#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.

[tbaluver]

HELLLOOOOOOO

I just read a book where the mcs husband freaks out over her water breaking and I was wondering, how would the lads acc react???? It’s ok if you dont want to write about it but i just wanna say that i REALLLLLYYYYY love the work you’re doing!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

"My Water Broke!"- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader summary: how they react when your water breaks and what they would do after a/n: HIHI again my angel !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ PLS you're always so sweet omg thank you so much MWAH MWAH currently kicking my feet reading that, thank you for reading my works ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) i hope i did this justice and i hope this was alright ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The snack in your hand falls to the ground, your appetite disappears when a sharp ache shoots through your lower abdomen. You gasp, clutching your stomach as water drops down your legs. Your eyes meet Xavier’s, your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pain.

It took Xavier a moment to fully process the situation, panic quickly replacing his usual calm demeanor. He rushes beside you, his voice frantic as he asks a flurry of questions. “Are you okay? How much does it hurt? Can you stand? Can you walk?”

He helps you step carefully out of the small puddle that formed at your feet, his hand gently on your back and your arm as he tries to steady you. “It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here. ” He murmurs, hoping it would reassure you in some way.

He tries to remain as calm as he can but panic is surging through his body that he fails to hide it. He hates to see you in so much pain and the urgency to get you to the hospital only makes his worries worse. He quickly helps you to the transport to the hospital, his hand on you the entire time.

He thought maybe it would be best to teleport you there instantly but with you being so far along in your pregnancy, he isn’t sure how safe that would be. The last thing he wants is to take any chances with you or the baby.

When you both arrived at the hospital, Xavier remained beside you at all times until the pain started getting worse. He asked nurses, doctors, anyone who could help you for anything, anything at all, that might bring you some type of temporary relief to take the relentless pain away from you. His voice raised slightly as he spoke to anyone in the hospital, growing increasingly impatient when no one came in to help you even if it was just a minute.

When the nurses finally arrived a minute late, the tension in his head seemed to ease just a tad bit. “Is there anything else I can get/ do for you?” His hand found yours immediately, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “I think our little prince is eager to come home.”

Zayne:

One thing about Zayne is that he’s always prepared. Always.

The second your water breaks, panic doesn’t register on his face, mostly concern. He stays calm as he gently places a hand on your back, guiding each step to the car. He reassures you the entire way there, urging you to take deep breaths with him as best as you can. The labor bag that had been waiting by the front door months in advance, was already slung over his shoulder, just like he planned. Not a minute to waste.

As soon as he starts the car, his hand finds yours immediately, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. He keeps his focus on the road but his attention never shifts away from you. 

While he effortlessly drives through the streets, he calls his parents to let them know that you’re both on your way. He listens to their excited congratulations on the other end and he can’t help but crack a smile knowing that you both will meet your little angel soon. The call ends after they mention that they will meet you both there soon.

The drive there felt like an eternity but Zayne remains calm, reminding you to breathe deeply, guiding you through each contraction with the same techniques he’s practiced with you countless times. “Deep breath in..now breathe out. That’s it, you’re doing well. We’re almost there.”

As soon as you pull into the hospital, the nurses are ready to escort you to your private labor room and tend to your needs the moment they see Zayne enter the building. The nurses are aware of his status in the hospital and the last thing they want to do is make a misstep to the chief’s surgeon’s wife during such a crucial time. 

“She might need an epidural or an IV pain relief if her contractions intensify” The nurses squeak, rethinking if they’re even doing their job right in front of such a high-ranking and respected figure in the hospital.

Zayne gives a brief nod. “I’ll notify you if she does,” He responds, before giving his full attention back to you. His hand immediately finds yours again, gently brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “How are you feeling now, my love? Is there anything I can do for you?”

He listens to any issues you have, any fears, even the most irrational ones, with the utmost care. He reassures you over and over again, not minding every single one you tell him. “I’ll stay here with you the entire time. I won’t leave either of you.” He murmurs, his eyes locking with yours.

Rafayel:

may his lemurian ancestors save him.

The moment his eyes caught water drops dripping between your legs, his breath hitched. Time seemed to stop and the world around him was shrinking to nothing but the sound of his frantic heartbeat, the realization that it was finally happening. It was time.

His voice was a jumbled mess of panic as he stammered to ask if you were okay and he already knew you weren’t but his mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, frantic thoughts were colliding with each other. It was as if he was also going into labor as well.

He scrambled to help you up, trying to figure out where his keys were and his phone and the labor and delivery bag and- no. His brain finally caught up to him. You both decided that since your baby would have Lemurian blood so water birth was the best way to go.

With trembling hands, he guides you toward the bathroom. He would try to sound reassuring as possible but you can still hear the slight panic and worry in his voice as he urges you toward the large bathtub. He had planned this with you months ago, every detail and every thought, but now it felt like everything was happening too fast.

He settled you into the warm water, his heart pounding as he dialed his Aunt Talia’s number. The moment she picked up, she didn’t even need him to explain, his incoherent sentences made sense enough.

Once the call ended, Rafayel’s went to work to make sure you were comfortable and to make you feel more at ease. He fanned your face urgently, trying to cool the beads of sweat forming along your temple. His hands would later move to massage your hands, your feet, your thighs, anything to soothe you.

“Are you okay? How are the contractions? Does it hurt a lot?” His eyes were wide, filled with concern. He listened to any of your needs, reassuring you the best that he could. “Do you want me to talk to our little glubs? Maybe they’re being a little too rough in there.” He never fails to lighten the mood, your lips tugging into a small smile even at such a crucial time.

He moves behind you, adjusting your hair and wiping away any sweat. “You’re going to be a great mother y'know.” He murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands drift down to rest on your swollen belly.

Sylus:

“Sy-!” You gasp, clutching your belly as the water trickles down your legs. Sylus is immediately by your side the moment his eyes notice the puddle forming at your feet.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his hand gently resting on your back to steady you. “Our little dove is ready to leave her nest?” A faint smile curves on his lips but the worry in his eyes is palpable as he quickly connects with Mephisto to contact the twins to prepare the car.

He helps guide you to the vehicle, supporting you as you slowly settle in. Once you were, his hands found yours again. “You’re doing great, just breathe with me.” He says softly. “Remember the breathing exercises we learned?” You huff in shallow breaths, sweat beading on your forehead. You nod rapidly, the pain tensing up with every contraction.

“Good, good just breathe with me,” Sylus encourages, letting you squeeze his hand tighter with each wave of pain. He remains unfazed no matter how tightly you wrapped your hands around his. He stays calm for you, even though his nerves try to threaten to unravel.

“You’re doing so well, just a little longer alright?” His fingers brush stray strands of hair from your face, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you..” He murmurs, one hand on your belly, hoping your little dove will make it easy for you in the end.

The moment you arrive at the hospital, you’re swiftly escorted to a private labor and delivery room that Sylus had personally arranged for you. He made sure you had the best doctors and the most experienced nurses at your beck and call. If any nurse fails to meet your needs, he’ll take note of it, but right now, none of that matters. What matters is you and your little one.

Throughout the entire process, he stays with you, only leaving your side momentarily to order the twins to get something for him. Sylus would be observant of your needs and respond accordingly, letting you squeeze tightly on his hand or letting him help adjust your position. 

He can't wait for his little dove to meet her mother. Although his gaze is filled with concern, there’s a flicker of adoration in his eyes. He knows the depth of your strength but witnessing how you’ve stayed resilient for your little daughter throughout the past nine months has made him rethink just how powerful you truly are. He knows deep down she would look up to you just from how strong you are.

Caleb:

You groaned, the pain surging through your body in waves. A whimper escapes your lips as your hands instinctively curl around your swollen belly. Caleb was at your side in an instant, his eyes catching the sight of the wet pool on the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he realized your water had broken.

He leaned beside you, his arms wrapping around you. “Hey...Hey, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your face. “I’m right here. We’re gonna get you to the hospital alright, pipsqueak?”

His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. The drive to the hospital felt endless, each second felt like it stretched on for hours. Every time he stopped at a red light, he glanced over at you. “Breathe pipsqueak..You’re doing great. We’re almost there.” His brow furrowed in concern every time you gasped in pain and how your body tensed with contractions.

You squeezed his hand tighter with each wave of pain, your face contorting in agony and it made his heart absolutely ache. He wished with every fiber of his body that he could take away your pain and carry it for you. But all he could do for now was stay by your side. “Almost there..Just a little longer okay?” 

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Caleb was there beside you. The moment the nurse helped you settle into your private labor room, his emotions broke free. The reality of it all was too much to hold in.

As he sat beside you, tears welled up in his eyes, his voice shaky. “Thank you..thank you for giving me this,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles. He never thought this moment would come and to know that your little baby was on his way was making this dream of having a future with you turn into a reality.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya hehe MWAH <3

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love and DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg.2

[coupsalchemy]

Love

Summary - The one where you love teasing him.

Tags: Seungcheol x f.reader, fluff

Warnings: uhm heavy details on his inner thoughts

Word Count: 1.2k

A's Note: Hope you like it anon! It was so hard to write where they can't touch freely.

Seungcheol is fortunate enough to experience love, in several forms as they come. Parental love has taught him the beauty of sacrifice. His teenage years have taught him the beauty of falling head first and getting his heart split open, but now he chalks it off as a lesson on the inner workings of relationships. 

But now, at the age of thirty, you have rewritten the definition of love for him. If he has to end this as a lesson in love, he swears he would cease to exist. As simple as that. 

He glances over his shoulder at you, standing near the stage, talking with one of his colleagues. Your hands gesturing as you explain something, the smile never leaving your lips, and the proud feeling prominent across your features. And just like that, his attention fizzles out from his boss praising for his hard work and how deserving he is for the award. 

His insides are slowly melting, eyes on you, dressed prettily in the black dress he got you, earrings dangling with each movement of yours, laughing while throwing your head back, his favorite thing in the entire world. His eyebrows twitch at the person who made you laugh, a little jealous that it isn’t him. He forgives hearing the melodic sound of your laughter. And he is back to melting. 

As if just the existence of you isn’t enough to drive him crazy, you sneak a glance at him. The proud smile on your lips just widens, meeting his gaze, and he feels his heart skip a beat. Is this why people go to war for love? And lose their minds? If he has to fight his way to you, he knows that he will single-handedly win the war, and claim you as his, again and again. 

Seungcheol’s hands stretch and form a fist, restraining the urgency in him to curl the stray lock of hair perfectly falling on your face behind your ear, delicately trace your skin all along, appreciating it just the way a flower feels, soft and delicate, and so so you. If only, if only. 

He wouldn’t. He doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, he knows how uncomfortable you feel when someone touches you, especially in a public setting. As much as he would die happily to just feel the brush of your fingers, he is willing, even if it’s painful, to let you come to him on your own. 

Excusing himself from his boss, he makes his way to you, a small smile on his lips, and a tiny little hop in his steps if someone looks carefully. Finally he will get to breathe. He falls in step next to you, bowing his head to his colleague in greeting. You straighten up, beaming at him, and maybe igniting the desire to be the best employee again and again, if only he could get that proud smile from you. 

You laugh at the joke his colleague throws about a simp or something. He couldn’t quite grasp it from the overwhelming feeling of your arm brushing against his. His lips part as air rushes out of him, as if saying it can’t find space in him that’s filled with you, you, you. You hold onto his bicep, he dies, and pout at him, “hungry,” you grumble once you get the privacy from people. 

He holds the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes, internally screaming when your hand slowly slides from his bicep to his arm. 

You drop your hand from him, “Cheol, are you okay?” 

Seungcheol peers down on you, you must have taken a step closer to him while he is fighting for his life. The slow flutter of your eyelashes, and the dark eyes that are attentively watching him, and the slow part of your moist lips has his own mirroring them. Your eyes flicker to his lips, staying in on a second, and back to his eyes, sparing him from the early death. 

It’s in times like these he wishes so ardently that you would be comfortable with touch. So he can hold you, tug you into him and kiss you senselessly. If anything he realised early on that more than in words he is proficient in expressing his love through touch. But for you he would learn the language of you, and speak it. 

“I’m good.” He answers, pocketing his hands before he can control himself. “Should we grab dinner?” 

You beam at him, radiating as if the sun just came at night, especially for him, to shine light on his dark life. You are nodding like a kid excited for ice cream, and it’s then Seungcheol knows he would do anything for you. 

“Let’s go.” He fists his hand inside his pockets, nails biting into his palms. “I heard they have your favorite.”

He leads you to the dining room, giving polite smiles to his colleagues, and smiling whenever they congratulate him. 

“My favorite meal is right here tho.” You mutter under your breath. 

Seungcheol’s nod to his colleague stops midway, his feet stop working. His colleague asks if something’s wrong and he has enough semblance to shake his head and bid bye to them. You turn around, your hair pulled to the side, revealing your back. The reason why this dress is his favorite is because of the strings on the back of it. The moment he sees it, he knows you will look divine in it. Like now. 

“What’s wrong, Cheol?” you blink, innocently. 

He groans, into his hands. He is all in to make you feel comfortable and safe, but he is dying to restrain himself. Especially when you so innocently blurt out things that drive him to hell and back. 

“You,” he stepped into your personal space for the first time in the entire evening, he even let you come and hug him after he came down the stage accepting the award, “are a little devil.” 

You frown, his words catching you off guard. Then it clicks, he sees it in your eyes widening and the slow curl of your lips. You must be remembering  one of his confessions a few nights back, you two just reeling from the high, and the words spilling out of him on how much he wants to hold you, consistently, reverently and obsessively. You laughed it off, the same throwing your head back enjoying his pain and maybe having a little too much fun. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You turn away, resuming your walk to the dining room. 

He grumbles under his breath, following you. You grab a plate and hand it over to him and before you grab yours, you hold his arm stopping from getting food. He looks at you quizzically. 

“Did I say that I’m proud of you?” You ask, he nods slowly, gazes at your hand on his. You tiptoe, your entire body brushing against his arm, “I’m proud of you, baby.” You kiss his cheek. 

You catch the plate from his hands before it can fall. You giggle at his awestruck expression and gasp seeing the imprint of your lipstick on his cheek. “I got lipstick on you.” 

You grab a tissue but he stops you. “Please finish your dinner. We need to go home. Please.” 

You throw your head back, laughing. And Seungcheol watches you, as if he just got resurrected back to life. 

[carlossainzlusciouslocks]

Just us

Max Verstappen X Reader

Synopsis: Max wins his fourth world championship title and decides to throw caution to the wind

Warning: None. This is basically just fluff lol

Word Count: 638

I’ve had this idea in my head for MONTHS and finally decided to write it. This is my first ever fanfic ahhh! I hope you all like it! I would appreciate any comments or criticisms and feel free to request anything you would like me to write!

He had done it! Not that it was really a surprise to anyone. Everyone knew that it was going to happen. It was just a matter of when in the season would he do it.

He had won his fourth consecutive championship title and you couldn’t be prouder of him.

You had never enjoyed being in the spotlight. Only a few people at RedBull knew that you were Max’s girlfriend and not just a fan that was there to watch the race. Which is why when Max’s race engineer, GP, had convinced you to watch Max’s celebrations from the pit lane alongside everyone else from the RedBull garage, you made sure to stand off to the side of the barrier. Far away from prying eyes but still close enough to see Max drive his car up to the number one spot. You watched in awe as he stood on top of his car and held up four fingers to remind everyone of his most recent championship win.

The laugh that you let out when he ran and jumped on top of his awaiting mechanics, was lost in the noise of the fans. Max walked up to anyone in a RedBull shirt and hugged them, sharing his record breaking win with them. He saw GP and Christian Horner stood at the forefront of the makeshift barricade and made his way over to them, his helmet still firmly on his head as he was in no rush to take it off. Instead choosing to celebrate with his team first.

You watched as Christian hugged him and congratulated him on his amazing win. You couldn’t stop the smile that crept into your face as you watched Max interact with his boss. You then watched in slight confusion as GP interrupted Christian praising Max to point at something over Max’s shoulder. Max turned around slowly, unsure of what he was supposed to be looking at until his eyes locked with your own.

Still stood firmly in place, Max ripped his gloved off of his hands and shoved them into GP’s chest. He then started walking towards where GP had pointed, walking towards you. Every single camera present followed Max as he raced towards you.

He pulled frantically at the strap of his helmet, undoing it quicker than you thought was humanly possible. He pulled the helmet off of his head with the urgency of a man being hunted. He ripped his fire-resistant balaclava off of his head and threw it, along with his helmet, onto the floor behind him. It didn’t matter where it went. He didn’t care.

Max raced up to you, coming to a stop in front of where you were stood. He gently placing both of his hands on either side of your cheeks and feverishly pulled your face to meet his own. Your lips crashed together in a hungry, race-win fuelled kiss.

He kissed you like he was starving and you were the only thing that could stop his hunger. He kissed you like you were air and he couldn’t breathe. He kissed you as if he had never been allowed to before.

He kissed you in front of all of his engineers, all of the press. None of that mattered though. Every single camera was turned towards the two of you, catching the intimate moment and broadcasting it to people worldwide. It wasn’t something either of you had planned, you definitely didn’t expect Max to be the one to expose your relationship to the world but despite you wanting your privacy, you didn’t mind that he had kissed you in front of all of these people. You didn’t mind that he had so openly declared his love and commitment to you. You didn’t mind because the world finally knew that Max Verstappen was yours and yours only.

Note: I apologise for any mistakes!

[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 else’s.” each word 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."

[lust4nero]

Let's Get Naughtier

RE2!Leon x AFAB!Reader

word count - 1.8k

tags - MDNI, not proofread, porn w plot, handcuffs, slight dom/sub undertones, switch!Leon exactly at the end, minimal dialogue (kinda), quick mention of a necktie used as a gag, vibrators, unprotected sex, p in v, riding, mention of hickeys

After 6 months of vigorous training at the police academy, Leon finally graduates as the top of his batch. Such an occasion calls for celebration and rewards, which may or may not involve an early use of his handcuffs— and not for police work.

6 months worth of sleepless nights, reliance on struggle meals, steady consumption of energy drinks, and missing out on important dates paid off: Leon has now graduated and is at the top of his batch. Pride swirled and swelled in your chest as you watched your boyfriend walk on stage, standing in front of the podium as he delivered his speech; he looked proud of himself and everyone, a fulfilled smile constantly gracing his face. Leon looked so neat in his graduation regalia, his dark navy uniform fitting him perfectly and adding an air of sophistication to him. At the end of the commencement exercise, the graduates are lined up on the field to be tapped out by loved ones; it’s easy to spot him, all smiles and rosy cheeks standing stiff at attention with his peers. As soon as your hand gently pats his shoulder, he rushes to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug; you two shed tears of shared joy and relief, thankful that all the sacrifices paid off in the end.

“Congratulations officer Kennedy,” you say. The words come out slightly muffled since your face is pressed against the crook of his neck. “I’m so proud of you, of this.”

“Thank you baby,” he says before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Even better, a confirmation notice from the RPD awaits Leon for his inclusion in their police force. For being such a hard worker and diligent cadet, acing every single theoretical test and field exercise, your sweet boyfriend is deserving of a reward. After an entire day spent at his favorite seafood restaurant with some pints of beer, you both stumble to your shared apartment. Not wanting to part with his warm lips, one hand of yours is dug into the back of the blond’s head whilst the other is patting the door for its knob to twist open; your lip gloss is smeared all over your faces and his tie is loosened– you both look like a mess but neither could care less: this night will be spent celebrating him.

You both stumble to the entrance of the apartment, hands tangled in messy hairs as you try to pull each other impossibly closer. Shoes are kicked off without a second thought, thudding and bumping against the wall as you slip Leon’s jacket off of his shoulders, dropping it on the floor. Your hands frantically untuck his dress shirt from his slacks, warm palms slipping beneath to touch heated skin. Nimble fingers fumble with zippers and buttons, nails scraping slightly against cloth-clad spines. Teeth graze collarbones and moans break the air, lips swollen and tingling as you barely pause through the overwhelming  and all-consuming intensity of it all. The urgency burns, expressed through the desperate grinding of clothed hips. You bump into several pieces of furniture, nearly stumbling out of balance, as you make your way to your shared bedroom; more layers of clothing are shed, leaving behind a trail. The frenzy drives Leon to lay you down a little too swiftly, determined to please you but you remind him that this night is entirely about him.

“We’re celebrating you, Leon. I’ll be the one treating you good tonight, okay? So just lay back and let me take care of you, officer Kennedy.”

Clothes are astrewn on the floor, articles of clothing flung to various corners of the room. Leon’s black necktie is used as a gag, his work cuffs being put to an early use by binding him to the headboard; his dress shirt is off but his slacks are still on, though the belt is unbuckled with the zipper down and barely hanging on his hips. His black boxer brief is tented at the groin, his twitchy cock trying to poke out. You’re completely naked on top of him, a sight to behold; he missed the sex, giving it up in favor of all-nighters studying for tests. You’re torn between keeping him gagged and wanting to hear his horny rambles, eventually deciding on removing the black accessory from his mouth.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers. “Missed this so much.”

“Me too,” you affirm before giving his ear lobe a nibble.

Teasing him a little more you trace the stiffness of him with your index finger, circling around the head and pressing a little harder to apply deliciously frustrating friction. He gently sways his hips, silently begging you to free him from his confines and have your way with his sensitive body.

The tiny sliver of silver light filters through a tiny gap in the curtains, his dog tags catching the light and reflecting it back in a white flash. Acting on the idea that flashed in your mind, you gently tug on the chain and draw Leon closer without causing him to strain harder to the point of actual discomfort with his bound wrists. The motion flusters him, frosty sapphire irises darting everywhere but your face. Cinching his puffy and pink cheeks with your fingers, you force him to meet your gaze before drawing him in a sloppy kiss that’s nearly tongue alone. After a little more whining and begging, you finally have mercy and peel it off of him; after all, this is his reward for being such a diligent cadet and he deserves to feel good. Once he’s completely bare from the waist down, he lets out a groan of satisfaction. You part with him temporarily, reaching over to one of the desks of the bedside stand to fish out a vibrator.

“B-Baby, where are you going?” He whines.

“Just getting something,” you say in a soft sing-song voice though he detects the lustful undercurrent of it.

Once Leon realizes, his cheeks flush the same deep rosy hue as the head of his glossy cock.

Switching it on and setting it to a medium vibration pace, you trail it from his nipples and bring it south to swirl around his sensitive tip.

“A-Ah…” Leon vocalizes. “P-please, I’m so hard for you...”

His back arches like a cat’s, wrists straining against the cuffs but he doesn’t want to escape– never, not when he’s in this kind of heaven. The toy moves to buzz against his twitchy shaft before swirling around his taut balls, tugging needy whines from him; he’s only ever had toys used on you so a vibrator being used on him is a first time and he’s enjoying it too much to make it his last time as well.

“N-no,” he sobs as he tries to inch his hips away from the toy. “Don’t wanna c-cum early baby, please– wanna last…” “Don’t wanna cum yet?” You ask even though he’s already said it, just to edge him a little more. He nods furiously, kiss-swollen lips frowning at you in a silent plea.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You turn the vibrator off, lowering the intensity of the vibrations before totally turning it off; it would be a shame to make him cum before he’s even inside your welcoming cunt.

On a regular day you would’ve overstimulated him to the point of a dry orgasm but you decide against it, letting him use this as a means to let out the stress that built up the past few months. After giving him a few pumps with your hand and sucking him off for a little bit, you align his crying cock with your sopping cunt. The squelch makes Leon tilt his head all the way back, exposing his lovebite-covered neck to you while his teeth dig into the puffy flesh of his lips; it takes everything in him not to blow his load, painfully holding off an orgasm just so you can also enjoy yourself.

He bottoms out and you stay still for a moment to give yourself a moment to adjust to the length of him; he isn’t girthy but what he lacks in width, he makes up for in length. Once you’re ready, you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Moans, whimpers, and slapping of skin bounces off of the walls of your shared bedroom; you ride him madly, rubbing at your own clit to intensify the entire experience. Leon is bucking up on his own, his hips meeting you with each eager thrust he makes.

“J-jus’ like that baby,” you pant. “Fuck, it feels so good…”

Still sensitive from the toy, he knows he won’t last long if he’ll continue looking up at your blissed-out features– eyes shut in pleasure with brows furrowed as you focus on feeling good. He decides to close his eyes, forcing himself to temporarily occupy himself with something else other than the squeeze of your tight pussy around his cock. Seeing your boyfriend get increasingly worked up and horny has your pussy pulsing around his cock, gripping his length tightly as if he would slip out and never do this again. Feeling the squeeze of your walls earns a high whine from him, mind torn between fighting off a nearing orgasm or to give in and flood your welcoming heat with ropes of his hot spend.

Your lips collide, soft flesh sucked and bitten against soft flesh as tongues dance and swap spit. You take his lower lip between your lips and tug it gently with your teeth, watching his blown-out blues roll at the back of his head. The moment you part, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths as Leon moves to place bites and hickeys on your neck and collarbone. Even with his lust-driven state, he’s careful enough to only mark up areas that are sure to be covered up by your work clothes. Feeling a lot more frisky, you lift his dog tags from his neck and wear it, the two metal plates dangling over his face as you ride him to no end; he exhales a weak and shaky ‘fuck’, feeling impossibly harder and horribly aroused than he previously was– if that was even possible. He’s close and you are too, harshly clinging on to his shoulders with your fingernails digging into his muscles while his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his huffing and panting speeding up with each erratic and irregular thrust.

��Close,” he sobs. “I’m close, ‘m n-not going to last…–”

“Me too, Leon. C’mon, I know you can do it for me.”

Planting his feet firmly into the mattress, he drives his hips up and snaps it harshly against your cunt with a dizzying pace as he catches up to that delicious high he’s been chasing.

“Gonna cum, g-gonna cum inside–”

Cock twitching, cum splatters inside and paints your walls white as juices of your own gushes out and slicks up his sensitive length. Tired, you take the key and unlock the cuffs to free him. You make the mistake of assuming that Leon is just as spent as you are, taken aback and by surprise when he flips the two of you over and drives his cock into your moist cunt again.

“I don’t plan on stopping tonight,” he whispers. “Not when I have you all to myself like this. We’re going to fuck like rabbits and you have no choice but to take it like the good girl you are.”

It’s going to be one crazy night that’ll unfold ahead and you’re certain that walking funny is going to be in your immediate future by the end of this.

NOTE - I'll get back to my usual fluff posts, I promise <3 lowkey hesitant to put this up on AO3 too because shortly after I posted, I got tag-teamed by 4 illnesses at the same time during the week of my tests and what's worse is that those 4 illnesses literally persisted wayyy longer than they were expected to-- I literally had a fever that lasted for more than a week when they're usually supposed to last for 3-4 days like bruh -_- I don't exactly believe in the AO3 curse but I don't want to push my luck ngl... okay yk what I'm going to post it on AO3 coz if I don't believe in the curse in the first place = it's not going to touch me :3 Also sorry if you expected real degenerate and freaky shit, it's relatively tame for now coz I'm dry on ideas coz school be sucking the life out of me (when I should be sucking the life out of Leon instead! >//<) :'< anyway, that's it and thank you for reading this <3 lmk what you guys think in the comments :)

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐞-𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬*

Parings → Nathan Drake x Reader

Warnings → Smut!! 18+ , unprotected sex (don't do it), riding, language.

Summary → Nate and you share an intimate, tension-relieving moment after his frustration over Sam's clues.

You sit beside Nate on the couch in the dimly lit hotel room in the Philippines, still feeling the warmth of your recent shower. The soft white towel robe clings loosely to your body as you glance over at him. He's shirtless, his eyes fixated on the scattered postcards from his brother Sam, his fingers tracing the worn edges, searching for a hidden clue. You notice the tension in his shoulders, the bruises from the plane fall still fresh and raw.

“There has to be something here. A cypher, an anagram, anything! Sam wouldn’t just leave me hanging like this.” Nate mutters in frustration, his brows furrowed, rubbing a hand across his face.

You gently rub his bare back, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. “Hey, babe, calm down. You’re so tense.”

He barely glances up, still lost in thought. “I just—he wouldn’t send these for no reason. We’re missing something.”

“Nate.” Your hand moves in slow circles over his back, trying to ease the tension. “You need to relax. You’ve been at this for hours.”

Nate lets out a deep sigh, clearly agitated. “I can’t. Not until I figure this out.”

You smile softly, leaning closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his bruised shoulder. He stiffens for a moment, but you don’t stop. Your lips move slowly, softly, up to his neck. His skin tastes of salt, the faint scent of sweat and sea still clinging to him. You feel him shudder under your touch.

“You’re so tense,” you murmur against his skin, your lips grazing his ear now. “Let me help you relax.”

He finally looks at you, his breath catching in his throat as your lips find that spot just below his jaw. “You—” he starts, but his words falter as you continue your gentle assault. “You’re not playing fair.”

Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “I’m not trying to.”

Nate moves so fast you barely have time to react. In one swift motion, he turns, pulling you into his lap. His hands grip your hips, and you can already feel his arousal pressing against you, hot and insistent. His lips crash against yours, hungry, desperate. You can feel the urgency in his kiss, the way his hands roam your body as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You always know how to drive me crazy,” he growls between kisses, his lips moving to your neck, sucking and biting gently, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.

“You need to de-stress,” you whisper breathlessly, your hands threading through his hair as he moves lower, his lips trailing over your collarbone.

Nate doesn’t respond with words, but his actions speak louder. His hands tug at the loose knot of your robe, pulling the fabric down over your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His eyes darken as he takes you in, his lips curling into a wicked smile before he leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

A gasp escapes your lips, your body arching toward him as he sucks, his other hand cupping your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple in teasing strokes. The sensation is almost too much, your body tingling with need.

“Nate,” you moan softly, your hands gripping his shoulders as he switches sides, giving the same attention to your other breast.

His hand slides down your waist, pulling the ribbon of your robe free before tossing the fabric to the floor. You’re fully exposed to him now, but there’s no hesitation, no insecurity. Only heat. Only want.

Nate’s hands move to his pants, fumbling as he hastily pulls them down, kicking them off along with his boxers. His erection stands hard and ready, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation rush through you.

Without a word, you lift yourself up, your hands resting on his shoulders as you slowly sink down onto him. The feeling is overwhelming, the perfect mix of pleasure and pain as you take him in fully, your bodies joining as one.

Nate groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you both pause for a moment, savoring the sensation. “Fuck, this is the best feeling ever,” he mutters, his voice low and husky, his eyes locking with yours.

You lean down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, your bodies beginning to move together, slow at first, but building with intensity. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, your moans mixing with his as you ride him, your bodies in perfect sync.

“This is definitely the best way to de-stress,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the tension slowly melt from his body as you roll your hips, drawing another groan from his throat.

Nate’s hands grip your waist, guiding your movements as his lips trail down your neck once more, biting and sucking, marking you as his. “I should get stressed more often,” he teases, his voice breathless, his words interrupted by a gasp as you quicken your pace.

Your only response is a breathless laugh, your hands tangling in his hair as you press your forehead against his, your bodies moving faster, the pleasure building, rising until it becomes unbearable.

“Fuck, Nate—” you moan, your nails digging into his skin as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he thrusts up into you, harder, faster. “I’ve got you.”

And with one final thrust, you fall over the edge together — your body trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you, Nate’s name spilling from your lips.

Beneath you, he lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hands digging into your hips as he follows you over the edge, spilling into you with a hot, pulsing warmth that leaves you both breathless. You collapse against him, hearts racing in sync, bodies still tangled as the aftershocks ripple through you.

Nate holds you close, his chest heaving as he presses soft kisses to your forehead, his hands stroking your back gently.

“You definitely know how to help a guy relax,” he murmurs with a satisfied grin, his voice warm with affection.

You smile, kissing his jaw as you rest against his chest, both of you still basking in the afterglow. “Just doing my job.”

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “You’re too good to me.”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

[paucubarsisimp]

coach’s daughter part 2

pairing: pau cubarsi x reader

summary: in which your dad and pau’s teammates find out

warnings: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added!

the locker room was almost empty now, the only sounds left were the hum of the overhead lights and the soft rustle of clothes being thrown into lockers. the team had mostly filtered out, everyone eager to get home or head to their next task. but you and pau lingered behind, your hearts racing for a very different reason than the post-training adrenaline.

pau was leaning against the locker, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you as you fiddled with your boots. you could feel his gaze on you, warm and intense, as you tied your laces. the soft silence between you two was comfortable, but the tension in the air was undeniable. every glance you exchanged seemed to spark something deeper, something more than just teammates or friends.

you felt a smile tug at your lips as you finally looked up at him. “what?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft.

“nothing,” pau said with a grin, though the way his eyes flickered down to your lips said it all.

you leaned back against the bench, slowly meeting his gaze. there was no more hiding what was between you. not after everything that had happened. not after the sweet, tender moments you’d shared. the way he made you feel was enough to pull you in, no matter where you were or who was watching. but right now? in the quiet of the locker room, the door closed, and no one around… it felt like it was just the two of you. nothing else mattered.

“you know,” you said softly, taking a few steps toward him, “you’re really distracting.”

he raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “how so?”

“just… everything about you,” you said, stepping closer. “the way you look at me, the way you talk… it drives me insane.”

pau’s smile softened as he stepped toward you, his face inches from yours. “you drive me crazy too,” he whispered, his voice low, his breath warm on your skin.

before you could respond, he leaned in slowly, his lips hovering just above yours. the moment stretched out, the anticipation thick in the air, and for a second, you thought he might pull away, maybe playfully tease you. but then, in one smooth motion, he closed the distance, his lips gently brushing against yours.

it was soft at first—just a sweet, delicate kiss that sent a flutter through your chest. it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t hungry. it was slow, gentle, as if he was savoring the moment. his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking along your jaw as he deepened the kiss just a little, but still, it was tender. intimate.

you melted into it, your hands finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips. his lips were warm and familiar, making your head spin in the best way possible.

“pau,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as you pulled away for just a second, breathless.

“yeah?” he replied, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes soft as he looked into yours.

“kiss me again,” you murmured.

he didn’t need any further encouragement. this time, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours with more urgency. the kiss was still slow, but this time, there was a little more hunger in it, a little more desire. you felt your heart race, your body leaning into his, as if every inch of you was drawn to him. your hands found the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you deepened the kiss, matching his intensity.

and just as you thought you were both lost in it—just as the world seemed to fade away and all that mattered was the warmth of his lips and the way he made you feel—the door to the locker room swung open with a dramatic crash.

you and pau froze, lips still so close, but the connection was suddenly broken by the sound of voices.

“hansi, i’m telling you, i swear, we need a bigger locker room,” gavi’s voice echoed from the entrance. “this place is too small for all of us, i can’t even find my shoes—”

the door swung open wider, and in walked your dad, hansi flick, followed closely by gavi, héctor fort, and lamine yamal. they all paused as soon as they saw you and pau standing there, frozen in place. the air was thick with the sudden tension, and you could feel your entire body go hot with embarrassment.

pau stepped back, his face turning the brightest shade of red. you scrambled to regain some semblance of composure, but it was hopeless. you and pau were caught, and there was no easy way out of this one.

“oh,” gavi said with a mischievous grin, his eyes darting between you and pau. “well, well, well. seems like someone’s been getting some extra training in the locker room.”

“gavi,” hansi said with a sigh, though you could hear the amusement in his voice despite his attempts to stay serious. “not now.”

“no, no, coach,” gavi said, barely able to contain his laughter. “this is exactly the right time. i definitely need a new trainer.”

you felt like you might combust. “dad—” you started, but your voice caught in your throat.

hansi cleared his throat and rubbed his temples. “you two… really?”

pau opened his mouth to say something, but the words just didn’t come. he looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. instead, he mumbled, “it’s not like that…”

“right,” gavi teased, his grin only growing wider. “because we can’t see that.”

“gavi!” héctor said, smacking him on the back. “leave them alone. it’s fine. we’ve all seen it. the love is in the air.”

lamine, who had been quietly watching the whole scene unfold, leaned in toward pau with a wink. “so… you finally got the girl, huh? i didn’t know you had it in you, mate.”

“you really didn’t,” you said with a playful smile, trying to break the tension as best as you could. but it was no use. everyone was already having too much fun with this.

“no, seriously,” gavi said, putting his hands up in mock seriousness. “we all thought this was gonna happen. it’s obvious.”

hansi stood there for a second, blinking rapidly. you could tell he was doing his best to keep it together. then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.

“just—next time—at least keep it… less public?” he muttered, turning his back and shaking his head. “seriously. i don’t even know what to say.”

“no promises, coach,” gavi said with a wink, making lamine burst out laughing.

you and pau exchanged an awkward glance, both of you still reeling from the embarrassment. but as much as you wanted to crawl into a hole, there was something about the ridiculousness of the situation that made you want to laugh too. at least, with this team, you’d always be able to find humor in even the most mortifying moments.

“you two are impossible,” hansi muttered, heading for the door. “just don’t make me regret this.”

gavi threw an arm around pau’s shoulder as the rest of the team followed your dad out. “well done, pau,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “you just made all our dreams come true.”

“seriously,” lamine added with a wide grin, “next time, do it in front of the fans.”

pau groaned, burying his face in his hands as you laughed, your cheeks still burning. “this is never gonna stop, is it?”

“nope,” gavi said, turning around in the doorway. “and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

don’t forget to leave a request!

[cocoavanille]

Ok so (unexpected) Sterek AU | supernatural is there, but is built into the world a little differently (kind of) from canon material. Stiles is 23 and Derek is 27.

Derek (a werewolf) works with Noah at the police station, they are on good terms, share doughnuts and lunches (that's what happens when the rest of your colleagues are... dense at best, mostly just lazy and irresponsible). Derek is aware Noah has a kid that studies in a neighboring bigger city, but has never met him, as far as he's convinced.

Then, on a monday morning, Noah looks especially anxious and when Derek asks him what's up he says "they sent us a new investigator as we asked".

– More hands and heads – less workload, why are you so tense?

– It's my son. And you haven't met my son, he's a... Character.

– If he inherited your brainpower, I'd say we're good. Honestly would rather take a talented douchebag than a kind idiot at our current circumstances.

– He's decent at the job, but speaks too much and seems half-obsessed most of the time, be prepared for unending sarcasm and stubbornness.

Derek feels somewhat intrigued, intuition calm. Nothing actually bad is going to happen.

And then he's introduced to Stiles Stilinsky the next day. A mage – or a witch, matter of terminology – in a familiar style of clothing. And the face he's definitely seen before, two years ago during Christmas holiday.

He was tracking down a killer on the run – so much for the victim's family dinner – and almost freaked out when traces led him to the charmed border near the northern forest. Stepping over would be like inviting the fairies and others to have their eyes on his pack, not nearly the best decision, bit he needed to make sure the guy doesn't escape. While he was thinking of a way to be smart about the situation, steps appeared behind him. Under his gaze a young man froze in place, meeting his eyes and slowly lifting his hands.

– Hi. You can't go there for some reason, officer?

Something told Derek the guy already figured out his nature.

– Kind of. What are you doing here?

– Walking off some frustration. I'm going in anyway, if you need something maybe I can cover it for you?

Derek smirked, hands crossed.

– Do you even know what type of forest this is?

– The Nightmare Fairy's and Luckstrong coven one.

The guy passed him an took a deep breath, slowly touching the border. Bowed, whispered something and the magic let him in. He got an invitation! So a local, for sure, how come he hasn't seen him before?

– Officer, can I help you somehow?

Derek usually isn't like this, but something pushed him to describe the criminal to the guy and give his phone number. He took mental notes, nodded and quickly rushed forward, probably sensing the urgency in his tone. Derek didn't expect to hear from him, but twelve minutes later a message came: "black SUV plate... driving towards the west road". He caught the criminal in the end, two hours later. Colleagues on the shift were appalled by him actually working three hours before Christmas.

He met the mysterious helper in a 24/7 caffe the next morning, almost dancing, rubbing hands while he waited for the drink. What an idiot, Derek thought, but thanked him. Now he could clearly feel a gentle whiff of magic stirring around and inside the person. Pleasant, untainted by blood sacrifices or necromancy, but powerful no less. The bracelets and the pendant hid the potential well from anyone, it's just Derek has experience and can notice those things.

– Did you just stumble upon a car? Hard to believe.

– Oh, no way, that would be a real Christmas miracle. Asked for help, don't worry, officer, I haven't mentioned you to the local fairies. Don't know what's the deal, but if you're on their blacklist better safe than sorry... thank you! I need to go, my dad is waiting. Take care!

– Wait, what's your name?

– Unimportant and irrelevant to the case!

The guy ran out through the door and Derek's only thought was: gorgeous upclose. Not the face, the energy.

When he told Peter about the encounter he seemed puzzled, then asked "would be weird if it was the same mage, wouldn't it"? Refering to a teenager who saved Peter's life once years ago. He also remained nameless.

Now Derek knew why. Stiles Stilinsky, a son of their Sheriff, was not only an investigator, but a mage. You would think in a society where werewolfs, vampires, half-bloods and whatnot legally had the same rights as humans, witches would be protected and even loved by the logic of a friendly neighbour who can make you a lucky charm. But the reality was vastly different – somehow druids, witches, mages and psycics were a subject of constant discrimination. Peter thinks it's because "they look like them, but have something they don't". Most people are prejudiced and wouldn't like working with a mage, because somehow they're dangerous. Like a fucking vampire clan being at the top of their government isn't! Ridiculous, if someone would ask Derek.

– Stiles, this is Derek Hale, the best help I have here.

– Oh, so that's your local hero? Heard only good things. Nice to meet you.

Derek meets Stiles's eyes that tell him to play into the first meeting scenario. He obliges.

– Don't know about nice yet, but judging from your file you'll do.

A firm handshake fills his chest with sudden unexplained warmth – like gentle wind taking half of his burdens off. Only when Stiles retrieves his hand does it hit him – magic, a harmonizing spell.

– Derek, you mind briefing him of the latest mess? I have to deal with the press.

– Sure.

It's late evening when Derek stops the car near takeout place, still a little overwhelmed by the talk with the victim's family. He always feels stiff in those type of situations, yet Stiles handled everything well – with kindness and compassion, but lured out the information they needed. The ex-boyfriend is sure as hell a suspect.

Stiles looks up from his phone, a little surprised. Derek nods towards the restaurant.

– Chicken, meat, what would you like? You haven't even drank anything aside from water for eight hours.

Stiles frowns and he suddenly gets why he's been a little anxious around him for the whole day.

– I'm not going to tell your dad you've helped me that time, if that's what you're worried about. But he definitely read your expression and knows that wasn't our first meeting.

– It's not the help itself– Nevermind. Thanks. I'll buy us dinner for that, what do you want?

The forest, right. No parent would like their child to hang around fairies, even in a case of a smart witch. And as of right now – truly a powerful one, no amulets in sight and he can only sense his raw power if he concentrates. Stiles is no amateur and no idiot, just intense, but that's not off-putting. Neither does he find him annoying as Noah supposed.

– We're doing chicken noodles and something warm, you're freezing.

Stiles stiffens, ready to switch into verbal defence, but Derek adds:

– There's no way you're paying, little witch.

His low, almost soft tone makes Stiles instantly relax and scoff.

– I'm not little!

– Compared to me? You're tiny. Wait here.

He turns on the heater and leaves Stiles with his aux cord in the car, irritated but safe from the cooling wind.

When he comes back one of his favourite songs plays. Derek checkes who's phone the wire is connected too, but it's Stiles's. Deftones are not so popular, a pleasant surprise.

– Here, thought a lot of caffeine is not recommended, so you're getting cocoa.

– Thanks. I do drink coffee, by the way, but this is nice... Damn! These noodles are to die for.

– Wait till you try pastries down the road sometime, I'd go to jail for them.

Stiles smiles at him for the first time and Derek realises in that moment that he's completely, desperately, fatally fucked.

•

– I'm so fucked.

He almost growls when Perter pushes him to open up two months later.

– Looks like you wish you were, but what do I know. On a serious note, does it has something to do with Stiles?

Everything, Derek thinks to himself, unable to contain a nervous smirk, has to do with Stiles nowadays. Especially how that bastard confidently let him sniff his bare skin near neck without even flinching. Derek thought he wouldn't get it, but Stiles waited until the end of their shift and dropped a:

– You're not the first furry problem I had in my life, you know. If my perfume bothers you, just say so, I know some scents can be overstimulating.

And Derek didn't have the nerve to say the truth – that it's Stiles's scent that bothers him; a slight reminder of the sandalwood he definitely uses for cleansing, and his skin – like cold milk, musk and floral, subtly sweet honey. Irresistible.

– Your eyes say it all. If the pull is this strong, there's a big chance he's your potential mate. Mages usually feel the compatibility on an energetic level, if you were repulsive to him in that way he wouldn't be around you more than the job demands. I say you have a chance. Use it, don't just lay on the couch like a lost puppy.

– Fuck off.

– No problem, you keep dreaming of being fucked tho, so effective.

Derek throws a pillow at him and pauses before reaching for the next one. The message reads:

Free for dinner on your day off? My treat.

The phone beeps again.

It's a date.

Derek bites his lip to hide the smile. Little witch is for sure getting bolder by the day.

Right under you father's nose? Naughty.

Stiles doesn't reply, but he can clearly picture him cursing at the screen and thinking of a smart response.

Insted, an hour later, he receives a photo. Nothing too vulgar, just collarbones and the long, fully exposed neck with a collar on it. Oh this scroundel is getting spanked for sure.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Mistake

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female) Canon

Authors note: no I haven't forgotten Sihtric. I've been very distracted lately but I still love him with all my heart and needed to show it with something sweet and soft

Warnings: just fluff, a few mild smutty moments but nothing explicit

Word Count: 2,9K

Summary: You didn't meant to fall for him, he never thought he was allowed to want more until one night after yet another battle Sihtric is having nightmares and you just can't pretend any longer that you don't care

It was one of those nights when even the silence of the woods felt too loud, when the dying glow of the fire seemed blinding, and even the moon looked as though it were laughing, mocking the living. It was the night after a battle, the kind that tested even the bravest warriors. When the rage, the fury, the rush of adrenaline began to fade from aching limbs and frayed minds, and what remained was a hollow stillness – a void each soul tried to fill in their own quiet, desperate ways.

You could still feel Sihtric’s bruising grip on your hips, the scorch of his breath against your neck, the rough bite of birch bark pressed into your back as he held you there, his body driving into yours with a punishing rhythm. Thrust after thrust, wild groans spilled from his lips while your legs locked around him, letting him bounce you on his cock with desperate urgency. 

This was how you forgot, how you filled the void, this was your way to escape the screams, the clash of steel, the sickening splash of blood.

You didn’t even remember how it had started, only that you both needed it. 

No words, no promises, just bodies meeting in the dark, teeth and hands and heat. You never talked about it afterward, never lingered, just dressed in silence and walked away like nothing had happened.

That was the deal – unspoken but understood, you never touched him in daylight, he never sat too close at the fire. You were careful around the others, especially before Uhtred, Finan  and Osferth, not to look too long, careful not to slip; you never reached for his hand, and he never reached for yours.

From time to time they joked, teased Sihtric about the girls who watched him, the way women smiled when he passed. Sometimes they nudged you too, thinking they were being clever, thinking maybe there was someone in your life they hadn’t met yet. You always laughed and so did he, neither of you ever flinched.

Whatever it was between you, it didn’t exist beyond the bruises you left on each other’s skin after a rough day spent drowning in death. 

You told yourself it was just the need, the release, the forgetting. You never kissed, at least not in the way that meant anything, just a desperate drag of his mouth against your collarbone, just a fleeting press of your lips to his shoulder.

But some nights, when the fire burned low and the ache was still in your body long after he’d gone, you caught yourself thinking what it would be like if you didn’t have to pretend, and you wondered if he ever did the same.

This was exactly one of those nights, when sleep didn’t want to come, when Sihtric’s touch still clung to your skin, when your legs still trembled slightly from the way he had taken you, from the way he had moved inside you - fully, deeply, like he was afraid you might slip away. And in the silence that followed, the loneliness crept in again, so sharp and sudden, and cruel, that it almost stole your breath away. 

The fire had burned low, glowing faintly like the last breath of a dream. Around it, the camp lay quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic snoring rising from the shadows. You shifted beneath the furs, searching for a more comfortable position, willing yourself to drift off at last, when you heard it. 

Someone whined softly, the furs rustled with the restless shifting of a body caught in sleep, a sharp breath, then a low murmur, broken, almost pleading. You froze as instinct made you listen more closely.

Another sound, a choked gasp, then silence – brief, heavy, reminding you the moment before a storm breaks.

Your eyes adjusted to the dark, tracing the dim shapes around the fire, most were still, wrapped in deep slumber, but one figure moved, curled in on himself, shoulders tense beneath the furs, breath coming fast and uneven.

Then you heard it again, a whisper, hoarse and cracked: "No… please."

Your heart clenched as you recognised the voice and the silhouette in the dark. It was him – Sihtric. 

You weren’t sure what to do at first. If you moved to him now, would it break whatever fragile balance you still had? Would he wake and pull away? Would he hate you for seeing him like this? It felt like crossing a boundary neither of you had ever named, but one you both so carefully respected, even if pretending it wasn’t even there. 

You told yourself to wait, but his broken murmurs didn’t stop, if anything, they grew more pained, like something inside him was tearing open, as if his sleep had turned into another bloody battlefield. 

You rose slowly and quietly as you could and crossed the space between you, heart beating too fast and too loud in your chest. He lay on his side, caught in the grip of something dark and distant, his brow furrowed, breath shallow and quick, hand twitching, fingers curling toward something that wasn’t there.

You watched him for a moment how he fought whatever ghosts haunted him, from his past or his present, or maybe both. He looked… smaller… like the weight of his armor was gone and all that was left was the boy underneath, frightened and alone in too cruel world.

You crouched beside him, your breath shallow, hand hovering in the air as you couldn’t quite decide whether to touch him or not, but he whimpered again, his body curling tighter, fingers gripping at nothing, and that soft, broken sound cracked something open in your chest. 

Your hand found his shoulder first as slowly, cautiously, you eased yourself down beside him, pressing close against his back as you pulled the furs over you both, slipped your arm around him and drew him gently into your embrace.

He didn’t wake, he just shifted instinctively, curling into you like a child, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. His face found the hollow of your neck, and a long, shaky breath left him, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

And as his face twitched again in some silent plea for help, you did the only thing you could think of, you began to hum.

It was a lullaby your mother had sung to you, low and gentle, the kind that belonged to early nights and safe arms, to a time before fear and sorrow had names. You didn’t even know all the words anymore, but the melody lingered, warm and tender on your tongue.

You hummed until the last embers stopped glowing, and the song faded into the night’s silence, until Sihtric’s breathing deepened and he went still against you, soundly asleep at last.

You woke gradually with the slow realization that you were warm, unusually warm.

The furs were draped over you, the fire long gone cold, but the warmth wasn’t from that, it came from the steady weight pressed against your back, the soft, uneven rhythm of breath ghosting over your neck, and the subtle pull of an arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Your eyes fluttered open.

Sihtric was curled against you, his face tucked against your neck, his body molded along yours beneath the shared furs. One of his legs was slung over yours, and you could feel the soft tickle of his hair against your skin along with the brush of his breath, slow and deep, still lost to slumber.

You didn’t move at first, you just wanted to allow yourself to savour it even if for one brief moment, that rare peace, that weight of his body trusting yours, that warm closeness that had never belonged to you in the daylight.

And then he stirred.

It was small at first, a shift of his arm, the hitch of his breath, then a tense stillness as he realised something was… off. His hand jerked slightly, as if suddenly aware of where it rested and he blinked, lifting his head just enough to look at you.

You turned and the surprise in his eyes was immediate and unguarded as his features tightened, confusion flashing first, then discomfort, embarrassment.

His body pulled away before you could speak, as if reflex had taken over. He didn’t shift far, just enough to create space between you, but it felt like a wall slamming back into place.

He looked down at the bedding, avoiding your gaze.

“What … ehm… how … how did I… I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t,” you said softly, quickly, even too quickly. Your own face burned as you sat up halfway, adjusting the furs between you with nervously hurried hands. “It was me.”

You could feel the heat crawling up your neck, shame prickling just under your skin, though you hadn’t done anything wrong, still, you couldn’t meet his eyes either.

You swallowed and tried again, slower this time.

“You were... tense. In your sleep.” Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of the fur. “Like something was chasing you or worse… It looked bad and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sorry,” you added, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to make this... weird.”

You started to shift back, ready to get up, eager to put more space between you before the others stirred, before someone saw, but his hand suddenly reached for your wrist.

You froze.

“Sihtric?”

His thumb brushed over your skin, hesitant, it seemed he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch you like this, still, he didn’t let go.

His eyes dropped again, lashes casting long shadows on his cheeks, and then, in a voice so quiet you could barely hear it:

“Did you sing for me?”

You felt your chest tighten.

“Yes,” you said gently. “Just… a lullaby from when I was a child. I didn’t think you’d hear it or remember.”

“I do.” He shifted beside you, not quite looking at you, not quite turning away. “Not the song. But your voice. It was so soft, it reminded me of…”

Sihtric’s voice trailed off, his fingers still rested lightly against your wrist, the grip more grounding than possessive, and you could almost feel the unspoken things hovering beneath his skin, things he didn’t have words for. 

“Was it that bad?” you asked softly, your voice half-laced with a shaky smile, trying to ease the tension. “The nightmare?”

He gave a faint, mirthless laugh under his breath. “They always are.”

He finally turned his face toward you, eyes lifting, they weren’t as sharp as usual, he looked tired, but also sad, breakable even.

You didn’t reach for him, didn’t press, you just sat there beside him, close enough that your knees still touched beneath the furs, letting him speak if he wanted.

“I keep seeing them, all the people I never managed to save, starting with my mom. And I keep hearing those voices,” he said. “My father’s and others, faces from years ago, laughing at me, all of them telling me I’d never be more than a miserable mistake.”

“But Sihtric…,” you started, feeling the ache bloom behind your ribs, but he didn't let you.

“I believed it for a very long time,” he added. “Maybe I still do.”

“Sihtric…” you said, quiet and sure, the way you might speak to a frightened animal. “You’re not a mistake.”

He looked at you then like he didn’t understand how you could think that and for a moment, he didn’t move, just stared at the space between his knees.

Then, barely audible, his voice cracked:

“What… what do you mean by that?”

His eyes lifted to yours, hesitant and raw, and it hit you how much courage it had taken just to ask, like he was bracing himself for a lie, or worse – kindness he couldn’t believe was real.

You shifted closer, just enough that your shoulder brushed his.

“I mean,” you said, “you aren’t what they made you believe. It doesn’t matter what your father or the people who used you or pushed you aside told you.”

His throat worked around a swallow, his brow furrowed, like he wanted to argue but didn’t quite have the strength.

“I see the way you look when you think no one’s watching,” you continued. “Like you’re waiting for someone to pull the ground out from under you, like you’re already used to being left behind.”

He blinked, but said nothing.

“Sihtric, you’re the bravest and yet the kindest man I’ve ever met. You’re loyal, you protect people, you fight like hell for those who matter to you, and when no one’s looking, you’re gentle and kind.”

He let out a shaky breath and looked down again, lips pressed tight, as if holding something back.

“That’s who you are, that’s how I see you. That’s why…,” your voice faltered, trailing off as the words slipped away. You didn’t know how to say it, how to admit that this, all of this, was why you had fallen for him, deeply and irrevocably.

Yes, you had. Even if you’d tried to deny it, even if you’d convinced yourself he was just a way to forget, a distraction, a temporary balm to soothe the ache of loneliness with pleasure, it had never been true.

You wanted more. You wanted mornings like this, waking up wrapped in his warmth, tucked into the quiet space where nothing else existed but him. You wanted to be the one to ease his pain, to hold him through the worst of his nights, to whisper again and again that he had never been a mistake, not once, and you would keep telling him it, as many times as it took, until he finally believed it.

Sihtric’s shoulders trembled, just slightly, then he wiped a hand over his face, rough and clumsy, it seemed he was angry at himself.

Then, suddenly, his voice broke the quiet.

“Then why do you always leave?”

You blinked, startled by the sharpness in his words, but when you looked at him, there was no hardness in his face, only hurt.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Why do you always leave right after?” he asked again, softer this time. “Why don’t you look at me, when I…when we…”

He trailed off, his voice catching, his jaw clenched like he was trying to swallow it all down again, like he already regretted saying anything at all.

“When I’m inside you,” he finished, barely a whisper. “When I’m giving you everything, and you look away like it doesn’t mean a damn thing and just leave afterwards without a word.”

“Sihtric…” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady as he finally looked at you again.

It hit you like being struck by an angry boar – that raw hurt in his voice, so unmistakable, so naked, it left you stunned, speechless.  You didn’t recognize the expression in his eyes, not quite hope, not quite fear, but something suspended painfully between the two, like he was waiting to be either saved or destroyed by whatever came next.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, burning quietly as you struggled to find the right words, but your silence lingered too long. Sihtric’s gaze faltered, dropped back to the ground, and his hand slipped from your wrist, as if he’d already decided what your silence meant.

Hastily you reached for him, your hand curling around his arm, not ready to let him disappear back into himself.

“I thought…” you began slowly, trying to catch up to the truth unfolding between you. “I thought you wanted it that way. No feelings, no softness, just… just something we both needed and walked away from. Something to forget with.”

Sihtric’s eyes slowly widened as he shook his head, not in disagreement, but disbelief.

“You’ve barely looked at me in front of the others,” you continued. “You’ve sat as far from me at the fire as possible. I thought I was some secret you regretted.”

“I…I didn’t think I was allowed to…,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to embarrass you or to force you to admit something you didn’t mean. I thought if I even looked at you too long… you’d see how badly I wanted it to mean something, and then you’d stop coming.”

Your heart cracked so cleanly it nearly took the breath from you.

“I didn’t look at you,” you whispered, “because I was afraid I’d fall, and I didn’t know if there’d be anybody to catch me.”

His breath hitched, slowly, he reached for your hand again, fingers closing around yours like he couldn’t believe you were still there. 

“There would’ve been,” he said. “I swear it. Every single time.”

Slowly, hesitantly Sihtric pulled you into him, still not quite believing you wouldn’t push him away, but you didn’t. You leaned in instead, resting your head against his chest, and in that quiet motion, you felt it – that subtle, irreversible shift, the crack in the walls you’d both spent so long building, widening just enough to let something real in.

He eased you both down into the bedroll again, careful and unhurried, tugging the furs back over your bodies and you curled into his warmth without hesitation, tucking your nose into the crook of his neck. Around you, the camp had begun to stir with soft voices, footsteps, the distant clang of morning steel, but neither of you moved.

From a few feet away, Finan’s voice rang out with familiar mischief: “Well, would you look at that. Our brooding little warrior finally figured out how to use his words.”

You didn’t even open your eyes.

“Shall I shut him up?” Sihtric murmured into your hair, his voice soft, amused.

“Let him talk,” you whispered back, pressing closer into him. “He’s just jealous.”There was a beat, and then Sihtric’s arm tightened around you, like your words had settled somewhere deep inside him, he lowered his head, voice barely a breath against your skin. “Then I hope I never stop dreaming badly… if it means waking up like this.”

[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)

[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.”

[itsnesss]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | despite the simmering tension, neither of you fully acknowledges the feelings that drive the connection until it culminates in a deeply physical expression of desire

warnings | tension, smut, explicit content, oral sex (reader!receives), p in v

word count | 2.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

Today, the air feels softer. You’re not sure if it's the weather or just the fact that you wake up with a faint sense that something in today will be different. Maybe it's because, even though you haven’t said it aloud, you know it’s Valentine’s Day, and although you don’t expect grand gestures, there’s something in the air that makes you think this day will mark a change.

You’re at home, in your living room, waiting for him. The soft light pours through the windows, wrapping everything in a special warmth. You’ve been busy all morning, not thinking much about what might happen, but now, with Axel’s proximity, everything seems to take an unexpected turn.

The door opens, and he walks in. Axel. As calm as always, but today there’s something in his attitude that makes you hesitate. Is it the way his eyes scan you more carefully? Or the way the space between the two of you seems to naturally shrink?

“Hey,” he greets in his low voice, the one that never fails to make your heart beat a little faster.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling as you step closer to him. You can't help but notice the tension in the air, as if something is about to happen, but neither of you dares to name it.

Axel watches you closely, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. He’s not smiling, nor does he have that usual air. Today, instead of being the calm and collected guy, he seems trapped in his own thoughts, in something neither of you understands.

You decide to break the silence with a playful tone. “You didn’t have to come, you know... it’s not like I celebrate today.”

Axel watches you closely, and for a second, you think he didn’t catch the joke. But then, his eyes shine with a new intensity.

“It’s not just about that,” he replies. “I wanted to see you.”

And there it is, the twist in everything. You blush slightly, not so much because of what he said, but because of the way he said it, as if he’s truly revealing more than he usually would.

You decide to break the silence once more by inviting him to train a bit. You know it always relaxes both of you, but today, everything seems different. His movements are closer than usual, and every time he gets near to correct your posture, his body brushes against yours in a way you can’t ignore. The connection between you two is palpable, and for a moment, you wonder if he feels that electricity in the air too.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask, though you already know the answer. The tension between you two is almost unbearable.

“Yeah,” he replies, but you can’t help noticing how his voice is a little lower than usual.

The training ends quicker than you had planned. Both of you stop, unable to help it, the heavy air hanging in the room. Axel steps closer to you, and without a word, he looks straight into your eyes, as if waiting for something, as if waiting for you to say something, or just to act.

The silence becomes deafening. And then, without warning, he moves in. His lips brush against yours, gently at first, as if unsure what would happen if he kept going. But you don’t hesitate. You respond to that kiss with a urgency that surprises you. It’s not just an innocent kiss, no. It’s something deeper, something you both had been holding back, something that only now seems to make sense.

The electricity between you two is intense. The kisses become more demanding, more passionate, and soon Axel’s hands find their place on your body, guiding you without haste but with a palpable determination. There’s no rush, but you know that both of you are getting lost in this moment.

He takes you to the sofa, and without saying anything else, you lean back against the cushions while he positions himself over you. Both of you start taking off your clothes without any rush. The contact of his body against yours is immediate, and as soon as his lips touch your neck, a shiver runs through your entire skin. His breath intertwines with yours, and, although the outside world seems to fade away, you know that all of this is the result of the tension built up over so much time.

His hands begin to explore, as if they were the first to discover your skin, each touch, each caress sending waves of heat through your body. Axel is not in a hurry, and that drives you crazy. Every move he makes is calculated, but deep down you know he is as affected as you are. His breath quickens when, finally, his lips return to yours, with a desire and passion that cannot be ignored.

"What's wrong?" you whisper, almost breathless, as his lips move down your neck, towards your shoulders.

The way his mouth travels across your skin makes your stomach tighten, and a new shiver envelops you. The only thing you know is that Axel is here, with his fingers exploring your sides, with his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

"Nothing," he replies, between sighs and kisses. You can't help but smile at his words. Both know the truth, but no one dares to admit it. Not even Axel can confess what he feels, not yet. But his kisses and caresses say it all.

And then, something changes. The rhythm of his kisses becomes faster, his lips move from your neck to your shoulders, and soon his mouth stops at the waistband of your pants, his fingers working to slowly lower them.

"Axel" you whisper, not knowing what else to do. Everything seems to be happening so fast, but you don't want it to stop. You can't bear the thought of all this being interrupted. Although I realize you have no experience, Axel doesn't seem to be in a hurry. His fingers continue with their caresses and his kisses envelop you, as if he himself were also being overwhelmed by the situation.

Adrenaline flows through your veins. Axel is in your lap, his lips are close to your thighs, and you can feel his breathing quicken, how his chest moves, fast and shallow. The heat in the air is intense, and everything seems to be happening in a cloud of adrenaline.

And then, he does it. Axel approaches your thighs and his lips trace their way. The fire that envelops your thighs is unbearable, each kiss more intense than the last, and you can't help the moans that escape your lips. His mouth travels every curve of your legs, his kisses are soft but demanding, and soon, the fire becomes an uncontrollable blaze.

You can't avoid it any longer. You have to do something. Your body is screaming for more, and even though Axel doesn't say a word, you know he feels it too.

"Axel..." he groans, not knowing what else to say.

The rhythm of his kisses slows slightly. You know he has heard your moans, and that soon he will be ready to move.

"Are you ready?" he whispers, between the silk of your legs. You can't respond. You don't know what to say. You just know that yes, you are ready for him.

Axel nods, as if he had read your thoughts. His kisses change rhythm, and soon his lips stop at your crotch. A new shiver runs through your body as the heat of his breath is palpable. The wait is unbearable and, soon, you can do nothing but wait for him to make his next move.

The fire is uncontrollable when his lips reach your clitoris. Axel seems to know exactly what to do, with what pressure and speed to leave you breathless. His kisses are more intense than you could have imagined, and soon, your body is ready to explode.

"Axel" whines, but he doesn't seem to pay much attention.

You can't speak. You can't do anything but respond to his kisses, with every moan and every whisper. The rhythm is intense, and you know the fire will soon burst forth.

And, there, it is. The climax takes you by surprise, and the fire inside you erupts. Axel increases the pace of his licks, knowing that you can't hold out much longer. His kisses don't cease, and soon, your moans become increasingly intense. The climax is unbearably beautiful, and Axel doesn't stop until you feel you've reached the peak of pleasure.

The fire diminishes, but the rhythm of his kisses remains intense. You can't speak, you can only respond to his licks with a weak cry, but Axel won't stop. His body moves between your legs and, soon, his lips trace the line of your crotch, reaching your thighs. You can't help but let out a scream when his lips kiss the skin of your thighs. The pain of pleasure is beautiful, and even though you don't know how to continue, you know you can't stop Axel.

You can't speak, you can only scream between its licks. The pace doesn't slow down, and soon you find yourself on the edge of the abyss once again. You know that Axel has come this far, and that he won't let you fall.

And it is there, at the edge, where Axel decides to stop. His lips move away from your thighs and soon his face is right above yours. You can't speak, but you know what you need.

"Axel" you plead, but he just smiles.

Don't let yourself be fooled. You know he won't let you fall without finishing. However, uncertainty envelops you, and you can only wait to see what will happen.

Axel approaches you and, soon, the warmth of his breath reaches your lips. You know what's going to happen, but somehow, you can't believe this is really happening.

The kiss is gentle at first. His lips press against yours gently, and his tongue approaches, slow and steady, exploring your parted lips. You can't help the shiver that covers your skin, and soon, a scream forms on your lips.

"Axel... Axel" ou plead breathlessly.

You know what you need, and you also know that Axel won't stop.

The kiss becomes more demanding. His lips move closer to your ears and soon, his words envelop you.

"Tell me what you need," he whispers between caresses, his voice deep and hoarse. You can't speak. You can only gesture with your lips.

But Axel is not going to be fooled. His hands move towards your legs and soon his fingers touch you.

"Like this?" he says, between sighs, but you can't respond. You can only wait.

The warmth of his fingers is unbearable. You can't wait any longer and soon you can feel a new chill covering your skin.

"I need you," you plead between kisses. You know that Axel is ready, and soon you will truly feel complete.

"Do you want me to..." he whispers

You can't speak. You just nod, with a weak smile.

"Yes... yes" you plead "I need you, Axel".

And there, the kiss changes. His mouth moves away from yours and soon his body pulls back a little. You can't see what he's doing, but you know what's happening. You don't have to wait long to feel his erection pressing against your legs.

Axel is not in a hurry. His erection presses against the entrance of your vagina, but it doesn't go in, not yet. You know it will, but it just needs a little time.

"Are you ready?" he says. "You don't have to worry." I'll make sure it's gentle.

The warmth of his voice envelops you. You can't speak, but even though you're scared, you know you trust him. Axel is the right person for this, and he will always take care of you.

"I know," you say, barely a whisper, but you know he understands. The warmth of his lips returns to yours and soon the kiss becomes demanding. His erection comes closer to your vagina and soon you feel full.

You can't talk. You can only respond with moans and sighs. Axel keeps kissing you, but soon you can feel his erection moving inside you. The connection is deep, and you know that soon, Axel will be at the peak of pleasure, as close to climax as you are.

You can't wait any longer. You know that Axel also needs time, but you don't have much to give. The adrenaline flows through your veins and soon you can feel that you are close to reaching a new climax.

"Axel" you shout, but you don't know what else to say. You know you need something more, but you don't know how to ask for it.

The rhythm of his thrusts is more demanding, and soon you can feel the fire inside you intensifying. Axel kisses your lips with a muffled cry, his erection doesn't wane, and soon you can hear his moans as he reaches climax. You know that both of you have reached the peak, and soon, you both collapse on the couch.

Axel lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek, his breath warm and heavy. You can't say a word. You can only kiss him back, with a sigh of satisfaction. The rhythm of your heartbeats is slow, but you know that soon both of you will meet each other's eyes. And there, you know what happens. They don't need words, they don't need to talk about what just happened. They only need each other.

[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.

[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.