull you closer. “Can you feel how hard you make me, cariño? I’m always like this around you. During class, when we pass each other on campus, when you’re in my living room building Legos with me at all hours of the night, when I bring you home to meet my fucking dad—you’re driving me crazy and I don’t want it to stop for a single fucking minute.” 

With furrowed brows and a pounding heart, you pulled him close, crashing your lips against his in response to his filthy confession. Pulling away breathless and dizzy, you lifted your hand to his face, dragging your thumb over his stubble. “I love you, Javier.” 

“I love you,” he murmured, turning his face to kiss the inside of your palm. “But if I’m not inside you in the next thirty seconds, I think I might die.” 

You laughed, sliding off his lap to tug your leggings and underwear down to your knees while he shoved his jeans down to his ankles and took his angry, leaking cock in his fist. You couldn’t help but let out a soft hum at the sight of him stroking himself, bathed in mid-afternoon sunlight that pooled in from over the treeline. “You’re a sight, Dr. Peña.” 

Javier grinned, his dimple emerging as he watched you climb back onto his lap, this time facing away from him. He let out a soft hiss as you wrapped your hand around his cock, dragging it across your wet seam. 

“I want to hear you beg again,” you demanded, your eyes locking with his over your shoulder. “Beg me to sit on your dick, Javi.”

Javier looked to be in agony, his eyes squeezing shut and head rolling back against the seat while his palms squeezed the soft flesh of your hips. “Please, baby.”

“Please what?” 

“Please sit on my dick, baby,” he managed, his voice teetering on a whimper as you slipped the very tip of him in and out of your slippery entrance. 

“You want it, baby?” you purred, thighs shaking from the build-up. Javi groaned, lifting his hips up to press into yours just an inch more than you’d been allowing. 

“I fucking need it,” he rasped, leaning forward to press a kiss against your clothed shoulder. “I need to feel your pussy. So fucking wet. Bet I could just slip right in.”

“Do it,” you urged, leaning forward to hug the back of the driver’s seat, your ass on full display as you turned back to look at him. “Fuck me how you need to, Javi.”

He let out a full whimper that time, taking himself in hand and lining himself up with your cunt before bringing your hips down to meet his lap in a hard slam. You cried out, the sound lost the wind, and held on tight to the leather of the seat as he guided your hips to meet the sharp snap of his thrusts. He let out a low growl at the vulgar squelch of your cunt with each thrust, your arousal only growing with every pass of his head against that deliciously destructive spot inside of you. 

“Listen to that,” he said, silencing your moans with soft shush. You obeyed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as he forced you to listen to the sound of your bodies joining. Your cunt throbbed at the filthy sound, Javi’s soft moans only adding to the jolts of pleasure cascading down your thighs to your toes. 

“Javi, shit,” you whined, reaching down between your thighs to rub some of the tension away. “Fuck, I’m gonna come like this. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Never,” he rasped, doubling his efforts. The sound of his pleasure blended with yours in perfect, sinful harmony, his low groans and growls pairing with your soft cries, the breathy sound of his name slipping free from your lips each time he hit the perfect spot. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my dick. It’s yours, you know that? You can get it as messy as you want. Come all over it, every single day, whenever you want.”

You let out a strangled moan, your eyes clamped shut as you took over the pace, riding him with the sole goal of making him come with you. “Javi, you feel so fucking good, I can’t—“

“Yeah you can,” he urged, leaning forward to press his chest to your back, his hand snaking over your hip to replace yours between your thighs. You shuddered, something between a sob and a moan slipping free as he swirled his fingers over your swollen clit in time with deep, calculated strokes against your favorite spot. “Your thighs are shaking, cariño. Do I make you feel good?”

He knew the answer—he could feel it in the way your cunt squeezed him every time he moved inside of you—but it didn’t stop him from wanting to hear you say it. Just like you couldn’t help but want to hear him beg for you. 

“You make me feel so fucking good,” you moaned, teetering on the edge now. “I—fuck—I’m coming, Javi. Fuck. Please. Come—come inside me.”

“Ah, shit,” he dragged the words out, slowing my hips into a languid bounce as my walls threatened to choke him. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come inside you and fuck it deep.”

Your only response was another cry of his name, your mind lost to bliss as he bounced you over his cock once, twice, before pulling you down to the hilt and filling you with a long string of curses and praise. 

“You fucking own my soul,” he said after a beat, the two of you still locked into place. He smoothed his hands over your hips before gripping them, guiding you into a deep, pleasure-wet grind. “We just stopped and I want to go again.”

You laughed, leaning back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. “I think you’ll give me a stroke if we go again.” 

“We’ll save it for back home then,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Until then, I think we should probably hurry up and grab food before my dad works Steve to death.”

“He deserves a little punishment for talking to you like that,” you said, climbing off Javi’s lap before pulling your leggings over your hips, careful to keep the mess between your thighs from spilling onto the seat. Javi climbed out of the backseat with a stretch to his lower back, his dick hanging free and proud in the sunlight. You laughed at the sight of him rubbing his lower back without a single worry in the world for his state. “Put that thing away or the birds might confuse it for a worm.”

Javier snorted out a laugh, giving you a look of amused shock. “How dare you.”

“I dare,” you smirked, climbing out of the car to stand in front of him. You kept your eyes locked on his as you lowered to the ground in front of him, your palm wrapped around his half-hard shaft. “Guess it would have to be a big worm.”

“An anaconda.” 

You snorted. “Someone’s confident.”

“And someone likes to tease,” he said, fitting his hand to your chin as you brushed your lips over the head of his cock. “We don’t have time for you to seduce me again.” 

“No, but I want to,” you said, laying out your tongue to lick a stripe up his cock. Javier groaned, watching himself swell in your fist. “Just to clean up my mess.”

“Fuck me,” he cursed, reaching forward to grip the car for stability as you licked him clean, pursing your lips across his shaft before letting him slip between your swollen lips. Javi let out a soft hiss as you took him in as far as you could, sputtering on his length before slowly dragging him out, your fist stroking him as you wiped a tear free from your waterline. He gently pulled himself out of your grasp, guiding you onto your feet so that he could kiss your messy lips like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. “You’re the love of my life, cariño.”

You smiled into the kiss, combing your fingers through his hair. “You’re just saying that because I just had your dick down my throat.”

Javier pulled back with a stern look. “I’m saying that because it’s true. You’re the love of my life.”

Your lips quivered into a tender smile, your hand cradling his face. “You’re the love of mine, too.”

Back at the ranch, you found yourself sitting across from Javier’s dad in the dining room, his eyes locked on his plate as he gathered a generous spoonful of refried beans and rice. Javier’s presence was a soothing anchor amidst the nervousness that was your first meal with Javier’s remaining family. Thankfully, between the thrill of Javier’s warm hand on your thigh and Steve’s rambling about his plan for making things right with his wife, you were too distracted to worry about what Chucho might think of you. 

“So I’ll fly out tonight, grab flowers or somethin’ on the way home, and walk in hopin’ for the best,” Steve said, clapping his hands together “Sorted.”

Javier chuckled as he chewed his food, shaking his head while tearing a piece of his tortilla to dip into his beans. “You’re an idiot.” 

“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” 

“You should probably call her and ask if you’re even welcome,” Chucho said, chuckling along with Javier. “She might not want you back.”

“Don’t listen to them,” you interjected with a small laugh. “But yeah, a phone call wouldn’t hurt.”

“I guess I’ll go call her, then,” he said, wiping his face with a napkin before excusing himself from the table. 

Now alone with both Peña’s, it was harder to ignore the fact that his father was sitting in front of you, taking careful glances your way as if he noticed something strange. 

“How old are you, Mija?” he asked, raising a brow at his son. “Javi told me he met you at work. I assume that means you’re a professor, but you look awfully young.”

You turned to Javier, finding him looking everywhere but at you. “I, uh, yeah. I work at the university.”

“Teaching?”

You shook your head, your tongue going dry under interrogation. “No, just an assistant.”

“Ah,” Chucho nodded, clasping his hands together. “That explains the age thing, then.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, or rather, you attempted to. Javier’s hand gave your thigh a squeeze, a silent apology for going along with the white lie he’d given his father to cover up the scandalous nature of your relationship, no doubt. Though you knew the lie was likely just because he wanted to avoid the potential judgment and interrogation, the more childish, untrusting, scarred part of you couldn’t help but feel it like a knife to your gut. You selfishly yearned for him to claim you and every part of your relationship, rather than force you to lie to his father’s face about who you were.

Subtly reaching down, you shoved his hand away from your thigh, earning a puppy-eyed glance from him. 

“Excuse me for a minute,” Chucho said, clearing his throat as he stood up from his chair and left the room without further explanation. 

“Cariño,” Javier whispered, turning in his chair to face you as you pushed the remnants of your lunch around your plate, sulking. “Baby, can you look at me?”

You turned your eyes to meet his in an icy glare. 

“I’m aware that there’s a certain amount of lying involved in our relationship, but I didn’t realize that extended to your fucking dad,” you whispered back, the sound as passionate as if you’d shouted. “And you just sat there, letting me figure it the fuck out on my own.”

“I know,” he sighed, letting his eyes shut for a moment. “I panicked, and left you to fend for yourself like a dick. I’m sorry. I just…I told him that lie at the beginning because I wasn’t sure where this was going. God knows I never expected to introduce you to the fucking guy. But I’m sorry. For making you lie to him, for leaving you hanging, for all of it.”

“Does Steve know, at least?” you asked, still not quite won over. 

“No,” Javi said, frowning. “I told him the same thing.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “It’s hard to not think you’re ashamed of me, or my position in life, or our age gap, or what people might think of you if they knew the real story, you know? Am I just going to have to lie to your dad and best friend forever? What happens when I graduate, or when I pass the bar? Do I just have to hide that from the people closest to you?”

“Cariño, I didn’t think that far ahead,” he admitted, his brows furrowed with guilt. “But you’re right. A part of me will always be a little ashamed that I crossed that line with a student, and that I fell in love with that student in the process. It’s not something a good man would do, and my dad and Steve know that as well as I do. I just…I don’t know. I didn’t want to give them anything else to judge me for. Steve holds my past with women over me every chance he gets, and all my dad sees me as is the man who ran from home, from the fiancé I didn’t love, to find myself.”

You let out a sigh, scooting closer to him to drape your arm over his neck while your hand coaxed his chin up, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “Your job is to tell me about this shit before it blows up like this, alright? Because if you’d just told me that, I would’ve gladly lied to your dad. And sold it better.”

Javier chuckled, turning to muzzle his face into your palm. “Understood.”

“Now tell me you love me,” you ordered, a smile tugging at your lips as he glanced up at you with those irresistibly beautiful brown eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing your palm. “I love you, and I love all of you.”

You rested both hands on his cheeks, guiding his lips to meet yours in a deep, mending kiss. “Promise me we’ll tell them the truth one day.”

“I’ll tell them on our wedding day,” he murmured, kissing you deeper. “How’s that sound?”

You grinned, pulling away from him to look down at your left hand. You held it up, wiggling your bare ring finger at him. “I don’t see a ring, nor do I happen to remember you getting down on one knee.”

“Not yet,” he chuckled, taking that hand in his and bringing it up to his lips so that he could place a lingering kiss on your ring finger. “But one day.”

[yu-huuuu]

Second Chance — Itachi Uchiha

[🌸] So, in my writing class I had to practice different points of viewI've done that before but it's fun as fuck haha

characters: itachi uchiha

genre: a type of angst ; fluff in the end (?)

warnings: none ; modern au ; fem! reader ;

reader, is referred as: 'love, sun, refuge...' yes, yes, it is cheesy but girls I don't know your name 🗣️🗣️🗣️ the day one of you tells me your name I will make the character call you that way, haha

...

..

.

The night had fallen with a calm, silent chill, like a blanket that covered everything it touched. Itachi was driving his car, focused on the wheel, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, his love. Eight years had passed since she disappeared from his life, and every day since then had been a quiet battle, an internal struggle to understand how he had let her slip away.

He had made too many mistakes, but the biggest of all was letting her go. He thought he had time, that she would always be there, but life taught him in the cruelest way that time does not forgive anyone.

She, who had been his sun, his love, his refuge in a world that demanded too much. But in his arrogance, in his obsession with work, with keeping his life neat and under control, he had let the only person who truly mattered fade away. And now, there was no way to stop the pain of losing her.

'What if I never find her again?' he thought, tightening his grip on the wheel. 'What if she's gone for good?'

When he saw a familiar figure walking on the sidewalk, he could hardly believe it. It was her. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and doubt disappeared in an instant. Without thinking, he parked the car sharply, leaping out of the vehicle and rushing toward her, not caring what anyone might think of his reckless behavior.

The cold night bit through his coat as he ran toward her.

"It's you…" he whispered her name breathlessly, and when she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise. But what struck him the most was when he saw who was next to her. A child. A young boy, no older than nine, who looked at Itachi with curious eyes that seemed strangely familiar.

Itachi stopped in front of her, his gaze fixed on the child. 'What does this mean?', he thought. The boy looked up at him, unafraid, as though he recognized him from somewhere, which left Itachi even more confused.

"I…" his voice trembled, and she stood silent, unsure of what to say, though her eyes spoke volumes of years of pain and resentment. It was she who broke the silence, her voice soft but firm.

"Why are you here, Itachi?" she asked, her tone distant, as if she were still carrying the scars of what had happened years ago.

He didn’t know where to start. He couldn’t explain in words what he was feeling. There was only one thing he could do. He stepped forward, quickly pulling her into his arms with the urgency of someone who had lost everything and just wanted to get back what little was left.

His love, clearly surprised, tensed in his embrace, but in the end, she didn’t pull away. The hug lasted longer than either of them expected, charged with a mixture of repressed emotion and guilt. When they finally separated, the two of them locked eyes for a long moment, as though trying to find an answer there.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I don’t know what I did. I didn’t know how to value you. I thought I’d lose you if I opened up, if I told you how I felt. I didn’t know how… But I never stopped thinking about you. Every day, every damn day, the only thing I wanted was to be with you." His voice was low, sincere, full of regret.

His love looked at him in silence, her eyes sweet but tired. She couldn’t forget what he had done. She couldn’t forget how he had let her go, how he had discarded her without a second thought. But there was something in his eyes, something in his tone that told her he was no longer the same man he had been back then.

"Do you really feel that way, Itachi?" she asked, her voice almost broken. "Because if you had done this before, I wouldn’t be here… Not with him…" She gestured toward the boy, who was still watching them with curiosity, as if not fully understanding the situation.

Itachi turned his gaze to the child. At that moment, something clicked inside him. The boy’s eyes… it was like looking at his own reflection. The surprise hit him like an electric jolt.

"Is… is he mine?" he asked, though the answer was already dawning on him. The boy smiled shyly, looking at his mother and then at him.

She sighed deeply, as though her whole life had been condensed into this one moment. "Yes. He’s your son, Itachi. When I left… I was pregnant with him. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was saying it for your money. I didn’t want you to think that I was just another woman who wanted you for what you had."

Itachi felt like the world was crashing down on him, but not in the way he expected. He had lost everything: her, him, the chance to be a father in the boy’s life. All because of his lack of courage.

"… I… I’m so sorry."

She looked at him silently, her face a mixture of contained emotion. "I don’t know if I can forgive you, Itachi. But… he needs to know who you are. And you… you have the right to be part of his life, if you truly want to be."

The boy, in the meantime, had been silently watching the scene. Finally, he stepped forward, looking at Itachi, and without thinking too much, he fixed his gaze on him. "Who are you?" he asked in his innocent voice, his tone so pure it cut through the tension in the air. "You look just like me. Are you… my daddy?"

Itachi, for the first time in years, was left speechless. How was he going to explain everything he had lost to a child so small? How could he possibly do it right after all the damage he had caused? But it didn’t matter. What he did know was that he wasn’t going to let him and her go this time.

"I’m… I’m your dad", he finally said, his voice soft, more vulnerable than he had ever sounded.

She watched him in silence, her face a mixture of emotion. "He’s a good boy, Itachi. Just… promise me you won’t let him go, that you won’t leave him like you left me..."

Itachi nodded slowly, understanding that he hadn’t just lost her, but had let go of the chance to be the man she needed. But if there was anything he could do right now, it was to be the father their little one deserved and prove that he was worthy of a second chance to be her partner and her husband in the future.

"I promise", he murmured, his voice firm, though full of vulnerability.

Their little boy, seeing that both of them seemed to reach an understanding, smiled, unaware of the full gravity of the situation. But something inside him told him that from that moment on, his life would change forever and that it would no longer be his mother and him against the world.

...

Extras ;;

"Mom, is this man— my dad going to live with us?" your little son asked innocently, after a while. Clearly confused with the idea of ​​where the man who said to be his father could sleep.

You on the other hand looked at him and, for a moment, smiled tenderly. You bent down to stroke the little boy's head. Though you laughed when you saw his curious look.

"Maybe, little one. Maybe"

[caitified]

i LOVE and LIVE for the family fics ackkkk. okay imagine reader was busy so cait and bella went to the park, and bella accidentally fell and broke her arm and when cait called reader to go to the hospital and she was really anxious. cait just felt so bad and reader assured her 🥹🥹🥹

ACCIDENT

CAITLIN CLARK X FAMILY READER

comments: i’m begging you guys to keep the family requests coming, i love them so much!

warnings: little bella in pain 🥲

the morning had started like any other, with the soft hum of breakfast in the air. you and caitlin were bustling around the kitchen, getting things ready as bella, still sleepy, wandered in with her bedhead. her tiny arms stretched above her head, and you smiled as she climbed into your lap to eat her breakfast. caitlin kissed you both goodbye, her lips brushing yours for just a moment, the routine of your shared life in that simple act of love.

“be safe,” caitlin told you, her voice warm and caring as she ruffled bella’s hair. you kissed them both on the cheek before you left for your meeting, the sound of their giggles and the sight of bella’s chubby cheeks waving you off stayed with you as you stepped out the door.

the meeting went as planned, although your thoughts often wandered to caitlin and bella. you missed them, even after just a few hours apart. you didn’t know that the day would take a turn, one that would test every ounce of patience and love you had.

when your phone rang, you didn’t think much of it, figuring it was a quick check-in from caitlin. but the moment you answered, you could hear the tension in her voice.

“babe, bella fell,” caitlin said, her voice shaky, and a knot immediately formed in your stomach. “she’s hurt. i need you to come to the hospital. now.”

you felt the world tilt, your heart racing as your mind spiraled. you couldn’t even think clearly, just throwing your things into your bag, telling the person leading the meeting that something had come up and bolting out of the room without a second thought.

the drive to the hospital felt endless, your hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension. every red light seemed to last longer, each second of the journey dragging painfully.

when you arrived, the sight of caitlin in the waiting room, pacing anxiously, nearly broke you. she looked up as you entered, her face pale and tight with worry.

“where is she?” you asked, urgency in your voice.

“they’re with her now, but she’s in so much pain. i just feel like it’s my fault,” caitlin said, her voice cracking. “she was so happy, running around, and then…”

you rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight hug, your heart aching for both of them. “cait,” you whispered, “this isn’t your fault. accidents happen. we both know how quickly kids can get into trouble.”

but caitlin only shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “she’s just… she’s my little girl. i should’ve been paying more attention.”

you cupped her face, making her look at you. “you love her, cait. you’re doing everything you can. that’s all she needs.”

caitlin wiped at her eyes, sniffing. “i can’t stand to see her in pain.”

you nodded, knowing exactly how she felt. but then, through the sound of your own anxiety, you heard a small voice from the exam room, breaking through the chaos.

“mommy?” came bella’s soft voice. caitlin hurried toward the door, and you followed behind her, both of you desperate to be there for your daughter.

bella was sitting up on the hospital bed, her little face contorted with pain but still so brave. when she saw her mama, her expression softened, though the pain was clearly still written on her face. “mommy?” she whispered again, reaching out for caitlin.

“i’m right here, baby,” caitlin said, her voice trembling as she rushed to her side, immediately sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her tightly. she kissed bella’s forehead, tears mixing with the sweat on her own face. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

bella, despite the tears in her eyes, did the best she could to smile. “i love you, mommy,” she whispered, her voice thick with the pain, yet sweet and innocent. caitlin choked back a sob at the words, brushing her little girl’s hair back from her face.

“i love you too, baby,” caitlin whispered back, her voice full of emotion. you stood by, watching with tears in your own eyes, knowing how much this hurt for both of them.

but then, as if on cue, bella’s tiny voice broke through the heavy atmosphere, a request that only a two-year-old could make.

“ice cream, mommy,” bella said, her face brightening just a little. “i want ice cream.”

the room was quiet for a moment, and then caitlin, despite her tears, started to laugh. “ice cream? you’re asking for ice cream right now?”

“yeah!” bella giggled, her voice full of mischief despite the circumstances.

you could feel the tension in the room start to melt just a little. caitlin, even with her heart breaking over her daughter’s pain, couldn’t help but smile at her. “you’ve got the sweetest little heart, don’t you?”

“me want ice cream,” bella said again, louder this time, and even through the pain, her eyes sparkled with a little bit of the joy that made her so special. caitlin gave her a kiss on the forehead before looking over at you, tears still in her eyes but now with a soft, loving smile.

you walked over, your heart filled with both sorrow and love. “ice cream, huh? well, i think that sounds like the perfect idea.”

and in that moment, with bella still clinging to her mom, the pain of the day seemed to soften just a little.

[alittlerobin]

Elbert/Kate/Alfons

tags: hurt/comfort; established relationship, m/m/f word count: 1.4k

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Elbert there on his own, but the moment she heard the faintest of falling footsteps out in the hall, she rushed out of their bedroom. 

She was clad only in her nightgown, her feet bare as she raced down the stairs, heart pounding. It was hours past midnight, yet dawn was still too far off to begin chasing the darkness away. The thought of leaving Elbert alone in their room for even a second, shivering and gasping with tears in his eyes, it wrenched her heart into pieces… 

But on nights like this, she didn’t always know what to say, how to calm him or distract him. Not like how Alfons did, at least. She was still learning, still struggling to find the right words or actions, uncertain if a thought would be triggering or comforting, uncertain of everything. 

She stopped on the bottom of the stairs, feet frozen from the chill and the panic, and then her eyes met Alfons’s ashen-grey gaze as he returned from one of his nights on the town. “Al, he’s–”

Alfons’s signature grin dropped immediately. 

“He’s not hurt,” she stammered in her rush to explain, the words almost choking in her throat. “He just had a bad nightmare, and I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please hurry.”

At that, Alfons swept across the hall with unusual urgency. His jacket billowed like raven’s wings behind him and he paused only briefly at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to join him. She grabbed his hand, using it to steady her own aching heart, and together they ran back to the bedroom. 

“Al…” Elbert’s voice sounded beautifully broken as they both stepped into the room. The low light from the single lamp she’d lit illuminated his skin, making the sweat beading on it glisten. 

Alfons’s hand slipped out of hers as he clicked his tongue, crossing the room. “Tsk, tsk, my dear Elbie. You should’ve seen the look on Kate’s face when she ran down to greet me. Absolutely terrified.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Elbert’s voice was softer than a whisper and his golden lashes fluttered shut, the tears clinging to them sparkling like diamonds.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Kate replied, sitting back down on their bed. She shifted as close to him as she could without touching him, letting him be the one to initiate contact when he wanted to. 

“She’s right, you know,” Alfons sighed. “But if it makes you feel better, you can go shout your sorry’s from the rooftop.”

Elbert opened his eyes, the oceanic blue of them going wide. “...Does that help?”

“For you, I very much doubt it.” A smile was back on Alfons’s lips, but it was softer, more genuine than the one he usually had plastered on. He slipped out of his shoes, removing his coat and his tie, but when he made to shed the rest of his clothes, Elbert reached out and took hold of his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t… Leave it on, please. I…”

She knew why. And so would Alfons. 

Elbert had mentioned before that the mix of cologne, booze, and god knew what else that clung to Alfons after his nights out were a comfort. Because when that profane scent was around, it meant Alfons was around. And when Alfons was with him, no one would come and make him suffer any further on those nights…

Alfons heaved out an exaggerated sigh, but he didn’t protest. He peeled off his gloves and then pressed a knee into the mattress, boxing Elbert in between him and Kate. 

The second he was within reach, Elbert turned into him, dropping his forehead against Alfons’s chest. The rapid rhythm of Kate’s heart slowed and she sighed with relief, the tension dropping from her shoulders as Alfons’s arms wound around Elbert to comfort him. 

“You’re such a fool. Since our robin has a far more ample bosom, I'd recommend burying yourself in her chest rather than mine.”

There, just like that. Alfons always seemed to be able to drive that pain away with his nonchalance and depravity that might’ve seemed like some ill-advised joke, yet always succeeded in turning thoughts from gloom to scandal or exasperated amusement. Early on, she might’ve scolded him. Yet now she smiled, seeing a hint of the same expression gently touch the corners of Elbert’s beautiful lips. 

“Both…” Elbert whispered, his long and elegant fingers clinging to the fabric of Alfons’s vest. “I want both…”

“So greedy. Whatever will we do with you.” Alfons tutted, faking a scolding, and his gaze caught Kate’s. “Come on, little robin, you heard him. He wants both.”

As if she could ever deny him. Either of them. She moved closer, closing the distance between them and gingerly touching Elbert’s back. At the same time, Alfons’s fingers stroked over the nape of Elbert’s neck, light and soothing, like he was petting a kitten. However he didn’t lean down to whisper, casting no illusions. It was merely a touch, with no magic, no curse behind it. 

And as soon as Alfons’s fingers pulled away, Elbert turned, slipping into Kate’s open arms instead. She craned her head down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as Elbert nuzzled into her chest, his arms winding around her waist. She stroked her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and taking the role of whispering to him softly, reassuring he was safe there between them. No more bad dreams, no more nightmares. Not for forever, but for tonight. For the rest of tonight, he had them both there to protect him. 

His grip gradually loosened, his beautiful lashes fluttering shut. And within a few minutes, his breathing was steady and calm, lulled into a far kinder sleep. 

The last of the tension inside her melted away and she swallowed a sob of relief, glancing up. The expression on Alfons’s face was so gentle and sweet, it made her heart ache–but this time, with utter joy.

“Thank you…” she whispered, threading her fingers through Elbert’s golden hair once again. “I feel like I’d be so lost without you…”

After a long, silent moment, Alfons closed his eyes, as if afraid to meet her gaze. When he spoke, it was with an unusual strain to his voice. “For so many years, on nights like this, I tried to offer him comfort, tried to give him an escape. At times, on those days when I hadn’t been able to help him evade those vile servants… I offered him illusions, but he always broke out of them so quickly…”

Alfons opened his eyes, looking into hers briefly, before dropping his gaze to their peacefully sleeping Elbert. He reached out, picking up a lock of Elbert’s silken hair, and twisted it between his fingers. “He very rarely accepted my help, preferring to suffer like he believed he deserved. And he never sought out comfort or asked me on his own. The fact that he does so now…”

Alfons leaned down, pressing one kiss to Elbert’s golden hair and another to the back of Kate’s hand. “You may feel lost at times like these, but you’re the one who saved us both. Never forget that, my dear.”

A heat painted her cheeks and melted all the way down to her heart. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Al.”

“Of course not.” Like a shadow passing over a mirror, a haughty grin danced its way back across Alfons’s lips. “All three of us are hopeless fools. We need each other, or we’ll completely fall apart. Isn’t that disgustingly tragic?”

Kate laughed, then bit her lip to stifle it, not wanting to rouse Elbert. “I love you both.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware. Be sure to tell him in the morning when he wakes up. I’m sure he’ll be eager to thank us by ravishing us both.” With a large and very much put-on yawn, Alfons nestled into the bed and draped an arm around Elbert’s waist. He shut his eyes, muttering out a casual good night.

With a smile, Kate tugged the blankets over all three of them and laid down as well. She cradled Elbert’s head against her chest and found Alfons’s hand under the sheets, lacing their fingers together. As she drifted off to sleep only minutes later, she swore she felt his thumb gently stroking over the back of her hand. 

This scene was the furthest thing from what she could’ve imagined happening when she was first brought to Crown Castle. But now… she wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way. 

[cuinaminute229]

Into danger I will run

pairing: Maria Hill x reader

...

Trickles of moonlight brush past winding branches and delicate leaves as it reaches for the ground below. A distant alarm blares flashing red, shattering the silence of the night. 

Something happened, someone’s missing. 

Maria doesn’t have much time. 

She grinds her teeth as she pushes through the underbrush, her boots digging into the ground with each step and her shoulder straining under the weight of dragging you half conscious with her.  

There is no time to catch her breath, no time to remember the exact path she took to reach the prison. Time is against her, it’s racing at her back with biting teeth. 

The sound of barking dogs makes her groan in annoyance, of course they would let those canines out. It’s time for a chase. 

This is not how she wanted the day to go. Her schedule was packed as it was, she didn’t need you getting kidnapped and in need of saving to cram its way into her calendar. 

She’s going to ring Bishop’s neck when she sees him again. 

As she pushes past a marked tree, grabbing the ribbon she used, the sudden weight of your body as your legs give out on you makes her stumble. 

“Hey, hey come on,” Maria looks at you, pauses for just a moment. The heavy sounds of your ragged breaths tells of the pain you’re in, it took hours to find you. She doesn’t know the extent of your injuries, at this moment she has no clue. All she can do is get you out of here as soon as possible. 

“We’re almost there,” She glances behind you with narrowed eyes, the forest is black, the trees even darker. She can’t see past your back, she doesn’t know how close those dogs and rifles are. 

With a slight shake of her hand, she reaches out, threads her fingers through sweaty hair and watches you with vigilance. She needs to get you moving, she needs to reach the clearing. She has a jeep waiting. 

“Maria…” Her name from your lips makes her frown, she tightens her hold on your shoulder just enough to keep you upright. 

“I’m here, I’m right here.” She whispers her reassurance as reaches for the gun at her hip, the dogs are getting closer. 

This isn’t the time to panic, this is honestly the worst time to panic but the moment she starts to feel you go limp, her thoughts are a train wreck. 

“No, no, no, no, I need you to keep your eyes open for me.” She’s sloppy, her panic making her movements rushed as she brushes her hand over your jaw, pats your cheek with urgency. The weight of your head in her hands makes her feel sick. 

The soft sound of a groan, the light brush of fingers at her waist, makes it easier to breathe. She gives you one more second. To breathe, to chase the pain away and tighten your grip on her before she moves. 

With a slow shift of her weight, Maria pushes forwards with a single goal in mind. Reach the clearing. 

Once she gets there, once she can get you into the jeep and starts driving like hell itself is chasing her, then she can call Clint. She can prepare for the flight back to New York. 

“We’re almost there.” Maria whispers under her breath. A reassurance for the both of you as her eyes scan the blackness ahead for any sign of hanging ribbon from branches. 

It wasn’t the best choice to use when scouting the outer area of the prison but there wasn’t time to think properly, it was a trick she learned years ago that was easiest to use when the cell towers were out of the picture. 

The snarling growls and howls of the dogs are rushing through the forest with a speed she despises. Why was it always dogs?

It doesn’t take as long as she thought to find the path, those branches looking familiar under the moonlight. The anticipation of finally seeing the path out of this god damn place urges her fast. The soft sound of pain from you as she all but drags you to the jeep makes her heart hurt. But she’s so close.

She’s extra gentle with you as she buckles you into the passenger seat as a silent apology, her hand is itching to go back to her gun, her shoulders are tight with tension. The sounds are getting louder, she can now hear shouting beneath the dogs. 

The fact that she all but runs to the driver’s side, slams the door almost too loud and jams the keys into the ignition is the moves of a rookie but there is no time. 

Dirt and grass are kicked up by the wheels as she slams on the gas, eyes bouncing from the road ahead and the one behind, if they break through the trees she wants to know. 

It wouldn’t help her now, to know exactly how close they were but her mind wants the knowledge, it would help distract her from the blood on her hands, the blood in her clothes. 

The ride to the safe house feels like an eternity, one hand on the wheel and one holding your own. She talks the entire way, tries to get you to respond. She doesn’t even ask for intel, she doesn't ask why. 

No, her questions are the most random. Her brain is not letting her thoughts move along in an order. 

What’s your favorite color? Blue

Name a city you’ve always wanted to go to? Tecoma

Do you remember what you had for breakfast? Pancakes

Who is your best friend? Natasha

It would be hilarious almost, if Clint knew. If this situation was anything else he’d just tease her about playing 50 questions. 

She almost wishes this was a different situation, she wishes she was home. A movie in the background as she makes dinner with you, soft laughter and pointless jabs filling the kitchen like warm air. 

The soft squeeze of your fingers on her hold pulls her away from the dream, the dark road feels endless with how the moon now hides behind a group of clouds. But the moment she sees the building, she knows that it won’t take long now. The turns are a little tricky and she can’t believe that Tony was the one to even make a safe house here on this abandoned road, the plain house sitting between two farmer’s fields of tall standing wheat. 

It looks so normal she can see his reasoning, it’s like a bystander. Fading into the background, so bland that no attention should be wasted on it. Okay, she’ll give Tony this one point. She still doesn’t like him though. 

“Easy.” Maria lets her voice lower to a whisper, her hold on you is gentle yet steady as she helps you up the front steps of the house. The porch light flickers and she turns to look behind her like it’s a reflex. There is no one, the air is quiet and the jeep is parked against the house enough that anyone would have to come close to see it. 

“I’m okay.” The response falls from your lips before almost collapsing against the front door, her eyes scan you as she brushes her fingers over the stained fabric at your ribs, she knows there are a few that are broken, knows that it must be hell trying to breathe. When you look at her, eyes glassy and skin pale she has to wrestle down the urge to carry you through the door. 

The moment she finds the keys, pushing the door open and turning back to you, she has to fight the smile when you give her a thumbs up and reach out for her.

“I’m surprised you can still stand.” She wonders, kicks the door shut and flicks on the light. The couch isn’t far, facing away from the door at the empty fireplace. 

She helps you over to sit down with slow steps. It takes only a moment for her to turn and find the lamp that sits next to the empty loveseat, she turns it on before walking back over to the light switch and turning that off. She makes sure the curtains are completely shut, peeking out to see nothing but darkness. 

The room is bathed in a soft light that she knows won’t make your head hurt worse, besides she’d rather it look like no one’s home if someone decides to drive by. 

“Someone wouldn’t let me pass out.” You wince, wrapping your arm around your waist and giving her a look that at any other time would be considered a glare.

It takes a few reassuring words before she gives in and heads to the kitchen. She doesn’t go for the phone sitting on the counter straight away, no that can wait. Right now she needs to check you.

The water is warm as it falls from the faucet, soaking the rag in her hands. She ignores that her hands are shaking, shakes her head and forces out a breath that does nothing to ease her frustration, her worry. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Your team wasn’t supposed to leave you behind. 

Stealing those files was the only objective, why on earth was there an explosion. What the hell happened?

Maria pinches her brow in frustration before releasing a sigh, she needs to focus on you. She turns the water off, drops the rag and brags the now full bowl of water before she heads back into the living room. 

The sight of you, leaning back against the couch, face turned to the ceiling with a clear look of discomfort on your face doesn’t ease the stress that tightens her muscles. You look a mess, you look utterly exhausted. 

As she places the bowl down on the coffee table that sits in front of the couch, sits next to you, the smile you give her makes nothing better but she returns it anyway. “I’m using up our vacation days after this. No way am I letting you out of my sight anytime soon.” 

When you shift, position yourself to look at her, she gives you a warning glare. She reaches for your unoccupied hand, running the soaked rag over dirk and blood covered skin. You let her work in quiet, eyes trained on her hands, skin warm from the water. 

“What would we do?” Your question doesn’t quite startle her, but her touch falters. It takes but a moment to continue with her task, scooting closer as she runs the rag up your arm. Maria doesn’t answer right away, she lets her hands work as her mind thinks. 

There’s a deep cut on your bicep, reaching up under your sleeve, she doesn’t want to think about who did that to you so she answers. “We could do a movie marathon,” Once the rag is rinsed, the bowl of water tinted an ugly color she continues, “I know you still wanted to finish that show. The one with the dragons?”

“Game of thrones.” You remind her gently as she almost glares at that one cut, wondering why she completely forgot about the first aid kit. You’re going to need stitches. 

“I’ll even buy the movie theater popcorn you love so much.” She adds, smiles apologetically when she motions to your other arm. “Next one, please.”

The pout you give her before carefully pulling your arm away from your ribs makes her throat feel tight. Once you switch arms, the now clean on holding your ribs, you rest your hand in her own. “Do you promise? I know you don’t really like it.”

It’s not that she doesn’t like it, more like she rather not have any, which is why you always get her bag of popcorn when there is time to go to the movies. The blood under your nails makes her grind her teeth, a flicker of pride warms her chest anyway. You fought back, even when you didn’t know when the rescue team would come. 

As she pushes the rag over your scraped knuckles she looks up, you’re watching her with tired eyes, head tilted slightly enough to cause your hair to fall over your shoulders, push to cover your ears. She wonders if your comms were smashed by your attacker. “I promise.”

The cut that nicks your eyebrow makes her reach out, she leans closer and brushes a finger right next to the cut, the stain of dried blood smears across your forehead. You don’t look away from her as she brings the rag up to wash away the blood, your fingers dig into her thigh when she then runs the rag over the cut. 

“Still okay?” Maria asks, pulls back to look at you, eyes dancing over your face in concern. 

“I think a shower would make this easier.” Your tease is subtle, if it wasn’t for the slight smirk you send her way she wouldn't have even noticed. She runs her rag covered hand over your cheek, shakes her head and pulls back. 

“I think a bath would do you more good.” She says in response, leaning over to wring the rag out over the bowl. She also thinks if you take a shower you might trip and hit your head, again. 

As she finishes washing your arm, her free hand brushing over your skin with a gentleness that could only qualify the touch as a caress, her eyes travel to the kitchen, the silent phone on the counter still looking at her. “I need to call Clint.” 

She needs to do a lot of things but she doesn’t want to get up. She doesn’t want to leave your side, not yet. When she turns back to you, the look in your eyes makes her glance away. Maria doesn’t want to worry about Clint, about what's going to happen once the two of you reach the base. How angry she’s going to be when she sees your team, your first in command, freaking John Bishop. 

“How about,” The touch of your fingers on her jaw, dancing up to brush against the back of her ear which reminds her that her hair has fallen from her ponytail. She closes her eyes when your thumb runs over her cheek and she turns to look back at you, expression almost pleading.

“Oh Maria.” The words you were going to say die on your tongue and when you move to reach out for her, the sting of broken ribs a second thought, she closes the distance. 

Her arms wrap around you with the familiarity of many hugs before, her grip holds no strength as she buries her face against your shoulder. You smell like gunpowder, sweat, and blood but she doesn’t care. 

You’re here, you’re alive. 

“I thought I lost you.” Her confession is a whisper buried in the fabric of your shirt, her eyes sting and she can’t believe she’s going to cry. 

The way you fist your hands into her shirt, tugging her closer despite the ache of your muscles makes this entire rescue operation worth it. She owes Clint a week's worth of free pizza for his help, she doesn’t care if he refuses. 

“I’m still here. I promise.” The feeling of you breathing under her touch fills her with relief, even if you have cuts and bruises; even with a broken ribs and a sprained ankle you’re still here. 

“Do you still want that bath?” She asks once she’s calmed down, the sensation of your fingers brushing through her hair doing a wonder to help. She doesn’t want to let go yet, thankfully she can still have a conversation like this. 

The feel of your shoulders sagging, the mumbled yes that tickles her neck causes her to chuckle, her amusement makes her feel lighter. If you really want that bath she can help you. There’s no way she’s going to leave it to chance if you fall asleep. Both of you are filthy anyway. “Okay, okay.”

When you pull away, she cradles your face in her hands. The moment your hands take hold of her wrists she leans forward and brushes her lips against your forehead in a tender kiss. The sound of your soft hum eases the lingering knot in her stomach. 

After the bath, after you fall asleep, she swears she’s going to call Clint. He’s probably worried as hell right now but he can wait. Right now she’s going to focus on you, only you. Everything else will wait.

[moonstarrr]

Ok I know I already put in a Eddie request but I have another one based on a dream 😂

Ever since Eddie got shot Y/n has been worried about something happening to him. One day Eddie gets hurt and Y/n gets so worked up about it she goes to the gym and starts hitting a punching bag. However, She didn’t know Eddie followed her and was watching her let her feelings out. She soon has a breakdown while punching it and Eddie is there to help her and she finally tells him how she feels about him getting hurt.

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐔𝐩

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭,𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 :)

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!

“Baby….(Y/N) you okay”

The voice snapped you back to reality and out of the thoughts that consume your mind constantly.

You bring your eyes up to meet your husband Eddie while your chin was resting on your hand. Eddie looked at you with concern .

“Oh I’m fine” . That’s a lie that you were trying to mask so Eddie wouldn’t even get the idea that you’re not alright. You eyes drift off to the brave wrapped tightly around his wrist and you shake your head .

He follows your eyes down to his hand and sighs.

“Is this what your worried about? Look babe I’m fine” He says trying to change the tone and give you some kind of reassurance. Eddie knows you and knows you well .

"yes I'm worried this is the second time Eddie, you just got a sick leave which is meant to be resting and look" you say with a huff and annoyance washing over you.

You were tired of seeing him constantly hurting himself over and over again. On top of that you didn't want Chris to see his dad in this condition.

"Come on (Y/N) I promise you I'm fine" He grabs your elbow as you were walking out and stops you in your track. You turn back quickly and look at him not breaking eye contact for a second.

"Eddie I'm serious, stop bullshitting me" You said and walked to the bathroom to go to the shower and get ready for the gym.

About 2 hours later, you and Eddie were on your way to the gym and it was a relatively quiet car ride. One of his hands was placed on your thigh, while the other was driving. You on the other hand was looking out the window playing out all the thoughts in your mind. It was as if your mind never shuts off and the more you thought the more the emotions kept building up.

Getting into your regular routine of boxing you go straight to the punching bags and Eddie is with you drinking out of his water bottle.

Punch,Punch, Punch

Each time just got harder and harder. The more anger kept bubbling. The more the thoughts kept coming and coming. You didn't even realize how much harder you've been hitting the bag.

Eddie looked at you in awe and concern. He knew something was wrong.

"(Y/N)......(Y/N) babe take it easy" He walks over with urgency and tries to hold the punching bag and he takes a Quick Look over his shoulder and he sees the tears just streaming down your face.

The quick rise and fall of your chest caught his attention as well. He soon pieced it together to the fact that you were having a panic attack.

You felt yourself going weak in your legs and you became wobbly, Eddie rushed over to you and wrapped his arms around you and you both sat down on the floor and the tears overcome you full force. As you closed your eyes and all you see is seeing Eddie in the hospital bed and the bandage around his gunshot wound and the blood.

"E-Eddie....im scared for you and you are scaring me" you say through your tears looking up at him with your hand on his chest.

"Seeing you in the hospital in pain hurts me . I know you can't make any promises but good god Eddie at least understand that I can't bare the thought of you even being hurt in any way"

He looks at you and caresses your cheek. Tears even start to form in his eyes seeing you so hurt and in so much pain. He never truly took into account how much seeing him in that state could hurt you

"Baby I'm so sorry, but when these feelings start to overcome you I need you to talk to me. You know I will always be here for you" he says with remorse all over his tone.

"I can't bare too see you hurt yourself anymore than you already are Eddie.....Promise me that you will take it easy" You say in a quiet tone only loud enough for him to hear. You place your hands on his shoulders and rub them up and down.

"I promise" He brings you in for a kiss and holds you in his embrace .

[juniperdugong]

Perfection Pt.5; Wake me before you go

Falling unconscious Mingyu rushes you to the Mortuary to try and bring you back. As you're out, a memory comes back.

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack, Romance, Angst || Inspired by Frankenstein and other undead media

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts || Depression || Minor wounds ||Mentions of death and corpses (Nothing in-depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Mentions of suicide || Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

WC: 3k

Songs that inspired this fic

Series Masterlist

"We have to take her inside!" Wonwoo is yelling with urgency as the guard surrenders your body over to Mingyu's care.

Mingyu kneels down, cradling you in his arms as tears form. "We can't…" he says in a near whisper against your forehead not letting Wonwoo's words tear his attention from you.

"What do you mean we can't?! It's right there!-" Confusion rides over Wonwoo's face as he watches Mingyu begin to weep over you, droplets slipping off his face and onto yours. The young guard steps away from the situation in shock as Wonwoo gives him a slight nod and a wave of his hand signaling to find help quick.

"I said we can't Wonwoo!" Gyu whips his head around to face Wonwoo, he's gleaming red in frustration. He brings you in closer to him, resting his head against your chest so he can, hopefully, find a pulse; Please be beating. Please be beating. Please be beating. "Fucking, thank goodness." the biggest wave of relief washes over him as he hears the faintest of murmurs. "Wonwoo help me get her into my car."

"Are you crazy?! She needs medical attention-" Wonwoo raises his voice not understanding why Mingyu is being this way, the fact that Gyu isn't bringing you further into the hospital agitates him beyond belief.

"WE NEED TO GO TO THE MORTUARY! FUCKING HELP ME!" Mingyu, completely lost in his emotions now, screams at the other man till his throat hurts. Veins popping out as he's now gripping so hard onto your lifeless body that bruises were sure to appear. "Help me Wonwoo!"

He's never seen Mingyu like this. Sure there was the occasional squabble between him and Seungkwan from time to time but he had never seen Gyu so distraught and broken. "Forget it." As Wonwoo's trying to figure out how to handle what's going on Gyu gets up - suddenly remembering his strength - and begins to carry you back to the car, letting the door slam in Wonwoo's face as he leaves.

It's dark and he can barely see as the one flickering street lamp attempts to brighten the entirety of this back lot and the crying isn't helping. "Shit, fuck! I shouldn't have left you. This was so stupid. I'm so sorry, my love." He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and his knees nearly buckle as he feels how cold you've gotten. "We just got you warm, y/n. You were getting warm." The tears are overtaking him as he reaches the car, it dawns on him that he can't open the door while holding you and it only fuels his current rage as he kicks a dent into his bumper.

"Let me." Wonwoo reaches for the door handle, heaving as he ran over here. Mingyu is taken aback as his friend helps get you inside.

Gyu places you in the back seat as gently as he can, leaving a small kiss on your jaw before he backs away and faces Wonwoo. There's a seriousness as they stare at each other with furrowed brows. Wonwoo knows it isn't the time to ask questions when he sees Gyu nearly shaking, eyes wide in panic, and his breath unsteady as his shoulders rapidly move up and down. Gyu shakes his head and runs over to the driver's side, hands scraping down his body for the key.

"I'll drive." Gyu looks up as Wonwoo pushes him out of the way. "The key-" "They're in there, Mingyu." He points past the window to the ignition where the keys have been sitting since Mingyu had gone into the morgue. "Come on."

They get into the car and take off with speed, thankful that there were little cars on the road tonight. "The mortuary?" Wonwoo questions, Mingyu nods frantically as he reaches into the back to grab your hand and hold it in his, not daring to let you go right now. "You'll tell me about this later." Wonwoo says pointedly. Mingyu doesn't even process the words as he contorts himself in his seat to look at you, a faint beeping noise falls on deaf ears as the seat belt light comes on.

--Flashback--

You see Mingyu enter the building, letting out a huge sigh as nearly half of the job is done at this point. You recline back in your seat, legs shaking and jittery with nerves as you wait for Gyu to return. It's not even a minute before you bring yourself back up and rest your head on the window to try and calm yourself.

As you look out you see a group of people walking on the sidewalk, it's dark and you can barely see them but the face of a girl comes to you clear as day as she passes under a streetlamp. Suddenly your vision is starting to blur and you feel lightheaded. Your heart pounds in your chest like it's about to burst out and your head is spinning, you look down and see your fingers turn grey and cold.

As you start to panic you stumble with the door handle. You need air, you need help, you need Mingyu. Your fingers barely catch on the handle as they fall limp on you. Willing yourself to stand you struggle to put one foot in front of the other, pushing the car door closed with what little strength you could muster.

When you make it to the door of the building you feel yourself begin to dip between conscious and unconscious, knees buckling and head fighting to stay on your shoulders. With a lack of control of your limbs, you slam yourself into the door repeatedly. It hurts at first but your senses are beginning to numb, eventually you're unable to feel anything as you continue to slam your body against the door.

Finally, the guard opens the door, eyes wide as he sees you in a zombie-like position. "H-hel-p Mi-ng-gyu." are the last words you get out of your mouth before the world goes dark.

--Flashback--

You're back in your room, not the one you had made home with Mingyu in, no. You're in your old room. The one littered with trash and piles of dishes that hadn't been touched in months. The apartment. You sit on the edge of the only clear spot on your bed, the rest of the space being taken up by mountains of clothes and random items that were in rotation as you took to rotting daily in this space.

Whoever Mingyu is and whatever that life is is not apparent to you. You're stuck in a memory, one where you've settled into the routine of living like this. Destroying yourself by isolation and hurt, wanting a way out but not seeing one, the only viable choice nowadays being continuing on like this until someone comes to save you or death. Yeah, those were the only options that made sense.

Ding Your phone lights up with a text message, of course.

- You're scheduled for 3pm today.

It was never anyone important, just your boss reminding you that you had work. You scroll up to see if you've gotten any other notifications, although you never do. The only things you see are notifications from other apps telling you to return and waste away the time you have left on them. No surprises there.

You let out a sigh as you get up and head for the bathroom. Lifting your head as you enter you see your face in the mirror, deep bags under your eyes, and a gaunt look on your face - nothing new here either. You push away the junk around the sink before running some water to at least wash your face before your shift.

Exiting, you pick up your uniform which laid on top of one of the piles of clothes. You don't remember the last time you washed, you don't remember the last time you had done much of anything other than work, come home, lay in bed, and sleep.

It's been like this for months, at this point you wondered if things could change. If it's too late for you to get yourself together. It is too late, you'd need help for that - that's the conclusion you draw. But who would help you? Your family barely texts or calls anymore, the only people you could call "in-person friends" are your coworkers, and the few friends you do have barely contact you because they're too busy with their lives, their interesting lives. There was no one who you felt you could divulge all of your darkest thoughts and worries, no support.

Maybe…it would just be better…if you were gone. No more problems. No more worries. You wouldn't even be much of a burden to the people around you anymore. Your boss wouldn't have to text you for work every day. Your landlord wouldn't have to voice her concern over the state of your apartment. Yeah, no one would have to worry. It would be much better that way, wouldn't it?

You had pondered upon this idea many times before but this is the only time you felt you could stick to it. You could actually do it this time. It's not like anyone would come looking and once people did, well it would be too late to have stopped you.

You decided you were going to do it. You'd finally give up on this shitty excuse of a life.

As they arrive at the Mortuary Mingyu has already gone through a plan in his head, wanting to get you to the prep room as quickly as he can.

"The key for the building is the smallest one on the ring, open the door and keep it open as I bring her in." He instructs Wonwoo with an urgent tone. As soon as the car stops Mingyu is out and on his feet. "Run!" He says to Wonwoo - his friend's speed not enough for him in this moment. He goes to pick you up and once more rests his head against your chest, just to make sure. "Dammit, it's even slower now."

Getting through the door he again instructs Wonwoo as they navigate the halls of the Mortuary, eventually getting to the prep room. "Quick, grab the empty table." he sloppily points towards the metal table that he hadn't used since you had awakened, the one that he laid you on that night. He lays you down, the slightest chuckle willing itself out of him as this moment reminds him of when he had brought you back to life, a bittersweet memory right now.

Wonwoo watches in amazement and concern as Gyu begins to hastily arrange all the equipment. Questions only continue to build up in his mind observing his friend's ministrations. He occasionally tries to step in and help, only to be swatted away by Mingyu giving him an excuse about it being more efficient if he just does everything himself.

Gyu couldn't take any risks. Just by being here, Wonwoo was putting himself at risk, and much more than that he was putting you at risk. The night sky promised no rainstorms, which meant no lightning, he had to find another way to jumpstart you. He stepped away for a second before a lightbulb went off.

"Wonwoo." He looks intensely at the man. "I need you to go to the front of the building, find the fuse box, and turn off power for all rooms except for this one." Gyu waits for a step, for any sign of acknowledgment. "I need you to tell me that you've got this." "I got it, Mingyu. Easy." "Good." His breath settles in its pace - he uses the energy from the adrenaline to hone in on his objective. "After that, I need you to go outside to the storage room. It should be just around back. Take my keys and the same key you used before should open that door." Wonwoo nods as he takes in all the instructions. "Bring me the generator that's in there." "Okay. Is that it?" "That's it. I'll take care of everything else, now please go. And hurry."

Pushing his glasses back into place Wonwoo takes off. Gyu goes over to you, hovering as he hesitates to place the hooks in your body. He has to keep reminding himself that this is to bring you back, the thought of actually hurting you now that you're alive being far too painful for his fragile heart. He swipes a piece of hair off your face. "This is gonna work, y/n. It has to. It worked before and besides…I need you. Can't bear to live without you now. Just got you, can't give you back so easily. So just come back to me pretty girl, okay?"

Talking about how he can't be apart from you gives him the amount of confidence he needs to continue. Steadily he brings the sharp hooks to your skin, right over the punctures he had made before that have already begun to heal over. With the gentleness of a lamb he skewers them through; You slightly twitch and blood begins to drip down, Mingyu is nearly passing out at the sight. If you had made any noise of discomfort he swears he would find any other way to do this. But you don't and he calms himself realizing that you're at least still able to react to sensations slightly. He sees as the lights flicker off in the hallway - Wonwoo's gotten to the fuse box.

Mingyu waits for a while, allowing himself to come down from his adrenaline high and actually prepare himself for what's to come. He organizes the machinery and goes over the rough details of what should happen in his head. Once he's sure that everything is in place he goes back over to your unconscious form. He slides his hand over yours, comparing palms before clasping fingers and leaning down to leave a soft peck against the back of your hand.

Wonwoo comes in minutes later. "Found it." "Good good, bring it over." "What exactly are you trying to do?" Mingyu turns to him hesitating, "I'm going to jumpstart her heart…again." "What." "I'm going to fucking plug that generator into the wall and then hook it up to her to jumpstart her heart." Wonwoo thinks he's finally lost it, the emotions have overwhelmed Mingyu to the point of insanity and Wonwoo doesn't even think he has the power to do anything but watch as his friend spirals. "Wait, what do you mean again?" "It's a long story. I just need you to trust me." Mingyu grabs Wonwoo by the shoulders, shaking him and staring into his eyes like a hawk. "I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Wonwoo?" He sounds crazed, like a true madman right now, but goddammit was he persuasive with his passion. Grabbing Mingyu's hands by the wrist Wonwoo twists himself out of the other man's grasp, "I trust you, Mingyu. I just don't unders-" "Good. I was gonna kick you out of here if you said you didn't. It would've done irreparable damage to our friendship too. Also, now isn't the time for questions. Help me figure this shit out."

They both begin to fiddle with the generator and the machinery. Neither of them were engineers, mechanics, or technicians of any kind so it took all the knowledge Gyu had of building these machines for them to finally figure something out that had even a sliver of a chance of working.

Standing back from the monstrosity of wires and parts they exchange a glance. Mingyu gives a nod and Wonwoo picks up the generator's plug. "Do it. Just do it." - the hesitation gets to Mingyu and he can't help but cover his mouth in anticipation as Wonwoo brings the plug to the outlet. With a final thud into the wall - it's in.

They both get even more nervous as nothing happens, silence befalling the room, and Mingyu's heart drops.

TCH TCH TCH In succession, the lightbulbs in the room burst! Sparks flying out in every direction. The men cover their heads as surges of electricity pulse between the machines, each of them flickering on for just a second before shutting down once again. With each machine, the energy got closer and closer to your body, although the parts weren't working in tandem they sure were moving all of that electricity towards the intended destination. Your body.

Mingyu is watching with wide eyes, practically biting at his fingernails, watching as everything goes off. As the machine closest to you blazes with light he's wide-eyed, time spreading so thin that he swears he can feel as each individual electron shifts to create energy.

Panic ensues as the surge reaches your body. You begin to write on the metal table, the pain eliciting haunting groans from your mouth. Gyu is immediately at your side, his hands hovering over you as he tries to fix whatever is happening, even though he doesn't know how. Wonwoo joins him rushing to the opposite side of the table, "What do we do, Mingyu?!" "I don't know!" They're both yelling incoherent sentences at each other, as you twist and turn. Your body contorts unnaturally as muscles you've never used before spasm. "Unplug it! Unplug it! Unplug it!" Mingyu repeats the words over and over again as Wonwoo rushes to follow his commands.

Just as Wonwoo grips the plug…

Your chest lifts as you suck air into your lungs, torso lifting to sit up. Short jagged breaths follow as your hands roam all over your body to try and ground yourself. "Hey hey hey, I'm here.", Mingyu reaches out to you. You grasp onto his being so tight that you think your nails might be drawing blood, but Gyu doesn't care. He's hugging you, rubbing a hand along your back to soothe you as you're still shaking and in pain - evident by the tears that have formed in your eyes and the way you're breathing hasn't steadied. "I'm here. Not going anywhere. I promise."

A/N: I'm really enjoying what I've written lately guys... BUT LOVELIES!! If you don't already know, this series is no longer going to be scheduled so if you want to keep up with it the best way to do so would be to join the taglist below, just send a comment or ask and I will happily add you to the list! Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @jjin-kun @mydolle-dd @sojuxxi