#so I’m just sitting here shaking and loosing it a little bit

[batwynn]

Me, on my ADHD med: this can’t be working. I still have memory problems and ‘bad habits’.

Me off the meds because of storm and PA delays: oh. lol. Nvm.

[00valentina-writes00]

Pornstar!sevika x newbie pornstar!reader? 🙏🏻

Ahem I’m living for this tbh

♡♥︎Breaking You In♥︎♡

Warnings: strap on sex, Sevika has an ego, camera crew is watching (but only mentioned briefly)

You shouldn’t be this nervous.

You’ve prepped, practiced in the mirror, even touched yourself the night before just to make sure your body would be ready for whatever was thrown at you. But as you sit on the edge of the bed in nothing but a thin silk robe, hands gripping your knees, you feel like you’re about to fucking pass out.

Because she’s here.

Sevika.

A professional. A legend. The kind of performer who makes even the most seasoned porn stars look like amateurs. She’s been doing this for years, and it shows in every video she’s in—how effortlessly she takes control, how she makes her partners fall apart beneath her, how she always seems to know exactly what they need before they even realize it themselves.

And now she’s standing across from you, arms crossed, robe open just enough to reveal the toned muscle of her abdomen, the deep, confident smirk that tells you she’s already figured you out.

“You look nervous,” Sevika says, her voice smooth like smoke, just a little bit amused. She sits down beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight, and her knee brushes against yours. “First time working with a pro?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“First time on camera?”

You shake your head. “No, just… first time with you.”

She chuckles at that, low and knowing. “That supposed to mean something?”

Yes. It does. But you can’t say that.

Instead, you glance at the camera crew setting up in the corner, the low murmur of directors and lighting techs making sure everything is perfect. It’s easy to forget they’re there when Sevika is sitting this close, her presence drowning out everything else.

“Relax,” she says, voice quieter now, just for you. Her fingers reach for the tie of your robe, teasing it loose with slow, deliberate pulls. “You let me take care of you, you’ll be fine.”

You let out a shaky breath as the silk slides off your shoulders, pooling around your waist. Your skin prickles under her gaze, every inch of you bared in the warm studio light.

Sevika’s eyes drag over your body like she’s savoring the view, taking her time. And then, she leans in. Not to kiss you—no, that would be too easy. Instead, she breathes against the curve of your jaw, so close you can feel the warmth of her lips but not the touch itself.

“Lie back,” she murmurs.

You do. Because of course you do.

Sevika follows, shedding her robe with ease, revealing the long, thick strap already secured to her hips—black, gleaming, intimidating. She’s gorgeous, all corded muscle and smooth, scarred skin, her body honed from years of knowing exactly what it’s capable of.

She climbs over you, settling between your legs, hands bracketing your ribs. Her weight is grounding, her touch firm but not rough—yet.

“Ever taken one this big before?” she asks, dragging the head of the toy through your slick folds, teasing you with the barest pressure.

You shake your head, fingers twisting in the sheets. “No.”

That makes her smile. “Good.”

Her hands move to your thighs, spreading you wider, pressing your knees up toward your chest. The stretch makes you gasp, but Sevika only hums in approval. She rolls her hips forward, letting you feel the blunt pressure of the strap against your entrance, not pushing in yet—just giving you a taste.

You squirm beneath her, heat pooling low in your belly. The anticipation is unbearable, but she’s patient, dragging this out, making sure you feel every slow grind of her hips against yours.

“You want it?” she asks, voice rougher now, her control slipping just enough to let you hear the hunger underneath.

“Yes,” you whisper, then— “Please.”

“That’s a good girl.”

And then she pushes in.

The stretch is immediate, overwhelming, your body fighting to adjust to the sheer size of her. Your back arches, a sharp gasp spilling from your lips, and Sevika groans at the sight. She doesn’t bottom out right away, giving you just enough to make your toes curl, to make your nails dig into her arms.

“Fuck,” you breathe, every muscle tensing.

Sevika’s hands slide up your ribs, gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head as she lowers herself closer. “Relax,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your throat, a contrast to the way she holds you down. “Breathe through it.”

You do as she says, sucking in a shaky breath, forcing your body to give in to the slow, relentless push of her cock. And then, finally, she bottoms out, hips flush against yours, the weight of her pressing you into the mattress.

“Goddamn,” Sevika groans, rolling her hips just once, just to hear the sound you make. “You feel that?”

You whimper, nodding, because fuck, you do. You feel everything.

She doesn’t move at first, just lets you adjust, lets you feel how deep she is, how full you are. And then, once she knows you can take it—once she feels your thighs relax, your breathing slow—she starts to move.

Slow at first, dragging her cock out inch by inch before sliding back in just as slow, making sure you feel every inch of her. The friction makes your whole body burn, every nerve alight with sensation.

“You take me so well,” Sevika murmurs, watching your face, reading every twitch, every shudder. “Knew you would.”

She fucks you like she’s done this a thousand times before, because she has. But she still makes it feel like it’s just for you—like she’s savoring the way you stretch around her, the way you gasp every time she sinks in deep.

She doesn’t rush, doesn’t pound into you like some amateur trying to prove something. No, she keeps it steady, controlled, dragging pleasure out of you in slow, deliberate waves.

And when you start to fall apart, when your whimpers turn into desperate moans, Sevika smirks down at you, voice thick with satisfaction.

“There it is,” she murmurs, fucking into you harder now, faster, your body rocking beneath hers. “Knew you’d sound pretty once I got you warmed up.”

You claw at her back, hips lifting to meet her thrusts, chasing the friction, the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.

“Look at you,” she growls, her grip tightening on your wrists. “You were so nervous, and now you’re fucking yourself on my cock like you need it.”

You do. God, you do.

And Sevika knows it.

She keeps going, pushing you higher, dragging you toward that sharp, unbearable edge. And when you finally shatter, when you cry out her name and clench around her, she doesn’t stop.

She fucks you through it, making you take every last bit of it, making sure you remember exactly who made you come undone like this.

And when it’s over—when you’re spent, trembling, panting beneath her—Sevika leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Welcome to the industry,” she murmurs, a smirk in her voice.

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[mywritersmind]

AT YOUR EX’S WEDDING - LN4

summary : Getting invited to your ex’s wedding isn’t ideal. Going with a douchebag from your highschool is even worse. But meeting a very attractive man in the deep of a garden? That might just make it all worth it.

listen up : suggestive comments! alcohol! wrote this forever ago and never finished but suddenly got motivated so here ya go! no part 2!!

words : 2621

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I wasted the prettiest dress I own for my ex’s wedding and a guy who’s staring at my tits. “You look upset…” His grubby little hands rub my arms, “We can leave.”

I eye the guy, blonde and pale. I shake my head and down my champagne, “I’d bet you would love that…”

I don’t look back as I walk away, just grab another glass of champagne and walk out into fresh air. My heels are hurting my feet and the setting sun is blinding me.

As soon as I get into the garden though, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can’t lie, this place is beautiful. The sky is pink and blue, the gardens are green and I can’t see them ending anytime soon.

I walk slowly, letting the cool air wash over me. I’ve got to hand it to him, his dream really did come true. He used to talk to me about a picture perfect wedding, big and white. Something that showed the value of his marriage.

We disagreed a lot after that.

I sigh and sip my drink, turning a corner to see a huge fountain. It’s surrounded by flowers, an array of colors that compliment the bright green and setting sun.

I walk slowly around it, listening to the water and faint music from the wedding.

I stop when I see someone sitting on the grass, his head leaning back on the stone of the fountain. I can’t see his whole face, just his side profile.

He’s got dark hair, curly and cut into a messy mullet. He’s wearing a suit, some buttons undone and his tie loose around his neck. In his hand lies a bottle of champagne and when he brings it to his lips, his jaw goes sharp.

I take another step and he clearly hears me because his head cocks towards me quickly. “Sorry.” I mumble as he stares blankly at me.

“Uh…” He stands quickly, looking disheveled and surprisingly attractive, “Don’t worry.” My gaze goes to the bottle in his hand and when his eyes follow, he laughs a bit, “Want me to top you off?” He eyes my own empty glass. He has an accent and I don’t know why it catches me so off guard. Maybe because he got instantly hotter?

I hesitantly smile, he’s oddly welcoming and when I step forward, he pours the sparkling drink into my glass, “Thank you. I did not want to go back in there just for a drink.” I joke but the expression on his face makes me nervous, “Shit, you’re not one of the groomsmen are you?”

He shakes his head, clearly finding this funny as a smile tugs at his lips, “No, Lucky for you, I'm just a plus one.” I nod slowly as he plops himself back down, sitting on the fountain's edge this time. He looks up at me, holding out his hand, “I’m Lando.”

Something about him feels familiar. His grip is strong and his ring makes a noise against mine. “Y/n.” I sit down next to him, sipping my drink and breathing out.

“Why are you so adamant on not going back in there, Y/n?” He says my name softly and with his accent it makes me want to melt.

I can’t help but laugh, “My ex is the groom, My date has tried to kiss me four times, and the groom's mother is drunk and won’t stop asking me why I broke up with him.”

He lets out a big laugh, “Fuck. Those are great reasons to not go back.” Shaking his head, he takes another swing of the champagne, coughing a bit.

“Why are you hiding out here?” I ask, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

“My date knows the bride but has left me for a groomsman.” He shrugs, “Not too upset though, just wanted something to do tonight.”

“Very interesting. Normal people would go out and see a movie for entertainment, not go to the wedding of someone you don’t know.”

“Well, I've met you so it worked out for the best.” He gives me a little glance and I notice his eyes. The sun is almost down but the light still shines in them, green and a bit brown.

I shake my head, “You don’t even know me.”

He scrunches his nose, keeping eye contact, “Yet my nights looking up.”

I take the bottle out of his hand because my glass is empty, bringing it to my lips and letting the liquid into my mouth. “Something about you is familiar.”

He raises a brow, taking the bottle back. “Oh?”

I would have to remember him, he’s too pretty for me to forget. “I can’t figure out what. Maybe you just have one of those faces. But then again I think I would remember you.”

He laughs, “Well clearly not because you recognize me from somewhere.” I frown, looking at his face intently, “Come on… think about it.”

So he must know me then. Otherwise, where else would I know him from? “I definitely haven’t met you, the accent alone would stick. So what is it then? Do we have mutals on instagram?”

Lando just smiles softly, “I’ve never met you. I can say that for sure.”

“So what is it? God don’t tell me you’re a model-”

“You think I'm hot enough to be a model? I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes but secretly I bite back a smile.

“You’ve definitely got the attitude of a model. Are you famous?” A slight change in his expression gives it away. “You are! What do you do? Is it embarrassing that I don’t know you?”

Lando shakes his head, “Unless you know the sport.” So he’s an athlete. His build sort of gave that away, even under the suit I can tell. But he’s not very tall and I honestly hate sports so I don’t think I'm going to get this one.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands, “I give up.”

Lando laughs again, the type of sound that makes you feel accomplished because you made it happen, “Maybe i’ll tell you later.”

“Mysterious.” I look him up and down, “That’s hot.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s trying to figure me out, “I like you.”

I laugh a bit, looking around at the now dark gardens, the moonlight shining and matching with fairy lights around us, “Probably because you still don’t know me.”

“Fine then, Y/n.” His eyes sparkle as they land on me again, scooting closer to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’ll be easy, I love talking about myself. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you and your ex break up?”

“Getting right into it I see…” I take another sip, “I broke up with him because he was obsessed with our future, not even in a cute way like genuinely wanted me to drop out of school. We dated in college after being friends for all of highschool.”

“So… why were you invited? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn’t invite my ex to my wedding.”

“Who knows? I was drunk when I replied to the invite and clearly did not think it through. My ex is nice though, it’s not like I'm getting champagne drunk because I'm sad, I'm happy for him.” I drink more from the bottle.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Charleston. How about you?”

“I didn’t go, I barely finished mandatory school.” I pull my heels off as he says, “I’ve never been to Charleston, I heard it’s pretty.”

“Very.” A chill washes over me as the night seems to rest over us, “How do you know your date for tonight?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Sort of a one time thing…” Hookup. Got it. “But she was talking about how she didn’t have a date and how it would be sad so I just said I could go. Got a bit awkward when she paraded me around just to ditch me.”

“Well it all turned out well didn’t it? Now that we’re here.” His eyes are so soft and endearing as he listens to me speak.

“Why do you keep swerving your dates kiss attempts? Bad breath?” I laugh and bury my face in my hands.

“God it’s so stupid. I knew him in highschool and he always wanted to hook up with me so I knew he’d say yes… But he’s a total tool!”

Lando thinks this is quite hilarious, “Well then,” He holds up the bottle, “To our shitty dates and weird ass night.”

He pours some into my mouth, misses a bit and swears before holding my jaw and pouring more in as I’m about to start choking on my laugh and champagne.

“Fuck.” He giggles as he tries to wipe my mouth but ends up just rubbing his hand over my face, “Sorry!” He drinks as I swallow and let out a much needed laugh.

“I should handle champagne better at this point.” I raise a brow at Lando’s words and it reminds me that I truly know nothing about him.

“Can I try to guess what you play?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips, turning to me and nodding.

“Go ahead, love.” I pretend I don’t hear the nickname and try to think.

“Well it’s not football.” I screw up my face and sit criss cross to look at him better, “Tennis?” He shakes his head.

“What’s your favorite color?” I guess it’s a sport for a question then.

“Green.” Looking into his eyes and saying that feels oddly intimate. “Volleyball?”

He makes a face, “No. Favorite hobby?”

“Reading.” I shiver a bit at the cool air, “Does it involve a ball?”

I think he’s going to say yes but when he shakes his head, I frown. “Skateboarding?”

“Nope. What do you like to read?”

“Romance and mystery. Is it swimming?” That could make sense, he’s fit enough but not exactly slim.

“No. Have you ever dyed your hair?” I laugh at the question because it’s so out of the blue.

“When I was really young I had blue and pink highlights.” His eyebrows raise at this, “Oh shut up it was a great phase!”

“I’m sure it was. And I can't judge because I had a buzz once.” I cover my mouth at his words. I can not imagine that. His hair is like the cherry on top.

“I will be needing photos of that later… My last guess is gymnastics!”

“Still no.” He smiles as I groan and take another drink of champagne, “I drive.”

I sit up straighter and I'm dead serious when I say, “Monster trucks?”

He laughs out loud again, “Formula 1 cars.” My jaw actually drops at this.

“I would never have guessed! I mean, I don’t know a lot about Formula 1 anyways… but doesn’t that mean you’re like really rich?” He looks a bit shy at this which means i’m 100% right.

“And humble.” I nod.

“You really didn't know?”

“Nope. My family is into soccer and soccer only, so I never really cared about anything else.”

“I like that.”

“You like that I know nothing about your job?”

“Absolutely. I hate when people know it… Especially women.”

“Oh? So I'm a ‘woman’ to you now?”

A little smile settles on his face while he looks anywhere around the garden but me, “I think I'm a good judge of character. And I like yours.”

I’ve never had a guy express his interest in me within an hour of meeting, especially one that I found in a garden like a fucking fairy.

“Does that usually work on women?” I decide to tease him a bit.

“Not sure, I’ve never tried it. Is it working on you?” I suddenly have the feeling that he’s being serious. I can tell he’s a flirt, that’s obvious enough with who he’s here with.

Yet I just stand up and take the bottle with me, walking away from him. He follows, a rustling of his clothes and the sudden warmth of his jacket over my shoulders surprises me.

I don’t thank him, I just watch him walk quietly next to me, his eyes scanning the night sky. “What’s your last name?”

“Trying to figure out how you’ll sound with it?” I roll my eyes, “Norris. Don't lie though, Y/n Norris sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get that a lot.” We continue walking, my feet feeling the grass as I realize Lando’s holding my heels. I had left them with the intent to go back, but he just took them.

I turn to him, “So, Lando Norris.” I start walking backward, watching the way his eyes trail up and down my body. “You’ve got a good name.”

He nods, slowly walking with me, “Thank you, love.” His shirt is well fitted, his arms pressing against it and the sleeves rolled halfway up.

His eyes get wide as I'm checking him out, causing me to turn to see what he’s looking at. My jaw drops at the sight. “That’s-”

“My date!” we say in unison. I whip my head to him as he raises his brow. The two are in the midst of pulling off each other's clothes while their lips stay attached.

I slap my hand over my mouth as they turn to us. His date is very pretty and her lipstick is smeared over her mouth. My date doesn’t look embarrassed at all, just annoyed we interrupted.

“You two carry on.” I hear Lando say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. We start running then, laughing and out of breath.

“I need to bleach my eyes!” I scream as Lando slows, his breathing labored.

“I think his hand was up her dress!” He looks scarred for life.

“Oh my god!” I stop, “Our dates!” I’m practically bent over laughing, “Lando, Our dates!”

“Fuck this weird ass day!” His hand tightens over mine, reminding me that he’s holding onto me still. “I need something stronger than champagne. Come back to my hotel?”

I raise a brow, teasing him, “Why Norris, I've just met you.”

His smile is slow and sexy, “I’ll save you from a one night stand and raise you whiskey and netflix. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I weirdly have trust in you.”

He wraps his arm around me, our hands still attached as we leave the grassy area, “It’s not weird. We’re just two friends who happen to be very pretty and a tad bit drunk at an ex and a random wedding.”

Lando and I spent the night laughing over drinks, room service, and how to lose a guy in ten days. He didn’t touch me besides his arm comforting me as I fell asleep next to him, and even shook his head when I joked about it being a one night thing.

His promise was never broken… more like expired and loopholed by me. I kissed him in a bookstore and he gave me a new favorite version of his smile. Soft and romantic with his eyes focused on me and his hand in mine, “And to think… it all started at your ex’s wedding.”

He sighed as we walked into the elevator, I elbowed him, “Lando, that was yesterday.” His hands went to his pockets but not before slipping his arm around mine so we’re intertwined. I looked up to see him biting back a shit eating grin as if we’ve been married for years.

I just shake my head and stare at the silver doors in front of us. Yet still, I couldn’t help but smile.

[itneverendshere]

my angsty little heart just imagining you looking at rafe after baby’s been born and you start sniffing, and you’re like “i’m so sorry i put you through that”

couldn't make them suffer more so i made this kinda short💔thank you for the request, hope you like it!💛

rafe watched autumn, now bundled up and sleeping peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling like it hadn’t just stopped for what felt like years.

he’d talked big game, said the right things, held your hand through every ultrasound.

but nothing, nothing, had prepared him for that moment.

he’d felt like he’d been gutted alive, emptied, and only now was the relief wrapping itself around him and making him feel like he could maybe breathe again.

you lay there, propped up in bed, the exhaustion written all over your face, but you still managed to look at him with this soft, broken smile.

you took a shaky breath, still staring at him like you hadn’t yet snapped out of that agitated state, and then you started sniffling, quiet sobs you were trying to control.

rafe’s stomach dropped, the lingering anxiety coming back up all over again.

“i’m so sorry i put you through that.”

rafe blinked, stunned, “what? what are you talking about?” his thumb grazed over your knuckles.

he didn’t know what he’d expected you to say, but it wasn’t an apology. if anything, he’d wanted to tell you how sorry he was for what you'd just been through, for how he couldn’t do anything but stand there while it all happened.

you sniffed again, wiping at your cheeks, eyes still shining with this look of guilt and sadness that made him feel like he’d been punched in the lungs all over again.

“i just…she didn’t come out crying, rafe. she was just there, and you had to see that, go through that… i just, i feel like i dragged you into—”

“hey, hey,” he cut you off, gripping your hand tighter, his other hand brushing a few loose strands of hair away from your face. “stop. you didn’t ‘drag’ me anywhere, alright? i’m here because i want to be. because you’re my family.”

your mouth trembled, “i’m just—i was so scared she wasn’t…” you trailed off, looking back at the baby. “i thought we lost her.”

he couldn’t lie to you; he’d thought the exact same thing.

for a few agonizing seconds, he’d thought he’d lost everything that mattered, and he couldn’t even understand that feeling now.

but she was here. you were here.

“she’s here. and she’s okay. we’re okay.”

rafe moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, not caring about the cramped space or how uncomfortable it was. he needed to be closer to you, needed you to understand that he didn’t see this as something you’d put him through.

it was something you’d both survived.

he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand pressed against your cheek, “you don’t have to be sorry for anything, you got that?”

you let out a wobbly breath, pressing your face into his palm, eyes fluttering closed, “okay.”

he looked over at the bassinet again, and there she was, your daughter—his daughter, your little autumn, with her tiny fists and barely-there eyelashes.

she was still sleeping, looking so peaceful like she hadn’t been seconds from scaring him shitless.

a weird, tight laugh bubbled out of his chest as he shook his head, in disbelief, still in awe.

he couldn’t stop looking at her, still couldn’t believe she was real.

“i… i can’t believe we made her,” he confessed in just a whisper, “that’s ours.” he laughed again, shaking his head, “we did that, baby. you… you did that.”

he felt your hand tighten in his, and when he looked back at you, you were smiling, tired but so proud, a little bit like him—still not fully believing it yet.

this whole thing was real, it wasn’t just a dream he’d woken up from.

he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

he looked at you, catching the way your hand shook a little as you wiped at your eyes, saying “sorry” like somehow you still thought this was on you, all he felt was this deep, gut-wrenching gratitude that you were both here.

“you’re still apologizing,” he reprimanded you quietly, squeezing your hand a little harder, as if that would get the point across.

“i was supposed to—” you stopped as you looked at autumn, lying there so still, so alive. “i was supposed to protect her.”

“you did protect her. you protected her every day before she even got here.”

your lips quivered as you nodded, even as a couple of silent tears slipped down your face, and he could tell it was a lot more than the relief you were feeling.

he wanted to tell you a thousand things—that he’d never felt prouder of anyone in his life, that you’d been braver than he ever could be, that he was just grateful, in this a way he couldn’t translate into words.

“always gonna be right here. for you and her. promise.”

rafe would never let you feel like you had to apologize for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with. he would carry it with you, or he’d carry it himself—whatever it took to make sure you knew that.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Could I please request Spencer & Fem Reader based on the episode 9x24 when he gets shot and reader is super worried about him so is comforting him and doing all she can to make sure he’s ok and just fretting over him and on the jet she’s helping him in and just sitting with him next to the couch, brushing his hair so he sleeps. Just lots of cuddles. Maybe overbearing for Spencer because he’s not used to being the one taken care of since it’s usually vise versa. Thanks!!

Wounds: Physical & Emotional

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt

Warnings/Includes: aftermath of Spencer getting shot, reader being overbearing, Spencer snapping, no happy ending

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: hiii i hope this is okay <33 i needed some angst so this was perfect

main masterlist

The atmosphere in the hospital room was filled with a quiet tension, the sterile smell of antiseptics mingling with the dull hum of machines. Spencer lay there, eyes half-open, a little pale and looking both exhausted and grateful just to be alive. His neck, wrapped in fresh bandages, still bore the marks of his ordeal, a stark reminder of how close he’d come to something irreversible.

You stood by his bedside, fingers gently resting on the thin hospital blanket, as if the mere act of touching it could somehow channel some of your strength to him. You'd been pacing the hallway for what felt like hours, running through every worst-case scenario, but finally seeing him, hearing the faint sound of his breathing steady and rhythmic—it brought a wave of relief so overwhelming it nearly took you to your knees.

As his eyes fluttered open, a soft but tired smile curved on his lips when he saw you there. “You… you really didn’t have to stay,” he murmured, his voice a bit strained, weakened from both the injury and the exhaustion that came with it.

You shook your head immediately, your hand instinctively reaching for his, fingers wrapping around his gently. “Don’t even say that, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, each word infused with the worry you’d been bottling up since the moment you’d found out he’d been hurt. “There’s nowhere else I would be. You… I was so scared.”

He squeezed your hand weakly, his thumb tracing a small, reassuring pattern against your knuckles. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know... I know how it must've felt, seeing me like that."

“No, no,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. None of this was your fault. You just… you’re always putting yourself out there for everyone else, and… Spencer, I can’t lose you. Not like that.”

His gaze softened as he looked up at you, the slight sheen of tears glistening in your eyes. He’d seen you in countless stressful situations, through endless cases and late-night work sessions, but this—this was different. “I’m still here,” he assured, his voice barely above a whisper, but steady. “I’m still here.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering, just relieved to feel the warmth of his skin beneath them. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that,” you replied, your voice catching. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if I’d get to.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, letting himself be comforted by your presence. The weight of what he’d been through hung between you both, unspoken yet deeply felt. It was as though your silent worry, your prayers for his survival, had wrapped around him, bringing him back.

“Are you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper, but still filled with all the care and concern that had carried you through those agonizing hours of waiting.

He chuckled softly, a little hoarse, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he shook his head. “Just having you here is… more than enough,” he replied, his hand squeezing yours a little more firmly, a silent acknowledgment of how much it meant to him that you’d stayed, that you were there.

Your hand drifted from his forehead to his cheek, your thumb softly tracing the edge of his jaw, and for a moment, he simply closed his eyes, letting himself rest, letting himself lean on you.

“Promise me,” you said softly, breaking the quiet that had settled over you both. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, that… that you won’t go scaring me like this again.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at you, a small, apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “But you know me…”

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile of your own finally breaking through the worry. “Yeah, I do,” you murmured, shaking your head fondly. “Which is exactly why I’ll be here, making sure you keep that promise.”

—

Your concern for Spencer had taken on a life of its own, a constant, consuming presence that followed him from the hospital back to work and even into the comfort of his own home. Every glance his way was laden with worry, every touch a check for signs of strain or pain, an endless stream of small but deeply attentive gestures. It seemed you couldn’t stop yourself from fretting over him, as if that watchful care alone could ensure his safety and recovery.

On the jet, you were never far from his side. When he tried to settle into the couch, you followed, bringing a small pillow and blanket, making sure he was comfortable, even sitting right beside him as if to act as a physical buffer against anything that might cause him pain. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” you whispered for what felt like the tenth time, fingers gently brushing a stray curl from his forehead. You stayed close, sometimes pulling a chair beside him, sometimes gently brushing your fingers through his hair in a rhythm that would lull him to sleep. Every time he shifted or opened his eyes, he found you right there, watching him with that same blend of worry and tenderness.

But back at home, your concern reached new levels. You simply couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him to fend for himself—not after what he’d just gone through. Any movement he made was met with your insistent, gentle intervention. “No, no,” you’d say softly but firmly when he reached for the coffee pot or attempted to carry anything from the kitchen. “I’ve got it. You’re supposed to be resting.” You’d guide him back to the couch or bed, a hand on his shoulder as if you thought he might collapse any moment if left unattended.

He found himself surrounded by the constant reminders of your care: you’d already brought him fresh coffee, placed his favorite books within easy reach, even left snacks and water close by. You practically fussed over him like he was made of glass, which at first he found touching. There was an odd but comforting warmth in how your love translated into these little gestures of support.

In the quiet intimacy of his apartment, you’d taken to accompanying him into the bathroom, even the shower, ensuring he was never alone. “I just… I can’t bear to leave you alone yet,” you’d said with a nervous laugh the first time, reaching for his hand. “It makes me feel better, okay?” 

Spencer, both surprised and touched, had reluctantly agreed, though he couldn’t deny the awkwardness. You watched him carefully as he bathed, helping him wash himself, bringing him his towel, even brushing his hair afterward with the same attention you give every one of his movements. 

Every small thing, even the routine act of bathing, became a moment for you to ensure his well-being. And while it was comforting, he found himself increasingly confined by your constant care.

Finally, it became too much. Spencer, who had always prided himself on his independence, was beginning to feel suffocated, trapped by the very love that usually gave him comfort and strength. He’d always been the one to look after others, the quiet pillar of support, and the sudden inversion had been tolerable at first. But as the days wore on, he found himself unable to breathe under the weight of it.

One evening, after yet another shower where you hovered nearby, he reached a breaking point. Just as he reached for the towel, he looked up seeing you already holding it, his face was now laced with frustration and fatigue. “Can’t you… can’t you just give me a little space?” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended, sharp enough to startle you.

The words hung in the air, and you looked at him, taken aback by the sudden tension in his voice. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident as he struggled to put his feelings into words. “I know you’re worried about me—I know. But you won’t even let me bathe alone,” he continued, his tone edged with an exasperation that mirrored how he felt. “I can’t even think for five minutes without you hovering!”

You took a shaky breath, hurt and confusion clouding your expression as you tried to process his outburst. “I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said softly, your voice breaking with the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

Spencer’s gaze never softened, “I know you’re worried, and I want to appreciate it, I do. But I need time to myself. I need to feel like I can still do something without help. I need space from you!” he raised his voice again.

You flinched as your heart sank, realizing how tightly you’d been holding on to the fear of losing him, how it had manifested in every act of love, every worried glance, every touch that you’d thought was comforting. You nodded, stepping back a little, trying to offer him the space he so clearly needed. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. “I… I’ll give you that space.”

As you quietly closed the bathroom door behind you, Spencer felt a calmness settle over him, a rare feeling of unencumbered space. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much the attention—though well-meaning and deeply appreciated—had begun to weigh on him, like an invisible net keeping him grounded. The soft click of the door seemed to signal a return to normalcy, to a routine he thought he’d lost somewhere in the haze of his injury.

But what he didn’t realize was how deeply his outburst had hurt you, how you’d clung so desperately to the idea of keeping him safe, only to feel dismissed, even resented, for the very care you’d thought he needed.

Spencer felt lighter as he brushed his hair, each stroke a small declaration of independence. He took his time shaving, enjoying the familiar ritual. He finished, splashing cold water on his face, feeling as if he’d reclaimed a part of himself, a small but significant piece of control.

Satisfied, he wrapped himself in a fresh towel and stepped into the bedroom, thinking of nothing but how good it felt to finally be able to tend to himself. But the moment he crossed the threshold, a chill settled over him. His eyes flicked to the small armchair in the corner, the one that had become a fixture for your bag during your stayover, always waiting quietly, a reminder of your presence and your watchful care. Except now, the chair sat empty. Your bag was gone.

His heart stilled, a sinking feeling creeping into his chest. Quickly, he threw on clothes, barely fastening the buttons of his shirt before moving through the apartment, calling out your name, his voice echoing through the silent rooms. “Y/N?”

He stepped into the living room, glancing around in hopes you were just out of sight, maybe near the kitchen or just down the hall. But there was no answer, no sound, just an aching quiet that pressed in on him like a vise.

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time, almost pleading. But the silence that met him felt crushing. His mind whirled with dread, memories of the sharpness in his tone, the flash of hurt in your eyes just before you’d turned away. The realization of what he’d done, what he’d said, crashed over him with a painful clarity. In his desperate need for solitude, he hadn’t stopped to consider what his words might mean to you, hadn’t thought of how they might cut deep after all you’d done to care for him.

The hollow ache in his chest grew as he scanned the empty room, his mind replaying each moment you’d been there, every touch, every comforting smile. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, the gentle brush of your fingers through his hair. The thought that you might’ve left, might have taken that warmth and devotion with you, was more terrifying than anything he’d faced in the field.

His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he spoke into the empty room, “Please, don’t go.” But the quiet, unyielding silence lingered, leaving him alone with the weight of his words, and he realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d pushed away the one thing he truly needed.

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tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[writingroom21]

heyy, Can i request where camerons are going on a family trip to the mountains and the car is fully loaded but there is space for a one person at the back of truck besides boxes and tents, as everyone gets into car theres no space for everyone so Rose,readers mom makes her sit on stepbrothers rafe lap the whole ride,but the road gets bumpy so rafe gets hard and fucks reader while whole family is in the front talking and driving(sorry if i messed up with grammar English is not my first language)

A/N: I love this idea so much

“No, absolutely not.” You shake your head as you back away. “Sweetie, can you please just do this?” Your mom pleads with you as you stand outside of the little van. “I am not getting in that and I’m definitely not sitting on his lap.” You yell as you point to the one person you do not want to be stuck with. Rafe, your stepbrother, smiles at your outburst. 

This has to be your own personal hell. You knew Ward wanted to get back at you for ruining the cake. Your mom and Ward have been married since you were a kid but they wanted to renew their vows. During the after party you and Rafe may have been arguing when the cake happened to have fallen. Ward was pissed and you could tell your mom was sad but they went on like nothing happened. Now here Ward is forcing you into a tiny van packed full of luggage with no room. But there’s a kicker.

Your seat is in Rafe’s lap.

As if making you all go on a family trip to celebrate wasn’t bad enough you have to sit in his lap. “C’mon we’re already late. Just get in the car and we can figure something out later.” Ward orders as he gets into the car. Everyone follows, leaving you outside alone. Huffing you climb in passing Sarah and Wheezie to get into the back. They send you sympathetic looks as you make it to the back of the van.

Rafe sends you a smirk as you settle into his lap. He puts the seat belt over the both of you as his arms cage you in. “Hey there honey.” His face is practically beaming at you as you make you way closer. Grumbling you sit in his lap, shuffling a few things around to get more room. But to no avail nothing moved and you were crammed into a tight space. He had to wrap his arms around you just to sit properly. 

As Ward drove the van you tried not to think about the fact all you could think about was Rafe’s smell. His hands would often scrunch, letting his fingertips graze over your exposed skin. Your elbow meets his side making him hiss. “What the fuck.” Rafe pulls your hair hard causing your head to fall back. “The two of you stop right now. I won’t hesitate to leave the two of you on the side of the road.” Ward yells out as he swerves to the side of the road. The two of you sat still and after a minute he went back to driving.

“I swear your dad is doing this to torture me.” Rafe lets out a little chuckle. His nose slowly grazes the side of your neck. “No honey. He’s upset at me and this is my torture.” There’s a pothole that makes the van shake. Due to the motion you jump slightly in his lap causing a low moan to fall from his lips. Snapping your head back you see that he has rested against the back of the seat. His eyes are closed, lips open just a bit. When cerulean blue eyes met yours, you snapped your head back to the front of the car.

Two hours into the drive everyone besides you, Rafe and Ward is asleep. The radio is playing some country music that you don’t know. You are looking out the window when a blanket is draped over your lap. Looking back at Rafe he just shrugs. “I’m getting cold.” His arms tighten around you as he shifts his hips. The decision of wearing loose shorts seems to be a bad choice. Every move of his hips makes his growing erection dig into your thighs and ass. “You really can’t have a boner right now.” You glare at Rafe, the movement making his situation worse.

Looking around the car he grabs your hips, pushing you back down onto him. He grinds you back and forth. There’s a brush of warm breath on your neck as he lowers his lips to the skin. “Can’t help it honey. Not when you’re on top of me.” You hold back a moan, choking it back down hoping he didn’t hear it. But his fingers are now gripping your inner thighs, prying them apart. Lightly he plays with your pussy, stroking it over your shorts before pulling them down. “What are you doing?” You whisper only to be met with him shushing you. 

You sit there as he teases you over your panties. The teasing only made you wet and you were soaking the fabric. Rafe lifted you, using one of his hands to pull his pants and boxers down. You want to get up and yell at him for what he is doing. Yet even though your brain is telling you to do so, you don’t. You stay there letting him use the tip of his cock to part your lips as he moves the panties to the side. There was a movement from the front of the van. Your hand pauses his movements waiting for a moment. 

When the only sound was the song from the speaker, Rafe moves you down onto his tip. Just as he pushes in he kisses the back of your neck. As you sink all the way down your head falls back onto his shoulder. He kisses the side of your head and right behind your ear. “Like having your step brother in you?” Fuck. Yes you do. You do like the feeling of him in you, feeling every ridge of him. As the car sways, pleasure erupts through you as his cock twitches. It felt so good. You bury your head in his neck trying to hide your face. “Just sit right there, honey.”

Another hour ticks by as Rafe holds you down to his cock. His balls grazes your clit with each rock of the van, his dick twitching every time. Cock warming your step brother was not how you envisioned this trip. You can’t stay still, squirming with each bump in the road. Rafe’s fingers dig into your skin, dragging you forward and back. Half way through his fingers found your clit with the other hand covering your mouth as he got you off. Now the two of you are soaked as you edge closer towards your second orgasm. 

“Alright everyone out.” Ward's voice snaps you out of your thoughts to see that you are at a pitstop. Everyone climbs out the car yawning as they head into the store. Your mom sticks her head back into the car looking towards the two of you. Thankfully since the van was packed so she really couldn’t see anything. “Are the two of you coming?” You lean forward blocking Rafe completely. “I’m tired so I think I’m going to keep sleeping.” You lie, giving her a sweet smile, one that she returns.

Once she was out of sight Rafe had you pushed forward using the armrest as your support. “God, look at how wet she is for me.” Rafe uses the grip on his base to slap his tip to your clit. He slides back in, rocking his hips to fuck into you. “I’m going to cum.” You moan out as Rafe’s fingers meet your clit as he delivers a good thrust. He lets out a long moan as your walls squeeze around him. The pulsing of your walls triggers his own orgasm. He pulls the both of you back into the seat.

Rafe moves the blankets back over the both of you. You wanted to go to the bathroom and clean up but he pulled you back down. His dick gets hard again as you squirm. The need to keep you plugged up with his cum settles deep within him. From the corner of his eye he can see everyone coming back. He acts normally, maneuvering you to look like you are sleeping. Leaning in closer he whispers in your ear.

  “We’re not done yet.”

Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore @10ava01 Let me know if you want to be added

[aliwritex]

some franco fluffy blurb? as much as i find that man hot i can't help but want to hug him and kiss him and cuddle him. i'm a lost cause

here’s a little wintery fluff (tho i am brazilian and this doesn’t make sense to me) enjoy! :)

“Baby, you don’t have anything to eat here”

You were visiting his new apartment in Spain for the first time. He had moved in a couple of weeks before but only now had the chance to actually stay for a bit before flying back home for the holidays.

You had gotten there the night before and ordered take out for dinner but when you got up in the morning you realized his kitchen was basically empty.

“Humh?” he hummed, walking into the small kitchen already drinking his mate.

“We need to shop. Don’t you have food?”

“I have protein shake” he opened the cupboard, “some rice and,” he walked over to check the fridge “to be honest I thought had some chicken left”

“Breakfast, baby. What about breakfast?” you looked up at him, starting to question how he even survived living alone, Franco just lifted his mate to show you. “That’s not breakfast, I thought you were supposed to be healthy, like an athlete”

“Well, it’s off season and I’m not even set in doing something next year.”

“Right, go get dressed, we’re having breakfast and going shopping. Now!” you said, squeezing past him in the small kitchen.

“At least your closet’s organized” you praised as you walked past him, wearing one of his sweaters with your jeans.

“Thanks?”

Franco got up from the couch where he had been waiting for you to get ready grabbing both of your coats and his keys before letting you out the door first.

“Scarf?” he asked by the door and you shook your head, already making your way down the stairs.

He went after you, making sure to get to the car first and open the door for you.

“What can you eat?” you asked as he got a kart in the grocery shop.

“Told you it’s off season, don’t care”

“Great, cause this weather makes me want a thick hot chocolate every second of the day”

“Thought you were planing on cooking something for lunch” he followed after you, into the sweets isle.

“I could do that. Some chicken, and a little pasta salad? Sounds good?” you looked back, catching him nodding, his face red from the cold. “I told you not to leave the house with wet hair, you’re freezing” you said, pulling his hood over his head and tugging the strings a little.

“I’m fine” he tugged the hood back loose.

“Sure, baby” you kissed his nose quickly, “just don’t freeze your fingers off.”

Back at his place he had watched you cook, annoyingly taking up space in the kitchen even though he wasn’t doing anything. He just wanted to be around, he had missed you in the last triple header and his time back in England so now he wanted to be close.

Thats why you ended up in his bed, all tangled up after lunch, taking a siesta in true spanish spirit. Franco was lying on his side, his head on your chest and his hand had sneaked up to hold your boob. You could feel his curls tickling your neck but it was fine, you loved to provide him comfort, be his rock when he needed.

Your fingers ran through the short hair on the back of his head, grazing softly on his neck.

“If you don’t stop i’m never getting up” he mumbled.

“I don’t want you to get up” you said into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“Really?” he looked up at you, tired green eyes staring into your soul as his brows furrowed “I was thinking of making that chocolate you wanted”

You hummed just thinking about it “I’d love that right now”

“Then let me go” he whined

“No, take me with you”

“God, you’re so clingy!” he teased getting up from the bed “Come here”

He helped you attach to him like a coala as you giggled and walked to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you asked, taking his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing his stubble

“I’m hoping it’s a lot”

“I think it might be more than a lot.” you kissed the tip of his nose and then his lips.

“I love you to, mi amor”

“I think I might just love you more” you told him and started kissing all over his face, cheeks, forehead, eyes, lips, anywhere you could reach.

[msmk11]

Mean

James Potter x Evans!fem!reader

CW: Hurt/comfort; fluff; James is a bit arrogant; brief cheating; reader has ponytail (sorry I usually try and make r as neutral as possible)

Summary: James Potter is a very mean boy

A/n: inspired by Little Women the 2019 version, specifically the scene where Laurie confesses his love to Amy (some lines are directly from the movie and I don’t claim to own them.)

You’re sitting on a blanket under the huge willow by the Great Lake, it finally being warm enough to enjoy the fresh air. You have your sketch pad out, drawing your newest- okay that’s a lie, oldest- muse. James lays lazily in the shade, tossing his snitch into the air repeatedly. You hum at him disapprovingly and he looks over, his hazel eyes glinting at you mischievously.

“What?”

You sigh and shake your head, returning to your drawing, “nothing, nothing.”

He sits up and leans towards you, his devilishly handsome face propped up by his palm. James tugs your ponytail, “don’t hum at me so disdainfully and expect me not to say anything about it, Evans.”

You don’t look at him, instead keeping your focus on the sketch in your hands, “I just….Well I wish you’d make yourself useful instead of lounging around and playing with your snitch.”

James smirks, “and what would you have me do dear saint?”

“Study hard to join your father’s company after we graduate.”

He groans and flops back down, “that’s not fair. You know I don’t want to pursue hair care for the rest of my life. Anyhow, I’m almost guaranteed a spot on the Magpies as soon as I’m out of here. There’s no point in studying anymore.”

You look at him and tut, “You won’t be able to play quidditch forever, James. What are you going to do once you retire?”

“Enjoy life with the boatloads of money I’ll have earned and inherited.”

Your stomach twists and you look at him with a little bit of disgust.

“Don’t like at me like that,” James pleads softly.

“I’m embarrassed for you, Potter,” you grunt, “you throw away your intelligence and hard work because money and your reputation is always there as a fallback.”

He scoffs but it doesn’t carry too much malice, “I really don’t want to hear it, Evans. Sure, you may work harder than me, and be smarter, but everyone knows Amos Diggory is set to propose to you within the month, and he’s nearly as wealthy as me.”

“I’m not dating him for his money,” you say, voice trembling.

“It certainly helps.”

“Amos is kind and sweet. He knows how to care for me, and I care for him.

James sits up entirely, looking at you, “but do you love him?”

Your heart stills as you look up at him, his hazel eyes boring into your soul, “I just said that I care for him. Pay attention!”

James reaches out, but instead of tugging your ponytail, he runs a hand over it once, “caring is not the same as loving.”

You turn away, moving his hand out of your hair, “why do you care, James?”

“I just find it odd that an Evans girl would do anything but marry for love.”

You don’t glorify him with an answer. Instead, you hand him your sketchbook, “here.”

James’ eyes soften as he takes your sketchbook into his hands, your fingers gently brushing his. His fingers trace over the gentle lines and slopes of his portrait, “this is really good. You’re really talented.”

“I just draw for fun,” you say, heat rising to your cheeks, “it’s nothing special.”

“So humble, Evans. You discredit yourself.”

He goes to hand your book back to you, and a loose page falls out.

“What’s this?”

Your eyes widen, “wait!”

James smirks and looks at you teasingly, “when did you draw this?”

You groan and put your head in your hands, “you were never supposed to see that!” Your eyes peek through your fingers, “I drew it first year, during broom class. Remember how I broke my ankle?”

He hums, “I remember. You had to sit out.”

“I drew instead. You were just one of many subjects.”

His eyes glimmer, “but you chose to keep this?”

“I guess I knew one day that we’d be good friends.”

James smile falters just slightly, almost subtly enough that you don’t notice it. You don’t mention it, instead taking the loose page back from him and shutting your book. You stare out at the glittering lake, enjoying the cool breeze on your face. If you were better at landscapes, you’d draw it. Alas, you know any drawing you’d make would do the beautiful Scottish countryside injustice.

“Don’t marry him.”

You startle and look at James, who is looking at you so intently and so pitifully that your heart clenches and your stomach drops.

“What?”

“Amos. Don’t marry him, Evans.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your hands begin to shake, “why?”

“Why? You know why?” He says desperately, almost pleadingly.

Tears spring to your eyes and you jump up. You point your trembling finger at him, “No. No. No. James. S-stop it. Stop it. You’re being mean.”

James stands up and moves closer to you, grabbing your hands, “How am I being mean?”

You rip your hands from his grasp and try to keep your lower lip from quivering, “I have been second to Lily my whole life, in everything. And I won’t be what you settle for just because you cannot have her. I won’t-“ you hiccup loudly, “I won’t do it. Not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

You turn and storm away towards the castle, a sob escaping your mouth. You clutch your shirt painfully.

“Wait! Wait!” James calls, running after you.

He grabs your wrist and you gasp as he pulls you back into his chest. Your noses are inches apart.

Gently, tentatively, he reaches his hand out to cup your face. He runs his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping your tears away.

“Please,” he says hoarsely.

“I love you. I really do. I- I thought I loved Lily, but it was just infatuation. Spending all of this time with you recently has made me realize I never really knew love at all. Not until you. I think about you all the time, even when I’m asleep. I can never take my eyes off you. And my heart pounds desperately in my chest every time you even glance my way. I’m so hopelessly and desperately in love with you. Please, please say you won’t marry him.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Every word in your brain screams for you to deny him. To make the smart choice. But your heart, your heart knows what you really want. What you need.

“James….”

He leans in and captures your lips, and you melt into his hold.

Finally.

[nhlclover]

BACKUP VALENTINE MAT BARZAL

pairing: fem!reader x mat barzal

summary: with neither of you wanting to be alone on valentines day, you and mat decide to be each other’s backup valentines.

warnings: friends to lovers, mentions of cheating, little bit of drinking (just wine)

wc: 3.44k

notes: happy belated valentines day!! i totally forgot to write a proper fic on v-day, so here it is, two days late. hope you enjoy!

The night air was crisp when you pulled up outside of Mat’s place, the sting of heartbreak and humiliation still fresh in your chest. The dim glow of his porch light flickered against the dark, casting long shadows over the sidewalk as you stepped out of the car, cradling the container of leftovers and a bottle of wine like they were the only things keeping you upright.

Your heart still felt heavy, raw in a way that only fresh heartbreak could make it. Every bitter word, every excuse he’d given you replayed like a cruel, looping soundtrack in your head. It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t think I’m ready for anything serious right now. Excuses that sounded rehearsed, lifeless, as if he’d decided long before tonight that he’d be walking away.

You swallow hard, blinking away the sting behind your eyes as you climb the short steps to Mat’s door and knock, three quick raps before you lean against the frame, exhaling shakily.

A few seconds pass before you hear the shuffle of feet, then the door swings open, revealing Mat in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair mussed, like he’d just been sprawled out on the couch. His brows knit together the second he sees your face, taking in the way your lips press tight, the way your shoulders curve inward like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

“Shouldn’t you be on a date right now?” he asks, stepping aside immediately to let you in.

You step inside without answering, toeing off your shoes as Mat closes the door behind you. The warmth of his house wraps around you, a stark contrast to the cold outside, but it does little to thaw the ache in your chest. You set the container of leftovers and the wine on the counter, fingers lingering on the glass bottle like it might anchor you.

Mat doesn’t push. He just watches, waiting, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You finally look up, meeting his dark eyes, and something in them softens when he sees the rawness still clinging to your expression.

“He ended things. Tonight. Said he wasn’t ready for something serious.” A humorless laugh bubbles out before you can stop it. “I feel like an idiot. Like I should’ve seen it coming.”

Mat shakes his head. “You’re not an idiot,” he says firmly.

You shrug, peeling off your jacket. To say you were unlucky in relationships might be the understatement of the year. Because, really, how many times could you hear the same excuse before it stopped stinging? Before it stopped feeling personal?

It wasn’t just tonight. It was a pattern, a string of almosts and what-ifs that always ended the same way — with you standing in the wreckage of another failed attempt at love, wondering if you were the problem. If you expected too much, wanted too much, cared too much.

“Anyways, I brought food.” you say, motioning to the takeout and wine.

He watches you move around the kitchen, grabbing plates and wine glasses, before sitting at the counter. He can sense the way you're holding yourself back, the subtle tension in your shoulders betraying the effort it takes to keep your emotions in check, even as the pain seems to radiate from you.

Mat twists the cork free with a satisfying pop, pouring two generous glasses before sliding one toward you. He doesn’t sit right away, just leans against the counter, fingers tapping against his own glass.

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat. “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he starts, glancing at you from beneath his lashes, “I, uh — broke up with Alyssa.”

Your head snaps up. “What? When?”

“A few days ago.” His voice is even, but there’s an edge underneath, something restrained. “She was cheating.”

Your breath catches. “Mat…”

He shakes his head before you can say more, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Yeah. Found out last weekend. Had proof. She didn’t even deny it, just—” He lets out a rough, humorless laugh. “Said she was sorry, but, you know, not sorry enough to actually not do it.”

Anger flares in your chest on his behalf. “She’s awful.”

“Yeah, well… I guess we both wasted our time on people who didn’t deserve us.”

Mat’s words settle between you, a quiet, bitter truth you both understand too well. You exhale, long and slow, before taking a sip of your wine, letting the warmth spread through your chest. The weight of the night presses against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in, but there’s something about being here, in Mat’s kitchen, that makes it a little easier to breathe.

You glance at him over the rim of your glass. “You know what the worst part is?”

Mat raises an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m gonna spend Valentine’s Day alone tomorrow, probably eating a heart-shaped pizza and watching romcoms by myself like a loser.” You sigh dramatically, setting your glass down with a thud. “Like, I didn’t even like him that much, but I had plans, you know? Now I’ve got nothing.”

Mat watches you for a moment, amusement flickering in his eyes, but then he shifts, rolling his glass between his hands. “So, don’t spend it alone.”

You blink, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Kinda late for that.”

“No, seriously. Why don’t we go out together?” Mat says.

You squint at him, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you, but Mat’s expression remains frustratingly sincere. His dark eyes hold steady on yours, any sign that he’s joking being absent.

“Like… a pity date?” you ask.

Mat scoffs, shaking his head. “No, not a pity date. More like… two people who already planned on feeling sorry for themselves tomorrow, but instead decide to eat good food and drink fancy cocktails together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That still sounds like a pity date.”

“Fine,” he concedes, throwing up his hands. “It’s a mutually beneficial evening of good food, good company, and zero expectations. How’s that?”

You hesitate. Mat’s still watching you, his expression open but unreadable, like he’s trying not to push too hard. And maybe you should say no — maybe it would be easier to wallow at home in sweatpants with unhealthy food and a tragic movie. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he genuinely wants your company, not just someone to fill the empty chair.

“C’mon, I still have a dinner reservation anyways,” he pointed out. “It’s at that place, Amalfi, and it took me forever to get a table. And I refuse to let my ex ruin a perfectly good meal.”

“You really don’t want to go alone, do you?” you ask, tilting your head.

Mat shrugs. “I could. But I’d rather go with someone who makes me laugh.”

Your stomach flips unexpectedly at that, and you force yourself to ignore it. You should say no. It would be easier, safer, to say no. But the idea of sitting at home, stewing over your own bad luck, seems unbearable now.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Fine,” you say at last. “But only because I refuse to eat heart-shaped pizza alone.”

The next evening, you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your dress, nerves curling in your stomach like a live wire. It’s ridiculous, really — there’s no reason to feel this way. It’s not a real date.

But still, you do.

You stare at your reflection, tilting your head as if you might somehow find the reason why your heart is pounding a little harder than it should. It’s just Mat. Your best friend. The guy who has seen you at your worst, who has held your hair back when you were sick and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

And yet, there’s an undeniable flutter beneath your ribs, an anticipation you can’t quite name.

You’re just putting in your other earring when you hear the doorbell ring. You take a steadying breath before making your way to the door, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress one last time. The moment you open it, you nearly forget how to breathe.

Mat stands there, looking unfairly good in a suit that fits him perfectly, the crisp lines accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. His dark hair is neatly styled, but there’s still that slightly tousled look to it, like he couldn’t quite tame it completely. His tie is loosened just a little, giving him that effortlessly put-together charm that’s always been so him.

But what truly makes your stomach flip is the way he looks at you.

His mouth parts slightly, his expression faltering as he takes you in. His dark eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, lingering on the curve of your dress, the way the soft lighting catches the shimmer of your earrings. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and for the first time in your life, you see Mat completely, utterly speechless.

“Wow,” he exhales after a beat, voice quieter than usual. “You… You look—” He stops himself, shaking his head like he can’t quite find the right words. His eyes finally meet yours again as he settles. “You look incredible.”

Heat blooms in your chest, spreading up to your cheeks. You know Mat well enough to tell he’s not just saying it to be polite — there’s something different in his voice, in the way he’s still staring at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Mat huffs a soft laugh, like he’s just now remembering how to breathe. He finally seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in, lifting his arm to reveal a bouquet of fresh flowers — soft pink roses mixed with delicate white lilies.

“For you,” he says, offering them with a sheepish grin. “Figured if we’re doing this properly, I should at least bring flowers.”

Your heart stutters. You reach out, brushing your fingers against his as you take them. “Mat…”

He shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “What? You deserve flowers.”

Something about the simplicity of the statement makes your breath hitch. You grip the bouquet a little tighter, inhaling their soft fragrance as warmth spreads through your chest. You meet his gaze again, and for a brief second, you swear there’s something different in his expression — something lingering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

But before you can dwell on it too much, Mat claps his hands together. “Alright, ready to go?” His usual easygoing demeanor is back, but there’s still a trace of something softer in his eyes.

You nod, placing the bouquet on the entry table and grabbing your coat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As you step out into the crisp night air, Mat’s hand hovers for a moment before he reaches for the small of your back, guiding you toward his car with a familiarity that makes your stomach flutter all over again.

When you arrive at the restaurant, it’s warm and intimate, the low hum of conversation mixing with the soft clinking of glasses and silverware. A candle flickers between you and Mat as you settle into your seats, the ambiance wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you place your orders. There’s never an awkward moment, never a lull where you feel the need to fill the silence. It’s always been easy with Mat, but tonight, there’s something different in the air — something you both pretend not to notice.

The wine arrives first, a deep red that gleams under the candlelight. Mat pours for both of you, raising his glass with a lopsided grin. “A toast?”

“To getting stuck with me on Valentine’s day.” you propose, clinking your glass against his.

Mat snorts, shaking his head as he takes a sip. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You open your mouth to reply, to make some quip about him being your last-minute, backup date, but Mat interrupts before you can.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you,” he says simply.

The words hang between you, soft but weighted, sinking into your chest before you even have a chance to process them. You search his face, expecting to find that teasing glimmer still in his eyes, but there’s nothing but sincerity there. No jokes, no playful smirk — just Mat, looking at you like he means every single word.

Your stomach flips, and suddenly, the restaurant feels a little too warm. You take a sip of wine to steady yourself, casting your gaze down at the flickering candle between you.

The rest of the dinner is filled with laughter and teasing. Mat makes a game out of guessing the lives of the other restaurant patrons, spinning ridiculous backstories about their relationships. You counter with even more outrageous versions, both of you trying not to laugh too loudly.

The food is incredible, the conversation even better. By the time the check comes, your stomach hurts from laughing, and your cheeks are sore from smiling so much.

Mat reaches for the bill before you can. “I got it.”

You shake your head, pulling out your card. “Mat, come on. We’re both adults. We can split it.”

He scoffs. “Not happening.”

“Mat—”

He levels you with a look, one that’s impossible to argue with. “Let me do this, okay? I want to.”

You search his expression for a moment, but there’s no smugness, no expectation — just quiet sincerity. So you let him, leaning back in your chair as he hands his card over to the server.

The night air is crisp when you step out of the restaurant, the lingering warmth of the meal and wine still settling in your veins. Mat falls into step beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as you make your way toward his car. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that doesn’t need filling.

The realization creeps in slowly, unfurling in your chest as you glance at Mat out of the corner of your eye. He looks relaxed, content even, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a way that’s not quite a smile but close enough. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his features, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the unruly strands of hair falling onto his forehead.

It’s always been easy with him. That thought lingers longer than it should.

The car ride home is quiet, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you. You steal another glance at him — really look at him this time. The way his hands grip the wheel, the way his brows furrow slightly in concentration. How at ease he seems, how at ease you feel just sitting beside him.

You don’t remember the last time a night out left you feeling this light, this warm.

A quiet sigh escapes you as you turn to look out the window, watching the familiar streets blur past. The evening had been effortless, full of laughter and shared glances that felt different in a way you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Mat pulls up outside your place, cutting the engine as the streetlights cast long shadows over the quiet neighborhood. The car falls into silence, save for the faint hum of the radio still playing low in the background. You shift in your seat, hands smoothing over the hem of your dress as you glance over at him.

“Tonight was…” You search for the right word, but everything feels inadequate.

Mat turns to face you, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. “Better than a heart-shaped pizza?”

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Much better.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something else in his gaze — something softer, something lingering. The air between you feels charged, heavy but not uncomfortable, like there’s something unspoken hanging just out of reach.

You hesitate for a second before finally unbuckling your seatbelt. “I had a really great time, Mat.”

He watches you closely, almost like he’s trying to gauge if you actually mean it. “Yeah?”

You nod, a little surprised by how much you do. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a date that didn’t feel like work. Where I could just… be myself.”

Mat blinks, like your words catch him off guard. “Well, yeah,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter. “It’s easy with us.”

Something in your chest tightens at that.

You open the car door, stepping out into the cool night air. Mat follows, shutting the driver’s side door before falling into step beside you as you make your way to the front door. He doesn’t have to walk you up, but he does anyway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

You stop at your doorstep, turning to face him. He’s standing so close now, close enough that you can catch the faintest hint of his cologne, something clean and warm that makes your stomach flutter. You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks.

“Thank you, again, I really had a great time tonight,” you say again, softer this time, as if you need him to believe it.

Mat lets out a breath, his lips pressing into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Good.” His voice is low, rough in a way that makes warmth curl in your stomach. “Me too.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick and electric. His eyes flick down to your lips — so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already doing the same to him.

He swallows, shifting his weight like he’s waging some internal battle with himself. And then, before you can say anything else, he steps forward, wrapping you in a hug.

It’s not rushed, not casual — it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you against him. You sink into it easily, your arms slipping around his waist, your cheek resting against his chest. His body is warm, solid, and you let your eyes flutter shut for just a second longer than you should.

When he pulls back, his hands linger — one resting lightly on your waist, the other brushing against your arm before finally retreating. He exhales through his nose, looking at you like he’s debating something, like he’s on the edge of something neither of you quite understand yet.

And then he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek.

Your breath catches, the warmth of his lips searing into your skin. You don’t move. Can’t move. His face is so close now, his nose almost brushing against yours as he lingers there for half a second too long.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as your eyes flick between his lips and his gaze. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and steady, and the tension between you shifts into something undeniable.

Mat’s hand comes up then, fingers curling lightly under your chin, tilting your face toward him. His touch is gentle, uncertain, but there’s something behind it.

His thumb brushes lightly against your skin, and he swallows before murmuring, “Can I?”

But you don’t let him finish the thought.

Before he can second-guess himself, before you can second-guess yourself, you close the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Mat stills for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting you to make the first move. But then his hand tightens slightly at your waist, his lips moving against yours with an aching slowness that makes your head spin.

The kiss is tentative, lingering — like the both of you are still trying to figure out what this means, where it’s going. But it doesn’t feel wrong. If anything, it feels like something inevitable, something you’ve been dancing around for longer than you even realized.

When you finally pull back, your breath is unsteady, your heart hammering against your ribs. Mat’s forehead brushes against yours, his eyes still closed, like he’s memorizing the moment before reality sets back in.

“I don’t want to be just your backup Valentine,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion.

A small smile plays at your lips. “Good. Because I don’t want this to be just one night.”

Mat exhales a laugh, shaking his head before pressing another soft kiss to your lips, like he can’t help himself. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Maybe you did. Maybe, deep down, you’d always known.

[bewaryofpity]

Prompt 2-Smut with Nico Hischier. Pretttttty please!!!!!

thank you for requesting! 🤍

2. “I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.”

.

It was the weekend before the season would start again and along with a few of his teammates and their girlfriends, you and Nico hit the bar for one last night of freedom.

He had his arm slung lazily around your middle, his body warm against yours. His fingers traced absentminded patterns on your hip, the contact both casual and possessive.

“I’m gonna grab another, baby.” You said while placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll go with you—”

“I got it,” you interrupted, sliding out of the booth before he could follow. “You just sit there and be pretty.”

He rolled his eyes but a smirk tugged at his lips. The bar was so packed you had a hard time squeezing into an open spot by the counter, setting your empty glass down and catching the bartender’s attention. You couldn’t deny that he wasn’t good looking, a guy with a boyish smirk on his lips and a sharp gaze. He noticed you almost immediately.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?”

You smiled politely. “Vodka soda, please.”

“Got it,” he said, reaching for a glass. “You here with friends?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He poured the drink, eyes flicking back to yours. “You come here often? ‘Cause I think I’d remember seeing you.”

Oh, you knew where this was going now. You laughed awkwardly, shaking your head. “Nope. Just here for the night.”

“Shame.” He slid your drink across the counter, leaning in slightly. “But I could make it a memorable one.”

Before you could respond, an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. Nico. His grip was firm but not rough, his body radiating heat. When he spoke, his voice was low, casual, too casual. “Everything good here?”

The bartender hesitated, flicking his gaze between you two, taking in his possessive stance and the hard edge to his expression. “Yeah, all good, man. Just making conversation.” He said with an annoyed tone, sliding your drink across the counter, noticeably avoiding Nico’s gaze. Before you could reach for your drink, he grabbed it, and led you towards the empty hall near the bathrooms, hand gripping tightly at your arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” You said.

“I leave you alone for two minutes and you go flirt with some loser bartender?” He exhaled, his grip tightening slightly on your arm.

You smirked, grabbing your drink from his hand and bringing it to your lips.. “You jealous, Hischier?”

But your smirk disappeared when his gaze grew darker, his grip on you not faltering. And that’s when you knew you were in trouble. He looked around before pushing the bathroom door open, dragging you inside with him. Your drink dropped to the ground as your back hit the wall, his lips against yours in a rough kiss. One of his hands trailing up from your thigh to your neck and wrapping his fingertips loosely around your throat, the other gripping your ass. You parted to get some air, panting like you ran miles.

"Turn around. Pants off.” Nico commanded gruffly, and you did as asked, turning to face the wall as you hooked your thumbs inside your jeans and pushed them down towards your knees.

A gasp left your lips as he brought a hand to your hair, pushing your head and chest towards the wall so your ass stuck out on full display for him.

You were so distracted by the way your hot body flushed against the wall, his hand still wrapped around your hair in a tight grip, that the tip of his cock brushing along your slit made you jolt. He parted your folds, rubbing himself with your slick, tip teasing your clit until you rocked back against him.

“Nico, please.” You begged, ass pressing back against him and trying to push the head of his cock inside you.

“You’re so needy, is that why you flirted with that guy, huh?” He growled as he pushed into you.

Nico gave you only a little bit before he pulled out and rocked forward once more, feeding more of his length into you on each thrust until his hips were flushed against your ass. His hips rocked at a fast pace, still holding your head against the wall. You bit your lip to hold back your cries, focusing on the sound of his hips slapping off your ass as he fucked into you.

“I bet he can’t fuck you like I can.” He whispered, lips brushing your earlobe before lightly biting it.

The way his cock was filling you up, his words, his jealousy, it all turned you on. His fingers started to play with your clit, feeling your orgasm creeping, making it harder for you to hold back your moans. He leaned down, his chest against your back as his cock filled you up and he whispered into your ear, "cum for me, baby. Show me you’re mine.”

And it all became too much and your orgasm hit hard over you as you cried out his name, while Nico emptied every drop of his frustration inside of you after a few more strokes.

Maybe you could get used to making Nico jealous if this was your punishment.

[lovelymylene]

More Hamzah fics PLEASEEEE

the BLONDE

teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

It was 2 a.m., and the whole world was quiet except for the hum of the bathroom light and the faint scratch of a record spinning in the next room. The tile was cold under her knees, and Hamzah sat on the closed toilet lid, knees spread, head bowed slightly as she ran gloved fingers through his hair. His roots had grown out, dark waves creeping past the bleach, and he had been dragging his feet about re-dyeing them. But tonight, somewhere between a lazy kiss and a cigarette on the fire escape, she had decided for him.

“You’re dramatic, you know that?” she murmured, combing through the strands, sectioning them with careful fingers.

Hamzah smirked, eyes half-lidded. “You love it.”

She did. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.

Outside, the city was restless, cars rolling slow down wet pavement, a couple arguing on the next block, a distant dog barking at nothing. But in here, it was just them. The sharp scent of bleach, the softness of his hair between her fingers, the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You always do this for yourself?” she asked, dipping the brush into the mixture.

“Yeah.” He yawned, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “Tried to get Martin to help me once, but he almost burned my scalp off.”

She laughed softly. “Well, I won’t let you go bald. Again. Hold still.”

He closed his eyes as she worked, pressing her thumb to his forehead when he leaned too far forward. The silence between them was easy, comfortable, stretching out in the dim light. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“You ever think about just keeping it natural?” she asked after a while.

Hamzah cracked one eye open, smirking. “You don’t like the blonde?”

“I like you, dumbass.” She flicked his forehead lightly. “Just wondering.”

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t know. It’s just… me, I guess. Feels like I should be like this.”

She understood that more than she could put into words.

She finished applying the dye and leaned back on her heels, peeling off the gloves. “Alright, we wait.”

Hamzah stretched, rolling his neck before grabbing her wrist and tugging her toward him. “C’mere.”

She let herself be pulled onto his lap, arms draped over his shoulders, fingers tangling loosely in the still-damp strands at the nape of his neck. He smelled like soap and bleach and cigarettes. Like him.

“You tired?” she murmured.

He hummed again, a little softer this time, forehead pressing to hers. “Not if you stay.”

She smiled, fingertips tracing lazy circles at the base of his skull. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And she meant it.

The bleach had been sitting long enough, and now it was time to rinse. She nudged Hamzah’s knee, motioning for him to stand. He groaned dramatically, stretching his arms before rolling his shoulders and stepping toward the sink.

“Alright, put your head down,” she instructed, turning on the faucet, testing the water with her fingers until it was just warm enough.

Hamzah bent over the sink, arms braced on either side. She ran her fingers through his hair as the water rushed over it, watching the bleach swirl away in pale, milky streaks. His dark roots were gone now, replaced with that familiar platinum blonde that somehow suited him so well.

“You okay?” she asked, kneading her fingertips against his scalp, gentle but firm.

Hamzah exhaled through his nose. “Feels nice,” he muttered, voice slightly muffled by the sink.

She smiled to herself, rinsing out the last bit of bleach, then reached for the towel. “Alright, you’re done.”

Hamzah lifted his head, shaking out his hair like a wet dog before she could wrap the towel around him properly. She swatted his shoulder. “You’re irritating.”

He grinned, wrapping the towel around his head like some dramatic movie star. “I’m beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, dragging him over to sit on the edge of the tub. “Sit still, I need to dry it.”

Hamzah sat obediently, hands resting in his lap as she plugged in the blow dryer. It roared to life, sending warm air rushing through his damp hair. She combed through it with her fingers, tousling it slightly, watching as the color settled in fully under the heat.

His eyes fluttered shut again, that same relaxed expression he had when she was running her fingers through his hair earlier. It was rare, seeing him this still, this quiet in a way that wasn’t wrapped in nervous energy or some joke he was waiting to deliver.

“You’re like a cat,” she said over the hum of the dryer.

Hamzah cracked one eye open. “Yeah? That’s pretty weird I’m not a cat?”

She smirked, switching the dryer off. “Nah. Just saying you like being taken care of.”

His lips parted slightly, like he was going to argue, but then he just shrugged, smirking. “Maybe I just like when you do it.”

She flicked his forehead again. “Cheesy.”

“Maybe.” He leaned back against the wall, looking up at her, brown eyes still half-lidded, long lashes casting shadows against his cheekbones. “But you like it.”

She ran her fingers through his now-dry hair, feeling the soft texture of it under her touch. He was right. She did.

But then she tugged lightly at one of the uneven strands near the back of his neck. “You need a haircut.”

Hamzah groaned, slumping dramatically against the wall. “I just got my hair done, and now you wanna chop it off? You’re fucked up.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can stop by my dad’s shop. I’ll tell him to fix it up for you.”

Hamzah immediately sat up straighter, brows lifting in mild alarm. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely nonchalant. “What, you scared?”

Hamzah rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I dunno. I feel like he already thinks I’m weird.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Why would he think that?”

He scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Because I am weird! And I always say the wrong thing! And I— I dunno, I feel like dads don’t usually like me.”

She laughed softly, leaning down a little. “Well, lucky for you, he doesn’t hate you. He actually thinks you’re funny.”

Hamzah blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she smirked. “But now that you’re all nervous about it, maybe I should warn him that you’re a weirdo before you show up.”

Hamzah groaned again, covering his face with his hands. “Forget the haircut. I’ll just grow it out, become a new person. Change my name. Start a new life.”

She tugged at his hair again. “Oh, shut up. You’re coming.”

Hamzah sighed heavily, letting his hands drop. He looked up at her again, still slightly wary. “…Fine. But if your dad actually does think I’m weird, I’m blaming you.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

I accidentally deleted something I’ve been working very hard on since last night and I’m so sick so this is very lazy but I’m so upset pls

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

[fastandcarlos]

Hot Water Bottle : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: periods are never fun, but with daniel looking after you, at least they become a little more bearable

A sigh came from you, guilt eating away at you straight away as you looked at the deep red stain that soaked into the middle of the cream sheets. With the stabbing in your stomach you had a feeling something was coming, but still you found yourself stood in surprise.

Your body cringed as the bedroom door opened, with Daniel following your eyes, he was able to join the pieces together pretty quickly.

“Y/n,” he whispered, tentatively approaching you and draping his arm across your shoulders. “Come on love, let’s sort you out.”

You allow Daniel to take a hold of your hand and lead you into the bathroom, opening up the drawer. He pulls out the pack of wipes and positions you leant against the bathtub. It doesn’t faze Daniel at all as he pulls your pyjama bottoms down so they sit around your ankles.

As much as you want to push Daniel away and not let him see you like this, the tight grip that he has on your leg leaves you with no choice but to stay. Daniel ignores your embarrassment as he gently wipes the wipe against both of your inner thighs, removing as much of the stains as he can. It shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but it’s Daniel’s way of showing you just how much he cares about you.

Your periods had notoriously been bad from day one, it was the week of the month when you were at your weakest. You hated losing the strength, the ability to do the things that you usually do, but worst of all you hated feeling as if you needed to rely on Daniel. Periods were never something that you never got used to, however Daniel was quickly learning how to deal with it all.

It was times like these when you felt most grateful for Daniel, how he’d reassure that it was no big deal and pretend like nothing had happened, although secretly you were sure that he was a little grossed out by what unfolded in front of him.

You couldn’t help but sigh when Daniel stood back from you. “I can take it from here,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to let Daniel take anymore care of you when you were such a mess.

The expression on his face was filled with sadness as he saw how embarrassed you were, unable to bring your eyes to meet his own. Daniel can’t help but worry, seeing you so unsteady, so flustered, kills him inside. He wants more than anything to be able to do more, to do whatever it takes for him to make sure that your period is as comfortable as possible for you.

He steps forward and rests his hand over the top of yours, “are you sure? I don’t mind helping you out if you need me,” he tells you, but your head shakes back at him. Daniel respects what you tell him, so instead he reaches back in the drawer and finds a hairband to be able to tie those loose, sweaty strands out of your face.

You hold onto Daniel’s arms as you push up from the bath, slowly walking towards the shower. “I promise that I’ll shout if I need you for anything.”

“You better,” he jokingly insisted. “Just take as long as you need, make the most of that hot water and try to relax for a little bit.”

“I’ll sort everything once I’m out,” you then tell him, leaning into the shower and turning the water on. You stay out for a moment as the water warms up, beginning to see the steam filling the room. “I’ll go crazy if I come out and find that you’ve tidied everything up Daniel.”

“I refuse to make any promises,” he smirked, pressing a kiss against your cheek, “even though I know your hormones are through the roof.”

Once the water feels hot enough, you lazily lift your foot up and place it into the cubicle. Daniel is there to steady you, offering you his hand as you make yourself comfortable before pulling the curtain across, acting as a barrier between you both.

“Stay in there and enjoy yourself, don’t worry about anything out here.”

“Daniel! I’m warning you!” You shouted, but he had already left the room.

After a few minutes you heard the door open again, peering around the curtain. You couldn’t help but smile as Daniel placed a clean set of comfy clothes for you on the floor before grabbing a clean towel and placing it just beside the exit of the shower for you to use.

“I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I?” You teased, turning off the water and pushing the curtain back, making Daniel jump in surprise.

“Sorry,” Daniel whispered, bending down and picking up the towel. He stretched his arm out, passing it across to you so that you could dry off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself, smiling appreciatively across at Daniel.

“I’m going to go and sort the bed out, I’ll meet you downstairs,” he then informed you, heading for the door.

You wanted to argue, but you were far too tired to even try and protest to Daniel anymore. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me. I’ll be as quick as I can,” you called out as he began to leave you alone to sort yourself out, getting comfy enough to get through the day.

“Don’t rush just for me, you need to take your time right now,” Daniel insisted, beginning to strip the bed, making sure to leave both doors open just in case you shouted for him.

“Daniel, honestly, I’m alright,” you laughed.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You weren’t quite sure where Daniel found the time from, but as you headed downstairs your living room was already kitted out for the two of you to relax in. You barely stepped into the room before a hand slipped into yours and led you across to your sofa filled with cushions and blankets.

Daniel pulls you down with him so that you’re resting against his chest. “Feeling better?” He asked whilst pressing a kiss to the top of your head, watching as you relaxed into him.

“I mean, it hurts, but I’ll be alright,” you replied, resting a hand against your stomach, “I wish more than anything that periods didn’t exist, it’s not fair that we have to suffer like this.”

Daniel nodded in agreement with you, offering a sympathetic smile. “I can boil the kettle and get you a hot water bottle if you want one?”

“You actually have one?” You asked in surprise, impressed by how prepared Daniel was for your period.

He proudly smiled, knowing he’d shocked you, “I got one just for you, I know how much they help.”

“You’re the best,” you complimented, staying exactly where you were. Daniel’s brows knitted together in confusion as you remained in your spot, as much as you wanted that hot water bottle, finding the strength to move your body from your comfortable position was another problem entirely.

Daniel reads you like a book, knowing exactly what you were trying to tell him. “I’m not a magician, I can’t magic it over here y/n.”

Your head nodded as you stretched up ever so slightly, close enough to kiss against Daniel’s jawline. It was the first time that morning you’d truly been able to show him just how appreciative you were for all of the things that he did for you. How he always took care of you without ever expecting anything in return for his kindness.

Reluctantly you lean back, and move your body back with you. “I guess I’ll let you go to get it, as long as you hurry back as quick as you can.”

“You’ll barely notice I’ve gone,” Daniel spoke as he heaved himself up, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you sunk back down into the sofa and tried to get comfortable again.

It felt like a lifetime waiting for Daniel, staring out of the window as you noticed that the day seemed as miserable as you did.

As promised, Daniel moved as quick as he could, soon returning with your prized possession. Your hands reach out, humming in thanks as you place the hot water bottle to the spot where you’re sorest to try and relieve some of your pain.

Your head tilts back in relief as soon as it hits the spot, finally feeling a little bit of comfort again. “This is so good,” you whispered to yourself.

“I’m glad I could help,” Daniel noted as he tucked himself back into your side, moving his hand to rest on the bottle and keep it in place for you.

You went to speak, but stopped yourself as you rested your head on Daniel’s shoulder. Your eyes began to flutter shut, which Daniel was quick to notice, brushing his free hand gently against the length of your arm.

Whilst you got some rest beside him, Daniel reached across and turned on the television. What played was secondary to him, with you as his priority, nothing else really mattered to him.

Every so often you shuffled, never quite being able to find that sweet spot for too long. Each time Daniel looked at you in panic, only to settle again once he realised that you were alright. As soon as you gave him that smile, he knew that things were all good with you again.

What never changes though is the feeling of Daniel watching over you, he’s never quite able to switch off from you. “Haven’t you got work or something today?” You asked, glancing up and meeting Daniel’s eyes.

“Yeah, but I’ve changed my mind on that.”

Your hand pressed against his chest, “you can’t just cancel work like that, practice it’s important to you.”

“And so are you,” Daniel shrugged, as if what he was saying was obvious, as if it didn’t need a discussion.

You went to argue but reminded yourself it was pointless, Daniel was stubborn, especially when it came to you and being the one to protect you when you were hurting.

You reluctantly moved your hand off of Daniel and laid back into his side. He chuckled proudly as you did so, nothing that that was you admitting defeat to him.

For the first time you find yourself sitting comfortably, much to Daniel’s delight. It was all that he wanted, for you to be alright.

After a few moments, Daniel breaks the silence between the two of you. “Can I get you anything else sweetheart?” He asks, pushing the hot water bottle a little bit further into your tummy for you to feel the full effect of it.

“Take the pain away?”

“I wish that I could do that my love,” Daniel smiled weakly in response.

It was wishful thinking, but at this point, you’d do anything to take the pain away and go back to being your usual, excitable self again. “You’ve already done more than enough for me today, I can’t remember how I ever survived a period without you there to lion after me.”

“It’s no problem, I do it because I love you,” Daniel reminded you, but you were already well aware, period or not, Daniel always went above and beyond in order to take care of you.

You’d heard it a thousand times, and yet it still made your heart skip a beat. “What did I do to get so lucky Mr Ricciardo?”

Daniel finds himself lost for words, unable to give you an answer. If anything, that was the question that he was always asking himself.

“I think I might try and get some sleep for a bit.”

“Go for it,” Daniel agreed, pushing you closer into his side. He assured you that he would still be there when you woke up, keeping an eye on you and making sure that you were alright, happy to get anything that you needed from him.

“You should try and rest, you won’t get much sleeping next to me and my cramps,” you teased.

Daniel did as you said, happy to close his eyes for a little bit too.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You weren’t quite sure how long your eyes were closed for, but when you woke up you found yourself back in your bedroom. The cream sheets that met you this morning were replaced with black ones, your hot water bottle was still pressed against your tummy, although seemingly it felt like it had been refilled a couple of times. Everything felt comfortable around you, the light was dim and your duvet had been pulled up so that it was nice and snug around your frame.

After a few moments, your bedroom door slowly opened. Daniel peered round, his smile growing as he realised that you were awake. His hands carried a mug of tea that he placed on the bedside table beside you. Once he had done that, he came and laid himself down beside you, brushing your hair out of your face before pressing a kiss against your forehead and snuggling as close to you as he possibly could.

He studies you momentarily, you look a lot more relaxed than you did earlier that morning when you were greeted with your mess.

You still seemed slightly unsettled, giving Daniel no choice but to press his hand against your hot water bottle and make sure that it was still hot. He was on the ball with everything, quick reactions were needed for driving in formula one, but those reactions definitely came in handy for Daniel when he was around you too.

Once again Daniel didn’t seem to take his eyes off of you, every time your expression changed he’d panic, when your hot water bottle dropped he’d pick it straight back up. You wanted to be used it, but you just couldn’t, Daniel still somehow drove you crazy, even when you were hormonal and being hit with plenty of pain.

He knew all too well that he occupied your mind too, your smile told him everything.

“Stop staring,” you laughed, jabbing your hand against his stomach as he turned to face you.

“Are you alright?”

“My period still hurts.”

Daniel hums in acknowledgement, “do you need anything? Food? Pain relief?”

“Just you,” you mused, much to Daniel’s satisfaction. “When did I even get in here?”

“Not long ago, you were starting to get restless so I thought you’d be comfy here,” he informed you.

“You should’ve woken me,” you argued, but he was having none of it, especially when you were in pain.

“You needed the rest baby.”

You hummed as he spoke, “I still feel sleepy.”

“Go back to sleep then silly,” Daniel chuckled, pecking a kiss against the rosy tint of your cheek.

Your head shook, “I feel like all I’ve done is sleep.”

Daniel paused for a moment, noticing how tired you still looked. “If it’s what you need, then it’s okay to close your eyes.”

“Will you stay here with me?”

He chuckled at the hope in your voice, “if it helps you, then of course I will.”

You nod proudly in reply, “a cuddle from you would make any situation better.”

“I’m supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way round,” Daniel joked back at you.

“You are making me feel better,” you insisted, wriggling your aching frame closer to his chest.

Daniel’s hand came up to run through your hair, “and you’re absolutely sure that I can’t do anymore?”

There was a moment before your reply as a quick yawn escaped from you. “I promise that I’m all good, unless you can take my period away completely.”

“I wish,” Daniel sniggered, moving his other hand to wrap around you and keep you as tight to him as possible.

Silence came into the room as the two of you settled. It took you a moment to find that position that felt comfortable enough to close your eyes, and Daniel waited patiently for you to do so, moving with your body and giving you as much attention and understanding as he could.

“Sleep well beautiful.”

“Daniel,” you whispered as you heard his faint voice, “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

Daniel nodded against the top of your head, “I do baby, just as much as I love you.”

You immediately shook your head, “no, I’m sure that I love you a little bit more.”

“No way,” Daniel chuckled, knowing exactly where things were going. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

You tapped against his chest, “are you telling a hormonal woman that she’s in the wrong?”

Daniel pondered for a moment as he realised what you were hinting at, “no…I would never do that.”

“Good, because I love you the most,” you smirked, settling back down again. “Sleep well Daniel.”

“And you, my love.”

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[moonstruckme]

remus x touch starved! reader ❤

i want him to hug me so badly 😭

<3

Me toooooooo! Unsure if this was a request but thanks for sending and potentially for requesting haha <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 707 words

Remus’ foot is touching yours. It’s incidental, thoughtless. You’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other as you both read your books, only you’re not reading anymore because all of your attention has been stolen by the way your boyfriend’s foot is lightly pressing yours into the back cushion. The slightness of the contact, the smallness of it, it isn’t nearly enough, and yet you don’t think you could take any more. 

The other side of the couch seems a thousand miles away. 

“You alright?” Remus asks. You look up to find him studying you over the top of his book. 

“Mhm. Why?” 

“You just seem like you might be cold.” You look at him bemusedly, and he nods to the blanket around your shoulders. “You’ve wrapped yourself up fairly tightly there.” 

You look down. You’re holding the blanket closed with a near vice-like grip, cocooning yourself in warm snugness. 

“Oh.” You ease your grasp on it. “Sorry, I didn’t even notice.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Remus replies easily, sitting forward and clasping a hand around your ankle. “Should I go turn the heater up?” 

Every nerve in your being has directed its attention to your ankle, your boyfriend’s fingers braceleting it loosely, casually. One finger moving slowly up and down as though to placate you. Your chest aches terribly. 

Some of it must show on your face, because Remus frowns. “What is it?” 

“What?” 

“You look upset.” He leans forward, his touch coasting up to your knee. His frown deepens. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You close your eyes, feeling silly. Shake your head. “Sorry, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“It’s really stupid.” 

Remus shushes you admonishingly. “I doubt that. Will you tell me?” 

“It’s just…” You push out a breath, not quite able to look at him. “It is, it’s silly. I feel like I miss you, but you’re right here.” 

Remus gives you a contemplative look, his lips downturnt. You almost want to laugh just so he’ll take you less seriously. You feel far too exposed. 

“That doesn’t sound silly,” he says after a moment. “I think…I know what you mean, sometimes. Maybe there’s something we’re missing.” 

“Like what?” you ask helplessly. 

He considers you. “Could we have a hug?”  

Now you do laugh. “Yeah,” you say, though you don’t move. “Of course, whenever you want.” 

“Whenever you want, too,” Remus reminds you. He takes the initiative, setting his book down and moving across the couch toward you. 

His arms come around you almost tentatively, one hand moving across your back while the other settles itself between your shoulder blades. You give a little shiver at the contact, and he strengthens his hold, your own fingers bunching in the material of his jumper. That ache in your chest begins to feel like a sort of fracturing. 

“I might cry,” you warn him wobbily. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Remus’ surprised chuckle jostles the first couple of tears out of you. “Oh, sweetheart.” He palms the back of your head. “I’ll try not to, but are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah.” You clutch him tightly. “This helps.” 

“Okay,” he says softly. 

Remus lets you cry it out. He holds you, shuffles closer on the couch, presses his lips to the top of your head. When you’re done and you pull away to press a salty kiss to the corner of his lips, he picks up your fallen blanket and draws it around the both of you. 

Your legs are all tangled together, bent knees and coarse hairs and the jut of an ankle bone into your hip. Remus looks into your eyes with a steady fondness. 

“Do you feel any better?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “Sorry, thank you.” 

“Why are you always sorry?” There’s a bit of teasing in his voice now, softened by the brush of his lips against your nose. “You can always ask for hugs, you know. You should.” 

“Okay.” 

“I want you to.” 

“Okay.” Your face feels warm, but you feel a thousand times lighter. “I will.” 

“Good.” He gives you a little smile. “Can we do another now?” 

“Remus,” you smile back at him, “I’m really fine.” 

“I believe you. This one’s for me.”

[drak3n]

ELECTRICIAN!TOJI

CONTENT WARNINGS: fwb to lovers trope, fluff, smut, he fucks you in your kitchen, single dad!toji, he’s a little possessive, reader is implied to be a bit younger than him (5+years)

sena’s note: i was going to write mechanic!toji first but changed my mind after seeing too much of that on tumblr. tattoo artist/piercer!choso is up next!

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who was going to enjoy a saturday home with his preschooler, having told his employer specifically that he wasn’t going to take any jobs today

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who ended up getting an onslaught of calls by said employer anyway and nearly slammed his fist into his phone screen if it wasn’t for megumi sitting next to him and watching a cartoon on the tv

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who grimly pulled up to your house in his car with megumi sitting in the back, carrying a toolbox in one hand and holding megumi’s hand with the other

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI whose scowl faltered at the sight of you opening the door, looking nervous yet thankful at the same time; who couldn’t deny that your little smile tugged at his heartstrings

“i’m so sorry, sir. i wouldn’t have insisted for your employer to send someone if i had known—”

this was the fifth time in a row you’d apologized to the man while he was busy checking your outlets and wirings. he had immediately noted that the outlets you were using were burning hot, his nose picking up on a faint burning smell you were somehow oblivious of.

megumi was seated on your couch, kicking his chubby legs as he chewed on a chocolate bar you had handed him after his daddy agreed.

“it’s good that you insisted, ma’am. check this out,” his gruff voice cut you off as he beckoned you over with his finger to check behind a loose outlet in your bedroom. you gasped as you bent over, just to see a cable inside the outlet that was severely melted and had darkened in color. “that… i never plugged anything in that lately. how did that happen?”

toji set his toolbox down on the floor next to the outlet, shaking his head at how the outlets were wired in this apartment. whoever was here last, or at all, had done a shitty ass job, that was for sure. “when’s the last time you had an electrician over?”

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who gaped when you told him you never hired an electrician ever since you had moved into this place, which was a little over two years ago

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who felt bad about the state your place was in and how clueless you were, and did something he never thought he’d do — pausing when he spotted your leaking tab in the kitchen, and fixing it as well without expecting anything in exchange, earning himself a million words of gratitude

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who noticed how sweet you were to megumi, offering him snacks and talking to him about school and his friends, and who soon found out that you worked with children

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who left your place the same evening after having denied a hefty tip — something he had never done once in his life — and having gotten invited to come over for dinner next saturday along with his little boy to repay him with a homemade, nice meal =)

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who found himself coming over more often, with or without megumi, and whenever it was the latter, it ended with him being balls-deep inside of you at some point

“t—toji, r—right there! fuck, so good!”

the older, bulky man took it as a sign to dive his hips harder into your tiny body as he bent you over the kitchen counter. he could tell you had never really been satisfied by a man before. it was no wonder; men your age just couldn’t do it the way an experienced and older man like him could.

the harsh fabric of his work pants rubbed against your bare ass with every thrust, and you mewled and squealed as his thick cock hit that one spot inside of you repeatedly.

“mhm? say what, princess?” his veiny, calloused, huge hands were on either side of your head and your hole tightened embarrassingly at that. toji was a sexy man, and he fucking knew it. guys your age could never compare to who was rearranging your guts right now.

“never… never had a dick as—good as yours!” you were sobbing at this point, delirious from the pleasure he was giving you. “n—no one ever fucked me this— shit! ‘m cumming!”

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who explicitly told you he wasn’t the type to commit, that he was the type to hook up and move on; and who was first delighted that you didn’t seem to mind fucking with no strings attached either

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who soon grew displeased when he came over one day to see a shirt that was not his (it was obviously too small for his muscular built) in your room

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who never fucked you any rougher than he did on that day, and who didn’t even look into your face once

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who stopped visiting you in hopes of forgetting you, knowing it was just him thinking with his dick whenever you crossed his mind, who denied having actually grown fond of a woman’s entire being and not just her pussy

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who begrudgingly came to the realization that he couldn’t look at other women the same anymore after he met you; who would always lower his gaze when other female clients who were obviously attracted to him tried to show off their bodies or charm him, which left him cold and unaffected

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who ditched his useless pride for once and showed up in front of your door one noon to take you out properly, and not spend time in your shitty and malfunctioning apartment

[mapiforpresident]

Hi, Can i request a songfic? with the lyrics from „i cant help falling in love with you“ with R having to pick up drunk Leah or drunk Alexia (or Mapi choose whoever you want) from a party with their teammates and Alexia/Leah or Mapi tells R just how much she loves her in front of her teammates? And later a bit suggestive maybe? If its ok ofc. Love ur fics btw. Have a good day, evening or whatever

I Can't Help Falling in Love with You

Leah x reader

warnings: alcohol

~~~

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this situation. The party had started innocently enough, a celebration with Leah and her teammates after a long and hard-fought match. Everyone was letting loose and enjoying themselves. But somewhere between dancing to terrible pop songs and having a few drinks, things went from fun to... chaotic.

When you received the call, you didn’t expect to hear Leah’s slurred voice on the other end.

“Heyyyy, babe…” Leah hiccuped, the background noise loud with laughter and music. “I... hic I think I need your help.”

You frowned, looking around your living room where you had just gotten comfortable after a long day. “What’s going on, Le? You okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m… I’m fine, but, um, I can’t find the hic keys to the Uber… and I need to get home…” She paused, and you could hear her giggle faintly. “Also, I might have had a few too many drinks and... I might be in love with you… just, you know, casually telling you now. In case you didn’t know. I really love you.”

You smiled softly at her words, but you couldn’t help the concerned feeling rising in your chest. “Leah, where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“Right here! At the party… with my teammates… just… hic come and get me, yeah? I hic miss you…” Her voice was soft, almost tender, and you could hear the affection in it.

With a sigh, you grabbed your jacket and your keys. “Stay put, I’m on my way.”

When you pulled up to the party venue after looking at Leah's find my iphone, it was clear that Leah wasn’t the only one who had overdone it. The place was loud and filled with Leah's teammates, most of them either dancing, laughing, or finding their own corners to relax. You spotted Alessia first, sitting with Kyra and Vic at a table with drinks in hand.

But you didn’t see Leah.

Your heart skipped a beat as you walked toward them, trying to keep your cool. “Hey, have you seen Leah?” you asked, voice steady.

Alessia looked up at you with a half-smile, eyes slightly hazy. “She’s, uh, sitting in the corner by the window… She might have had a little too much to drink, but you know how she gets. She’s a mess.”

Kyra snickered, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way through the crowd, weaving in and out of people until you finally saw Leah.

She was sitting on a couch, her head resting on her hand as she looked up at you with wide eyes.

“There you are!” Leah smiled drunkenly, her voice soft and sweet. “I knew you’d come… I really missed you… you look so beautiful tonight. I love you so much. You have no idea.”

You felt your heart swell as you crouched in front of her, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Le, come on, let’s get you home, yeah? You’re not in any condition to be out here anymore.”

“No, no,” she protested, shaking her head. “I’m not done having fun. You… you know what’s so crazy? I can’t help it... I just keep falling in love with you over and over.”

You raised an eyebrow, not able to resist teasing her. “Leah, you’re drunk.”

“I know,” she said, her smile softening. “But I love you. I love you so much, you have no idea how much.”

“I love you too, Leah,” you said, your voice soft. “But let’s get you home first, okay?”

She beamed, pulling you into a soft kiss that caught you by surprise. When she pulled away, she looked up at you with stars in her eyes.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me too.”

“Maybe,” you teased. “But we’re getting you home now, okay?”

Leah giggled, nodding as she stood up, swaying slightly. “Okay… just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll still love me tomorrow, when I’m not drunk and I can remember all of this.”

You chuckled softly, guiding her toward the door. “I promise.”

As you led her out of the party and into the night air, you couldn’t help but smile at how crazy your relationship had been from the start, how it was always filled with moments of pure chaos, and yet, in that chaos, you were constantly reminded of just how much you loved her.

And maybe, just maybe, Leah was right—you couldn’t help falling in love with her either.

~~~

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