#than ever in the places they used to all be with each other

[darkmatilda]

𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer genuinely can't believe that you're being kind to him. and you—well, you weren’t ashamed to admit that seeing him with the child had just a little melted your heart.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, a very fleeting mention of the babysitter kidnapper, but other than that, the fluffiest shit ive ever written (don't get used to it) (love them so much shshaha its unhealthy) (spencer performing MAGIC TRICK!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by lovely @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat love you so much you have no idea

The yellow Ford Falcon XB was reaching its record speed, slicing through the racetrack like a released arrow, emitting that signature mechanical growl and drawing dozens of captivated gazes.

At least, that’s how it looked through the eyes of a six-year-old.

Through Spencer’s eyes, it was just a toy car being pushed across the wooden surface of the table by a small hand.

The boy’s brown hair nearly touched his shoulders, and he wore a blue soccer jersey with a number on the back. His gaze wasn’t curiously darting around the office where they were alone—it was fixed solely on his favorite toy.

Reid watched him in silence for a moment, letting him play in peace before starting the conversation he, unfortunately, had to initiate.

For some time now, they had been working on a case involving the abduction of babysitters—each disappearing while on the job, vanishing after leaving the house with the children they were watching. Whether heading to the park, the playground, or a store, that was the only variable. The rest of the details were so methodical, so patterned, that there was no doubt they were dealing with a serial offender.

"Liam," he began, drawing the boy’s green eyes to him.

Spencer didn’t feel comfortable in this role. He never considered himself particularly gifted when it came to interacting with children—which was strange, considering everyone around him seemed to think otherwise. Especially since the arrival of his godson, Henry, had given him more opportunities for it.

"My name is Spencer, and…I’d like to talk to you for a moment."

He paused. The boy's face took on an odd expression; he didn’t respond, just looked at him with a certain shyness. Spencer hesitated, opening his mouth only to close it again.

All the previous babysitters had been taken the moment they looked away, leaving the children alone. From a child’s perspective, it must have been confusing. One moment, their beloved babysitter was with them, and the next, uniformed officers arrived, whisking them away to a place where more strange adults asked them strange but gentle questions.

For example, if they saw anything strange.

Strange? The children never really understood what that meant. After all, they had just been playing at the park like they did every afternoon. What could possibly be strange about that?

Spencer sighed. He didn’t want to bombard the boy with questions that would, at best, earn him a nod or a shake of the head. If he wanted answers—testimony (though the word felt absurd when referring to a six-year-old)—he’d have to take a different approach. He needed Liam to open up naturally. Even if it took a little longer.

"Is that a Falcon XB?" he asked, deliberately exaggerating his interest as he nodded toward the toy car teetering at the edge of the table. He moved around to take a seat beside the boy, slouching slightly. It always seemed easier to talk to kids when they were at the same eye level. "Can I see it?"

Liam stared at him for a moment before nodding.

Spencer carefully picked up the toy. His hesitation wasn’t just about earning the boy’s trust—though that was important. No, the real reason for his reluctance was the fact that, just five minutes ago, he had watched Liam absentmindedly shove the car into his mouth, biting down on its yellow surface.

"It’s really cool. Is it your favorite?" he asked, trying to push aside the thought of bacteria. The countless, countless bacteria.

There are an estimated 700 different species living in the human mouth…

Liam nodded again.

Focus, Reid. Cars, not bacteria.

"Did you know the original Falcon XB had an engine that let it reach over 220 kilometers per hour? It was so popular in Australia that the police used it for high-speed chases."

The boy studied him in silence for a moment, but Spencer could tell he had his attention.

“So…it’s a police car? Why doesn’t it have a siren?”

“The ones used by the police did," Spencer explained. "They also had lights on the roof so they could chase criminals. You know, yours might not have them because…”—he lowered his voice—“…it’s actually a secret police car.”

Liam frowned, clearly not following. “A secret police car?”

Spencer nodded.

“Used for undercover missions,” he continued. The boy’s full attention was locked onto him now—he must’ve hit on something that really fascinated him. “By secret agents, so they wouldn’t be noticed. And when they really need to…”

He glanced at Liam out of the corner of his eye, making sure the boy was still watching him closely. Once he was sure he had him hooked, Spencer clasped his hands together, concealing the Hot Wheels car between them. He held them still for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

Then, finally, he pulled them apart—revealing nothing but empty palms.

“…it disappears.”

  The boy’s mouth fell open in amazement, gasping. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the sight, even though, to him, it was nothing impressive. He had done this trick hundreds of times—it was so simple. And yet, there was something oddly satisfying about watching the boy’s reaction, seeing how intently he studied Spencer’s hands, completely baffled by the disappearance of his toy.

Then suddenly, in the middle of it all, Spencer felt someone watching him.

He shifted his gaze toward the doorway, toward the figure standing in the threshold—the sight of whom caused his smile to falter. Not out of displeasure, but more out of surprise. And it wasn’t just her presence that caught him off guard. Lately, they had been running into each other in the most unexpected situations, to the point where he was starting to get used to it. What he wasn’t used to was the expression on her face.

By now, he had memorized the looks she most often wore around him—irritation, sarcasm, playful exasperation. But the way her head tilted slightly to the side, the faint curve at the corner of her lips, and the softness in her eyes didn’t fit into any of those categories. 

 Spencer felt his shoulders tense. He wasn’t sure if he had always been this paranoid or if it was a newly acquired trait—maybe one tied specifically to her—but a sense of unease settled over him. Before standing up to approach her and find out what she wanted, he cleared his throat and turned back to Liam one last time. He placed his hand behind the boy’s ear, pulling out the toy car as if it had been hidden there all along.

“I’ll be back in a moment, alright?” he informed him.

The boy didn’t even look at him, completely engrossed in examining the car from every angle, as if truly believing it could vanish on command. Spencer found himself smiling again. But that expression faded entirely when he stepped closer to the woman leaning against the doorframe. She shifted slightly backward into the hallway—probably to keep their conversation out of the child’s earshot.

“You know,” she started before he could say anything, raising her eyebrows slightly.

She lifted something in her hand—something Spencer hadn’t even noticed before, too focused on analyzing the look on her face. That suspicious look on her face. It was a plastic box of crayons.

“When JJ ran into me in the hallway, shoving this into my hands and begging me to find Spence and give it to him, I was a little confused. But now I get it.”

She nodded toward the boy.

Spencer instinctively followed her gaze, mirroring its path. At the same time, she shoved the box of crayons into his hands. Caught off guard, he had to grip it tightly to keep from dropping it. She then crossed her arms over her chest.

He glanced at her face once more and suddenly sighed, finally realizing what this meant.

“Oh, well, let me guess,” he began, rolling his eyes upward. “Because you had to deliver this to me, you now expect something in return. And you won’t tell me what, you’ll just keep me in suspense for the next few weeks, casually reminding me that I owe you, until eventually, you demand something absolutely ridiculous.”

He spoke with confidence, convinced of his theory. But as a prolonged silence settled between them, he started to doubt it. Especially when she averted her gaze for a moment.

Someone might think she was crafting a particularly sharp retort—he himself considered it for a second—until he realized she never needed time to think of a comeback. When talking to him, they rolled off her tongue at machine-gun speed.

Another brief glance toward the boy.

"This is about the case with the kidnapped babysitters, isn’t it?" she asked, completely ignoring his entire speech. "I heard something about it. The kid—he's okay?"

Spencer didn't hide his surprise at the question. It took him a moment to realize that it was completely natural in this situation—almost anyone would have asked it. Maybe it was just the rare trace of concern in her voice that caught him off guard.

“Um… yeah…yeah, he's okay,” he stammered, his tongue suddenly twisting over the words. He had no idea why. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the strange fog in his brain.

“I mean, I was just about to talk to him, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t see anything. Same as in the previous cases. This unsub doesn’t…doesn’t hurt kids.” Suddenly, he became aware of the weight of the crayons in his hands, remembering them again. He added, “And, uh, thanks for this. When we work with kids, we often give them paper and crayons. Sometimes it’s easier for them to draw something than to say it out loud.”

She let out a sound—a hum—suggesting that she understood.

He caught himself mentally keeping track of time. They were probably breaking a record for how long they had gone without arguing. Or at least without one of them slipping in a tiny jab at the other.

He was experiencing so-called cognitive dissonance.

“So, they stuck you with babysitting duty today?” she asked. Before he could respond, she let out a quiet snort. “Well, no surprise there.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer frowned. “By the way, this isn’t a common thing. I’m not particularly good with kids. Usually, they assign someone else for this, like—”

“I’m not particularly good with kids,” she repeated, her voice laced with mockery.

Oh. So they were back to their usual dynamic.

“Congratulations. You heard me correctly.”

“I know I did,” she shot back, sharper this time. “I just don’t agree. I watched you two for a moment. You are good with kids. Didn’t you see how excited he was when you did that trick?”

“He was just surprised. I made his toy disappear.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s a kid whose babysitter was just…” She mouthed the word kidnapped, only her lips forming the shape of it. “Something he might not fully grasp, but still—he was taken to a completely unfamiliar place, away from his parents. And instead of being terrified, he’s calm, even fascinated by what you showed him. So, like I said, you are good with kids.”

Spencer listened to her explanation, an odd feeling creeping over him. A kind of uncertainty, like she couldn’t possibly be talking about him. He almost wanted to turn around, check if someone was standing behind him, if the words were meant for someone else. But he didn’t—because, strangely, even moving felt difficult at that moment.

“Anyway,” she murmured suddenly, breaking the prolonged silence between them. “I’ve got to go. And don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything this time. I’ll let you off the hook—just this once.”

Before she left, she focused on his face one last time. That strange expression was still there—the same one from the beginning of their conversation, the one that had thrown him into cognitive dissonance. That strange expression that, maybe, was… something kind?

He returned to Liam, so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the boy watching him for quite some time. He gave a small nod, pulling himself back to reality, back to the case at hand.

“She’s your friend?” Liam asked, his gaze drifting to where the woman had just been standing.

Spencer set the box of crayons down on the table, within the boy’s reach. He considered the question for a moment. He decided, however, that a six-year-old didn’t need the complicated details of their relationship.

“Yes.”

A brief silence followed his—well, lie.

“Really pretty.”

Laughter gathered in his chest. It was, in its own way, charming—the infatuation hidden in his shy words.

"Yes," he nodded gently. "I mean, she knows that” 

"Because you told her?"

He hesitated at those words, genuinely unsure of what to say. Fortunately, the boy wasn’t waiting for an answer. For a moment, his green eyes locked onto the toy car still sitting on the table, then back to Spencer, full of silent request.

"Can you teach me that trick?"

*

"Okay, buddy. Don’t stress. You’ve got this. Good luck."

Spencer patted the boy on the back. Liam gave a small nod, as if gathering courage, then hesitantly made his way toward the woman.

At the sight of a child suddenly at her feet, her eyebrows lifted high. She crouched down, asking him something in a soft voice.

Liam held out both fists, the yellow toy barely fitting in one of them. It was obvious where it was hidden, yet the woman pretended to consider her choice carefully before pointing at one hand.

Proud of himself, he revealed both empty palms—then pulled the toy car from behind her ear.

Her lips stretched into a wide smile, exaggerated in surprise. Then, she sought out his gaze, holding it for a lingering moment—just long enough for Spencer to realize he was smiling too.

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity

Sylus x Non!Mc

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: thank you for the love in the previous chapter 🥹

Link to Part 1

It's been a month or two since the last time you've been with Sylus. It saddens you that the time you get to spend together is cut short, only seeing each other at night when he pleases to have dinner or greet you goodnight.

You asked Luke and Kieran about what's happening, but they don't know either. They just know it has something to do with Miss Hunter, about Aether Core, about something that you have very little knowledge about. You mentally noted to search about it later.

“He is very grumpy lately,” Luke said, "He was glaring at us like he wants to skin us alive whenever me and my twin are being a little louder than normal.”

"The only one safe from his anger is Miss Hunter,” Kieran added. "I don't appreciate that Boss is playing favorites in our team.”

You tried not to let out a shaky breath. Luke noticed and he had to elbow Kieran to make him shut up.

"Sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile. "It's okay. I'll try and catch Sylus one of these days. I'll talk to him.”

The twins scurry away while arguing. They think they offended you and they are passing on the blame with each other.

On normal days, it's not easy to get you offended but lately, every little thing just makes you … sensitive.

Maybe it started when you wanted that crow brooch that is neatly placed on Sylus's table …

When you asked him for it he just said, “It's for Miss Hunter,"

He took it from your hand. Albeit gently, it still weighed heavy in your heart.

You know you don't always get your way but with the little seeds of jealousy slowly growing in your heart, it's easy to feel hurt and feel neglected.

You just wanted that damn brooch and you know that he can buy another piece. Or even make you a custom-made one, one that is more inclined on your taste.

You took a deep breath.

Sylus is stressed. You know that and it's not right to add more to his burden. It's just a brooch after all.

“I-I didn't know, but when you have the time to grab one, remember me, okay?” you said.

"Next time, sweetie.” He replied and quickly went back to reading reports.

You don't know if he took your words seriously, but you have enough faith in him to trust that he did.

Or maybe the disappointment started when you wanted to go to Linkon.

There's a newly opened arcade shop that you're really itching to go.

Normally, Sylus would agree and watch you play. He's not the best when it comes to the claw machine, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when he rejected your offer. Not only that, the answer that followed chipped away at your heart little by little.

“Me and Miss Hunter already went there. It's not as fun as the other ones you've tried. You're just gonna waste your time there. Not even new plushies,” he even had the audacity to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed like he didn't think before speaking or he didn't see anything wrong with what he said.

Truthfully, there is none. The logical part of you knows he didn't say anything wrong. But for fuck's sake! Really telling your girlfriend that you went to the arcade with another woman? That's new. That's not something she expected of Sylus.

“You went with her?" you asked. You're anticipating his answer. Praying it's something logical. Something acceptable.

Please tell me it has something to do with those missions.

He looked at you, trying to see what's in your mind but you didn't show anything. Blocking any negative emotions from seeping on the cracks of your face. You tried to look as curious and as genuine as you can be.

Thankfully, he believed that.

“Yes. We went there after getting some intel around the area. She dragged me inside and she played until her heart's content. I remembered she went home with that crow plushie with a bib. She looked happy,"

You almost wanted to scoff at his face. You wanted that plushe as well, he seemed to forget about that. If it's only about the plushie maybe you can push down these negative feelings but here he is looking so endeared while saying that. As if he's not talking to his girlfriend.

Patience. Patience.

“I see. Good for her.” you said. "I also want that crow stuffed toy. Good thing to know they have them."

You tried giving him a hint. It's not like you to make anyone guess what's on your mind.

But then there's silence. And a beep on his phone. He tore his gaze away from you and your statement long forgotten.

At that point, you're holding yourself together trying not to scream and yell at him.

Maybe that's where it started. Maybe it's when you know that the distractions were not just caused by the missions but by Miss Hunter herself.

==

You sighed. It's evening and Sylus is still nowhere to be found. You texted him but you're met with silence. You wanted to call, but you hesitated. It feels like you don't have the right to do it.

Worry starts gnawing at you when Luke and Kieran hurriedly go out. They didn't even have the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Minutes kept ticking, and you heard it.

Explosions.

Your heart stopped and you wanted to run to where it was because something tells you that Sylus is there. He's in danger.

But before you can even step out of the base, Sylus's men stopped you.

“Boss’s orders to not let the Madame go out when the mission is in full swing. Please wait for him here."

You wanted to pull your hair out. You're trembling with worry but anywhere you go, someone will stop you. You can't even sneak out because that will surely trigger the alarms.

With a heavy heart you slumped on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Sylus what is happening when are you coming home!” you muttered to yourself.

You kept pacing and pacing every second seemed to last a lifetime.

Until the door opened.

And there he was, shirt torn, hair deshiveled and a few scratches on his body.

"Thank God you're alive!” you exclaimed and caught his heavy body before he lost consciousness.

"Sylus? Sylus!” you tried shaking him, but he won't wake up.

You settled him on the couch and grabbed the nearest first aid kit you can reach. Sylus might have the fastest regeneration in the world but it won't ease your worries about the small cuts that still remains on his body.

You tried suppressing your tears seeing him like this but you just can't. As you press the cotton on his cuts, you can't help but open your mouth and nag him about being careless.

“I know you think that this body is invincible, but please be careful! You need to come home to me. You have to come home to me. No matter how I'm annoyed at you right now, you don't have the rights to make me worry like this.”

“What's so important in that mission that you exhaust yourself like this? What's so important about Miss Hunter that you're willing to do such great lengths?"

You know that he can't hear you, but still you talked to him until you calmed down and ask his men to help you settle him in bed after changing him. You called the physician to check him up for anything. You kept yourself busy to shrugg of the nerves but those questions still linger in your head.

Sylus is a strategist even though he looks smug and arrogant. He carefully plans everything and tries to move in quiet only letting the results speak for themselves.

But this? This is not the usual.

Explosions everywhere and declaring a full on war with his enemies is not his style. You know that there's nothing really beneficial for him in this deal with Miss Hunter.

You managed to understand a bit about what their goals are. Getting that Aether core for Miss Hunter.

Tough mission, yes. But Sylus won't grab it if he won't benefit from it. And that's what you're left puzzled with. Sylus is a businessman, everything should be give and take.

So? What's in it for him?

==

You didn't expect the answer to voluntarily come to you. You went to his study to look for something or anything that you can help him with now that he's still unconscious when you stumbled upon a journal.

You thought it was not Sylus's. You never see him as someone who will write down his thoughts but you were dead wrong.

You opened it expecting it to be a list of things related to Onychinus, but you were greeted with phrases, sentences and some sketches about Miss Hunter.

You read each of them, it was a jumble of words. You almost thought it was a fairytale.

Past lives.

Dragon and Sorceress.

Kindred Spirits.

Energy Linkage.

Sweet Evil Trap.

All of it is too much. Too much for your poor little heart to take. And from what you understood, Miss Hunter is from his past. Someone who has a part of his soul.

Someone he waits for.

And the bitter realization although still unfounded, you concluded that maybe she's someone he still loves.

But what about you? What's your place in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful.”

Those lines ring in your ears. Sylus always say that to everyone but you. You thought that maybe you are an exception. That you're not someone disposable to him because you matter.

And as you soak up all the information that you knew, you started to doubt yourself as well.

note: aaackkk thank u for reading lemme know your thoughts! Part 3 soonest!

[katiascraft]

Hi!! Sorry to bother you with a request. Can you make some angsty with miscomunication with happy ending where lando and reader are best friends and kinda like a thing but at the same time he is kinda with magui and then after a while lando and reader start dating and then dts Its drop and she finds out that magui was there when she trough They were already over? Very specific he he and im not good at english im sorry and thank you!

hey anon! I loved this idea sooooo much. i was already thinking about something like this so thank you so very much for your request! and sorry it took this long for me to write it :( i hope you enjoy it <3 (pss your english is very good and your requests will never bother me, they make me happy!) (also I hope it makes sense)

﹙LN4﹚ ── ❝ almost, always ❞

summary: this chapter of y/n’s life is about how lando said there was nobody else for him but then she appeared.

warnings: i used reckless by madison beer to write this one and traitor by olivia rodrigo :( and cried a lot. very angsty. but a happy ending after all. cursing. cheating. insults. please use your imagination along the ride! not proofread.

blog masterlist

You and Lando have been the best of friends since forever. Your older brother, Dante, went to school with George Russell and he has always been really supportive of his driving career. Since you have memory you were playing around at the karting competitions in different places of england and then europe. All of your family was really close to George's family so no doubt you were going to be there for him when he started racing in F2. and that’s exactly when you and Lando met. He was a cute little guy. But a handsome teenager with the most contagious laugh and sparkly ocean blue eyes. You knew that since then, that very first day of competition, you were in love with him.  

And Lando knew it too. He knew the moment he saw your sweet and shy smile directed at him there was no coming back to where things were. You changed his life. You showed him how it was like to love someone. The sun was behind you and it made you look like an angel in his teenage eyes. You were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. So he knew he didn't have a chance. He kept his feelings and thought that he should be thankful you even talk to him. But you didn’t just talk to him just for talking. You built this magical bond full of love, understanding, admiration. It was healthy. It was safe.

You were inseparable, unbreakable and above all, untouchable. Everyone could see the chemistry. The sparks coming out of you. You had the kind of bond that made people think ‘they must be something more than just friends’. But you both were too scared to do anything about it. You just enjoyed each other's company and it was beautiful that way.

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

Nowaday things between you two are completely different but you were more than sure that if there was a chance to travel back in time, you would. And you would change everything that ruined everything. All the wrong decisions. All the stupid feelings. Her. you would more than gladly erase her. And maybe even erase him too.

Because even though he brought so much joy and love in your life, he also brought a lot of pain and insecurity. He was once your safe place but now you want to be as far away from him as possible. You’re no longer on speaking terms anymore. 

situationships suck ᝰ.ᐟ

(beginning 2023 - middle 2024)

You had convinced yourself what you felt for him was normal. That your heart racing every time he was too close was normal. That the way he looked at your lips when he talked to you was also normal. That the way he looked for you in the crowd every podium was normal. That the way butterflies went in circles in your stomach was normal. That your happiness was coming from his happiness was normal. 

It must be because he has a girlfriend. Luisa. And you like her, right? 

His touch didn’t burn your skin. His fingers didn’t trace circles in them when he was anxious. He didn’t whisper in your ear everytime he was nervous. He didn't ask his team to specifically be allowed to be at the garage close to him. He didn’t introduce you to every single member of the team and everybody knew you. He didn ‘t do all of that when she wasn’t around… because she wasn’t around and you were. 

Lando didn’t know what to do with his feelings. She was his best friend, the girl who got him in and out, through and through. She knew everything about him. She listened. She smiled at him in the sweetest way and made him gifts. When she was around she was the only person that mattered. And sometimes he forgot he had a girlfriend whether she was around or not. It was her, always. But he was a coward and didn’t believe she liked him back that way. She was gorgeous and he was just a dude. He wasn’t special the way he thought she was.

For him, it has always been you. But fear was a cruel thing. He didn’t wanna lose you. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wouldn’t forgive himself. 

So he played along as the loving and caring boyfriend with luisa when you were the only thing in his head. He preferred to stay in your safe bubble of almosts and what ifs rather than fuck it up with you. 

Until that night. The night he knew he couldn’t keep pretending and lose you. He couldn’t keep on lying to luisa. She deserved better. But seeing you with that guy in that little black dress drove him almost insane. You were so close to him, flirting disgustingly. He was red with anger. He wanted to do something but his girlfriend was there and you were supposed to be just that friend of his. His best friend and that was it. He should be happy for you. But he wasn’t. 

So in between the conversation you turned around and saw him staring. Stone face. He was looking straight through you. For a moment you forgot how to breathe. The way his jawline was pressed in a way it made his muscles show even more. His shirt unbuttoned. The lights reflecting on his beautiful eyes. You almost panicked. You could feel he was feeling the same. You knew you weren’t crazy. 

He felt it too. 

You don’t remember how it happened but you ended up on his sheets that night. The way he kissed you so desperately. He broke up with luisa as if it was easy. You didn’t have time to process it at the moment. To see the red flags waving high in the sky. Desire and desperation made it easy to ignore them. He was all your brain could think. His skin against yours. You moaning his name. 

You have waited for that moment your whole life. And you didn’t remember feelings of ecstasy ever before. 

“It’s always been you, yaknow?” His voice was deep and low. He pressed a soft kiss on your neck sending shivers down your spine. His fingers are tracing patterns in your arm. He felt at ease under your scent. 

You remember that night as the most magical night of your life. But you didn’t know that to him it was just another story he would get bored of and throw away.

While you were together, life was the most exciting thing in the world. Road trips, dates at the beach, paddle matches and barbecue with friends, travelling to london to visit his family, party nights, sex, kisses, roses and diamonds. It was perfect. He was the sweetest guy in this world. But there was one thing you wouldn't do. And that was calling him ‘mine’ because he wasn’t yours. You were just ‘friends’. But friends shouldn’t know how you taste, right?

That made you feel so confused. He told you he loved you and made love to you as if it was a promise. But then you were his friend to his family and friends. Just y/n. It was you, yes but not the way you would’ve preferred to be called. 

But then, out of nowhere it seemed, he would flirt with girls at parties in your face. And that’s when everything started going to shit. You didn’t understand what was actually going on. Why was he doing that? If you were so important to him, why would he play with you this way? If he cared so much about you, why would he put you under so much shit? 

But the breaking point was her. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile to die for. She was nothing special, just a blonde girl. But I guess blondes always have more fun than the rest of us, and more with that angelic face of hers. That’s when you lost lando. He started talking about her ‘she is nice, you know? I think you would like her’. And then he would stop inviting you to dates, but she would go with him and watch the sunset at max’s yacht. And she started replacing you in every way she could. And you just watched it happen being unable to stop it. You started realizing he didn’t even care about you. You were just another girl on his list and probably never considered you an actual friend. If he did, he wouldn’t have played with you this way. But he did, and it hurt. 

And that’s when everything ended. 

just a friend ᝰ.ᐟ

(july 2024)

“She’s just a friend y/n” he said, fed up with your questioning. You can clearly see in his face that he was so done with this discussion. 

“Lando, for fucks sake, stop lying to me. She clearly isn't” you insisted on entering his room at his Monaco house. 

“I can’t keep up with this y/n. Just stop. I don’t know what else you want me to say” he was getting really annoyed. 

“The truth! Tell me the fucking truth! Was I a joke to you? You never cared, did you? You just wanted to laugh in my fucking face right?” your voice expressed how hurt you were. 

“You’re not a joke y/n” 

You laughed dryly “right, alright. Then what’s her? Max told me lando, you kissed her. And i know you fucked her multiple times, i just know it. Stop pretending you dont know what the fuck is going on when you know exactly what im talking about!” tears started to stream down your face “is this what you wanted? Did you ever care about our friendship? My fucking feelings? I feel so used, it's disgusting lando. I knew you were stupid but I never thought you would be this evil. If you didn’t love me then why did you do all of this?” 

“y/n, i love you” you could see in his face he was now scared. But you didn't care anymore. And didn’t want to know the reasons for it either. 

“No, you don’t lando! If you fucking did you wouldn’t have hurt me this way! I was there for you for fucks sake, i was fucking there for you all of this time! I gave you everything! Everything! And all you ever wanted was to fuck a fucking model?! I can’t believe I was so damn stupid to believe every lie you fed me! Oh god i hate myself so much” 

·y/n, please, calm down. We can talk this-” 

“Do you really are asking me to fucking calm down after what you did?! And you didn't even deny it! You’re so guilty of all of it. You knew! You knew what you were fucking doing and you didn’t care! I hate you, lando. I hate you with every gut i have left” 

“No, no, no. please, y/n. Let me explain. It’s not like that. I do care about you. I just thought you didn’t want to be with me. You became so close to Max I thought you wanted to be with him and…” 

You couldn’t believe your ears. You just couldn’t believe he would really use that as an excuse. “Shut up lando, max is a fucking friend. It was you. It has always been you. Holy shit! I have your fucking letters saying i was all you have ever wanted! How could you? You’re ashamed of me, that's it, right? I'm not as beautiful as I should be for you to call me yours. I'm not a model enough for you, am I? I can't believe it! I'm so stupid” 

“No, y/n is not that, believe me. she isn't you.” he was literally begging on his knees. 

“Don’t be pathetic lando, i won’t ever believe a fucking word you say. You’re a liar. You played me as a toy. Like I was nothing and now you want me to believe you? Hope you are fucking happy with her, and i hope she can make up for what i couldn’t for not being fucking good enough for you” you were so hurt you just had to run from that bedroom, from that house. 

“y/n! Wait! Please!” It was too late. You were already in your mclaren. “I don’t know what I did…” he was left talking alone. And not understanding what he even did. But he knew he already regretted it. 

she. isn't. you.

she must be perfect but I hope you both go to hell ᝰ.ᐟ

(august 2024)

After that day, I didn't leave my bed. The way it all happened so fast. The way he would still lie to you. You hated men. You hated him and everything about him. All you knew from that day was what you could see on social media even though you always put ‘dont show this content’ or ‘i'm not interested in this content’. He lied and told everyone at a fan meeting that he was single, when you knew from Max he already asked her out… unlike with you. 

She seemed nice. She was very beautiful. But you weren’t that evolved yet. You hated her. If she didn’t exist then he would be still yours. It would be you there on holiday in the alps. Oh god, you fucking wanted to be her. She was all you wanted to be. Skinny, blonde, flawless. You wanted everything she had. She was sunkissed, you felt like a vampire. She was shining and you were drowning. She took everything from you and left no crumbs. 

And the worst part is that he seemed to be happy. You are still friends with Pietra and she told you she was nice and that they got along pretty well. And that maybe if  you and lando want to fix it, you all can be a huge group of friends. You fucking hated that idea. It repulsed you. But you weren’t so sure if it was because of her or because of him no more. 

It should be you, it should be you, it should be you. 

You were driving yourself insane stalking her profile. Obsessing with the idea she was everything you were not. You wanted to burn her alive even though the real asshole was him. 

But you loved him first, right? That should matter… Did it matter? Did he think of you? Did he regret it? Did he talk to her about his fears and dreams? Did he share the same joke that was only yours? Did he talk to her in her ear the same way he used to do with you? Was he as obsessed with her as he was with you? Did he feel the same? Was he in love? 

All the questions weren’t letting you have a moment of peace and your brain was really good at torturing you. 

guess my friends were right (you might love her now but you loved me first) ᝰ.ᐟ

(from august 2024 to march 2025)

Life for Lando wasn’t that easy after seeing you walking away from his life. He knew he fucked it up. But he tried to play it cool. As if you were right about everything, because he thinks he deserves to suffer after what he has done. Yes, he was a masochist at this point. He was dating someone he didn’t like at all, he knew. But he couldn’t stop his torture because he simply believed he didn’t deserve to be happy. He saw your eyes, the saw the pain he caused for being such a coward. And stupid. And idiotic. And a fucking loser. He acted like a kid and lost the girl of his dreams. The girl who had been there for him since the beginning. The one that got him by just looking in her eyes. She knew. She knew all of him, the real him. All his fears and dreams and desires and mistakes. He had it all. He had her, all of her to himself but let it fall. He threw her against the floor and broke her into so many pieces. And instead of mending his faults, he just ran away crying. Like a little kid running away from the monster under his bed. 

Maggie was doing her makeup at the hotel room’s mirror. He watched her for a while trying to puzzle what he felt for her. But all he wanted to see was you. And he knew it was impossible for that to happen now. And probably like ever again. 

The fact he had to pretend every single minute of his life was starting to take a toll on him. He lost that spark he used to have. He lost that characteristic smile when he did well in a race. And his interviews just turned monotone and grey. Something was off people would comment. But he didn’t care. He deserved it. He fucking deserved it. 

Maggie always tried to cheer him up and he pretended it was just because he hated the media. And not because you used to be there with him, always. But now it is almost alone. 

It almost happened. It was almost you. It was almost the happy ending you deserved but he decided to ruin it. It was almost you and him against the world. But it was almost, though all he wanted was forever with you. 

At the beginning he was obsessed with maggi. The way her eyes looked at him, that cheeky smile  of hers. She was all he wanted as a fantasy. She was his fantasy in real life. He was so captivated by her looks and sweet voice. Almost like yours. But something drew him to her. He still doesn’t know what it was. Guess some things don't have an explanation. She was soft and shiny. He wanted to touch her everywhere, everytime. He forgot he had the love of his life waiting for him to watch a movie and eat burritos and kinders. He forgot the small things mattered more. He forgot what it was like to feel love during sex. But he was drunk. In her looks, in the way she talked to him. He forgot about you. He couldn't concentrate. 

But when you were gone, he pretended maggie was you as twisted as it sounds. He was convinced he became completely insane. People constantly telling him how awful he was to the poor girl. Your brother hates him. Dante didn’t say hi to him ever again since that day. 

He saw you at a couple of races at the Mercedes garage. You always pretended to have never known him in your life. He saw fans on twitter theorizising why you didn’t look at him anymore. They also believed it was his fault. And surely it was. 

That day you walked past him. He smelled your scent, still wearing the same perfume you adored so much and that made him fall in love the first time he saw you. You were laughing while talking with Carmen in Spanish, because you were the king of languages. You were really good at them and you enjoyed so much learning new stuff. He liked that about you, you are always driven to learn and learn and learn. He wanted to say hi, and even though you ignored him, Carmen looked at him in a really not inviting way. Everybody knew he fucked it up. He felt so ashamed of himself. 

said you’d never hurt me but here we are ᝰ.ᐟ

(australian grand prix, 2025)

You were so nervous to be back at the paddock and at the same time so excited for this new chapter for mercedes. You were longing for Lewis but at the same time you were very excited about kimi. Weather conditions were terrible and it in a really sarcastic way showed how you really felt about being there. You didn’t want to come at first but Carmen was a really good convincing person and you were no exception. Plus, you wanted to see your friends George and Alex. The two brits were your best friends since F2 back in 2018 when it all started. It was insane that so many years have passed already. All of the memories you cherished in your heart. They were so precious to you. 

Kym illman received you at the gates taking pictures of you, your brother, carmen and george coming into the paddock for race day. You always hated the media because their cameras made you look so bad, you thought. But it was part of your friend’s work so, it was what it was. You were already so wet you thought it was embarrassing. A super big mercedes hoodie covered your body as a dress and some rain boots on. And you called that outfit a day. It wasn’t glamorous at all, but it was so you for sure. 

Heading to the Mercedes hospitality, you saw Lando taking coffee with his parents at the McLaren hospitality. Your brother put on his best dog face and didn’t look at them. But for some reason you couldn’t do that to his parents even though you hated their son. Lando’s mom looked at you and waved happily to see you. “Hey!, y/N!” she said sweetly and smiled at her. They were always really good to you. So you got closer and said hi to them properly with a kiss on a cheek and a little hug for each. 

“Hi” , you only said to Lando, keeping your distance in a sad and shy smile. He half smiled as well.

“Hi” he said back to you the same way. 

“Darling you look so gorgeous, I love that haircut on you. You’re such a pretty girl” his mom said and made you blush immediately. 

“Oh, thank you so much… i gotta go… have  a great race, lando” you said a bit awkwardly and walked away to the mercedes hospitality to join your people. 

Lando was in awe of you. He kept the way you said his name on his head. It’s been the longest time without hearing your voice, that he realized he forgot how it sounded. And he also realized that it was your sweet voice, the only voice he wanted to listen to the rest of his life. He hated himself for that. But after all this time, he had made one thing right. He broke up with Maggi a week ago. He couldn’t keep pretending, he was done. 

“She looked really beautiful… it’s sad you don't talk anymore. We really liked her” his mother said and he shook his head a bit.

“i fucked it up, mom. But i will figure out a way to make it right again” he answered but more reassuring himself rather than his mother. 

She smiled looking proudly at her son “the good thing is to learn darling, you’re a good boy, let yourself be happy and fight for what makes you happy… you deserve it” she said sweetly sending lando all the energy he needed to go afloat. 

the only girl you’ve ever wanted in your life ᝰ.ᐟ 

Lando won. Lando won. Lando won. He did it. Of course you were happy for your friend who came out third and kimi fourth! What an amazing race though you were at the brink of suffering from a heart attack for two hours. After a lot of champagne was thrown to George, you were resting in the hospitality building waiting for your brother, Dante and George to come around. Carmen went to talk to alexandra for a bit and Lili was already at the hotel. So you decided to check on twitter all of the memes and opinions on this race. You saw a few people sharing your pics and commenting whether they were happy to see you or telling you looked disgusting as ever. It was hard to get used to this side of the sport but you always tried to brush it off.

You were so concentrated on your phone, you didn’t realize until the third time Lando cleared his throat that he was there standing in front of you in his casual clothes already, and freshly showered, smelling as good as you remembered him. 

“Hi,” he said again, sitting in front of you. You smiled a bit shocked that he is here in front of you after so many months of not even seeing pics of him. And he looked really nice in your opinion, but when did he not? 

“Hey” you said. He was nervous, he didn’t like the fact your hoodie wasn’t McLaren but you looked cute anyway. 

“It's been a long time,” he answered.

“Yup” you nodded. 

Silence. 

You stared at each other for a while. If someone walked past, they would think you were playing eyesight war but you were just analysing each other trying to think of what to say or where to begin. 

“I’m sorry” you both said in unison. You looked at each other in surprise now and then laughed it away. 

“Alright, that was a bit weird,” he said, giggling. “Guess, we still connected somehow…” his voice turning off as the sentence ends. 

“I guess in a way we are… I can't stop thinking about you and what happened…” you confessed even to your own surprise. 

He smiled a little, feeling his heart start to race “me neither to be honest… i feel terrible about it” you could see how honest he was being. Or at least to want to believe him. He felt different. You guessed that maybe he doesn't know why he lied that much either. 

“I miss you” you confessed even though you didn’t want to. But even after everything… you still loved him. 

His eyes showed a little spark. It wasn't there when he sat in front of me a few minutes ago. Now his smile got bigger showing his dimples. He was a pretty motherfucker, you thought.

“I miss you too,” he agreed. 

Was this the beginning of a second chance? Or maybe you're announced dead? 

Or maybe the happily ever after you have always dreamed about, but only time will tell.

THE ENDᝰ.ᐟ 

dont forget to reblog, like or comment if you liked it! and follow me so we can be friends <3 (and drink mate together)

[vinnyvamppp]

I NEED A FIC OF THE NO GOGGLES MARK VARIANT!!!

specifically make him THAT KINDA FREAK we already know he loves to toy with others (from his battle with the Guards of the Globe) and is crazy asf with a sense of dark humor. My fic idea is where he’s with his gf and this is their first time having sex tg and she doesn’t know about his kinks or anything since she would just take his comments of him telling her to ‘try to choke him’ or basically to inflict pain on each other as a joke.

Slap Me Silly

Note: This is yummy, we like this, we NEED this. I've seen maybe two fics have elements of this, so lemme just—slide myself in. (the pic is a hint SOMEONE TIE HIM UP)

Warnings: Nipple play (most male receiving), Switch Lenless!Mark (YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE DOESN'T OCCASSIONALLY BOTTOM), Dom!Reader, Riding, Tit Squeezing, Biting, Dark Humor, Choking, Degrading, "Good Boy", Slapping, Dirty Talk, Porn w a Plot, Smut, and ofc the over usage of 'Dude'.

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x Dom!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2,303

The apartment is quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside and the soft rustle of fabric as you shift on the couch. Mark is stretched out beside you, legs spread like he owns the place—because, in his mind, he does. His grin is lazy, all teeth, and his dark eyes flick toward you with that ever-present glint of mischief.

“You keep staring at me like that, babe,” he murmurs, tilting his head against the couch cushion, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me.” You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “God forbid.” He chuckles, low and amused, and suddenly he’s closer—leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell. “Nah, I think you do,” he teases, his breath warm against your jaw. “Like, a lot.” You scoff, pushing at his chest. “You wish.” Mark lets himself fall back dramatically, spreading his arms out like he’s been struck. “Right in the heart. Dude! That was brutal.” Rolling your eyes, you reply. “You’ll live,” you deadpan.

“Oh, I always live.” He winks, and for a second, there’s something in his expression, something dark and knowing, a reminder of just how much weight those words actually carry. But then it’s gone, replaced by that ever-present smugness. His fingers drum against his thigh. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Ha. Ha.” He smirks. “No, but really—since we’re both so hopelessly in love or whatever—” You snort, but he ignores you. “—don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t, y’know, done anything yet?” His eyebrows lift, feigning innocence. “Not that I’m complaining. I like a good slow burn. Gets me all antsy and horny.” Your stomach tightens. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Mark is—well, Mark. Infuriating, cocky, always pushing just to see how far he can go. But he’s also magnetic in a way that makes it impossible to look away. And when he wants something? He gets it.

Still, you manage to play it cool. “I figured you’d explode if you went more than a week without getting laid.” Mark grins, tilting his head. “I do like explosions.”

You shake your head, but before you can throw another sarcastic remark his way, he moves. Fast. Not using his full speed—he’s learned his lesson about freaking you out like that—but enough to make your breath hitch as he’s suddenly towering over you, hands braced on either side of your hips. “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallow. “That depends.” His fingers trail up your arm, barely touching, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You remember all those times I told you to try and choke or slap me?” You let out a brief chuckle. “You mean when you were being weird?” Mark hums, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “See, that’s the thing—you think I was joking.”

Your breath catches. His eyes are half-lidded now, watching you with something between amusement and hunger. “…You weren’t?” Mark smirks. “Dude. You have no idea.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours. You stare at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he’s messing with you. Nothing. Just that same cocky, lopsided smirk, like he knows something you don’t. His grin progressively widens as you open your mouth to speak, “You have to be kidding.” Mark tilts his head, feigning offense. “Why would I joke about something so serious? Dude, I’m hurt.” Here he goes again with the dramatics. “Oh, I’ll hurt you, alright.” The words leave your mouth before you can grasp them, but Mark’s eyes light up like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

His lips part slightly, tongue flicking out to wet them. “Please do.” You let out a laugh—sharp, disbelieving. This idiot. He’s always like this. Pushing buttons just to see what happens. You stared, more interested than before, your head shaking. “You’re insane.” Mark doesn’t miss a beat. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes and, without thinking, lift your hand and smack him across the face. A sharp pop echoed as your palm struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Not hard, just enough to wipe that smug look off him. Or, well. That was the intention. Because instead of looking shocked or offended, Mark just stares at you. Slow blinks. Chest rising and falling a little too deliberately. “…Holy shit.” He gasps, making you hesitate.

He lets out a breathy laugh, touching his cheek where you slapped him. Then, with a grin that is way too excited for comfort, he looks back at you. “Dude.” His dark eyes go heavy-lidded, lips parting slightly as he exhales slowly, shaky, and wrecked like you just did something unspeakably good to him, and he’s already desperate for more. You blink. “What?”

“Do that again.”

You pull back slightly in hesitation, wondering how you even scored this crazy fuck. Taking notice, Mark clicks his tongue, shaking his head like you just deeply disappointed him. “C’mon, Dude. Don’t be like that.” He leans in again, voice dipping lower. “I liked it.” Your stomach flips. You open your mouth two seconds away from calling him an absolute freak, but Mark beats you to it. “See, this is why I keep you around,” he muses, like he’s talking to himself. “You get me.” He rasps with an estranged fascination, seemingly savoring the sting against his cheek. “I literally do not—”

“—you do, though.” He gestures vaguely. “Even if you pretend you don’t. Which is, like, really cute, by the way.” He pauses dramatically with a slight sing song “And hot.” You exhale through your nose. Okay. Fine. He wants to be weird? You can be weirder. So, with the most exaggerated sigh you can manage, you lift your hand and slap him again. This time, it’s harder. The slap lands sharp and sudden, a crisp crack that echoes in the quiet room. His skin is warm under your palm, the impact sending a fleeting sting through your fingers, while the faintest thrum of satisfaction lingers in the air between you. Mark's head tilts slightly from the force, but the way he laughs is low, throaty, and giddy. The kind that sends something hot and electric through your spine. His gaze snaps back to you, darker now. “Oh, yeah,” he breathes, voice thick with something you don’t quite know how to name yet. “That’s the stuff.” Your gaze flickered lower, his hips fidgeting. He was hard.

Mark leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your lips. He’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery, panting like an excited mutt before he whispers, “…Your turn.” You took this as an invitation to explore his other kinks, his willingness empowering you like never before. The space between you ceased to exist in an instant, your bodies pulled together with an urgency that set your skin ablaze, his lips claiming yours like a force of nature. Groans filled the space within your mouths, his sloppy kisses trailing lower over your neck. You deserved such romance for your first time, but his body was already seething for more. His hand reaches forward, fingers tingling with excitement as they curl around your throat. He forces you down against the couch, the pressure against your windpipe causing you to gasp. Before he could do more your hand lashes out, striking his cheek with a resounding slap. He paused, welcoming the change from his usual dominance. "Fuck yeah," he growls, his voice thick and eager. "Don't hold back, babe."

Emboldened further, you push him back and climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. You can feel his hard already weeping cock pressing against your clothed sex, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of your panties. You grab his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. "You like this, don't you? Being used like a little bitch?" You insulted, testing the waters.

Mark's eyes flutter closed as he lets out a shuddering moan. "Yes," he hisses, his hips bucking up against you. "I fucking love it." His hands grip your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your skin.

You tighten your grip on his throat, feeling his pulse jump under your palm. "Beg for it," you demand, grinding your cunt against his straining erection. "Beg me to choke you while I ride your cock." Mark's eyes snap open, gleaming with satisfaction. "Please," he rasps, his voice strained from your hold. "Please, please, choke me while you use my dick. I want to feel you squeeze the air from my lungs as you cum all over me."

A thrill runs through you at his words, at the complete submission and desperation in his voice. You release his throat, only to fist your hand in his hair, yanking his head back. "Good boy," you purr, before crushing your lips against his in a fervent kiss. You rake your nails down his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

You whimper into his mouth, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. You can feel him throbbing against you, his cock leaking pre-cum into his pants. Breaking the kiss, you lean back and hastily remove your top, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His fingers follow suit, bringing his shirt over his head as he refuses to blink even once. "Fuck yes, Mistress." He groans, voice strained as his eyes glued to your tits. "You're so goddamn sexy."��His lips nearly prepared to worship you.

It was odd, you stared down at him enjoying the power you have over him. He could easily turn the tides at any moment, but he was so willing to fuck you with such courtesy. Your fingers gently tapped against his throat, just threatening, begging him to make a move that would cause your grip to tighten. Mark immediately sits back, panting and red-cheeked. You lift your hips, his hands shove down your panties and help you kick them off. Then, with a courage-building sigh, you line up his cock with your dripping entrance. Mark groans, his hands flying to your hips. "Need to feel your tight pussy around my cock." Without warning, he slams you down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sudden intrusion, Mark's head falling back as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Oh god," you moan, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. "You're so fucking big, where were you hiding this thing?!"

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up so good," Mark declares between giggles, his hips starting to move beneath you. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it's leaking out of you." The dirty words only spur you on. You start to ride him fast, your hips slamming down onto him as you chase your pleasure, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Your hand never leaves his throat, tightening and loosening in time with your movements. Mark's face is flushed, his eyes glassy with lust as he bucks up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust.

"Harder," you demand, squeezing his throat tighter, his eyes rolling back. "F-fuck me harder." Mark lets out a choked groan, but does as he's told, slamming up into you with renewed vigor. The new angle has him hitting depths you didn't know existed, making stars burst behind your eyelids with each thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as he pounds into your g-spot. Releasing him from your ever-desired grip, he protests, his hips punctuating as you let out a yelp. “Dude..!” He whines, exasperated before a resounding clap echoes against his cheek, his face growing warm as blood swelled. “Again! Again…!” He encouraged, and you followed suit devilering smack after smack. The feeling only rousing him more as his hips pressed further.

Arching your back forward, your tongue finds the blistering streaks left from your nails. Soothing them with the soothing stroke of the muscle, you lick over his nipples, teeth tugging on them gently. The small buds hardened slightly from the cold air, and his grunt echoed from above. “Holy shit... yes!” Coming up for air, he returns the favor, hands leaving your ass and latching onto your tits as he squeezes them like stress balls. It's painful, he knows but he attones as his thumb traces rings around your areolas causing mild pleasure.

Your hands returned to his throat, tightening like a vice. With a strangled chuckle, his cock twitched inside you as he floods your pussy with his hot seed. The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the overwhelming sensations overloading your senses, and the obscene squelching sounds of his cum filling you pushes you over the edge. You throw your head back with a scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your cunt spasming as you gasp. Were orgasms always meant to feel this strong?

Mark groans as he feels you contracting around him. "Milk my cock dry. Take every last drop." You continue to ride him through your climax, grinding your clit against his pelvis until the last waves of pleasure fade away. When you finally collapse against his chest, both of you are panting and covered in sweat.

You could barely catch your breath when he spoke up. "Dude, we're definitely doing that again," you murmur against his chest, exhausted, he chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath you. "Hell yeah we are." He says to himself. Without missing another beat, you're suddenly flipped over, his cock hardened with renewed energy. "Ready for round two?" He asks, tracing patterns against your calves as he spreads your legs over his shoulders. Now it was truly your turn.

Can you guys tell I love submissive or freaky men? Hopefully, this fulfills your request!

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ nostalgia . . . m.s

in which . . . you spot your ex boyfriend matt at a party, and you decide to be a tease to piss him off on purpose

warnings . . . smut, unprotected sex, car sex, kissing, breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, a little bit of praise, teasing, cursing.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #15

you spot him the moment you walk in. matt. standing near the bar, laughing at something, his head tilting back just the way you remember. it’s been months, but the sight of him still sends a shiver down your spine. you weren’t expecting him to be here, but maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly why you came. your dress is shorter than necessary, your lips painted in the shade he used to smudge with his kisses. you glide through the room, pretending not to notice him, but you know he sees you. you can feel the weight of his stare tracing the curve of your bare shoulder, dipping lower.

you’re talking to someone. some guy whose name you won’t remember tomorrow…but matt is watching, and that’s the point. you laugh, tilting your head back just a little too much, letting your fingers trail along your collarbone, knowing exactly what it does to him. you sip your drink slow, licking the rim of the glass, and when you finally turn, meeting his eyes across the room, it’s electric.

matt’s next to you before you can blink, his voice low and rough. “you tryna start something?” you lift a shoulder, feigning innocence. “me? never.” but his hand is already at your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric, a silent challenge. the party hums around you, music pulsing, laughter ringing out, but it all fades as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “if you keep teasing me like that, sweetheart, you know what’s gonna happen.” you smile, slow and sweet, because that’s exactly what you want.

his voice sends a thrill down your spine, but you don’t let it show. instead, you swirl your drink in your glass, pretending to think. “hmm. what’s gonna happen, matt?” your voice is all sugar and sin, and you know it drives him crazy. his fingers tighten at your waist, pulling you just a little closer, his body heat seeping into yours. you don’t resist. maybe you press into him just enough to make him feel it, the way your body remembers his. the way it still fits.

“you know exactly what,” he murmurs, eyes dark, locked onto yours. “but you like to play, don’t you?”you do. you always have. especially with him. you tilt your chin up, lips inches from his, close enough that his breath hitches. then you pull back, your fingers trailing down his chest like a whisper. “i have no idea what you mean.”

his jaw clenches, and you feel the tension crackling between you like a live wire. you wonder how long he’ll last before he snaps. before he forgets why you two ever walked away from each other in the first place. he exhales sharply, eyes flicking around the crowded room, then back to you. “come with me.”it’s not a request. it never is with him. but you’re not going to make it easy.

“why should i?” you tease, stepping back just a little, knowing he’ll follow. his fingers catch yours before you get too far, pulling you back against him, chest to chest. your breath catches, and for a second, neither of you move. it would be so easy—too easy—to give in right here, in the middle of the party, under the dim lights, with the bass thumping through the floor. “because,” he says, voice low and thick, “if you don’t, i’m gonna make you regret every second you wasted teasing me.”

your heart slams against your ribs, heat curling in your stomach. you smirk, lips inches from his. “make me, then.”

his eyes darken at your challenge, and for a moment, he just stares at you, jaw tight, fists clenching at his sides like he’s holding himself back. but you know better. you know he’s never been good at resisting you. just like you’ve never been good at resisting him. then, before you can even blink, his hand slides down to your wrist, fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. he leans in, so close that his lips brush against your ear, his voice thick with something that makes your stomach twist.

“let’s get out of here.”

you should say no. you should walk away. but instead, you let him pull you through the crowd, past the pulsing music and the flashing lights, past the people who don’t even notice the way he’s gripping your hand like he owns you. like he always has. the cool night air hit you as the two of you walked out, towards matt’s car. he opened the backseat, practically shoving you inside, climbing in himself and shutting the door. fuck, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, matt was your ex. but, you really wanted to, you couldn’t resist him.

months of longing, simmering beneath the surface of your relationship, had finally reached a fever pitch. the quiet intimacy of the car, your hands, slick with sweat, moved over the contours of his body, tracing the perfect line of his jaw, the hard planes of his chest, the sculpted muscles taut beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. his eyes, dark pools reflecting the interior lights, were locked onto yours, a silent conversation of unspoken words and desires.

a low moan escaped your lips as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. his lips found the hollow of your neck, a trail of hungry kisses that sent shivers crawling down your spine. your own hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tugging it open with a reckless abandon, reveling in the feel of his skin against yours. the rough texture of the fabric against your palms seemed to amplify the heat building between you. matt didn’t hesitate one bit to lift your silk dress.

the engine sputtered, a brief interruption that only heightened the urgency. matt’s hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the heat radiating from your core. a gasp escaped your lips as his fingers found the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

"i want you," matt murmured, his voice raspy with need.

"i want you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible above the rhythmic drumming of the rain. your trembling hands found the worn fabric of his shirt, tugging on the hem of it. the rough texture of the fabric against your palms seemed to amplify the heat building between you.

"take it all off." you breathed, your eyes locked onto his.

matt smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes. "yeah? you want me to?"

"yes please.." you whispered, leaning into him, your body already pressing against his. matt immediately removed his shirt. a low growl rumbled from his chest as he began to slide your panties off of you. the cool night air brushed against your exposed skin, the contrast a stark reminder of the heat igniting between you. matt's fingers slipped between your legs, teasing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, a prelude to something more.

"oh god, matt.." you cried out as he nipped at your neck. the rain continued to fall, a silent witness to your escalating passion. his mouth found the soft curve of your neck, a trail of kisses leading down to the swell of your arousal. he pressed a kiss to your clit, a feather-light touch that sent a wave of pure pleasure through you. you arched into him, your body molding to his, a silent symphony of need. his lips, hungry and urgent, trailed down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands, masterful and knowing, explored every inch of your body, each touch igniting a fresh wave of desire. “shouldn’t have been such a tease, baby..” matt let the pet name slip out of his mouth, it was an old habit

he entered you slowly, his movements a rhythmic dance of pleasure and pain. your moans intertwined with the rhythmic drumming of the rain, a soundtrack to your shared passion. your body arched around him, every muscle tense with anticipation and need. his hands, working their magic, pressed against your hips, guiding his rhythm to match the pulse of your desire.

"fuck," you whispered, your body shuddering as he drove a deeper thrust into you. the world dissolved into a symphony of sensations, the only sounds the urgent rasp of your breaths and the throaty moans escaping your lips. your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tight, as you reached your peak, a wave of pure, searing pleasure crashing over you.

you clung to him, the heat of your bodies radiating outwards, melting the icy night air around you. he followed closely, his body shuddering with a release that mirrored your own. his seed spilled into you, a warm tide of pleasure that washed over you. a ragged sob escaped your lips as you collapsed against him.

exhausted but exhilarated, you clung to each other, the lingering heat of the moment clinging to the cool leather of the backseat. the rain continued to fall, a silent witness to the passionate encounter. the memory of this clandestine rendezvous, this stolen moment of pure, unadulterated desire, would forever be etched in your minds, a secret whispered in the dark heart of the night. the air was thick with the lingering scent of your combined heat and the sweet, salty taste of passion. “fuck, sweetheart.” matt kissed the top of your head, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “did so good.” he praised.

these moments between you two, were all so nostalgic.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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💌: anddddd that’s a wrap for the writing marathon! thank u all sm for sticking around, i’m so shocked that i was able to write and post for 15 days straight!? my sleep schedule is going through it but it was all so worth it in the enddd i gained 300+ followers from this alone so thank you so truly much words can’t express my gratitude! anyway lots of special and new stuff coming soon yayyy i’m so happy and i would love to try doing this again in the future it was so fun! :)

[starmocha]

be my eternity, say my name [Caleb/Reader ★ 2725 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] The secrets only you and Caleb would ever know. A/N: ;~; I've been working on this on-and-off since January. I'm so happy it's finally done. Title is referencing a verse in two TXT’s songs, Deja Vu and Run Away (9와 4분의 3 승강장에서 너를 기다려), but for this fic, I drew more inspiration from Deja Vu (I will probably write something using Run Away in the future, because I have ideas, hehe) @deepspacenova I'm also tagging you because this is one of the Caleb song-inspired fics I mentioned to you last night <33333 Tag list:@solifloris @natimiles @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @miudle @alfredosaws @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yourlocalcatscammer @qyuin 【 request to be added 】

It was a secret.

That you fell for Caleb first.

You couldn’t explain when it had happened, when you finally saw him in a different light, knowing he was someone much more precious than a mere friend. You knew, though, that since that one afternoon long ago when you both came into each other’s lives, you took his hand and never wished to let it go ever.

(I’m Caleb. I’ll always be by your side.)

It was a secret.

In the dark of nights, under thick cover, your hand wandered, slipping in between your legs, driving into your folds, curling just so as your thumb brushed over that sensitive clit as you thought about him just a few doors away asleep in his own bed, unaware of the shameful act you had submitted yourself to, unable to ignore the desires to have him unconditionally, claim him solely for yourself.

All of those close instances, seemingly innocent in the way his body hovered so close to yours, or the way sometimes his arm would wrap around your waist when he teased you, unaware of the effect it was having on you. He never knew how the warmth of his breath teasing against your neck would have your heart skipping several beats faster, how there would be a tightening in your belly when he loomed near you, or the way how sometimes when your playfighting would lead to you tumbled atop him, so close to him physically and yet you felt the vast distance from his heart.

You fantasized of his large hands behind you, resting on the small of your back, his eyes locked with yours, searching almost desperately for permission, an invitation to cross this invisible line between you both. You thought of his lips, seeing the way they trembled, see his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking like a man starved, salivating at the sight of the glorious indulgence before him. You thought of treading first, stealing his lips experimentally, swallowing his surprised gasps as you grinded down on him, feeling his growing arousal brushing against your own.

You imagined his restraints broken, picturing him yielding to temptation, his hands fumbling over your body, his hips thrusting up, needing to feel you through the clothed barriers between you both. Your name spilt from those lips, the rasp in his voice more noticeable as he groaned in pleasure, growing more and more delirious as this lust heightened between the two of you.

You panted harder. You wanted his calloused hands on your smooth skin, trailing over secret places he had never known until this moment. You wanted to discover together with him all of the places on both of your bodies that would have you buckling, your toes curling, a hungry desperation for more and more.

You quickened your pace, fingers rushing as you imagined how he would have you come undone fully clothed on top of him, hearing that sweet, sweet voice of his urging you, praising you, coaxing you until you were trembling and crying against him.

Just a little bit more.

So close. So, so close.

Almost there.

With a few more rushed strokes and you were crying out your orgasm, his heavenly name spilling from your lips. For several minutes, you lay in bed, panting and shaken by the pleasure you had just experienced. There wasn’t much thought left in your head, a sudden wave of drowsiness seeming to wash over you.

You sighed.

When you stared at your hand, chest still heaving from the adrenaline, you wondered what it would be like to be filled by him. You couldn’t seem to stop imagining his body against you, wanting to be pinned underneath him, trapped beneath the heavy weight of him, his forearms resting on either side of your head and his face so close to yours, and those soulful eyes imploring you to want him, need him in a way only lovers would ever know.

Your breathing grew shaky again. You wondered how big he was, wondered how well your body could take him. You couldn’t help but imagined this time his hands just gripping your thighs, prying them apart, letting him see just how wet and willing you were for him. That burning need to stretch around him stirred within you again, your hips unwittingly squirming, feeling nothing but also everything.

Inadvertently, you moaned his name again, your body writhing beneath the sheets, the ache inside you renewed. You tossed and turned, your face buried into your pillow to muffle the way you cried out his name over and over again, feeling like you were humping against nothing, your fingers barely able to satisfy you, not like how you knew his own could.

Caleb’s long, thick fingers filling you, thrusting in and out as he made sure you would be ready to take more of him later. You clenched, voice strangled, as you cried harder, feeling your climax approaching again.

“Caleb… Caleb… please… please… Caleb…!”

There was a noise outside your room. You froze in that instance just as your second climax arrived and you bit down on your lip to stifle your moans. Someone was in the hallway. Was it your grandmother…  or was it Caleb? You didn’t know, too scared to even peek at the shadow beneath the crack in the door. Stay silent, you ordered yourself, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle any sounds that could slip through. You could still feel the lingering shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You squeezed your eyes shut, curling up under the cover. Even after it was safe to stir again, you stayed still.

You almost wished it was Caleb who came into the room to check in on you. You almost wished he would discover the dirty secrets you kept from him, the way you pleasured yourself many nights thinking of him. You wondered how he would react seeing you in your bed with reddened cheeks flushed hot and fingers wet with your own arousal from the way you shamelessly touched yourself to dirty fantasies of him. You wondered if it would destroy your precious relationship with him, or just maybe, he felt the same.

Maybe he also felt the same about you. Maybe he had his own dirty secrets. Maybe he also carried lewd thoughts in his mind, thinking of you in ways he probably shouldn’t.

If he did, you couldn’t wait to uncover them, wanting his secrets exposed to you alone and yours to him.

(Mornin’, pipsqueak, did you sleep well?

…You could say that.

What is that supposed to mean—never mind, we’re going to be late for school. Hurry up and eat.)

It was a secret that you made the first move.

If there was ever a forbidden line between the two of you, you crossed it without a care, unable to ignore the growing feelings and desires within you. You could never entertain the idea that Caleb would be with anyone but you. He was yours from the beginning and you wanted him to the very end.

One warm afternoon, he was napping on the couch, a book facedown on his chest. You knelt on the floor next to him, drawn to how handsome he looked, peacefully slumbering away like an angel of God seeking respite for just one instance. Such long lashes, you admired with slight envy before smiling as you looked at his lips. They were just barely parted, his breathing soft and slow.

You swallowed, suddenly nervous, before you leaned in, pressing your lips to his, light and a little awkward, but that immediate tingle you felt was already an exhilarating rush that chased away your earlier coyness.

He stirred, but before you could pull away, his hand was behind your head, keeping you in place to your shock. He didn’t say anything, but you felt him kissing you back, and you yielded to him, savoring this moment like a sweet forbidden fruit you had shamelessly coveted.

When he opened his eyes, beautiful pools of violet stared back at you in relief. You smiled back, thinking you could drown in them forever if he would let you. His book dropped to the floor with a dull thud and you were dragged on top of him in seconds. You stared down at his smiling face, a warmth spreading over your cheeks, suddenly coy again now that it was apparent his feelings were identical to yours.

One hand reached up to cradle your cheek, your own two hands covered his as you gazed down with fondness in silent understanding.

The house was empty. It was just the two of you, in your own little world, your own little Eden.

Just like how it had always been, it seemed.

(Mm, are you… are you sure?

Never been surer in my life, Caleb… You?

If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.)

It was a secret how soft Caleb’s lips were, how quickly addicted you became, wanting and needing all of his kisses, wanting to greedily pocket them all for yourself. The short, fleeting ones, just barely there, stolen lips in passing when no one could see, or passed off as just a trick of the mind. The long, drawn-out kisses, both your feelings poured out in intense sessions that would leave you breathless but unable—unwilling—to stop, always yearning for more.

Fast, messy kisses, rushed with frantic hands grabbing at one another, bodies pressed together in secrecy, hidden away in dark corners or under covers.

The way he would kiss you all over. Gentle, tender forehead kisses. Playful pecks on the tip of your nose. Sweet, chaste cheek kisses. He would get bolder, kissing along down your neck, in the crook, along your shoulders, leaving not a spot untouched by his lips.

He would be more sensual, worshipping you all over. Down your chest, leaving you gasping and squirming against him, trapped beneath him in surrender.

Such lascivious kisses he would leave along the inside of your thighs. Heavenly lips seeking your intimate area, a secret place only he would ever know as he hungrily tasted you, devouring like a man starved and worshipping like a sinner seeking salvation.

Caleb was always smart, so it didn’t take him long to learn your body, discovering all of the ways he could make you cum for him. He could be the sweetest man when he wanted to be, but those little moments when he was just a little more taunting in his words and in his ministrations had a way of driving you wild, finding him even more desirable than you thought was possible.

(Ah… Caleb… I’m going to… ah… wa-wait…

Cum for me, my pretty girl.

Oh, fu—)

It was a secret how delicious you tasted afterwards on his lips.

(So pretty. So, so fucking pretty like this.)

It was a secret how warm Caleb’s mouth felt around your nipple, how the way his tongue swirled over the sensitive nub had you bucking shamelessly against him, his hands automatically forced to grip your hips to keep you in place on his lap. Even when your small hand grabbed at his hair, tugging and whining, he suckled harder on one nipple while he let one hand squeezed and groped your other breast, kneading the soft, supple mound with experimental strength, relishing in the way that you gasped out his name and how under your skirt, he could feel your panties getting damped, the soaked fabric brushing over his thigh had his mind racing, growing delirious with ideas of what he could do to you.

It wasn’t just the mere imaginary ideas of what he could do to you that had him going wild, but the very knowledge that you would willingly let him had him hardening, his control and self-restraints weakening as all he wanted to do was give in to his desires—give in to you.

(You make such pretty sounds. Is it only for me?

D-don’t tease me… Ah…!

I’m not teasing. I want to hear more.

Ca-Caleb!)

It was a secret how Caleb pressed you into his mattress, how you always and willingly spread your legs for him. This was always where he was meant to be, between your legs, his body looming above yours. No matter how many times he had taken you, it always felt like the first.

With Caleb, everything always felt like the first time, as if you and he were always restarting from the beginning, never letting the story of you and him end.

(Already this wet? I haven’t even done anything yet. Naughty, naughty.

I… I… can’t help it… you…

Tell me. Tell me how I make you feel.

Caleb…! Ah…!

Tell me. Did you get excited—thinking about my cock pounding this needy pussy?

Wai-don—yes!

Do you always think about me like that? Answer me.

…Yes…

Louder.

Yes! Yes, yes, Caleb, always!

Ah—oh fuck—)

It was a secret how you always would come so sweetly around him, muffled moans suppressed under his large hand, under his intense smoldering amethyst eyes before they closed as he filled you full with thick, heavy spurts of his seed, his own groans stifled, burying deep into your shoulder.

(Shh, we don’t want anyone hearing us, alright?

…Mmph…

I’ll spoil you next time. I want you to scream my name next time.)

It was a secret how many times Caleb had filled you. How full you felt as your belly bulged, the sight always clouding his mind with dark lust, the need to always keep you like this, completely ruined by him, made for him.

He kept you flushed to him, your body heat exchanged and shared. He kissed you soundly as he softened inside of you, but he showed no sense of urgency about parting, still wanting to stay buried in your warmth. He seemed reluctant to break the kiss, the sounds of both of your heavy breathing filled the room as he gazed down at you, wanting to keep you locked within his gravity.

(It’s like you were made for me. All mine.

And you for me?

Right. Yours. I’m all yours. No one else’s. Yours.)

It was a secret how you dreamed of a life of just you and him, hidden away in a paradise of your own making. There would be no sorrow, no anguish, or judgment from others. You dreamed of long summer days, basking in the day’s warmth with his fingers intermingled with yours.

You dreamed of laying on green grass, him on top of you with the blue heavens above as witnesses of your love for him, and within his vibrant violet eyes, there was a promise of eternity, his life was yours—was only ever yours and no one else’s.

(Pipsqueak… go to sleep.

No… I want to keep watching you.

Silly girl… You can watch me tomorrow.

I want to watch you now. And I’ll watch you tomorrow, too. Caleb…

Hmm… So greedy.

Only when it comes to you.

…

…Caleb?

I feel the same. I want to keep you all to myself. Forever mine.)

It was a secret.

That you and Caleb belonged together.

The world would never understand.

A bond this sacred was meant to last for eternity, your souls bounded together long ago when you took his hand first but he was the one to hold on tight, promising himself to you for all of your lives together.

(Caleb… I—

Wait—let me… just let me…)

Such heavenly secrets stayed hidden away from nonbelievers.

No one would ever know of him the way you did, just as he had uncovered all of your secrets, stealing them away to be his and his alone.

His hand on your cheek, eyes always finding yours, you knew already the words that were to come, but you waited in anticipation with bated breath.

In the next instance, his sweet smile filled your vision and you were pulled back into his orbit, locked within his embrace. When you looked up, his warm breath intermingled with your own, your heart beating quietly for him. He cradled your cheek, guiding your lips to his, and he breathed a secret to you, a promise of eternity only for you.

(I love you. I’ll always be by your side.)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics.

we left our hearts on our sleeves (and the clothes all over the floor)

Steddie Bingo Prompt: Souvenir | Steddie Song Fics March Prompt: Free Space (Hotel Key by Old Dominion) | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sex, Open Lavender Marriage, Recreational Weed/Alcohol Use | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Old Friends, Reconnecting, One-Night Stand, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending

Also on ao3.

Eddie tugs on the collar of Steve's dress shirt, yanking him back into his body. Hotel key for a place down some street he can't even pronounce, burning a hole in his pocket. A chance meeting, a blast from the past that he never thought he'd see again. Steve Harrington. All grown up. Sitting at Eddie's regular bar, tie hanging loose around his neck. 

Being sure it was him didn't even cross Eddie's mind, he just walked up behind him, and covered his eyes, leaning against his back. He'd recognize Steve anywhere, even with the years between them.

"Guess who?" Eddie had asked, leaning close to Steve's face. 

Steve had laughed, open and bright, like he knew.

He did. 

And now Eddie's hand shakes as he slides the key into the heavy lock, with Steve draped over his back, breathing down his neck. Lips brushing against his skin.

He's gonna have a one night stand with Steve Harrington.

Goddamn. Holy shit.

It's the laughing, the kissing, the wandering hands that are really doing it for Eddie. He's had hookups before, but this feels familiar, even if they've never done this before. Not together.

Steve's on his knees, forearms braced on the bed as Eddie slams into him, over and over. Thrusts knocking his hip bones against Steve's ass. And Steve takes him, moaning, clawing at the sheets, and it's the hottest fucking thing Eddie's ever experienced.

He's fucking Steve Harrington.

Twenty-year-old him, stumbling through the woods of the Upside Down scared to death, could have never fathomed this turn of events.

Good things come to those who wait, he guesses.

He reaches around and fists Steve's leaking cock. He's big, thick, and Eddie definitely wants to reverse their positions before Steve slips away for another dozen years.

"Harder," Steve demands, pushing back against Eddie, and fucking hell, Eddie will give it to him harder. 

Controlled, firm thrusts. Not faster, he didn't ask for faster, he asked for harder, and Steve's hanging his head. Making a low, pornographic sound that Eddie prays will never stop rattling around in his brain.

He's keeping it, a souvenir, definitive proof the wild interlude in his otherwise rather mundane life actually happened.

Steve Harrington. Under him. Fuckin' A.

Eddie doesn't even want to blink, doesn't want to miss a moment of this. And he doesn't. He stays in the goddamn zone until Steve comes, clenching down on Eddie's cock, painting the sheets, and Eddie's fist. 

Only then does Eddie stop holding out, giving one more hard thrust as he buries himself to the hilt, coming as he squeezes Steve's hip with his free hand.

Flopping onto the bed, avoiding the wet spot, Steve's chest is heaving. Eddie takes his hand into his own. Thumbing at the ring on his left hand. Steve hasn't said he's married, and Eddie isn't going to ask. Not his business. 

"Robin," Steve says, "I'm married to Robin. But, you know, not like that."

"You're her beard?" Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs against the pillow, shifting his hips. His cock is big, even soft, nestled against his thigh. Eddie wants it in his mouth, his ass, everywhere. 

He wants to make sure neither of them can walk by morning. If they aren't crawling out of here, they didn't do it right.

"I guess? We're each other's? I don't know. It felt like the thing to do. I wanted to get married, and she wanted to stop having people look at her like there was something wrong with her. And my unused college fund was converted into a trust that wouldn't kick in until I was married, or fifty. So, we had more than one reason."

"Fifty, goddamn," Eddie says, that's a hell of a collar for his folks to put on him. They really must have been mad at him for not going to college, not following his father into the family business. Unless he has, now? He was in a suit.

"Kids?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head. "She knows about you doing this?" Eddie follows up, waving their joined hands in the air.

Steve nods.

"She is not in charge of anything below my belt," Steve laughs, "that's a direct quote."

Eddie laughs. Steve married Robin in some sort of lavender marriage, and now he's the one that gets to fuck him tonight. He wasn't looking for love anyway. Win-win.

"I just have to be discreet. Nothing to raise eyebrows around town. So, business trips. You know?"

And Eddie nods. He isn't expecting anything more from him, this alone was above and beyond his wildest dreams. 

"You being safe out there?" Eddie asks, "Staying out of the bathhouses and stuff?" 

"Yeah," Steve says, nodding, "I mostly pick up women. It's easier, you know?"

Eddie knows, in theory. That's just not what butters his bread.

"But sometimes I just wanna get fucked. Lucky that I stumbled across you," Steve says with a smile, "It was nice to really let loose with a trusted old friend."

An old friend. He's old friends with Steve Harrington. That seems crazy, but it's true. They lived through their Vecna ordeal, and then just drifted away. But that summer of '86, they were friends. Real, true friends.

If he could stay in touch now, reconnecting with both him and Robin, that'd be pretty awesome. He's missed them.

"Pray tell, what does Steve Harrington do for a living?"

"Insurance. I sell insurance," Steve says, and Eddie grins.

Steve Harrington sells insurance. What's this world coming to?

Eddie feels warm and loose. They're working their way through the mini bar. Shots, a joint passed back and forth, and expensive mini bar snacks they're devouring after sharing the half ounce they were smoking from. Now, he's staring at Steve Harrington sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, stoned, half-drunk, with a big ol' grin on his face. Eddie's t-shirt is the only stitch of clothes he has on.

Eddie's shirtless, standing at the foot of the bed, just watching him eating overpriced Pringles, and looking fucking gorgeous.

This is the best night Eddie's had in a long fucking time.

Eddie puts the do not disturb sign on the door, and turns and grins. 

They might not have forever, but they have tonight. 

It's three in the afternoon, and Eddie rolls closer to Steve. Check-out was technically noon, but they've slept through it, comfortable and warm together in this bed that Eddie isn't ready to leave.

Steve's on his back, and Eddie slings his leg over Steve's bare hips, grinding down on his thighs. Steve's big hands come up and grip his hips, his eyes still closed, but a smile is pulling at the corners of his lips.

Eddie toys with Steve's chest hair that is somehow thicker, even more impressive than it was back when they were just kids. 

It's gorgeous. Steve's gorgeous.

Eddie wants it all. If this is all they get, he's gonna enjoy every second.

He wraps his hand around Steve's half-hard dick, and strokes him as he clenches his thighs, pulling himself upwards. Reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, and he slicks up his own fingers, pushing two inside himself. Getting himself ready as he lazily strokes Steve to full hardness underneath him.

Steve's arms are tucked behind his head, and he looks confident, cocky. Satisfied.

He looks happy.

"Are you happy?" Eddie asks, and Steve's smile blooms. A mischievous, toothy grin that Eddie hasn't seen since they were sneaking cigarettes, and yeah, a little weed, behind Robin's back during that summer when they were supposed to be resting. Healing.

"I've got no complaints at the moment," Steve answers.

Eddie meant in life, all of life, but he'll take it. He's making Steve happy right now, and that sends a wave of want through him as he brushes against his own prostate.

He whines, closing his eyes, tilting his head backwards.

"You gonna do that without me?" Steve asks, teasing, and Eddie shakes his head. He's ready. Fuck. He's more than ready.

He extracts his fingers, and has Steve open a condom with his unslick fingers. Then Eddie slides it on Steve's cock, then sinks down on him with a groan. He's so fucking full. 

If Steve's happy, Eddie's elated.

"Goddamn, Eddie," Steve says, hand reaching up to brush Eddie's hair out of his face. It's soft, tender, and the warm sunlight casting a glow around the rented room makes it feel magical.

Eddie works himself up and down, enjoying the view of Steve below him in the glow of this afternoon delight.

He laughs, and Steve cocks an eyebrow, amused.

"Rubbin' sticks and stones together make the sparks ignite," he sings, and Steve's stomach ripples with laughter. Delighted. Hips coming up off the bed, driving himself deeper into Eddie.

Eddie moans.

"Best afternoon delight I've had in years," Steve teases.

The thought of loving him is an exciting jolt, but one Eddie knows he'll have to tamp down. Bury deep.

They've got this. 

And this is good.

With the sun setting, Steve picks up the room key off the table, and slides it into his pocket. Eddie grins, he's totally fine with Steve keeping that as a souvenir of their night together. He wishes he'd thought of it first.

Eddie scrawls his number on a sheet of hotel stationary, and puts it on top of Steve's jacket. No pressure. But if he doesn't want to lose touch again, the ball can be in his court.

He knows they can't re-open this door. Physically and metaphorically. But they were friends first, and he'd love to be able to say that again. Steve still presses him into the door, while they're on this side of it, locked in their bubble, and kisses him.

"This was fun," he says when he pulls back.

"Definitely," Eddie agrees, and he wants to throw out the offer that he's always available for a repeat performance, but he doesn't want to make Steve let him down gently.

"It was good to see you," Steve says, and wraps him up in a warm hug that Eddie greedily accepts. 

"Tell the wife hi," Eddie teases as they pull apart. Steve grins, promises he will, and then he's gone.

Three months later, Steve is sitting in the same bar, but he's turned towards the room, as if he's waiting. For someone, or something.

Eddie grins, and hell, maybe Steve was.

He steps up next to him, and looks down, "Hey, stranger."

Steve smiles, reaching out to let his fingers graze Eddie's thigh. Then he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a familiar hotel key. Different room number, though.

Eddie's about to make a comment, when Robin slides onto the open stool next to Steve.

"Buckley!" he shouts, a little too loud before wrapping her up in a hug she's fighting more than reciprocating. But she's laughing.

"Get off me," she says, and he does. But he stands there grinning at her. Maybe Steve was waiting for her, not Eddie. But he had the hotel key, so now Eddie's just confused.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"Accompanying my husband to meet up with his boyfriend," she snarks, in a hushed whisper.

Eddie's not, they're not, but maybe. They've talked a few times. But he had no idea Steve was coming back to town. It was never mentioned.

Steve's grinning, and like, goddamn. Fuck yes. Game on. 

"If you steal a second key as another souvenir we may get real famous on the behind the desk do not rent to bulletin board," Eddie teases, and Steve giggles, reaching forward, slipping the offered key into Eddie's back pocket.

"Totally worth it," Steve says, grinning.

They'll just find another hotel, next time. Or Steve can just come home with Eddie if they're actually doing this, with Robin's blessing, apparently.

Because Eddie already knows, looking in Steve's eyes, there's gonna be a next time.

And more.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun!

[thefatesofspring]

Feyre being the root cause as to why Nesta & the IC didn’t get off on a good foot originally is actually crazy.

Now that’s not to say she is the only cause because she definitely is not but she is the one who set the tone.

Especially when you realise that when she went back over the wall for Tamlin one of the last conversations Feyre had with Nesta was how Rhysand placed a decapitated head on the statue in the spring court garden & how he held her mind against her will & then she turns up months later after 0 contact with the very same male she said committed these heinous acts.

Like I don’t think people actually understand how insane that would look to anyone, not just Nesta and then Feyre only ever tells Rhysand & the inner circle Nesta supposedly never did anything, she complained, spent the money & was cruel…when more time Nesta was the one who took care of the household, she began learning how to use a bow & arrow to help Feyre with hunting, she was the one who went to the wall for Feyre, she was the one that told Feyre she wanted a better relationship with her. So Feyre conveniently “forgetting” to not mention the good of either side gives off that “I’m the only one who can be a victim” & “woe is me” bullshit she keeps doing.

Yet Feyre only ever told each side the negatives & wondered why neither were receptive to each other & to top it all off Feyre comes back as fae & acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world & her attitude & arrogance is even worse than before.

[navillee]

Caleb as a sub pt. 3

Hey, today the blog completed 1 year of existence. To celebrate, here's a headcanon o sub!Caleb

6 words: camping trip to astrophotography with Caleb;

That's when it clicked in his head he was in fact a sub. Not that he ever stopped to think to much about his position atop of the bunch of intercourses of your relationship with him since he became a pilot/colonel;

But don't blame him. He was a way busy dealing with leaving DAA and becoming a traumatized colonel with a bionic arm;

But now, you two got reunited again, and his worries, at least momentarily, seemed to be reduced to only two: morally roast himself about all the dirty thoughts and actions his lover boy brain made him do and fullfil his promise to take you in a summer trip;

So nothing better than explore his hobbies and bring you to spend quality time with him, exclusively;

The promise was made when you two were kids and he went out to a summer camping without you. Brokenhearted for watching you crying, he promised to take you out on a trip, just the two of you in the future;

Even though years passed by, he dreamt about finally fulfilling his promise. Because Caleb always kept his promises when you're involved, because Caleb always remembered each and every detail that involved you;

And he did everything up to the minimum details again, to make it perfect for you. To the home cooked snacks to the comfiest arrangements to make a cozy tent to enjoy a summer's outside overnight;

After setting up the telescope and camera, and answering your questions about how it worked, he finally showed up to you some results. And gosh, how good it felt when you two were just excitedly sharing time again, babbling and laughing like the old times;

Was showing the photo registers of the night (plus some others he did at Skyheaven) that the necklace you gave him tinkled against the camera's visor;

"You still keep it?" You asked. And of course the answer was yes, it was the solo object that kept him sane and alive in every fucking dangerous mission he went. The habit of kissing the charms was nothing but a ritual of promise to come back to you once that nightmare had ended. "Hmm." He nodded. "It reminded me of home."

You didn't need to know he used it religiously nor that he bit onto it when his mind was overflowing with thoughts of you. So he brushed of the moment of awkward silence offering you the snacks he prepared before leaving Linkon;

He knew he could have stopped by any convenience store to buy snacks. But he also knew those couldn't compete with Caleb's delicious home cooked snacks when the praise time was up. He needed those praises. Viciously;

He deserved it, right? Caleb deserves to lay his head on your lap while receiving praises of his chief skills and prodigious memory, but that time, different from past times, you two weren't just watching a science documentary at grandma's house, while Caleb's voice overlapped the narrator's one, but actually glimpsing a starry night;

However, Caleb was unsatisfied, like a puppy waiting for it's reward that didn't seem to come at all;

So he just casually laid down on your lap, both staring the stars, relaxing and enjoying the comfortable presence of each other;

And the soft lines the tip of your fingers traced on his scalp made Caleb close his eyes. The playful banter and the mumbling about constellations now replaced with his soft steady breathing;

Caleb was almost drifting to sleep when he felt a soft touch against his lips, caught by his reflex response your fingertips were kept there, soft kisses placed on your digits, drowsy eyes looking up at yours, so docile and longing yet that deepness in his eyes are hesitant still;

Caleb's eyes were always capable to say everything to you. When he was messing around and eyes slightly closed with his teasing laugh, when he was having a bad day and you could spot it right away just by looking at his droopy tilts;

But Caleb's eyes are different know, showing you a expression you have never seen before. Caleb's was supplicating;

Then you remembered the reason why Caleb used to watch astronomy documentaries resting his head on your lap: you used to say his eyes are prettier than the galaxies;

And those two universes on Caleb's eyes shinned so devotedly to you, that you didn't felt even a slightly desire to look up at the night sky again. No, no when you could dive into those particular galaxies of his. No, not when Caleb is back again, so close to you, showing, even if it was for a few perceptible seconds, his longing for you;

When you replaced your fingers with your lips, Caleb's mood changed like a switch;

He was serene and relaxed, but he got hasty really quick. Don't get him wrong, he definitely flew straight to cloud nine without even needing a plane, but god, he got conflicted;

"I'm sorry! I uhm, I didn't mean to, pipsqueak! I mean, I actually meant to but not exactly...oh fuck what I'm saying right know..." He was almost panting when he pulled away from the kiss. His head was spinning and the only thought he could bring to himself was that the kiss was entirely his fault;

He could swear you leaned first, but how could he blame you when he was devouring you with his eyes? It was his fault to be a bad-whatever-bond-are-you-two-having-right-now;

He just stopped mumbling when you pulled him by that damn dog tag, looking deep into his eyes;

Later on you discovered it was just a matter of assuring Caleb to bring his submissive side out. To make him let go;

And oh, just that pull on his necklace alone made his entire body burn. He let out a little gasp, losing his facade the moment you provoked him;

"Promise to me you will be a good boy, Caleb. Give more of what I know you want to give me, so I won't get mad at you. Can you promise that, uh?"

Next thing you learned was how hasty Caleb is, and how he doesn't seem to lose that desperation over time. The next thing after that is how good he is begging;

"Y-yeah...fuck! Pipsqueak, I promise I'll be good. I can be so so so fucking good, just for you. Won't get mad... I'll do anything to make you proud of me, yeah? Please? Just command me."

Caleb's first time with you was basically an outdoor, messy and quick sex;

Don't blame Caleb for the last one. The man came on his pants at least once even before you two got a chance to remove your clothes. It was just too much for him;

The boy was trembling, out of breath and so hungry for you. So when you watched his body spasming just by rubbing his nose against your not removed pantie alone, you couldn't believe what you're witnessing;

"Caleb? Did you just cum already?"

He would repeatedly apologize with that pussy drunk expression on his face, promising to make it up to you. Nose still buried against the fabric, eyes rolling in pure ecstasy;

And he would keep up with his promise. He turned his pleasure irrelevant, getting down on you, and finally tasting you made Caleb forget everything;

If you try to tease him about it? Oh, Caleb will want more. He's not exactly into being degraded, because he's after your praises at the end of the day. But he definitely enjoys being called out on his behaviors;

That's because he wanted to get caught by you countless times in the past. God, how he wished those perversions of his were discovered by his sweet pipsqueak. Only then he could get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, and cry and be such a pathetic lover boy;

"Oh, fuck. D-do you think I'm pathetic? Do you wanna know how many times I fantasized about this, pips? Burring my face into your underwear pretending I was eating you out? How many times I soaked your panties with my cum calling your name wishing you would see how much you make me leak?"

He would get off confessing it to you, eagerly waiting to be teased about it;

Oh, if you only knew how many dirty things Caleb did in your name. But don't worry, after your first time with him, he would confess the all one by one;

That night, you two wouldn't get sex with penetration;

That's due Caleb not carrying any condoms with him. What? Are you surprised? Caleb never carried them because he thought you would think he somehow got a situationship/girlfriend to hook up with and he didn't like the idea of you coming to that conclusion;

So he implored to be inside you to the point he almost cried, but ended up accepting a helping hand and maybe a long delicious humping session;

His brain turned off. He let be guided to you, loving to discover some of your soft spots. You could feel his slightly trembling hands, together with his needy breaths and praises while he obeyed every single command you gave him;

When he got too overwhelmed after his last orgasm came dry, you two curled up in the tent, cuddling and giggling trying to process the flood of feelings you two shared for each other;

Drifting into sleep, you two promised to figure out how the relationship would evolve from there. But now, the only thing that mattered was cuddling together under a starry night sky. You knew Caleb would move skies to fulfill his promises to you. So why doubt it when he promises he will be a good boy only for you?

[ummachistaamenos-blog]

filthy me - part 2

summary: You are a young engineer who moves to the Scottish Highlands, your dream country. Amidst the adaptation, you keep bumping into a charming, mysterious, and much older man named Joel Miller, one of the heirs to one of Scotland's oldest clans and a business magnate. And you can't stop having filthy thoughts about him.

warnings: big girthy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink, breeding kink, orgasm control (sort of), Joel calls reader "baby girl" or "mygirl", pervert!joel, discussion of free use kink note: just an experiment—if you like it, I’ll continue.

note: could you guys recommend me some fics with joel (or pedro) as a sugar daddy? i'm kinda new here ... i've read swept sway by punkshort recently and love it!!!!

part: 1 | 2 | 3

...

His mouth closed around my right nipple, and when he sucked hard, my knees threaten to give out. Firm hands in my ass. My fingers tighten around the silky curls of his hair.

We were in a dark corridor; that was all I could gather about the environment around us.

He groans, his mouth feathering over my chest to the other nipple. The first isn’t left alone, though, and his hand closes over my breast. I had always loved having my breasts played with, but no one had ever used their teeth and he uses his teeth to lightly bite.

I’m sinking. And his mouth never stops kissing, nibbling, and then moving down my ribcage. He pulls up the skirt of my dress in one swift movement and spreads my thighs with the next. I barely have time to catch my breath before I lose it again. His mouth is on my clit.

"Put your leg here," he said, placing my left leg on his shoulder.

My vision was blurry; something was growing intensely inside me. He is so good at this. He knows exactly what I like, and he does just that, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my pussy. Finding my clit and teasing it with his tongue, over and over again, with a steady pressure that sends my arousal sky-high.

"Look at me," he ordered, and I obeyed. And I nearly died.

While his tongue worked with mastery, his eyes locked onto mine, intense, saying a thousand things and yet nothing at all. And I held that gaze, his dark eyes never leaving mine, as if he were memorising me. He slightly arched his eyebrow, a subtle challenge, and he tilted his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips. It was as if he were making me a promise, committing to me.

A sound began to play, growing louder with each passing second. Loud and irritating. Repetitive and stressful, just like my alarm clock.

"No, no..." I started to complain. This couldn't be a dream.

But it was, and as soon as my eyes opened, my reality was different. The only thing between my legs was the pillow I used for support, and I wasn't in a dark corridor with Joel Miller kneeling between my legs. I was comfortably lying in my bed, in my flat.

“Oh my God,” I breathe. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

…

The crisp morning air filled my lungs in a rhythm coordinated with the steady impact of my trainers against the gravel trail in the park. The Scottish autumn painted the trees with a palette of golds, reds, and ochres that resembled a gentle fire, spreading through the branches and reflecting in the small lakes that lined the path. The scent of damp earth mingled with the slightly sweet aroma of dry leaves, a natural perfume that always made her feel present, connected to the moment. It was my little refuge, a space where my body and mind aligned in a kind of solitary dance, the cadence of the run pushing away the weight of my thoughts.

But that specific thought stubbornly lingered.

How was it possible that, in less than seven days since I first bumped into him, my mind was already conjuring such… intense images? Dreams that made me wake up with hot skin, a tense body, and my heart pounding in my chest. Everything about him seemed designed to awaken me in ways I hadn’t expected: the magnetism, the posture, the piercing gaze that seemed to analyse me effortlessly. And now? Now even in my dreams he touched me, his husky voice echoing in my ear like a dangerous promise.

I shook my head, letting out a low, nervous laugh.

"This is getting ridiculous…" I murmured to myself, quickening my pace as if I could leave the memories behind.

That’s when I spotted him.

Further ahead, another figure was running. His movement was fluid, disciplined, his tall and strong body moving with precision. He wore dark workout clothes that outlined his athletic build, and his pace was enviable, clearly someone who had been running for years. I noticed the way the muscles in his shoulders and back flexed under the long-sleeved shirt, the way his arms moved in sync with his firm strides without wasting energy.

My gaze swept over him with curiosity, and in a flash, I realised. It was him.

Joel Miller.

The shock sent a chill down my spine for a moment, followed by a wave of nervousness. What on earth was he doing here? Well, the question was stupid—he was obviously running, just like me—but the coincidence made me feel as if I were being pulled into some game whose rules I didn’t know.

He hadn’t noticed me, completely immersed in his own run, headphones in, his gaze fixed ahead. His jaw was set, his lips slightly parted to control his breathing. He ran as he did everything else: with control, determination, as if the world around him didn’t exist. My heart raced for a completely different reason now.

What if he saw me here? What should I say?

"Good morning, Mr. Miller. Thanks for the champagne and the flowers, and oh, just so you know, you’ve been the star of my dreams lately, did you know that?"

I wanted to laugh and curse myself at the same time. Without realising it, I slowed my pace a little, keeping a safe distance, but my eyes didn’t leave him. I felt like a pathetic teenager spying on her school crush through the hallways, too afraid to face him directly. I needed to stop this. … The bell above the door of Fras tinkled softly as I walked in, bringing with me the cold morning air and the residual warmth of the run. The interior of the café was a cosy embrace against the Scottish chill—the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The place had a lazy rhythm, a refuge from the biting wind outside.

From behind the counter, Marlon looked up and flashed a wide smile as soon as he saw me.

"Good morning, athlete!" he announced, leaning on the counter with an amused expression. "You’re really something, aren’t you? Who in their right mind wakes up on a freezing Saturday and goes running like they’re fleeing a kidnapping?"

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head, still feeling the warm pulse of the run under my skin.

"I needed to clear my head."

Marlon narrowed his eyes at me, crossing his arms.

"And what exactly are you running from?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled faintly.

"I like running. It helps me think."

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Fair enough. But if I ran in this cold, my only thought would be: "I’m going to die.""

I laughed again, and he picked up a cloth, wiping the counter distractedly.

"The usual?"

"Just a filter coffee today."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me as if I’d insulted his mother. "BLASPHEMY!"

I blinked, confused.

"What?" "Black coffee with no soul? In MY establishment? You dishonour me."

The laugh came before I could stop it.

"It’s just coffee, Marlon."

He sighed dramatically.

"I’ll bring it to your table before this offends me further."

I went to a table near the window, watching the street outside through the slightly fogged glass. A few people walked briskly, shoulders hunched against the icy wind, while the warm scent of coffee hung in the air, mixed with something that smelled like cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

I rested my chin on my hand and sighed. I was trying not to think about him. But it was impossible.

The flowers. The champagne. The note.

Joel Miller.

His name came and went in my mind like a persistent echo. For the first time in the week, I wasn’t flooded with thoughts and worries about work. That was some kind of relief, in a way.

Why? Why did he do that?

Our interactions had been… curious, to say the least. He was always so closed off, so distant. And then, suddenly, a gesture like that? A man like him, sending a gift, accompanied by a compliment that still made my stomach flip just thinking about it.

And the dreams?

My face heated up immediately, and I looked away, as if someone there could guess what I was thinking. It was ridiculous. How, in just a few days, had he become this overwhelming presence in my mind?

I think I’m just lonely. Ugh, I hate this!

Before I could continue berating myself, Marlon appeared beside me, placing the cup in front of me with an exaggerated gesture.

"Your black boring coffee, ma'am."

I huffed and held the cup between my hands, absorbing the warmth. But to my surprise, he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, crossing his legs.

"I like you."

I raised an eyebrow to him.

"Should I feel flattered?"

He tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Yes. You were kind of like a fresh start."

I frowned. "A fresh start?"

Marlon shrugged, playing with the rim of his cup.

"I don’t know. I’ve had some big disappointments with friends lately. People I thought were genuine, but they weren’t. Then you showed up, out of nowhere, all confused in this new city, and I thought: 'Hm, this girl has calm energy.'"

I smiled, feeling a genuine warmth in my chest. "I’m glad."

He watched me for a moment before smiling.

"Alright, but what about you? Besides being a badass engineer, what are your dreams?"

I hesitated.

"Right now, my focus is adapting here and growing in my career. But what about you? What brought you here?"

His confident smile was immediate.

"Journalism. I’m studying at the local university. But my family’s from Glasgow."

That explains why his accent is so strong—I’ve always struggled to understand the English spoken by people from that region.

"Wow, that makes so much sense!"

"Right?" He winked. "Second year already. My dream is to be an anchor for a big news network, like CNN."

I smiled, impressed.

"I can see you there."

He placed a hand over his chest, feigning emotion.

"My God, I’ll remember this when I’m famous!"

I laughed but soon bit my lip, hesitant.

"Speaking of remembering… I need to share something with you." Marlon’s eyes lit up with immediate interest.

"Oh, my God. I love gossip!"

I watched him for a moment. Could I trust him?

"I don’t want it to be exactly gossip. Can you keep it a secret?"

"With my life."

I took a deep breath and told him. Every detail. The waiter appearing, the bucket of champagne, the flowers, the note signed by Joel.

Marlon’s jaw dropped.

"YOU’RE KIDDING ME!"

"I don’t even know what to think."

He slammed his hand on the table.

"You exchanged numbers with him, didn’t you?!"

"No!"

"GIRL, ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

I let out a nervous laugh.

"At the time, he was already leaving—I didn’t even have time. I wasn’t going to run after him through the restaurant like a madwoman. I might be attracted to him, but I’d never act desperate."

He sighed and then laughed, shaking his head.

…

When I got home, the apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the heater in the corner of the living room. I kicked off my trainers near the door, feeling the warmth of the carpet against my cold feet, and walked straight to the table where the flowers still sat.

The arrangement looked even more beautiful now under the warm glow of the lamp. The deep hues of the petals contrasted with the vibrant green of the leaves, and even after a full day, the sweet scent still lingered in the air. I reached out, brushing my fingers against one of the petals. Soft, delicate.

My eyes fell on the card again.

Until that moment, I’d only seen his signature. The name that had haunted me all day. But as I picked it up now, I noticed something I’d missed before. The paper was thicker than a simple accompanying card. There was something written on the back.

My chest tightened as I turned the paper over, my fingers slightly trembling. The handwriting was slanted, firm, that of a man who wrote with conviction.

"I don’t want to impose and ruin a moment that seems yours, but if you’d give me the pleasure of dining with me, I’ll be at this same restaurant tomorrow, at the same time."

Below, just a signature.

Joel.

My heart gave a violent jolt.

My hands started to sweat, and I had to put the card back on the table, as if that could stop the effect those words had on me. I couldn’t say how long I stood there, just staring at the note as if it could come to life and give me answers to all the questions swirling in my head.

I tried to go on with my day as if nothing had happened. I went to the gym, as usual. I did my workout, tried to channel the anxiety into something productive. I came home, showered, worked a bit on some company tasks. But every time I glanced at the clock, a different kind of nervousness crept up my spine.

And when the time to get ready came, I chose a dress that hugged my body in all the right places, the fabric flowing but elegant. A long coat to protect against the cold, mid-heel boots that elongated my legs. I spritzed on perfume with a little more intention, adjusted my hair until I found the balance between natural and sophisticated.

I looked in the mirror.

I looked good.

Maybe better than I had the night before.

And as I crossed the threshold of the apartment and headed to the restaurant, I felt that flutter in my stomach I hadn’t felt in a long time.

…

The restaurant was warm, cosy, a welcome refuge against the biting cold outside. The scent of wine and herbs hung in the air, mingling with the muffled sound of conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain. As soon as I entered, I was greeted by the same waiter from the night before. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. There was just that brief moment of silent recognition between us before he made a discreet gesture, indicating I should follow him.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I walked through the dining room. The restaurant, already sophisticated on its own, seemed even more intimidating now.

When the waiter finally stopped and stepped aside, I saw him. Joel was sitting at a more secluded table, discreet, almost isolated from the rest of the restaurant. The golden light from the lamps created soft shadows on his face, accentuating his sharp features—the strong jaw, the well-groomed beard, the gaze absorbed in his phone screen as he typed something with long, firm fingers.

He seemed oblivious to the surroundings, completely focused. But the moment I approached, he felt my presence. He turned his head slowly, and as soon as his eyes met mine, something in the air seemed to shift. He set his phone down unhurriedly and stood up. His gaze didn’t waver for a second as he closed the distance between us. And before I could say anything, his large, warm hand enveloped mine.

His touch was firm but controlled. He raised my hand slowly and brought it to his lips, placing a long, deliberate kiss against my skin. I held my breath. The warmth of his mouth contrasted with the cold still lingering on my fingers, and his neatly trimmed beard brushed lightly against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. He didn’t just kiss my hand—he held it there, long enough for me to feel his warm breath against my fingers, for me to notice how his eyes watched me closely, intently.

It was… erotic.

When he finally released my hand, his voice came out low, thick.

"Glad you came."

I swallowed hard, feeling a different kind of warmth spread through my body.

Joel made a slight gesture to the waiter.

"Bring more wine."

Then, he pointed to the chair beside him.

"Please, sit here."

I moved without protest. I couldn’t explain why, but there was something in the way he asked—or rather, in the way he spoke to me—that made me want to obey. Not out of submission, but because it felt natural, as if somehow he already knew I wanted to be there. As soon as I settled beside him, he turned his body slightly toward me, resting his arm on the back of the chair, his attention completely on me.

"I’m glad you accepted my invitation to dinner."

The tone of his voice carried something beyond mere courtesy. A certain weight to his words, a genuine satisfaction.

"I…" I tried to choose the right words but felt a smile tug at my lips. "I thought it would be rude to ignore such a well-written invitation."

Joel let out a low, amused laugh.

"I didn’t think a note would have such an effect."

"You knew it would." I crossed my arms, giving him an assessing look. "If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have left it."

He tilted his head slightly, a curious glint in his eyes.

"I like testing hypotheses."

"And what was your hypothesis?"

He leaned in a few inches, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.

"I have several hypotheses about you."

My cheeks warmed against my will. Before I could formulate a response, the waiter returned with the wine, pouring for both of us. I took a small sip, needing something to divert my attention, to calm the nerves that, somehow, were too restless near him. But then I remembered.

I set the glass down and tilted my head toward him.

"I saw you this morning."

He frowned slightly.

"When?"

"Running." I crossed my legs under the table. "I was running too."

Joel brought the glass to his lips, but his eyes stayed on me, assessing.

"And why didn’t you come up to me?"

The question came quickly, without hesitation.

I shrugged, playing with the rim of the glass between my fingers.

"You seemed focused. I didn’t want to interrupt."

He took a deep breath, as if reflecting on my answer, then shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips.

"You would’ve interrupted in a good way."

My stomach did a little flip. His gaze was an invisible touch, sliding, exploring.

"So…" He ran his thumb slowly along the rim of the glass, his voice laden with something that made me hold my breath. "If you had come up to me, what would I have seen?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean?"

Joel tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on mine.

"You said you were running. I was focused, yes, but maybe… I would’ve been distracted if I’d seen you there, so close."

Heat rose to my cheeks, but I didn’t want to back down. I leaned forward slightly, resting my chin on my hand.

"And what exactly would’ve distracted you?"

His eyes darkened a little, the wine reflecting in those honey and amber tones. He didn’t answer immediately. Just let his gaze slide over my face, then down, slowly, along my neck, my chest exposed by the discreet neckline of the dress I’d chosen with more intention than I’d like to admit.

He smiled, almost imperceptibly, before raising the glass again and saying, without taking his eyes off me:

"Everything."

A sensation washed over me that didn’t just come from the words, but from the way he said them—low, laden with a weight that seemed to press against something inside me.

I picked up my own glass, trying to maintain some composure.

"You seem very confident."

Joel set the glass aside and ran his fingers along the stem.

"I am."

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head.

"Arrogant."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Realistic."

I raised an eyebrow back.

"So you’re saying you really think I would’ve stopped my run to approach you?"

"I think you wanted to."

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out immediately. Because the truth? The truth was, yes, I had wanted to. When I saw him that morning, running with long strides, his shirt slightly clinging to his chest, his face focused… I’d had to fight the urge to slow down and get closer.

And the worst part? He knew. He noticed my hesitation and smiled. That slow, corner-of-the-mouth smile, as if he’d already won a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting.

"Are you always like this?" I asked, crossing my legs, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"Like what?"

"Intense."

He leaned in a little closer, closing the distance between us even more.

"Only when I’m interested."

My chest rose and fell in a slower breath. He rested one arm on the back of my chair, and suddenly, the position made me feel like he was surrounding me—without touching, without doing anything physical, but still enveloping me in his presence.

"And am I interesting to you?" My voice came out lower than I intended.

His smile deepened, but his gaze… that dark, heavy gaze fixed on me, it held no trace of playfulness.

"Isn’t it obvious?"

My breath caught in my throat.

And in that moment, I realised that maybe it wasn’t him playing this game. No game was being played at all.

"Can I smell your perfume?"

Without waiting for permission, Joel leaned in slowly, closing the distance between us with a naturalness that made me hold my breath. The approach was slow, intentional. The heat of his body radiated against my skin before he even touched me.

Then, I felt it.

The light brush of his beard against the sensitive curve of my neck. It was a minimal touch, but it ignited something deep within me. A sharp mix of shiver and warmth. He inhaled near my skin, and I nearly died.

The warm air of his breath caressed my skin as he subtly inhaled, taking in the perfume I’d chosen with a care that now seemed ridiculous.

"Hm." The low sound, almost a satisfied purr, resonated against my skin. "You smell exactly as I imagined."

My mouth went dry. My chest rose and fell faster than it should have. Before I could process, he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes sliding from my neck to my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Sweet." He murmured, his voice almost gravelly, as if he could already taste it. "Vanilla, a bit of flowers, and a woody base. The scent of a woman who has to deal with many men daily but doesn’t lose her feminine essence and delicacy."

How the hell did he know?

I tightened my fingers around the wine glass, trying to ignore the fact that my entire body seemed to be on fire.

[saltcxrcle]

girls i've never tried ── . ✶ jo harvelle

summary: the two of you were just best friends, right? but then why did jo want to kiss you every time she saw you?

pairings: bi! jo harvelle x bi! reader, jo harvelle x fem!reader, mentioned prev dean x reader, slight implied deanjoノ wc: 4.4k warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', best friends to lovers, jealousy, making out, smut, lots of praise, oral (both receiving), fingering, slightly dom!reader and sub!jo, pet names (baby, honey, pretty girl, good girl, baby girl)<- mostly used by reader, title is a lyric from naked in manhattan by chappell roan which the fic is loosely based on, kinda edited; all mistakes my own a/n: its a crime that there isn't more gay fics for jo so here i am doing my due diligence and providing you guys some jo smut for all of my bi girlies (gn) and lesbians that love jo lol also idk how not yap in my fics lmao but enjoy! jo harvelle masterlist

JO WANTED TO KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE BEING WITH A GIRL. 

More specifically, she wanted to know what it would be like to be with her best friend, you. It was a thought that always crossed her mind, even when she was younger, and the two of you were messing around in her room, giggling at something you guys were reading in a magazine. 

You were her best friend ever since her father died, and your parents had shown up at the Roadhouse to offer their condolences to Ellen when they heard the news. You were a bit older than her but shot her a kind smile that made her stomach flip when you told her that you liked her Sleeping Beauty shirt. 

You practically grew up with Jo and Ellen, and your parents would leave you with her as they went on hunts, so the two of you stuck by each other like glue. Ellen called the pair of you “two peas in a pod.” 

Jo loved how quick-witted you were and how willing you were to teach her about hunting (even if her mom hated that your parents started taking you on hunts when you were just sixteen). But she saw less of you as you went on hunts with your parents before you started to go on your hunts after they had retired. 

You would stop by the Roadhouse occasionally when you could or when you were passing by, never failing to fill Jo in on the hunts you went on or which monsters you had killed in the time that you hadn’t seen her or Ellen. 

She remembers the time right before you stopped coming by as often, telling her how you lost your virginity to this guy named Dean, who had these bright green eyes and plush lips that felt so soft against yours. You mentioned that he was another hunter, and Jo had to bury the little green monster that she felt clawing at her chest as you detailed the experience. 

Jo didn’t know why she was jealous that guy got to be your first, but she chalked it up to not having been able to lose her virginity yet since everyone else around her was, including her best friend. 

But her jealousy almost always took center stage when you came around the Roadhouse and slept over, telling her about the men and women that you would hook up with on the road. Jo would have a fake smile plastered on her face because, apparently, she was a masochist when it came to you and asked you if you had met someone while on a hunt. 

It was only when she saw you flirting with a girl at the bar when you were helping Ellen and Jo out for the night—pouring and serving drinks to the patrons in the Roadhouse. 

God, I wish I was her. Jo thought as she saw you send the girl you were flirting with a sultry smile before the realization hit her like a bolt of lighting, 

Jo knew that she liked men. She just didn’t realize that she also liked women until she saw you wrap your arm around the girl’s waist, sending Jo a wink before the two of you sauntered out of the place once it was closing time. 

Now, it had been a couple of months since she had seen you, and the Winchesters were like a tornado, storming into the Roadhouse and effectively taking you off of her mind. Jo thought she was getting somewhere with Dean even though something about him seemed familiar to her, but she ignored it as she talked to him and refilled his whiskey. 

The door opened to the Roadhouse, and Jo didn’t look up from wiping down the bar, but Dean did, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you walk through the entrance. 

“Well, I’ll be damned, Winchester, didn’t think you knew this place.” You smirked at the sight of the Winchester brothers as you walked over to the bar. 

Jo’s eyes snapped up from what she was doing, her gaze trained on you as you gave Sam a quick side hug as a greeting. 

Dean grabbed your waist and tucked you into his side.  “It’s a small world for us hunters isn’t it?.” Dean joked as he squeezed your arm. “The only reason we come back is because the service is great here.” Dean winked at Jo. 

Jo’s eyes were lasered in on Dean’s arm around you. The familiarity of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. 

You chuckled at Dean’s words.“ You aren’t wrong there Dean.” 

You turned to face your best friend. “Hi Joey!” You greeted Jo with a bright smile. 

“You know the Winchesters?” Jo asked instead of saying hi back to you. 

You nodded, noting the bluntness of her tone, but you would talk to her later. “Yep, ran into Dean a long time ago, but ran into these two on that hunt with the revenant I told you about a while back.” 

Something clicked in Jo’s brain. This was the Dean that had taken your virginity all those years ago. The same Dean she thought she was interested in. Fuck. Of course, out of all people, it had to be him. God must hate me. She thought as she swallowed hard. 

“Ah, I remember now.” She sent you a tight smile. “Did you want your usual?” 

You looked down at your watch. “Not all that into day drinking, I’ll take a root beer though.” 

Jo nodded and went to the mini fridge below the bar to grab the root beer that you only drank when you weren’t feeling up to alcohol. She ignored the rush of relief that went through her when you finally pulled away from Dean’s side as you sat on the barstool in between Sam and Dean. Jo also ignored how her heart rate picked up when your fingers brushed against hers as she handed you your drink. 

The four of you fell into a conversation, but Jo barely participated. Witnessing the rapport between you and the Winchesters made her skin crawl as comfortable exchanges of touches between you and Dean made her burn with jealousy. Jealous of who? Jo could barely tell anymore. 

Sam noticed how quiet Jo was and how she was staring intently at you and Dean. He didn’t know what her problem was today. Still, regardless of her sudden silence, he tried to involve her in the conversation as best he could. Still, she gave short answers, which made you raise an eyebrow at her. 

But before you could question her attitude, customers started to file in, and the evening rush began for the Roadhouse. You decided to help out, hopping behind the bar and making drinks for the boys and other patrons. You had tried to talk to Jo in between serving and making drinks, but she managed to avoid you by going around, taking orders, and going to the kitchen. 

You huffed but let it go, figuring that something else earlier in the day had set her off. Sam and Dean left right before closing, promising you that they would text you if they needed help on their next hunt. Soon after they left, you made the last call before the Roadhouse closed. 

Once everything was cleaned up, Jo was nowhere to be seen, and you sighed. That girl was moody, and you were going to find out why. 

You quickly made your way to Jo’s room and found her sitting at her vanity, already dressed for bed and beginning to pull her hair up. 

“So, are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass and died?” You asked Jo as you leaned against her door frame. 

You heard her scoff. “It’s nothing.” 

“It doesn’t sound like “nothing”.” You kicked off of her door frame, toeing your boots off before walking further into her room and sitting on her bed. “Come on Jo, talk to me! You barely spoke to me today.” 

Jo said your name tiredly. “It’s just been a long day.” 

“Then it’s the perfect time to talk about it.” 

“I’d rather not right now.” Jo’s words came out clipped as she stood up from her vanity, aiming to go to the other side of her room to pull out socks from her dresser. 

But before she could, you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. You stood up from the bed and tried to meet her eyes. 

“Jo, please, talk to me.” You pleaded softly. You could tell something was bothering her, and you just wanted to know what it was. “Is it because I didn’t check for a while?”

She shook her head, looking away from you. Jo debated on what to tell you. “Why didn’t you tell me that Dean Winchester was the guy that took your virginity?” 

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other until today. Besides, why does that matter? That happened so long ago.” 

Jo couldn’t look at you, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t want to admit to anything she wasn’t ready to face head-on. She ripped her wrist from your grip. 

“I told you it’s nothing. Can you just leave it?” Jo went back on her path towards her dresser, but you blocked her from even taking a step. 

“No, because I’m trying to talk to my best friend but she won’t even give me the time of day right now.” 

“And that’s my problem!” Jo’s outburst shocked you, your stomach dropping to your ass. 

A tense silence settled between you and her. 

“What do you mean?” You whispered. 

Jo sighed. “You’ve always been my best friend. But seeing you with Dean today, set me off.” 

“I-i do you like Dean? Is that why you’ve been acting short with me?” You swallowed thickly. 

You’ve always liked Jo ever since you realized that you like both girls and boys but kept that hidden from her—never once getting the vibe that she swung both ways. You liked Dean, but he was like your best friend, and you both had agreed that the first time was fun, but that time would be the only time the two of you would hook up. 

“No. I don’t think I do. All I know is that I was jealous that Dean got to have you and I-” Jo shut her mouth before she admitted her feelings for you. But the damage was already done. 

“And you what?” Your heart started to pound in your chest. “You cannot leave me hanging here Jo.” 

Jo bit her bottom lip, your gaze straying to her lips before you met her brown eyes once more. 

“I wished that I could have you in the same way Dean did.” Jo’s words were quiet, but they sounded deafening to your ears. 

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. “You could, you know?” 

“What?” Jo’s head was spinning at your words but also at the sight of the sly smile on your face. Her breath hitched as you stepped closer to her, your warm hands landing on her waist. 

“I’ve liked you for a long time Jo. If you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked, you know?” 

Jo’s heart felt like it could escape from out of her chest cavity. “I like you too. I wasn’t sure if it was in a friendly way or not.” 

You smiled at her as you leaned closer to Jo. “Well I’m glad it isn’t. Can I kiss you pretty girl?” Your breath was fanning over her lips, rubbing your nose against her as you saw her pretty brown eyes flutter. 

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy and filled with want. 

You wasted no time pressing your lips against Jo’s. Her lips were so soft and pliant as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but push your lips against hers harder, pouring all of the years of secret yearning into it. 

Jo moaned against your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck as you pushed her backward until her knees hit the edge of her bed. Jo fell backward, breaking the kiss the two of you were sharing. She shuddered at the sight of your dark eyes, filled with desire, as you drank in the sight of her slightly swollen lips. 

Jo was dressed in some pajama shorts with a tight, long-sleeve shirt, and you could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, her nipples showing through the thin fabric. You internally groaned at the sight, but you crawled on top of the bed, making her crawl up it until her head hit her pillows. 

You hovered over her, cupping Jo’s face with one of your hands as you took in how the warm lighting from her lamp highlighted her features. “You’re so pretty.” You breathed out. 

Jo blushed at your praise, making you grin at the sight of her reddening cheeks. You leaned down and kissed her again—wanting to feel her soft lips against yours once more. Her kisses were addictive, and you were so sure that the taste of her would have you hooked on her indefinitely. 

You took the lead, swiping your tongue at the seam of Jo’s lips and groaning softly when you felt her tongue shyly dance with yours. Shit, she was so sweet, and you were going to have fun with her. 

Your free hand started to roam, cupping her breast through her shirt, squeezing it slightly. She let out the cutest squeak against your mouth, making you chuckle. 

“Is this okay?” You asked when you pulled away from her now swollen lips. 

“Yeah.” Jo answered with a small pant to her words. 

You ducked your head down, planting small kisses on her jaw before trailing down and nipping at the soft skin of her neck. Jo’s hands grabbed your biceps, squeezing as she let out the softest moan like she was afraid to be loud. The sound sent a wave of arousal through you and made you nip harder at her neck. 

“Don’t be afraid to be loud. Wanna hear you, honey.” You murmured into her skin, and you made your way to her collarbone, moving your hand from her breast and pulling the collar of her already low-cut shirt to suck at her chest. 

Jo continued to let out breathy moans, but they were louder this time around, and it was like music to your ears. The hand that was on her cheek moved to play with the hem of her shorts, but she grabbed your wrist. 

You looked at Jo, pulling away from her chest to look at her, her eyes wide and filled with nerves. 

“I-I’ve never been with a girl before.” 

Something inside of you purred at her words. This was a little archaic, but you were glad that you were going to be the first girl that she’d have sex with. 

“S’fine. Just relax, I’ll take care of you pretty girl.” You promised. 

Jo swallowed thickly before nodding. You kissed her softly, your hands tugging at the hem of her shirt. She got the memo and raised her arms up as you took off her shirt, exposing her bare chest to you. 

She resisted the urge to hide from your reverent stare. “God, you’re gorgeous Jo. So, so pretty.” You couldn’t help but praise her—pressing soft kisses down her chest and stomach before your lips hit the hem of her shorts. 

“Can I take these off?” Your fingers were hooked on the waistband of her shorts. 

She nodded again. But you shook your head. 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, you can take them off.” Jo’s words were rushed, clearly eager—any previous shyness dissipated as arousal flooded her veins. 

“Good girl.” You said before pulling her shorts, along with her underwear, down her legs, exposing her cunt to the cool air of the room. 

“Fuck.” You cursed at the sight of Jo’s bare center. There was a small patch of dark blonde hair at her pubic bone, and it was the most amazing sight you’ve ever seen. 

You settled between her open legs, your gaze on Jo’s cunt. Jo saw the hunger in your eyes, and she felt like you could devour her whole. She shivered in anticipation as your hands gripped her thighs. 

“Always knew you were going to have a pretty pussy. Bet it looks as good as it tastes.” You pressed teasing kisses to Jo’s inner thighs. She almost squirmed at the feeling—her hands grabbing at her sheets, wanting to feel your mouth on her. 

You leaned in closer to her pussy—it was practically glistening in the low light as you blew cool air on it, making Jo’s cunt clench around nothing. You laughed lightly at the small squeak that Jo made. Her hips canted forward—Jo wanted, no, needed to feel your mouth devouring her. 

“Did you need something baby?” You looked up from her wet slit to meet the pleading brown gaze of Jo. God, you hadn’t done anything, and she already looked fucked out. 

Jo whined. “Please.” She whispered. 

“Please what?” You knew you were being a bit mean, teasing her like this but it was too hard not to. “I need to hear you say it baby.” 

“Please put your mouth on me.” 

You grinned against her inner thigh, planting another kiss there. “My mouth is on you baby. You gotta be more specific.” 

Jo almost growled in frustration, her hand moving from the bed to grab the back of your head and shove you closer to her leaking cunt. “Need your mouth on my pussy.” 

“Wasn’t that easy?” You said before licking a wide strip from her slit to her clit. 

Jo let out a pleasured sigh from the feeling of your tongue finally on her aching cunt. You softly licked at her, swirling your tongue around her sensitive clit before wrapping your lips around it, suckling at the bundle of nerves softly. 

Moans left her pretty mouth, her noises spurring you on to continue your mission to get her to come around your mouth. You ate her out messily, uncaring of her slick getting all over your chin and mouth. She tasted so good. A mix of tang and musk flooded your senses as you licked at her slit, your nose buried in the soft hair at the top of her mound. 

Your dominant hand left her thigh as you pulled away from her. A little whine left her mouth in the midst of her moans. Your hand made its way to run through her wet fold, slicking up your fingers. 

“That feels good honey?” You nipped at her thigh, rubbing at her clit with your slicked-covered fingertips.  

“Uh huh.” Jo nodded furiously, her hair mussing up from the action. 

You slapped at her clit lightly, making her hip twitch at the sensation. “Words.” You reminded Jo before prodding at her entrance with your middle finger. 

“Yes! Feels so good, please.” Jo didn’t know what she was pleading for. All she knew was that she wanted to come. 

You didn’t respond, letting your finger slip into her warm pussy and feeling her gummy walls contract around it. Your mouth sealed around her clit again as your finger slowly moved in her. It didn’t take long for Jo’s moans to fill the room again. You could feel your underwear sticking to your absolutely drenched cunt, but you kept your focus on Jo, wanting to wring any and all bit of pleasure out of her. 

Your middle finger was soon joined by your ring finger. “S’tight baby. Can barely move my fingers with how hard you’re clenching around them.” 

Your words filled Jo’s lower belly with heat as her hips moved in tandem with your fingers, meeting your slow thrusts. 

Jo could feel the familiar burn building through her body when she thought of this very moment with her own fingers buried in her pussy alone in her room. 

“You’re close aren’t you? Can feel you clench around my fingers, you gonna come for me?” Your fingers found the spongy spot that she could never find herself and made a come hither motion, brushing against the spot each time your fingers moved in and out of her. 

Jo’s moans became higher and more frequent, and she was so close to cumming. But she was still missing something, and you could tell. You sealed your lips against her swollen clit and sucked hard. Jo let out a moan that almost sounded like a wail as she clenched around your fingers, gushing all over them and your face as heat filled her body and stars danced behind her eyes. 

You worked her through her orgasm, removing your fingers when her walls stopped clenching around them, and your tongue gently moved through her sensitive folds. You pressed one last kiss to her clit before trailing your lips up her soft skin, hovering over her and petting at her hair. 

“There she is.” You said before dipping down and kissing her tenderly. Jo thought it would be weird to taste herself on her lips, but if anything, it spurred her on. She pressed her lips hard against yours as her hands pawed at your shirt, wanting it off. You laughed at her eagerness and broke the kiss to help her take it off. 

Soon enough, you found yourself naked and in Jo’s position—on your back as she was hovering over you and squeezing at your breasts as she kissed you. You moaned in her mouth as she pinched at your nipples before she tore her mouth away from you and moved down your neck and chest. 

Jo made her way down your body, the lust-fueled confidence slowly ebbing away when she was in between your legs and staring at your bare center. There was a hunger in her brown gaze, but it was overshadowed by nerves and hesitancy. 

“Hey.” You called at her softly, sitting up and cupping her face. “Do whatever feels right.” 

“But what if-” 

“You’ll do fine, baby.” You cut her off. “I’ll guide you if you need it okay?” Your thumb swiped at her cheek before kissing her softly as reassurance. 

Jo melted into the kiss before you broke it. You sent her a tender smile before laying back and moving your hands to her hair, pushing the blonde strands out of her face. 

Jo took a deep breath before settling in between your legs. She decided to mirror what you did to her, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before reaching your clit and kissing it. A quiet moan left your lips, spurring Jo on. 

She pressed a more demanding kiss to your clit before her tongue darted out and licked at it. Another moan left your lips, and Jo decided to go for it, using her tongue to swipe through your slit and taste you fully. 

“Ah, doing so well Jo.” You praised as she sucked at your clit, her doe-like eyes looking up at you sent another bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. 

You could tell that she was inexperienced with her tongue, but she made up for it in eagerness. Your hands were wound in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp—making her moan against your cunt. The vibrations felt delicious against your cunt, and you couldn’t help but grind against her face. 

“Jo baby, use your fingers like I did.” You ordered breathlessly. 

Jo complied, bringing her slender fingers to your spit–slicked entrance and slipped one of them in. 

“Another one baby, please.” You were wet enough that you didn’t need to be prepped. Jo slipped another one in you, and you sighed at the feeling of being filled by her fingers. 

“Okay, use your pretty mouth on my clit and move your fingers like this,” You directed Jo, simulating the motion you did for her. 

Jo nodded and started to put your instructions to use. She sucked and licked at your swollen clit and moved her fingers inside of you. You were letting out moans and whines, praises spilling from your lips. 

Jo keened at the praise, doubling down on your pussy. Her ministrations were enthusiastic, a little uncoordinated, but it was still bringing you closer to the edge. You would let Jo practice on you whenever she wanted. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come.” 

Jo really wanted to make you feel good as you made her feel. She shook her head, moving her fingers faster, brushing against your g-spot. 

“Shit! Doing so well f’me baby girl, keep going. So so close.” You moaned out, pushing her face further into your cunt. Jo kept at her pace, feeling your walls clenching and twitching around her fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You came hard around Jo’s fingers and mouth. Jo continued at her pace, working you through your orgasm, and you had to push Jo away from you as she continued to move her fingers inside of you and licking at your pussy, bordering overstimulation. 

“Come here.” You beckoned, sitting up and meeting Jo in the middle, pulling her into a filthy kiss. 

“Did so well baby girl, haven’t come that hard in a while.” You praised her as you pulled away and caressed her sides. 

Jo flushed at your praise and smiled at you. She kissed you again before worry flared up inside of her. 

“This isn’t a one time thing for you is it?” Jo asked as she broke the kiss. 

You pulled her down to lay beside you. You were facing her, your hand resting on the side of her neck. “No it’s not.” You reassured her. “M’not letting you go now that I have you. Is it for you?” 

Jo breathed out a sigh of relief before shaking her head. “No, never was.” 

You sent her a dazzling smile, making her heart almost skip a beat. Jo couldn’t help but smile back at you before you kissed her, but the two of you were still smiling so wide that it could barely qualify as a kiss. 

The two of you never wanted to leave the blissful bubble of her room. The rest of the night was filled with soft caresses and quiet conversation about your hunts—a warmth settled in both yours and Jo’s chest. Everything felt right. and Jo couldn’t help but think she wanted to stay like this with you forever. Little did she know you were thinking the exact same thing. 

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"No need for the long face, red. Suppose I know better than to look a horse in the mouth. As for sacrifices, I don't think either of us have much to worry about there. We ain't the most ideal candidates. Not exactly virginal. Rare as Unicorns, those."

Eskel's low, grimly amused voice returned to the crimson haired Sorceress with a chuckle after climbing off Scorpion, giving him a pat and taking up his Meteorite Steel Sword again, casting hand at the ready as well. At the same time she had summoned her familiar staff once more, the runes on it glowing blue... he hadn't seen that thing in awhile, and she looked through the rain and mist to the looming keep above them... his viper eyes following her hazel pair as well. Together they moved forward, once assured that Scorpion would be safe out here, the magically protected and concealed horse going to graze at some nearby forest greenery, and made their way to the ancient stone steps, beginning their ascension up them. It was hard to believe they had finally made it this far in their journey... stranding at the doorway of the other world below. Drawing ever closer to R'lyeh... to walk where no Witcher ever had before. He kept his heightened senses on their surroundings all the while as they gradually reached the top, looking backwards through the fog to make sure they hadn't been followed... and with a gesture of her staff, with a glow of magical light, she unlocked and opened the creaking, massive pair of doors. He readied himself for anything that might rush out of the darkness at them, but after a few moments nothing came, and he couldn't hear anyone or anything stirring within... thus, they continued forward again, through the doors and into the ominous darkness that awaited them.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter..."

The Witcher muttered under his breath as they slipped inside, and raising a hand he summoned an Igni Sign in his palm and maintained it as a torch to help light the way and be ready to throw fire at any hostiles, while magical light poured from her staff, each of them with their own special sort of torch. Behind them, the doors slammed shut automatically, magically, his medallion going wild... but glancing at Sabrina, he could tell it hadn't been her that closed them. The further they moved into the keep, the colder the air seemed to get, the surroundings of the interior a ruin... obvious signs of occult activity everywhere over the centuries. Blood and magic infused into the very stones beneath their feet. Rain dripping from the ceiling, moss and mold growing... an onslaught of unpleasant scents filtering into his nose. He had smelled worse things, but all the same, something about this place was wrong in a way those previous experiences hadn't been. Unnatural power permeating through the place, his medallion still humming wildly. No rats or animals scurrying in the darkness, too frightened by the place. He wondered how many sacrifices and demonic rituals had taken place here, how many souls had passed through the halls... and what it might have looked like centuries ago. Ascending another staircase and entering another unpleasant chamber, he looked around it, taking note of the next pair of closed double doors on the far end beckoning to them... before his viper eyes returned Sabrina's way again at her observation with a nod, deep tone murmuring back to her.

"Nothing compared to what's waiting for us beneath this island. All the same... best be ready for anything to leap out at us. Let's just find that damn lighthouse... avoid what we can, if we can."

@fallesto

She nodded firmly, sliding off Scorpion's back with a grace that belied her fear. She felt the power of the Leviathan, a pulsing, malevolent presence that seemed to emanate from the very stones of the structure before them. Her soft hazel eyes narrowed, a wave of ehr hand and her staff appeared in her hand and she pointed it forward, the runes along its length glowing a fierce blue in the dim light. Rain plastered her crimson hair to her face, but she didn't flinch, her gaze unwavering on the foreboding entrance to the keep. She turned and watched as Eskel dismounted as well, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement or danger. He no doubt felt the same oppressive energy she did, the very air thick with it. They approached the keep, booted feet ringing against the slick stone stairs that led up to the lighthouse. The rain had started to let up slightly, but the wind remained, carrying with it the scent of the sea and something else, something ancient and foul.

“You broke that curse many years ago, enough with the horse jokes, you got better material than this, if this ends with a sacrifice, you're going the right way of me offering you up.”

The doors to the keep were heavy and old, but unlocked, swinging open with a groan that echoed through the stone corridors. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint scent of something long dead. The flickering light of their torches cast dancing shadows on the walls, making it difficult to discern any details. The place looked abandoned, but the prickling at the back of Sabrina's neck told her that they weren't alone. She whispered an incantation, a simple spell to illuminate their way and reveal any hidden dangers. The light grew brighter, revealing the remnants of a once-grand hall, now desolate and decayed. The silence was unnerving, the only sound the echo of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. They both moved cautiously through the keep, the tension in the air growing thicker with each step. She turned and could see, that Eskel's eyes glowed faintly, his witcher senses on high alert. He knew that the quiet was the calm before the storm the same as her, and that the cultists would not have left this place unguarded. They climbed a narrow spiral staircase leading to the lighthouse, the air growing colder and damper with each rotation. The walls were covered in a thick layer of green moss, and the stairs were slick with mold. The light from their torches cast eerie patterns on the ancient stones, making it feel as if they were ascending into the bowels of the earth rather than climbing towards a beacon of light.

“Keep Alert …”

She took the lead, her staff held out in front of her like a fencer's blade, ready to parry any attack. Her heart was racing, but she pushed the fear aside. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders, and she would not falter now. She had faced the darkest of magics before, and she would do so again. The staircase opened up into a chamber, the walls lined with rotting wooden benches and the floor scattered with the remnants of candles and incense. At the far end of the room was a set of double doors, the wood blackened and warped with age. The Leviathan's influence was stronger here, almost a tangible force that seemed to push against them, trying to keep them out.

“Cultists, they do like to leave a mess behind.”

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 2 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

Synopsis: When Robby and Jack find you, old wounds reopen, as guilt and regret threaten to tear apart what’s left of your fractured relationships. As your hearts reconnect in an unexpected moment of closeness, long-buried feelings begin to resurface and the possibility of forgiveness feels closer than ever.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies, heartbreak >>> comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1463

A/n: How are you even supposed to choose between these two, like hello? Anyway, we'll find out soon won't we... Next chapter is heavyyy

Previous Chapter (1): I Love You | Next Chapter (3): I Forgive You

Robby and Jack find you slumped in an alley, unmoving, propped against the cold building facade.

Jack is instantly by your side, rubbing your sternum forcefully, desperate for a response, anything.

Robby's fingers press against the side of your neck, terrified of what he might find, or not. "Y/N?" He opens your eyelids, blinding you with a penlight.

You groan, barely audible “Stop.”

“Y/N, you with us?” Jack huffs, ridden with anxiety.

“I’m fine.” You say louder, pushing their hands away.

Relief washes over them, but it doesn't last long.

“Did you take something?” Robby scans the ground for anything that might explain this.

“What? No”, you plead, offended by the suggestion.

“What happened?” Jack's voice is softer now.

You blink, taking in your surroundings, not really sure yourself. “I must’ve passed out.”

Neither of the men speak, unsure whether to confess how badly they were spiralling when they couldn’t find you. Was it even their place to worry?

“I’m just so done”, you interrupt their thoughts.

“With what?” Robby inquires too quickly.

“Everything. This job. This hospital. Maybe this city.”

“This life?” Jack states flatly.

The bluntness shocks you. Robby as well, but he wonders too.

“N- No. You know I wouldn’t.” You stare into Jack's eyes, pleading for something unknown. Not after everything you’d gone through. You really wouldn’t. Does he believe you?

Jack turns his gaze away from you, as to somehow escape the conversation that had been building between you for a long time. Waiting to break. His mouth twists downwards. A tear gathers in his eye, the pain of losing you creeping in. There were a couple of close calls on the tours you spent together, but the day he nearly lost you, broke him.

Robby knows some of the details of your relationship, but the depth of the pain and unresolved sadness between you leaves him speechless.

The tension is palpable. It’s only now, in this moment, that you all realize how much you’ve hurt each other without even meaning to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Both of you”, your eyes flicker to Robby’s.

The moment lingers in heavy silence.

“Why did you come back here?” Robby asks.

You wonder whose idea it was to search for you here. Probably Jack, right? His ability to keep a clear head and to stay calm in the most impossible situations always shocked you. But equally, his stoic demeanor drove you crazy, especially when it came to letting you in and dealing with your past together.

Maybe it was Robby. Robby would panic, but then analyse the situation at hand and find a solution. Always.

Now you needed to know.

“How did you find me?” You ask, disregarding their earlier question.

“Dana”, they answer in perfect unison.

You give a soft smile and though the situation is heavy, it’s enough to make Robby and Jack’s hearts melt. The warmth in your eyes brings an unexpected tenderness, like a comforting embrace for the soul and before they can help it, both of them smile too.

You sit in the peaceful silence, the weight of everything feeling just a little bit lighter, as though the past has softened its grip on you all.

But all too soon, reality creeps back in.

“I didn’t know you come back here often", Jack's face grows serious again. "It seems… painful."

“Sometimes", you admit. "When I need to convince myself that an alley is just an alley...”

Talking about it hurts, but pretending it didn't happen is just as difficult. For them too.

You feel your hands tremble again, instinctively pulling them closer to your chest. But Robby notices, closing the distance between you and offering his shoulder. It’s the same comfort he always gave you, like second nature.

When he walked away, the void he left was unbearable.

But now he’s here.

You sink your forehead into the crook of his neck, taking slow, cleansing breaths. His familiar scent floods you, a quiet reminder of all the unexpressed love.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you”, Robby whispers, as you melt deeper into him, your heartbeat syncing with his.

Slowly, the panic subsides.

Jack watches you both, eyes hard, fighting his own memories.

It's an unusually quiet shift. The eerie kind where everyone's on edge, waiting for something to break.

You and Jack work a couple of cases together, like you usually do.

You were always a great team. Made each other better in ways few people understood. But Robby did. He always respected your deep bond, even when you and Robby were dating. It's the kind that runs deeper than friendship, deeper than love, it's survival. Maybe it's because Robby and Jack share their own connection, a brotherhood built on mutual trust and support.

Your breakup with Jack was mutual, the weight of your shared history and trauma made it inevitable. You both walked away, at different points, caught in your own separate battles. You saved lives together, but you also lost them. And in the process, you lost parts of yourselves too. You both gave so much to everyone else, there was nothing left to give each other. It wasn't anyone's fault.

Still, you can’t help but feel like it was yours. Like you destroyed something great. Not just with Jack, but with Robby too.

The breakup with Robby really tested everything. Words were said, hearts broken and neither of you knew how to navigate this new reality. Somehow, Jack found himself in the middle and all of you blamed yourselves.

You weren’t the one who left this time, but maybe you pushed Robby too hard, pressured him to open up when he wasn’t ready.

So you accepted Robby's decision and watched him leave.

You wonder if he expected you to fight for him, to not let him go so easily.

That day in the ER, Robby snaps at you. In front of everyone. In front of Jack.

Jack’s breath hitches, trying hard not to intervene. To say something. Why wouldn't he? It's you. But he doesn't. And for that he'd never forgive himself.

It's not rational. But later, when you're lying in that hospital bed, machines and monitors beeping in a faint rhythm, their minds force them to dissect every little detail that led up to what happened. As if that could somehow undo it.

“I am your attending. You are a resident. When I tell you to do something, you do it", Robby barks. "If you can't respect that, then maybe this hospital isn’t for you.”

You just look at him, incredulous. But he continues, louder.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” Regret washes over him as soon as the words leave his mouth.

You rip off your gloves with a snap, glancing at Jack, daring - no - willing him to speak up. But part of you is glad he doesn't. This is between you and Robby. Deep down you know it isn’t personal, but it still hurts, so you decide to give both of you space.

“Dr. Robinavitch”, you say before walking out, unaware how that split decision would lead to you almost losing your life.

All three of you now lean against the building facade, a comforting familiarity between you.

Your breathing has steadied, but your eyes are still glazed. You look up at Robby. For a moment, you are back to being his. And he yours. He gives you a soft smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and your heart nearly bursts, memories rushing back.

You remember kissing every freckle on his forehead, tracing the lines of his skin. He always thought they made him look old. You agreed, which made him laugh. But you also thought they made him look kind. How fitting.

A shaky gasp cuts through your thoughts. Jack drops his head, one hand pressing against his eyes, desperate to hide the pain that tears through him.

“Jack?” You whisper, reaching for him.

Jack lets out a quiet sob, fighting every urge not to fall apart in front of you. He can't.

You grab both of his wrists, grounding him with your presence as you pull him into your chest. His head rests gently against your heart, a silent promise that he will always be part of it.

“Hey", you tilt your head, searching for his eyes. "I'm here."

Maybe you love him differently now, but the ache in your chest tells you that some bonds can't be broken.

“Please forgive me,” he begs, his voice breaking, as the weight of his pain truly hits you.

Thanks for reading part 2!! Oh boi, this was a sad one… and it’s only getting worse before it gets better is all I’m gonna say hehe. Pls share your thoughts, I love reading your comments!!

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz

[jaegeraether]

Unknown Territory (Alexia and Ridley) - 2

Sunsets and Footballers - ONE-SHOTS

(*1k*) - Lil one!

Masterlist (other parts here)

ALEXIA POV

As soon as they were in the car, Ridley took Alexia’s underwear out and twisted it around her wrist like a bracelet.

Alexia smirked to herself, knowing she enjoying this. Their little claims on one another. It’s something she never wanted or needed until that first moment she’d seen her in the bar, and at that moment, it had hit her harder than anything she'd ever experienced. The deep-rooted need she felt for her. And not only that, but the need for others to know.

Alexia was getting used to teasing Ridley at this point. She enjoyed it. In any other situation, in any other relationship, it would be a power-play. But it never was with them. It was just their way of expressing their feelings. Communicating.

As they drove, she saw the whites of Ridley’s knuckles as she gripped the wheel, knowing just how hard she was trying to be respectful and give Alexia her space.

But she didn’t want it.

They’d been apart for over a month, and only had a few days together. She wanted them to get as much of each other in during that time as possible. And both being so stubborn and lacking in the communication department, sex was the most pure way they could show their obsession for each other.

Alexia unclipped her belt and slid her dress as far up her thighs as she could get it, a little of her bare lower hip showing - the part that cut in where her underwear would usually be.

She held it there and looked over to Ridley who’d spotted it immediately, trying to cover a groan of frustration.

She sat there for a minute or so, letting Ridley really suffer while she admired her. Alexia was not at all the type of person to feel out of place in a relationship, but sometimes she did catch herself daydreaming at how it was possible that Ridley was hers. Even to the point where she was already thinking of their life and what it may look like beyond her footballing days.

She was completely and utterly hers. So why would Alexia just sit there needily, and not take full advantage of that?

“Nice bracelet.”

Ridley groaned, her eyes still very much pinned to the road outside to avoid Alexia’s body on show. “Lex..”

“I don’t think the wheel deserves to be strangled.”

Ridley rolled her eyes, but relaxed her hands slightly. Alexia reached over to claim one of her hands gently, lowering it to her thigh, just inside the knee.

"But I do."

“Lex..” This one was a warning. And that just made her want to push even further.

Alexia curled her fingers around the bicep of the Australian’s extended arm, her other hand over Ridley’s, ever so slowing dragging it down her inner thigh towards where she needed her.

“Alexia.” A harder warning now, but she didn’t stop. Ridley was hers, and she needed her… so she would take her.

Alexia continued to drag her hand down her thigh, her legs parting and without any pause, she guided Ridley’s hand and lifted her hips slightly, sinking down onto her fingers with a soft whimper.

“Fucking hell.” Ridley gasped in English, her eyes wide with surprise and lust. “Lex.. what the fuck are you-”

“You’re mine, and I need you.” Was all the explanation she gave as she started to rock onto her fingers, getting the penetration she needed.

Alexia closed her eyes and let her body follow its needs, her fingers tightening around her bicep and her face joining them, whimpering into the fabric of Ridley’s jacket.

She was slightly bouncing now, her hand ensuring Ridley’s stayed where she needed it. That pressure and angle just as she needed it.

“Lexi…fuck.” Ridley gasped, sending a tingle down her spine. She loved having such an affect on her. But she could also tell from the sound of her voice that she was looking at her.

Her head still pressed against Ridley’s bicep, she reached up to grab her by the jaw, twisting her head.

“Eyes on… argh.. the road. No spee…oh fuck… don’t s..peed.” She whimpered as she rode, the delicious sound of Ridley’s fingers in an out of her now louder than the tyres.

She braced her foot on the door and gripped onto her arm for dear life as she felt herself getting to the edge. She was only riding for a matter of minutes, but that’s all it ever took when it came to Ridley.

“….fuck…” she whimpered, her voice higher and more desperate than before as she reached the point where she knew she was about to cum. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Lex.” Ridley said, her voice strangled, her lips somehow finding her forehead to whisper. “Cum for me.”

Alexia heard herself agreeing desperately as she reached her end; the thrill of the car speeding down the highway, being in another country, seeing the woman she loved after a month, fucking herself using her hand. All of it contributed to her body tightening and pulsating around Ridley’s fingers. 

She was pretty sure she was breathing, most definitely crying out and even more certain that it was the best orgasm she’d ever had… in a car. She thrust a few more times, harder and deeper than the others just to drag out the feelings before her body relaxed into a state of bliss.

After a minute or so, she released her grip on Ridley’s arm, kissing her bicep and smoothly pulling her fingers out of her.

Sitting back in her seat, she clipped her seatbelt back on and readjusted her dress, meeting Ridley’s incredulous look.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?”

Alexia shrugged with a lazy, fucked-out smirk. “You’re mine and I wanted you.”

She enjoyed the look of Ridley’s mouth opening and closing, her jaw locking as they drove. Taking her hand, she sucked the taste from her fingers, watching her girlfriend’s eyes roll in need.

“Lee?”

“La Reina?”

“You can speed now.”

[liberty-barnes]

if there was no end

Arthur Leclerc x Female!Reader

Summary: Grieving someone who is not yet death was a special kind of suffering. One that Arthur wouldn't have wished on anyone, but especially not her.

Warnings: heavy heavy angst, mentions of dementia and the future death of a family member, mentions of Hervé's death, grief-induced mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2k words

Estimated Reading Time: 8 minutes

A/N: fun fact this is actually a true story that is currently happening to me but the difference is that mid mental breakdown I just thought "oh wait this would be an awesome fic" and then this was born. coping through writing iktr (i'm fine promise, therapy's great y'all), anyways hope you enjoy

in happier news, i have officially started writing part 2 to you will not always want to shatter so keep an eye out for that everyone!

Masterlists | Formula One RI Masterlist | Taglist

None of it would be so sweet Or so important If there was no end. (Liam Xavier, Welcome to Hell and Other Poems About Adulthood)

Arthur opened the door to their flat and immediately knew something was wrong.

Her keys were in the shell-shaped bowl by the entryway, her shoes neatly lined up on the rack, and her coat hung in its rightful place. So she was home.

But the flat was silent.

No singing along to whatever songs she had on repeat, no voices from a movie or show she’d decided to watch, not even the sound of the shower running.

Just silence.

He toed off his shoes, hung up his coat, and made his way through the apartment. The living room was silent, as were the kitchen and the terrace. The spare room, converted half into her personal library and half into Arthur’s practice room for the piano, showed no signs of life. It was worse than he thought, then. The only time you could find (Y/n) silent in their bedroom in the middle of the day was when she was sick, or…

“Mon ange?”

He knocked on the half-open door, coming in slowly. She hummed absent-mindedly, eyes fixated on a card in her hands, dried tear tracks staining her cheeks. She was sat in the middle of the bed, face so void of emotion, you’d wonder if she’d ever even had any.

“Hey, baby…”

She hummed again, but he could tell she wasn’t really present. He slowly sat down on the bed next to her, legs crossed just like hers until his right knee and arm were touching her left ones.

“What’s wrong?”

She kept looking at the card in her hand. It had a little Christmas tree on it. There were dozens of others spread out on the bed, all with various designs and motifs.

“Did you know I was the first grandchild to be born on my dad’s side?”

Her voice was scratchy, but it never wavered.

“My grandmother and her older sister lived in houses next to each other. I never made the distinction between the two. It wasn’t Grandma’s house and Aunt Grace’s house. It was Grandma and Auntie’s house. For ten years, I was the only grandchild. And Aunt Grace always treated me like I was a blessing.”

He could see her eyes were starting to get red, and he sighed internally. This was going to be a bad one. Because it just hit for her.

Six months ago, her Aunt Grace had been diagnosed with dementia. Arthur was there when she learned the news. He was prepared for screaming, and crying, and having to hold her broken pieces together with his bare arms.

But all she did was smile and say, “it’s alright, no one lives forever, this was bound to happen at some point”.

Arthur had been waiting for the fallout ever since.

“After we moved to Monaco, she’d send me cards every year. For my birthday, Christmas, Easter, International Children’s Day… I was a kid but I knew I wanted to keep them all. And I did.”

He looked at the cards spread out in front of her.

“I called Grandma today to see if I could say hi to Auntie… See how she’s doing. I guess I must have caught her during a bad day cause… It took almost half an hour of us talking for her to remember me. I get it, you know? I’m far away, she doesn’t see me very often, her health’s deteriorating… of course it’s gonna get harder and harder to remember me but… It’s only ever taken a few minutes. It never took this long.”

She fiddled with the card in her hands, eyes full of tears.

“So, I thought… Since I was missing her, I could re-read the cards she sent me over the years. I mean sure, the last one she sent me was when I was fifteen and that was seven years ago, but… Still.”

She sniffed, voice starting to crack now.

“So I read them and… I forgot how she used to sign them… Every time, without fail…”

She opened the card and at the bottom were the nine words that made Arthur draw in a sharp breath.

“Love from your Aunt Grace, who never forgets you. I forgot she used to do this. It started off as a joke cause I was a five-year-old kid who was worried my aunt would forget to wish me happy birthday cause I was moving to a new country. But she kept doing it. Kept reminding me that no matter the distance, she’d always be there for me. Love from your Aunt Grace, who never forgets you.”

Her breath hitched as the first tear started to fall.

“What kind of— fucking sick and twisted— awful, awful shit— some kind of cosmic joke?”

She hiccuped her way through half-formed sentences, trying and failing to voice out what was in her head, and he just pulled her to him. He tucked her head into his chest, arms coming around her shoulder, one hand still firmly in the back of her hair.

“It’s alright, mon coeur, just let it all out.”

He’d heard her cry before, of course. (Y/n) was an emotional person, she cried at everything: movies, songs, those cheesy Christmas commercials. He was used to seeing her cry, to comforting her through it.

Never like this, though. Never these full-body sobs, or hiccuping, half-choked-off screams. Never felt her clutch at him with the full force of her body, like she was worried he’d disappear, knuckles turning white and nails digging into his flesh. Never felt her cry for ten, twenty, thirty minutes, until her body exhausted itself and she just fell asleep.

She was limp in his arms now, breaths still coming out unevenly, tears leaking out of her eyes for minutes more, still.

Arthur didn’t know what to do. What do you say to a person going through something like that? What can you say? 

“Her suffering will end soon”? “At least she lived a full life”? “She doesn’t have to remember you to love you”? 

What bullshit.

He didn’t know what to say. He was pretty sure (Y/n) didn’t even know what she wanted to hear. All he could do was hold her as she slept, wipe away her tears, and make sure she knew how much he loved her.

He laid her down on the bed, covered her up so she wouldn’t be cold, and put the letters on her nightstand.

He might not know what to say, but he could at least make her some soup for when she woke up.

—

“Thur?” 

It was well past sunset when she came into the kitchen, dressed in his favourite hoodie and wearing her comfortable fuzzy pants. Her face was still puffy from all the crying, and her eyes had that vacant look in them, but she was there.

“Hey, mon ange, how are you feeling?”

She shrugged, staring at the pot he was stirring.

“What are you making?”

He turned off the hob and took out two bowls.

“Chicken noodle soup. Figured we could eat this while watching a Barbie movie, something to make you feel better.”

She nodded.

“Wanna get settled on the couch and put on the movie?”

She nodded again, still a bit absent, and he took the toasted garlic bread slices out of the oven. He put everything on the tray along with some chilled water, and made his way to the living room, where Barbie of Swan Lake was just beginning.

It took her the entirety of the movie to finish her food, but Arthur was just glad she did. She didn’t like to eat when she was sad, said it made her feel weird, so this was quite the accomplishment.

Neither of them moved, even as the end credits ran. He just sat there, holding her, as she stared blankly at the screen.

“Do you want me to get you a flight home?”

She straightened up.

“What?”

“To see your aunt, spend some time with her.”

She shook her head.

“No, no… I have uni, and my job, I can’t just leave.”

He kept his eyes on her.

“No one would fault you for taking a semester off. And I have more than enough money that your job shouldn’t be a concern, not when it’s about something like this.”

She sighed, coming back down to lay in his arms. He held her tightly, running his fingers through her hair.

“There’s a part of me that wants to, you know. But she’s only getting worse. Grandma said she spends most of her time just looking outside or completely zoned out, with only a few hours where she acts more or less normally. It’s like she’s there but at the same time…not. 

“As much as I want to spend all my time with her, I don’t want to remember her as a barely functioning human. I want to keep the good memories. And I know she’d never forgive me if she knew I was neglecting my studies because of her.”

She paused, but he didn’t speak, knowing more was coming.

“I feel like a horrible person, though. And selfish. Like, she’s dying and I’m pissed at her for forgetting me. And my whole family’s pitching in to keep her company but I don’t wanna see her outside of facetimes on her good hours cause I don’t want that image of her to overtake the good memories. She’s always been such a beacon of light and happiness, and now I can’t bring myself to be around her when she’s weak. I’m a horrible person.”

He shook his head and tightened his hold on her.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, though. I’m supposed to be helping her. To call every day, regardless of her mood so I can still see her.”

He sighed.

“Baby… Look, I know you feel guilty, but you can’t sacrifice your own mental health for anyone. Not even her.”

He felt her tears start to dampen her shirt, and simply held her tighter.

“I just… I don’t know how to deal with this. I knew she’d be gone eventually but I never thought she’d go so soon, let alone like this…”

Arthur couldn’t help but think back to his father. He never wanted anyone else to have to go through what he did, mourning someone who wasn’t yet gone, let alone her.

“Have you thought about therapy? Or, well, grief counselling?”

She didn’t answer.

“I went to it about three months into Papa’s diagnosis. Kept going for a few years after. I still have Dr Claire’s number.”

There was a long pause in which he didn’t dare speak. He just stared at the pendulum wall clock (Y/n) found at a flea market when they first moved in, watching the brass circle go back and forth.

“Did it help?”

She sounded hesitant, quiet. So unlike herself.

“It did. She’s great, honestly, helped me understand a bunch of things and deal with the pain of losing my father, the drawn-out mourning of someone who wasn’t even gone yet. The weekly sessions were a big help.”

She was silent for a little while longer.

“Okay…” 

—

She was staring at the pale yellow house like it would eat her alive. The whole drive there, she hadn’t stopped fidgeting.

“Hey, bébé…”

He squeezed her hand to get her attention, and she turned her frightened eyes back to him.

“I’m proud of you. It’s hard to ask for help, and I’m so so proud you did. I’ll be waiting for you right here, and we can go get ice cream right after the session, okay?”

She bit her lips nervously.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Je t’aime.”

She leaned in for a kiss and he felt her relax the longer it went on.

“I love you too.”

And as he saw her enter Dr Claire’s office, he could only hope the pain would become more manageable. But either way, he’d be there for her. No matter what.

before i sign off, i just wanted to say that if you're going through something like this, or if you're in a bad spot and you just wanna talk, my asks and dms are always open for you guys. anyway that's enough feelings out of me for today.

don't forget to comment and reblog, and keep your eye out for more stuff coming soon!

-Love, Miah <3

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@aykxz98

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend any good fics with some sort of language barrier/difference in language between Az and Crowley. I just recently read Buried Treasure by InfeffableToreshi and I really liked it, would love those kinda vibes if you can find it in other fics. I also read an Omegaverse royalty fic where Az pretends he can’t speak Crowleys language, not a huge fan of omegaverse but smth like that would be good too. Longer works would be preferred but anything works. Thanks!

Hello! I haven't read the fic you mentioned, so am unsure of the vibes, but here are some fics featuring language/communication differences...

Food is Love by Sodium_Azide (T)

A chance childhood meeting leads to a lifetime sharing languages, hijinks, and meals together. Aziraphale and Anthony reach across cultures and nourish each others’ hearts and souls.

Scientific Discovery by SeasNStars (T)

Aziraphale had just departed on a two-month-long research study to a secluded island. He ends up encountering a creature of only myth and legend, a marvel to science to be sure.

Across Tides and Currents by doorwaytoparadise, Sodium_Azide (T)

A modern fantasy AU, featuring an inauspicious first meeting, inter-species romance, and meeting in the middle. Aziraphale lives a quiet life on the New England coastline, enduring the bad weather and gathering marine data for the local universities. During the worst storm of the worst hurricane season he can remember, something washes up on shore. "He looked back towards the ocean as the lightning flashed again. There. On the shoreline, rocking in the storm swell. Oh God no."

A Quiet Place by NightValeian (T)

Once upon a time, a silent angel and an outspoken demon met on a wall. Over time, they manage to find some common ground.

Dismantled by Asking_for_a_Fiend (M)

"But calling you by the SKU is really derogatory.” Disgust once again settles on the man’s expressive face. “A-zero-F-L. Eizero-F-L. Eizirofel. Aziraphale?” The handler’s face lights up. “Hey, d’you know there’s an angel called Aziraphale? Aziraphale. What do you think?” The griffin hums, testing the name in his mind. “Not that bad. I’ll think about it.” *** Aziraphale is a griffin raised in a human world, without any contact with others of his own specie, but not really craving it, either. But there's this one handler at the sanctuary, determined to teach him how to be a griffin. Aziraphale is not sure if he shares the ambition, still, the handler himself may be worth giving this a try.

Pitch Black, Pale Blue by enbeeemcee (M)

Crowley's about at the end of his rope. His internship is nothing more than washing all the equipment used by the interns who actually do real scientific research and his boss hates him. His friends either urge him to keep at it or encourage him to drink and forget. Neither of which are particularly helpful. Then, one night, he finds something on the beach.

And the one you mentioned...

Buried Treasure by IneffableToreshi (E)

Aziraphale Fell and his small team are working hard to uncover a mystery that has been discovered deep in the desert in a region with no known history of habitation... ...and they are having very little luck coming up with anything other than stone brick upon stone brick. But as their sponsorships are dwindling and Aziraphale's hopes for the project are beginning to well and truly die, he literally falls right into the site's secret, and discovers something much, much more important than he could have ever imagined.

- Mod D