#thank you for taking the time to write it perfectly!

[mattnottrecs]

good fucking morning to me and everyone else reading this masterpiece, because my humor is already on point after this 😼

theo and mattheo were sprawled on the couch next to each other, passing a joint between them. mattheo was completely naked and theo only had his concert tank top on - a tight and cropped little black thing that perfectly showed off the lean muscles of his torso. their legs were spread, mattheo's right one thrown over theo's left thigh, and their hands were on each other's cocks.

first of all, i’m imagining this and let me tell you, what a good image my brain made me see, thank you for that. second of all, i was expecting everything but not this (kinda surprised, but i’m not complaining at all). in fact, this just made more 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ than anything I NEED TO SEE THIS

"baaaaby," mattheo drawled, giving you a stupidly adorable grin and extending an arm towards you, making a grabby hand in your direction.

i just came to the conclusion that this reader lives my dream life, and now i’m proud of her but jealous :( i want mattheo to call me baby while he’s being taking care off :’)

they exchanged a look and simultaneously dropped their hands from their cocks.

theo's lips were parted, and mattheo was wetting his, taking shallow breaths through his mouth.

you write so well that i could totally see everything happening in my mind. please, this is so so so well executed 😫

your tongue swirled around, gathering his slickness, and you pulled away enough to spit it back, your fingers spreading the liquid along his entire length before diving back in.

she’s having her best meal and i’m here rotting in my bed, reading about her while she executes my dream, but it’s okay because it’s kira’s writing, so i can experience a part of it myself 😤

— pause because i need to talk about the smut; genuinely, i forgot to take screenshots of my favorite parts because everything was so fucking good. i was reading and squeezing my legs the entire time. the way they grabbed the reader’s hair and squeezed her throat had me BAWLING MY EYES OUT, and i was drooling because fuck you, the imagery is fucking perfect. i need both so bad

they were now lazily and sloppily making out, catching their own breaths after their intense orgasms.

his thumb rubbing soft circles on the flushed skin. they were adorable like that, and truthfully, you could watch them for hours.

they’re adorable, but i lowkey need to be included ��‍💼

but you still had your arousal unattended to. both of them shifted their attention when you cleared your throat, identical smirks appearing on their lips when they saw your raised eyebrow. you definitely weren't leaving the dressing room any time soon.

kira, you CANNOT leave and leave me here. you better do something right NOW.

anyway (i’m mad) BUT THIS WAS SO GOOD, need them need them need them need them need them need them need them 😔😡

⋆౨ৎ bassist!reader helps drummer!mattheo and lead singer!theo unwind after a show

nav // aus / band au // more

finally writing for this au. couldn’t get this out of my head for a while now, and it’s also my first time properly writing a threesome of any kind, so hopefully you enjoy <3

warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use, oral threesome, blowjob turned rough, throat bulge, gagging, some spitting, masturbation (m receiving), mutual masturbation (m x m), bi mattheodore, praise, cursing

lorenzo went off somewhere again – probably to the tour bus to have fun with another groupie. you were just a little miffed about that, because you wanted to get some, enzo was the first to volunteer before the other two could get a word in, and now he was nowhere to be seen. you couldn’t be too mad at him, though – he’d always been a lighthead, in more ways than one.

you walked into your shared dressing room and were immediately greeted by a sight that wasn’t a surprise, yet never failed to amuse you. theo and mattheo were sprawled on the couch next to each other, passing a joint between them. mattheo was completely naked and theo only had his concert tank top on – a tight and cropped little black thing that perfectly showed off the lean muscles of his torso. their legs were spread, mattheo’s right one thrown over theo’s left thigh, and their hands were on each other’s cocks.

they lazily jerked each other off, unhurried and completely relaxed, the weed seemingly taking effect by that point. once the door behind you closed, both of them looked at you with cheeky, knowing smirks on their faces. theo blew out a small whiff of smoke and put out the joint against the table next to the couch, leaning further back into the plush surface.

"baaaaby," mattheo drawled, giving you a stupidly adorable grin and extending an arm towards you, making a grabby hand in your direction. you chuckled, shaking your head, and made a few slow steps towards the boys. they didn’t even think of stopping what they were doing, their hands still moving up and down on each other’s hard and, as you could notice under the dim lighting of the room, dripping cocks. you knew that they got especially horny under the influence, which amused you even more, but also gave you a perfect idea.

without a word, you knelt on the floor in front of them, and they perked up a bit, though their poses were still as relaxed as ever. they exchanged a look and simultaneously dropped their hands from their cocks. mattheo put his by his sides on the couch, and theo rested one on his stomach, the other one ending up on mattheo’s thigh. both of them gazed at you with as much hunger as their glassy eyes and widened pupils allowed; theo’s lips were parted, and mattheo was wetting his, taking shallow breaths through his mouth.

"cazzo, principessa… come sei dolce," theo murmured, a content smile quirking up his lips as your hands started kneading their thighs, approaching their aching cocks inch by inch. mattheo hummed in agreement, all of you having gotten used to theo’s italian by now and even starting to understand some stuff.

"you’re dolce," you answered, a teasing lilt to your voice, and theo chuckled in response, undoubtedly at your accent. his chuckle stuttered, turning into a low moan as your hands finally wrapped around their lengths, mattheo’s grunt joining him with more volume.

you didn’t spend too much time jerking them off since they did a pretty good job on that themselves – by the amount of precum leaking from their tips you could tell it wouldn’t take them too long to cum, and you wanted a taste before that happened. you scooted a bit to the right, mattheo being the first whose cock ended up in your mouth. your tongue swirled around, gathering his slickness, and you pulled away enough to spit it back, your fingers spreading the liquid along his entire length before diving back in.

"fuck," he breathed out, his hand loosely clutching the edge of the couch as his half-lidded eyes roamed over your face, fixated on your lips wrapped around him in the most enticing way. slowly, you started sucking, hollowing out your cheeks to provide more friction, while stroking theo’s dick at the same time. both of them were moaning above you, their hips twitching up every other second, and theo still had some sense in his hazy mind to caress mattheo’s thigh, which only made the latter’s pleasure more intense.

a couple of minutes later, when you started feeling theo getting restless, the movements of his hips growing a bit more sloppy, you pulled away from mattheo. he barely noticed, too lost in the world of bliss, especially since the stimulation never stopped, your hand coming in to take the place of your lips. you switched to the other side, finally taking theo’s cock into your mouth, which made him groan and impatiently grab your hair. you giggled but decided not to tease, since it was painfully obvious just how eager he was. you head started bobbing up and down as you sucked theo off, the sounds getting wetter and wetter from the amount of drool you produced due to theo being deliciously big. you choked a bit when his tip slipped into your throat, but you quickly adjusted – you were pretty used to his size already.

when you felt his cock starting to throb, you took it as a sign of him getting close, which prompted you to switch to mattheo again. a low, needy growl rumbled in his chest as he caught the sight of your pretty lips wrapped around him, his hips instantly rutting up, pushing his entire length right down your throat. you gagged again as you felt his thick cock stretching out your walls, and you were pretty sure that if you placed a hand on your throat, you’d feel his tip grinding against it from the inside. mattheo was very clearly impatient, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as he started shoving you up and down. he had always had a thing for throatfucking, and you didn’t mind at all, eagerly allowing him to use you as a means to get off.

theo was watching the scene through his thick eyelashes, moaning louder from time to time when your hand squeezed him just a bit tighter. when mattheo started getting close, he immediately caught that. without a word, his head turned to the side, and his hand made its way up mattheo’s body to the back of his head. theo pulled him into a messy kiss, his fingers getting tangled in mattheo’s curls, both of them groaning against each other’s lips. when you looked up, met by the sight of your boys passionately making out, you felt the heat that had been building up in your stomach increase tenfold, and you knew right that moment that you had to make them finish as soon as possible to take care of your needs too. you picked up the pace under mattheo’s insistent hand, and soon, he was loudly panting against theo, string after string of his cum releasing into your mouth.

you quickly lapped up the remnants and switched to theo, who was already on the very edge. as your lips closed around him, his hips pushed up, and you knew you’d be hoarse as hell the next day when his tip roughly hit the back of your throat. theo desperately licked into mattheo’s mouth, the latter’s jaw still hanging slack as he came down from his high, and in a matter of seconds, his cum was also dripping down your throat, hot and slightly bitter from his constant smoking.

you were breathless when you pulled away, and your throat was already starting to hurt, but a smile spread on your face at the sight of the guys on the couch. they were now lazily and sloppily making out, catching their own breaths after their intense orgasms. theo’s hand was carding through mattheo’s hair, making him let out quiet little moans into theo’s mouth, while mattheo’s hand cradled the other boy’s cheek, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the flushed skin. they were adorable like that, and truthfully, you could watch them for hours. but you still had your arousal unattended to. both of them shifted their attention when you cleared your throat, identical smirks appearing on their lips when they saw your raised eyebrow. you definitely weren’t leaving the dressing room any time soon.

[vettelsvee]

THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany. 

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over. 

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you. 

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

[softtdaisy]

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid. 

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter. 

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly. 

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to. 

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore. 

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation. 

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be. 

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” 

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically. 

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.” 

The world went silent. 

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?” 

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone. 

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind. 

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

[unforced3rr0r]

Winning Feeling - CA

AUTHOR: @yungbludz deserves to read a Carlos fic, instead of writing them all the time.

SUMMARY: You surprise Carlos at Rotterdam after telling him you couldn't make it

WARNINGS: Fluff, Smut, Unprotected Sex (bad), Oral (fem receiving), P in V 18+

Carlos’ grin appeared on your screen as he hit a flawless drop shot, landing perfectly outside of De Minaur’s reach and giving Carlos the point.

The commentators voices played through your headphones praising your boyfriends form. You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he had the audience on his side.

When you told Carlos you couldn’t make Rotterdam he was understanding and assured you it was fine but you knew from the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes that he was disappointed.

But when you managed to get your work finished late Saturday night you immediately booked flights for the next morning, coordinating with Juan Carlos to surprise your boyfriend.

Looking up from your phone you can see the arena in the distance and with your heart speeding up you quickly shoot a text to Juan Carlos letting him know you’re just around the corner.

The taxi pulled up out front of the arena just as the final set was starting, and determined to be there for the end of the game you rushed out of the taxi thanking the driver and making your way into the building.

You slipped into the stands, just behind the coaches box and Juan Carlos smiled and waved at you.

“How’s it going?” You leaned over, eyes trained on your boyfriend’s figure moving skilfully around the court.

“The second set was difficult, but he’s pulling it back.”

You smiled softly as you settled in your seat.

Carlos moved with precision, covering a staggering amount of the court.

As he hit another winning shot he turned to the audience, meeting eyes with his coaches and then flitting up.

His gaze met yours and his face lit up, a smile covering his face as you waved and shooed him to focus on his game.

The rest of the game went smoothly with Carlos winning against De Minaur and taking his first title at Rotterdam.

Before you knew it you stood outside the locker room waiting for your boyfriend to emerge.

You caught a glimpse of his blue jacket as the door swung open, his brown eyes meeting yours and his lips turning to a smile as he looked you up and down.

He wasted no time, marching towards you, threading his hand in your hair bringing your lips together. It had only been a week and yet you found yourself melting into his touch.

He pulled away slightly his hands falling to your waist playing with your shirt. Everywhere his hands touched set your skin on fire and suddenly you felt the urge to get back to the hotel.

"¿Pensé que tenías que trabajar?" (I thought you had to work?) His eyes danced across your face as if he wasn't sure you were really there.

"¿Y extrañar verte ganar? Nunca." (and miss seeing you win? never) You kissed his cheek, softly moving to his ear, "mi campeón" (my champion).

He let out a groan, your words having a visual effect on him as his cheeks flushed and his eyes focused on you. You leant in to meet his lips, softly pulling on his bottom lip. Effectively riling him up when Juan Carlos, interrupted.

"vamos pájaros del amor" (come on, lovebirds), Carlos laughed at his coach handing him his tennis bag and picking up his trophy before wrapping his arm around your waist and heading to the car.

The car journey was agonising. Carlos' hand traced patterns on your inner thigh as he stared out the window pretending to be unaware of the effect he was having.

Every time you tried closing your legs, to prevent his hand from rising any higher, he simply pushed them open slightly and slipped an inch further up.

Your leg was burning under his touch and that heat had settled in your core. Every second his hands remained on you left you begging to get to the hotel so you could get the attention you wanted from him.

Carlos began to take notice of your agitated state, he leaned over to you his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Feeling hot, my love?"

"Carlos please," his hand rose higher at your desperate voice, his fingertips brushing the edges of your soaked underwear.

"God you're so wet for me, bet you would let me take you right here, wouldn't you?" Of course you would, his fingers moved under the waistband of your underwear as your eyes flicked to the driver.

The second you started to doubt the predicament you found yourself in Carlos' lips found your neck and his fingers fell between your folds.

A breathy moan left your mouth unable to hold back the pleasure you felt. Suddenly as the tension began to rise in your abdomen, his fingers left your underwear causing you to gasp at the empty feeling.

Turning to Carlos your cheeks were red, your chest rising heavily, hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He leaned in before you could question why he pulled away leaving you hot and bothered.

"Nosotros estamos aqui" (we're here)

You deeply sighed, following your boyfriend out of the car. You wasted no time getting to the lift as the tension from the car was still present.

By the time you reach the hotel room, you are begging to get him out of his clothes.

He crossed the threshold of the room, and the two of you were together. His hands were firmly on either side of your face and your hand slipped underneath his shirt.

He pushed your back against the door pulling away from the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes scanned the chiselled body of the man you loved taking your hands to rake down his chest and along his abs.

"They should ban shirts in tennis." Carlos laughed, shaking his head at your antics as he made a move to kiss up your neck.

"Then everyone would get to see me, and I'm yours." The small words sent shivers down your spine that set your core alight.

"Show me." His brown eyes bore into yours. "Show me how you're mine." A smirk graced his stunning features and he wasted time. His lips trailed down your neck.

He lifted your shirt off you, trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and across your breasts. His hand reached behind you to unhook your bra letting it fall to the ground.

When met with the sight of your naked chest Carlos groaned, "Hermosa" (beautiful) before capturing your nipple between his teeth. The sensation made you moan loudly gripping the back of Carlos' hair and finding any piece that was long enough to pull.

His mouth worked magic on your breast sucking and pulling on your sensitive nipples while his hand unbuttoned your skirt and slowly slid it down your legs.

The second the skirt hit the floor Carlos travelled south, his lips trailing down your stomach reaching the black underwear that was well and truly ruined.

He softly kissed your core over the underwear and your head fell back against the door. "Carlos please."

He looked up at you, an evil glint in his eyes. "What do you want, amor?"

"You. please."

He shook his head lightly, his hands moving up your thighs was all your brain could focus on. "what part of me?"

He kissed your stomach, "my mouth?" his fingers slid dangerously close to your fold you couldn't help but moan. "my fingers?"

"Both, please Carlos, I need you."

He pulled on the waistband of your underwear sliding it down your legs, and after throwing it somewhere in the room to find later he hitched your leg over his shoulder and immediately dove in.

His lips met your clit in an instant as he devoured you like a man starved. tracing tight circles on your clit had you crying out his name which only spurred him on. His finger met your folds, gently sliding through them and collecting your slick before two roughly thrust into you.

"Fuck Carlos, fuck" You screamed out and if you had been more away from your surroundings you may have worried about the neighbours, but with Carlos' face buried between your legs, you didn't care.

He added a third finger as he picked up the pace against your clit making you thankful for the door supporting your weight as your legs began to tremble.

You yanked Carlos' hair as your head fell back against the door, and he groaned into your core. He angled his finger perfectly as your high began to build. you couldn't help but move your hips looking for any extra friction possible.

It works when his fingers trust even deeper inside you quickly sending you to your high.

"cum for me, amor." his words alongside his fingers sent you over the edge, your legs shaking and chest heaving as he fucked his fingers into you throughout the orgasm.

As you came down from your high he captured you in a kiss, the taste of your juices on his lips. Your hands found his hair and he grabbed your ass and your tongues fought together.

You pulled away out of breath and desperate. "I need you inside of me."

"I didn't bring any protection, I didn't know you were coming" He's eyes scanned your body, every ounce of self-restraint being exhibited so he didn't take you raw against the hotel room door.

"It doesn't matter, I'm on the pill remember." the acknowledgement ran through his eyes and immediately he picked you up and carried you to the room.

Placing you on the bed he moved over you, staring into his eyes as he slid his shorts off. His cock was hard and leaking pre-cum as it slapped against his stomach.

He leaned over you as you wrapped your legs around his waist aching for his cock to be inside you.

"Estoy tan feliz de que estés aquí" (I'm so happy you're here) He kissed you tenderly, his brown eyes analysing the way you gaze softened at his words.

Your hand moved to his face, cradling his cheeks as you gently kissed him, "Te amo, por supuesto que estaría aquí." (I love you, of course, I would be here).

The words seemed to be affirmation enough for him, lining his cock up with your entrance and bottoming out. You both groaned at the feeling of being perfectly filled and Carlos waited for your signal to start moving.

"Move please, Carlos." He pulled out almost entirely before slamming himself into you, causing you to cry out his name. Your hands rested on his shoulders digging in due to the restless pace he started with.

"You feel amazing, Amor. This pussy was meant for me." You cried out at his words and relentless pace, hitting deep inside you as you moaned his name over and over again.

His hand fell between your bodies his thumb finding your clit to trace light circles on. Your back arched into him, nails pulling scratches down his back that you knew would mean no shirtless tennis for the next week.

"Mierda." his forehead fell against yours, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.

He sped up the movement of his fingers on your clit, the knot in your stomach tightening with every deep thrust that hit that spot within you.

"I'm going to.." your voice trailed off as his thrust began to falter.

"Yo también cariño" (me too honey)

Carlos grabbed your hips pulling them towards him, resuming his brutal pace. The new closeness had you seeing stars and within seconds you were falling off the edge. Your nails dug into Carlos' shoulder as you cried out his name.

He fucked you through your high and as your pussy clenched around him, you felt as he shot himself inside you, his forehead falling onto your shoulder kissing you softly.

He stayed for a moment as you both caught your breath before he pulled out and lay beside you, He put his arms around you pulling him into you. Your hand trailed his face as you met his lips.

Running your hand through his hair you smiled. "te amo" (I love you)

His hand ran up your side pulling you closer into his chest, "Yo también te amo. Eres el único trofeo que necesito" (I love you too. You're the only trophy I need)

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

HUSBAND IN HO SMUT PLEASE. SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF READER GETTING BRATTY AT AN IMPORTANT DINNER PARTY AND IN HO TAKES US HOME TO “TEACH A LESSON” 😩😩 (only if you are 100% comfortable with that request) I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW U ARE A GENIUS

AWWW THANK YOUUUUUUU

Also note: this song came to mind but I couldn’t find a better one than this one, IM SORRY GUYS. I TRIED HONOR LANA BC WHY NOT

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to my taglist

Dinner Party

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📸

You and In Ho stood in the mirror, looking at yourselves as you got dressed and prepared to go out. Your gold dress matched his black suit and gold tie perfectly. Your wedding rings shiny and bright.

You smiled at his as he adjusted his tie. What a fine couple you were. Clothes so expensive a name isn’t on them. A dress made by Alexander McQueen himself and shoes designed to accompany them. In Ho’s outfit was a casually tailored piece by a man you’d never heard of. Handsome and expensive, just how you liked it.

“Darling” you say absently toying with the charms on your bracelet. “What time will the car be here?”

“In a minute, we should probably go downstairs” he said as he sprayed cologne on, you followed suit with the woman’s version. He gripped your hand as you walked down the stairs of your penthouse apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Time skip:

You sat bored at the table complete with men, and some women, one of which was hitting on your husband.

“Honey, is my ring big enough?” You say drably showing the woman. “He keeps saying the ring is too small for his wife, that I need a bigger diamond” In Ho cleared his throat.

“Yes honey, I’ll buy you a new ring tomorrow”

“no i want it now” you pout.

“(Y/n), I said tomorrow. Stop acting up” he said sharply. He looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to talk. He put his eyes on the investor across from him. Beginning to talk about funding for the next set of games. You flagged a waiter,

“I’d like more wine please” you say. Moments later he returned, filling your glass until you ordered him to stop. You stood up, your eyes flying around you. Looking at the woman as she walked to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He gripped your wrist. His eyes not leaving the investor as he spoke. Engaged in conversation.

“The restroom” you pull your arm away.

“Not with the glass of wine, don’t be rude.” He said. “It is impolite to carry a glass to the restroom”

“Ah no, Hwang, we don’t mind” one of the investors said, overhearing. “Besides, the drunker the better” he added with a wink. In Ho chuckled. You walked away quickly, to the restroom. You leaned haphazardly against the sink, glass of red wine in hand.

The woman exited the stall, pausing as she saw you.

“Oh excuse me” you say as you pushed past her. The wine threatening to spill over the rim of the glass.

You used the restroom and when you returned she was still there.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” You spit venomously. “I’m surprised you’re not out there flirting with my husband”

“Don’t act so spoiled” she returned coldly.

“How can I possibly act spoiled when I am spoiled? Do you not know how it works, honey?” You laugh lightly.

“A bigger ring, pfft. Your rings already the size of Korea” she scoffed. “Your dress is shabby, poor looking”

“Yes, says the woman dressed as Hilary Clinton from the 2016 American Presidential Debate” you throw your head back. She fumed at you heatedly, her eyes fierce. “You want to see how spoiled I really am? I’ll ruin my Alexander McQueen dress and watch how my husband reacts” you spilt wine, her eyes widening as she realized what you were going to do.

You screamed loudly, she darted out of the bathroom. You waited a moment before stomping out in your soiled dress. You walked straight behind her and dumped the remainder of your glass on her head. In Ho shot straight up to face you, your soiled dress burning his eyes.

He looked down at the woman, then back at you as your make up started to smudge as you faked tears. He fumed at you. His face screwed up in anger.

“I’m gonna have to take this one home” he spoke calmly. “Teach her a lesson. I’ll be back gentlemen” he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the penthouse.

“Put me down” you beat against his back.

“No.” He said sharply. “I am palm-achingly mad�� a slap against your ass. “I cannot believe you. Acting that way in front of the investors, and that woman. Oh my god, (y/n), I swear you are the most bratty girl I have ever been around”

“I am a woman” you sassed.

“Not with the way you were acting” he made it to the doors of the penthouse building. Walking inside you held yourself up on his buttocks, waving to the doorman.

“Hi Tang-sho” you smiled. The doorman nodded as you got into the elevator. In Hi standing stiffly as you squirmed in his arms. “Can I get down?” You ask impatiently.

“No.” You finally reached the top floor, In Ho walked into the grand room. Setting you down in front of a mirror, “take off the dress. Get on all fours and face the mirror”

“But I-“

“Don’t want to hear it. You need to learn something and learn it now.” In Ho pulled his slacks to his ankles as you undid your dress, doing as he asked. A sharp palm came down against your ass. “You cannot behave that way”

You moaned loudly, arching your back at the delicious pain. Another slap on your ass.

“You cannot behave like that at an important dinner party” two more slaps in your ass, your cheek red, In Ho’s hand print forming.

“Yes daddy” you say as you sink down to your chest, further pushing your ass up to him. Your arousal as vividly dripping from your cunt as he slapped both of your cheeks, reddening them.

"Fuck you, (y/n)" he whispered in your ear. His anger and lust combined into one emotion, creating a whole new meaning to the word, fuck. He was mad and turned on.

"Do it then, In Ho" you whisper in his. He rammed into you. He pulled your hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

"Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?" He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

"No" you moan.

"No?" He growls. "Being here, fucking you relentlessly when I should be at an important dinner isn't a clue?" He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest.

You creaming as you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You're close aren't you?" You nodded. "Tell me when you're about to. I want to hear you say it."

Your moans turned him on so much more.

"I'm coming" you say breathing heavily.

"What?"

"Fuck, In Ho, I'm coming"

"One more time." His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

"Fuckkk In Ho! I'm coming, I'm coming" you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you so you were in missionary, so he could see your pretty face.

"No you're not" he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

"I'm sorry" you cry. "Daddy please let me come."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes" you scream.

"Then show me" he says letting go of your hips.

"Fuck me like this to show me you're sorry" you grinded your hips on his cock roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

"I'm sorry I fucked up my rhythm" he says in your ear. "I just wanted to see how gorgeous you look without watching your face through a mirror" he grabs your neck and thrusts into you . Your back arched off the tile, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

"Look at you" he said sweetly. "So pretty for daddy" your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. "Sooo fucking beautiful"

"Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?" He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. "Can daddy cum in that tight pussy?" He asks again.

"Yes please, In Ho, please" you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again.

"Let's cum together" he says as he began to cum, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

"Good girl" he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He stood up, putting his cock back in his pants and zipping himself back up, he helped you to your feet. Leading you to the bathroom to fix your make up, grabbing you a spare gold dress from the closet with a new pair of shoes to match.

“Are you ready to behave yourself?” He asked.

“Yes daddy” you smile sweetly. Letting his help you get dressed again. Your pussy ruined from his cum inside of you.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @amandalol1414 @supersonika143

[ejeffers1239]

This is your monthly reminder that trans girl periods are probably definitely real.

"ow ow ow ow ow"

- Erika

Serious discussion of/essay on trans woman periods under the cut:

While transgender women experiencing period symptoms is not something that has been scientifically researched with any rigor as far as I'm aware, enough trans women report the phenomena that it can reasonably be assumed real. The interesting thing is there are competing theories as to the mechanism behind trans women periods, which are as follows:

1. An empathetic or otherwise psychosomatic response, as in a trans woman has periods because she knows other women do. I don't like this, but we'll get back to that

2. Confirmation bias of unrelated symptoms, usually gastrointestinal, calling anything that happens in the general area a period.

3. Hormonal cycle from taking estrogen makes the body attempt a period, even without a uterus, accounting for cramping, mood changes, and changes to breast texture.

I don't think 1 or 2 are especially good explanations on their own, and taken in a vacuum sort of reinforce a conclusion and stereotype that transgender women are faking it (1) or eat nothing but junk food (2). However, these two definitely aren't unprecedented as factors, as long as you accept that there is a hormonal component (3).

Considering two of the most common phenomena reported with periods generally, we can get a broader picture. First is the phenomena of women syncing their cycles; this itself sports conflicting research and is mostly anecdotally observed, just like trans women periods. Nonetheless it could provide a point towards the empathetic response theory that would be more than making it up, rather, whatever about an estrogen-dominant body that (allegedly) causes sync is also applicable to transgender women. Second, consider the phenomena of period cravings. This phenomena is much more established than sync, it's commonly accepted that women on their periods tend to crave foods high in carbs, sugar, and salt. In other words, junk food. In that light the "trans women have had diets and call it a period" claim is not entirely dismissible, but is actually flipped in the ordering. It's entirely likely that trans women having their period regardless end up eating junk food, and cast doubt on to the validity of their own periods as a result.

As for my own personal anecdotes, I experience a cycle that is at least somewhat consistent. I don't notice symptoms every month, but many months, and they usually follow the same "structure" so to speak:

First, for about half a day, I get really horny. I believe this would technically be pre-period or a hormonal analogue to ovulation, nonetheless, I take the opportunity to have some fun, as pretty much nothing compares to how good it feels during this time.

Next, I have the junk food cravings, granted, I'm someone who eats taco bell weekly so, this doesn't represent an especially large change of diet for me, it's there though and if I'm cooking I might end up making something like mashed potatoes.

Finally, for around three days after that, I get really bloated and have some "typical" period symptoms: pain in my abdomen, the bloating itself, sore breasts, and even period shits. This is where I am while writing this post and we'll, to reiterate, "ow ow ow ow ow."

To me, this is far to specific of a sequence of events to be fake, even if it's not strictly monthly, and trans women have factors like missing estrogen doses or the presence/lack of progesterone that could influence that timing away from perfectly routine. Ultimately I'm another anecdote in a sea of anecdotes but, I choose to believe trans girl periods are real and biologically based, and I hope I've made a compelling argument supporting that here. This blog is made possible by boredom and mania mutuals like you, thank you!

[truelotus]

Hi! Would you be willing to write an sfw Uryu x reader where the reader gets injured and Uryu takes care of them after?

𝐀𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

character: Uryu Ishida x reader

context: you have been fighting alongside uryu for quite some time, you haven’t been injured until now. Uryu notices and brings you back home with him to tend your wounds. 🤍

a/n: I had so much fun writing this! I absolutely love writing fluff stories and I love uryu, thank you for this request <3

You’ve always been by Uryu’s side for as long as you can remember. You never left his side and he never left yours, that’s how it’s always been. And neither of you had a problem with it.

Well, kind of.

Uryu loves to have you by his side, but sometimes when battles got serious he wishes that you could stand back and let him handle things. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, he couldn’t handle it.

But of course, you couldn’t just stand there while he fights for his life. You needed to support him as much as you can, because you too could not see him hurt.

The two of you had just gotten out of a nasty battle, thankfully you both survived. Uryu was left uninjured but you on the other hand..

You got injured by protecting him, he hadn’t noticed his surroundings and he was about to get hurt. So you jumped in, protecting his body with yours.

As soon as everything was over, he picked you up, rushing to find a place where you’d both be safe.

“That was careless of you, Y/N” His calm demeanor never wavering, but you could see the worry in his eyes. He tried to hide it with his words and tone but you knew him better than that.

“Uryu, it’s okay. I’m fine.” You said as you traced your fingers on his sharp jawline. You could see how he clenched his jaw, he knew that you’d survive from this injury but..

You, had just gotten hurt, from protecting him.. he wasn’t paying close attention and because of his carelessness, you got hurt!

“No you’re not.” Uryu replied, He looked down at you before placing you gently on the ground. He was handling you with such care, your lips slightly curved upwards because he was just so worried about you.

You tried to sit up, but he pushed your body back down gently. “You don’t need to push yourself, please. Let me take care of you.” He was begging for you to just stay still, he is filled with guilt right now, he can’t believe the love of his life got hurt from protecting him.

Your smile remained on, you couldn’t help it. The concern laced in his voice was something.

“If you say so.” You said before laughing lightly at his worried expression.

He put his hands in his pockets, looking for bandages and something to clean your wound. Eventually he found it and he got on the ground next to you,he laid everything out perfectly.. as if he was a doctor and you were his patient.

Your eyes slightly winced in pain when he gently cleaned your wound, he was doing his best to be gentle with you. His touch was soft, comforting and warm.

He was focused on cleaning and patching you up that his glasses were falling off the bridge of his nose, you noticed and you pushed his glasses back up for him.

“You’re going to have a pretty nasty scar.” he said, carefully wrapping your wound with the bandages. He made sure to wrap it perfectly, not too tight or too loose.

“That’s okay, at least I’ll look cool!” You said with joy in your voice, you winced in pain by how excited you were, causing you to relax again.

He sighed heavily as he put your head on his lap, “You shouldn’t go around collecting scars just to look ‘cool’ that’s reckless.” He said.

“Well, I’d survive anything if it meant that you were the one patching me up.” you teased, your lips curved into a playful smile when looking at Uryu’s blushed ears.

His cheeks were flushed slightly, he pushed his glasses up. He cleared his throat before responding back to you.

“Don’t be so ridiculous.” He muttered while covering his mouth with his hand. Though you couldn’t see it, he was smiling slightly.

“You should be focusing on resting Y/N, not making silly jokes.”

You laughed lightly at him, oh how he loved that laugh of yours. He always felt proud of himself when only he could make you laugh like that.

“Yeah yeah.” The tension in your body started to ease up, you relaxed yourself as your head laid on his lap.

He looked down at your wound, he could see the blood slightly seeping through your bandages. Guilt filled his chest again.

“You’re going to be okay.” He said softly, he was trying to convince himself that you were going to be okay. His fingers traced your patched up wound, his fingers lingered on your wound for a moment.

“I know I am Uryu, you need to know that too.” The blush on his cheeks became redder when realizing he was caught worrying much more than you.

His eyes met with yours, your glistening eyes. For a moment the air was thick, none of you spoke. The both of you just looked into each other’s eyes.

“Next time, Let me handle the fighting, okay?.” You could feel his hand pull away from your wound then to your face, brushing the little hairs on your face away.

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, continuing to make eye contact with you.

You nodded your head, your heart racing by his touch.

“Okayy, I’ll let you handle it. Only if you promise to take care of me like this again.” You said with a cheeky smile.

His eyes softened, you could hear a small and gentle laugh coming from him.

He leaned down, getting close to your face. Cupping your cheek before closing the space between you two.

He lightly pressed his lips against yours, as he pulled away you could see his flushed face better than before, the look in his eyes were filled with love. His features seemed to look softer than before.

“I promise, I always will.” He whispered to you while still dangerously close to your face.

As you laid on his lap, you couldn’t help but feel grateful you got hurt. It was a silly thought but, his tenderness towards you, his touch, his words, his love during this moment felt much more passionate than before.

The two of you stayed there, his fingers brushing through your hair. The air was calm and cool.. you’d love to stay like this forever but you know that thats not possible.

But the two of you were going to appreciate this moment together.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

“If you’d like to bring in Mr. Kaminski’s clothing today, someone will be in until five… yes, I’ll be here till five too… oh, okay - go ahead…” Rook hit ‘print’ on the open Funeral Director Statement of Death document and adjusted the phone against her ear to hear better over the sound of the nearby printer coming to life. 

Emmrich was standing in front of the raised ledge of her desk, tucking his business card into the inside cover of the folder that Rook was preparing that they gave to families during arrangements. It contained a number of helpful checklists and pamphlets containing grief counselling resources, estate administration assistance, urn catalogues, memorial jewelry offerings, and of course, the Funeral Director’s Statements of Death that were generally required by banks and businesses in order to close accounts on behalf of the deceased. 

“Undergarments? Completely up to you, and not required. Many choose to provide socks and underwear for their loved ones because they were just part of what they normally wore day-to-day. There’s no need to go out and purchase new ones if you don’t want to.” Rook finished, listened, smiled. “Oh no, don’t worry - lots of people ask the same question. It’s not weird at all.” She quirked an eyebrow at Emmrich who looked amused as he stepped behind the desk and took the freshly printed stack of Statements of Death, returning to his side of the desk, and reaching under the overhang in front of Rook, feeling around for the desk seal. 

“Okay, thank you, Glenn… see you before five. Take care.” Rook hung up the desk phone and started signing the Statements of Death that Emmrich had managed to seal while she was on the phone. “You guys do tell people during arrangements that it’s fine and completely normal to bring underwear for their loved ones, don’t you? Because I feel like people are constantly asking me that question.” 

“We do,” Emmrich sighed, still smirking slightly. “But they tend to forget - much is discussed during arrangements and it can be overwhelming, given the circumstances.” 

He handed Rook another stack of sealed Statements of Death and lifted his gaze to the window behind her. It was Saturday so there was only one administrator scheduled to work over the weekend, and it was Rook’s turn. Truth be told, he got the impression that she preferred her solitary weekends, even if it meant being a bit more strategic with her time management when things got busy. She seemed perfectly confident and capable, however, as she ran the office on her own, fielding calls from families, writing and submitting obituaries to the local paper, setting up and running identifications, and whatever else may come up - which in this profession could be nearly anything. 

“It’s still snowing,” Emmrich observed before resuming his task of sealing the Statements of Death, slipping the bottom corner of a page between the plates of the seal and pressing down on the handle; withdrawing the paper, then doing the same with the next. “I could drive you home again, if you don’t feel like standing around in the snow?” 

If he drove her home today, it would make it the third day in a row since the first day he managed to coax her into his car earlier in the week. He really didn’t mind doing it - even if it was very much out of his way. He did enjoy driving, and he knew that even though she hadn’t said as much, Rook appreciated getting home in half an hour instead of the usual hour-plus her regular commute stole from her day. 

She had been much less combative the day before as well, which surprised Emmrich. She was still far from chatty, and remained somewhat guarded when he asked questions or made conversation, but she hadn’t called him a creep once yesterday, and that had to be some sort of progress. 

“Um… oh. You don’t have to,” was her reply - he knew it would be. 

“I know I don’t have to. I’m asking you.” 

She didn’t like burdening people with herself, he’d discovered. She was stubbornly independent: a useful trait to have for one pursuing this calling - taking initiative was not something that could be taught.

“I… yeah, okay. I guess if it’s not any trouble for you. I know it’s really out of the way for you…” 

This was word-for-word the exact same thing she’d said yesterday. It was like she was worried that because it wasn’t necessarily convenient for him, he was going to turn around and demand gas money for his troubles… or something else.

“No trouble at all,” he assured her, accepting the signed Funeral Director’s Statements of Death from her and slipping them into the folder. 

“Alright then. That would be awesome. It’s still really shitty out there and weekend transit service means there’s even more time between buses, so it was gonna take me forever to get home and I’m going out tonight.” She set her pen down and updated the checklist she had open on the computer monitor on her right. “Thanks, Emmrich.” 

And then she smiled. A real, genuine, proper smile - the kind she gave families. 

He couldn’t help feeling like he’d won some long-fought battle. Unlocked some great secret that dwelled within the simplicity of the expression. 

“Of course, Rook,” he tipped his head politely, and picked up the folder. The office administrators were supposed to bring them in and hand them to the funeral director so they could be introduced to the family as they would be working with them a fair bit in the coming days, but Emmrich always thought it felt rather archaic to accept the package from the obedient administrator and introduce her like she was the Girl Friday of the death-care profession: instead he just mentioned the administrator by name, and told the family that they would be in touch to assist in the coming days, and that they would physically at the chapel each day to assist, even if he wasn’t.

The doorbell chimed, indicating someone had just entered the front doors. Rook looked up at the chapel schedule displayed on the large monitor mounted on the wall and stood from the desk, smoothing the front of her skirt. 

“I think that’s the Lawrence family here for Mr. Lawrence’s urn.” She breezed past Emmrich out into the foyer without another word. “Hello,” he heard her say to whoever was there in the same friendly, amiable tone she’d used on the phone. 

He picked up the folder and returned to the arrangement office, still feeling like he had accomplished something. 

He pulled into the garage, put the car in park, and set the parking brake before cutting the ignition. The interior lights blinked on when he opened the door to get out, but he paused when his eyes landed on a small, round object sitting on the passenger seat that hadn’t been there before. 

Rook’s headphones. Oh dear. 

They must have slipped out of her coat pocket without her noticing. 

Emmrich picked up the smooth blue case and sighed, not quite sure what to do: he knew Rook was incredibly attached to her headphones - he’d seen her walk through the doors in the morning with them in her ears enough. Had seen her jam them in her ears as she walked out the doors at the end of her shift. She even had them in during her breaks, where she could be found in the staff room at the end of the table, eschewing conversation with co-workers in favour of her music as she tucked into her daily styrofoam bowl of instant noodles.

She’d be gutted when she discovered that she’d lost them…

He could drive them back over to her apartment, he supposed, but she’d mentioned that she was going out tonight, so she might be gone by the time he made it all the way across town again. Besides, he got the feeling that showing up unannounced in her lobby might net a negative reaction from the already defensive and guarded young woman.

At the very least he should tell her that she forgot them in his car, and they were safe and accounted for, and he’d return them to her in the morning. 

Yes. 

She couldn’t possibly take offense to that.

Of course she could, he reminded himself, closing the door and withdrawing his phone from his breast pocket and pulling up the shared internal company directory that included the personal home and cell numbers of every employee of McDermott & Rafferty. She’s not going to be pleased that I’m taking it upon myself to text her.

I could call her instead.

No… no that would be worse. 

Or I could simply not say anything and just return her headphones in the morning without crossing a boundary and imposing myself on her evening.

But if I do that, she’ll be taking the bus into work in the morning without any music to listen to, and no idea where her headphones have gone. At the very least if I tell her she won’t have to worry, right?

His thumb hovered over her number on the spreadsheet as he continued to weigh the pros and cons of his intentions. 

“‘Creepy dude’ indeed,” he admonished himself, copying the number and pasting it into the To: field of a new message.

‘Hello, Rook. This is Emmrich. I’m very sorry for the intrusion of your privacy: I got your number from the company directory. I just wanted to let you know that you left your headphones in my car in case you were looking for them and were worried you’d lost them. I’ll hold onto them tonight and give them back when I see you at work tomorrow. Take care. Emmrich.’

Not allowing himself to think about it and doubt himself any further, he hit Send, and with the affirmative and cheery ‘bwoop’ indicating the message had gone through, he tensed, waiting for the response that would surely be something along the lines of: ‘Wow. I let you drive me home three times and suddenly you think that’s an invitation to start texting me? God you’re so creepy.’

But no such response came. 

No response came at all. 

He stared at the message: the little footer under the bubble of text that said ‘Delivered - 6:46 PM’ stayed that way until 7:03 when he finally blackened the screen and pocketed the phone. It was entirely possible she had read receipts turned off and had read his message and was currently sending a screenshot of it to all of her friends with the accompanying text: ‘Look at what this horny old pervert from work just sent me - he thinks he’s being subtle’ punctuated by a number of emojis or something to that effect.

So be it - at least he’d done the right thing. If she chose to misinterpret that, it was her problem, not his. 

He’d been nothing but courteous and professional in their dealings: it was hardly his fault if she perceived every kind word from another person as a threat. If anything it was rather sad. 

He unlocked the garage door and entered the darkness of his townhouse, light flooding the entryway from the garage behind him as he was greeted with the pulsing trill of the alarm system telling him he had thirty seconds to disarm it, and the harmonized meows of Manfred as the bone-white cat emerged from the darkness, paws pitter-pattering over the hardwood as he looked up at Emmrich and began to regale him with the events of his day. 

He keyed in the code to the alarm system and crouched down to scratch under Manfred’s chin.

“Hello Manfred. Did you have a good day?”

“Mraaaaow!” The feline responded brightly, rubbing his cheeks against Emmrich’s hand.

Emmrich beamed and straightened, his knees cracking audibly. 

“Now let’s see what you’ve gotten into today, shall we?” He pocketed the headphones which were still in his other hand and flipped on the lights, thoroughly wiping his shoes on the mat before embarking down the hallway, Manfred trailing eagerly behind him, tail stuck straight up in the air, chattering merrily. 

It didn’t take him long to find today’s target: a phone charging cable bitten cleanly in two, one half still plugged into the electrical outlet. Holding the severed portion of the cable, Emmrich regarded Manfred: his fur was indeed looking a little staticky, standing unusually upright and lending him a slightly demented look.

Emmrich was generally good at remembering to store unattended electrical cables away from Manfred, but he must have forgotten this one in his rush to leave that morning.

“You only have so many lives, you know, and this is far from the first time you’ve chewed through a live cable.”

“Mrrraow,” Manfred agreed, licking his lips and sitting on the floor in front of Emmrich, looking eminently pleased with himself.

Emmrich sighed and pulled the other end of the cable from the brick and disposed of the two pieces in the kitchen garbage, turning on more lights as he moved around the main floor of his home. 

“I suppose you’d like to watch your stories, hm?” 

Chirping affirmatively, Manfred leapt up onto the brown leather sectional in the living room and settled into the well-formed indentation where he usually sat. 

Emmrich didn’t watch television: he found it an unproductive and uninspiring use of what little spare time he had. The sprawling, 70 inch, 4k UHD TV he had purchased solely for watching movies, as he considered himself to be somewhat of a cinephile, but tuning mindlessly into endless news segments and banal reality tv was boring. 

Manfred, however, loved television - specifically 90s sitcoms. He wasn’t sure why - perhaps it was the canned laugh track - but Emmrich had unwittingly discovered years earlier that letting Manfred watch his shows was a reliable way to keep him occupied and distracted from his seemingly never-ending compulsion to kill himself via misadventure. He did set limits though: only an hour of television per day. It wasn’t good for people to watch too much television, so it only made sense in his mind that too much time in front of a screen wasn’t healthy for cats either. 

He queued up an episode of Seinfeld for Manfred and scratched under his Italian leather collar before setting down the remote and returning to the kitchen. 

He shrugged off his suit jacket and fished his phone out of the pocket, glancing at the screen to see if Rook had responded while he was seeing to Manfred - she hadn’t - and setting it on the counter alongside the headphones before washing his hands and trying to decide what he’d have for dinner. 

While he waited for the frying pan to heat up and the pot of tomato soup he’d settled on to warm, he opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass - he wasn’t on call tonight, so he’d allow himself this rare indulgence. Something to calm his nerves was welcome anyway - he kept eyeing his phone, waiting for the screen to light up. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong by texting Rook, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow gotten himself into trouble. 

When the pan was hot, he dropped his cheese sandwich into it and picked up his glass, swirling the wine inside of it and resuming his vigil of staring at his phone. 

It was 7:34 now. 

Rook was constantly attached to that phone of hers even though Derek and management were borderline militant in enforcing their ‘no personal cell phones allowed’ policy during work hours - she and every other staff member under thirty-five had mastered the slick and nonchalant trick of palming their device and slipping it into the inside left pocket of their suit jacket with alarming elegance at a moment’s notice: they would be the envy of any street magician with such sleight of hand.

Knowing this, it struck Emmrich as unlikely that she hadn’t at least seen his message yet. What was taking her so long to respond? It was simple, wasn’t it? Just a plain, ‘Thank you for letting me know’ would suffice, surely? 

He turned from the island back to the stove, flipped the cheese sandwich in the pan, and stirred the pot of soup. He had just set down the spoon on the spoon rest in the middle of the stove when he heard the ‘bzzzt-bzzzt’ of his phone vibrating against the granite countertop. 

Snatching it up, he unlocked the screen and braced himself for Rook’s disgusted response. 

Jaw clenching, he allowed his eyes to focus on the words in front of him. 

‘At first I thought this was a really pathetic excuse to text me, but my headphones are actually missing and unless you managed to pickpocket me while you were driving, you must be telling the truth.’

Three dots popped up underneath the message, indicating she was typing something else. Then they went away. 

Then they came back. 

‘Thanks Emmrich.’

He stared at the pair of messages, reading them over and over, genuinely taken aback at the lack of vitriol in her words. Snarky, yes. Snide, certainly. But a far cry from the outright revulsion he had anticipated. 

Perhaps she was finally warming up to him: they’d worked together for four months now, it only seemed natural that they build some semblance of rapport over time, regardless of her misplaced assertions that he was some sort of deviant. 

Could it be that she was finally beginning to realize that he wasn’t panting after her like the weirdo she assumed he was, staring at her ass whenever she walked in front of him, and wondering what the tattoos that peeked out from under the cuffs of her shirt looked like? He’d never had such thoughts. Never once had he wondered how much of her skin they covered; whether they ran all the way up her pale arms and resolved at her shoulders, or if they curved across her collarbones, dipping down past the swell of her breasts, and–

The sound of the smoke alarm punctured his unintentional reverie, deflating it instantly as the bitter smell of burnt toast filled his nose and he slammed his phone down on the counter to deal with the urgent matter of his burning grilled cheese sandwich. 

Manfred appeared around the corner of the island and meowed loudly, making his displeasure at this interruption of his ritual television hour inescapably clear.

Emmrich looked down at the blackened sandwich in the pan, then to Manfred, who was licking his lips hopefully.

“No, you may not have the sandwich,” he said sternly and dumped the ruined grilled cheese in the garbage. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and turned off the element the tomato soup was on. 

He reset the smoke alarm and paced over to the back door beyond the breakfast nook, wine in hand, pausing to grab the pack of cigarettes and the lighter he kept in the console table next to the patio door before stepping out into the cold and lighting up. 

Rook Ingellvar was going to be his undoing at this rate. 

He’d managed to salvage the remainder of the evening and resume his normal routine: he’d had his soup and just a plain cheese sandwich, poured another glass of wine, fed Manfred, had a long hot shower, and climbed into bed to settle in and read until he was ready to fall asleep. 

Manfred was curled up on the bed at his feet, purring loudly - it wouldn’t last long. He would be up again in a few minutes to persistently smash his face against the edges of Emmrich’s book as he tried to read it, attempting to bully him into putting the book down in favour of petting him, which was clearly more important. Emmrich would eventually capitulate and do exactly that.

The antique analog alarm clock on his nightstand indicated that it was going on eleven o’clock, and Emmrich had just closed his book for the night and reached over to turn off the lamp when his phone lit up on the charging stand next to it, vibrating insistently to alert him to the incoming call. 

Emmrich frowned: he was certain he wasn’t on call tonight - Lindsey Finch’s name had been listed as the overnight on call funeral director on the service schedule that day, and he certainly wasn’t expecting any calls from anyone… not at this hour.

He picked the phone up from the charger and frowned harder at the number on the call display: it wasn’t a number he’d saved in his contacts, so there was no name. It looked familiar, though, like he’d seen it recently…

His stomach twisted on itself. It couldn’t be. No. Why would she?

“...Hello?”

Loud, distorted music crashed through the earpiece of the phone. The bass was clear, but everything else was a muffled cacophony that he couldn’t make out. He could hear Rook’s voice, but couldn’t discern what she was saying: she was talking loudly - practically shouting. Then there was a male voice, equally unclear. Fabric shifted against the mic, making a harsh scratching noise that had Emmrich holding the phone a few inches away from his face. 

“Hello?” He repeated, but received no response: she must have pocket-dialed him accidentally. 

She was at a bar with live music by the sound of it. He heard her voice again. Managed to catch the words, “kinda hot” before the exceptionally loud band drowned out what she said next. 

But he heard her laugh then, and it rather caught him off guard how different it was from her usual facetious, dry tone. 

It was light and free and joyful. 

He ended the call then, feeling ashamed: like he’d just intruded on something private that he was not welcome to. Judging by the brief snatches of conversation he’d overheard, she was clearly on a date, and if she’d known that he’d been eavesdropping - even accidentally - there was no doubt in his mind that he’d never hear the end of it. 

Setting the phone back on the charger, he folded his glasses and set them down before he turned out the light and rolled onto his side, facing away from the nightstand so he wouldn’t be able to see the screen if it lit up again. 

Lonely thoughts were no stranger to Emmrich in the silent hours of the night, but tonight for some reason, they felt heavier than ever. 

Manfred woke him up a few hours later when he managed to find a way around the locking child-proofing tabs Emmrich had installed on his dresser, and began systematically pulling articles of clothing out from the top drawer, dropping them on the floor whilst having a loud conversation with himself. 

“Manfred…” Emmrich grumbled sleepily, slipping out from under the covers and crossing the room, plucking the cat from the top of the dresser and ignoring his protests, setting him gently on the ground. “You’re far too clever for your own good.” He re-affixed the tab as best he could and stooped to stroke Manfred’s soft back before plodding back to bed. “Please let me sleep,” he entreated groggily, feeling Manfred’s weight join him on the mattress.

What time was it anyway? He could tell it was still dark beyond the blackout blinds over his window, but that meant little at this time of year. 

His antique alarm clock wasn’t backlit, so he fumbled around in the dark until he felt the base of his charging stand. Following it upwards, he tapped his phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden light. 

3:40… ugh… 

He had to be up in less than an hour anyway. 

Resolving to get at least a bit more sleep, he was about to collapse back onto the mattress when something on the illuminated screen caught his eye. 

A notification. 

He pulled the phone from the stand and propped himself up on one elbow, finding his glasses with his other hand and shoving them onto his face. 

It was a message from the same number that had called him earlier - Rook’s number. 

3:34 AM read the timestamp - only a few minutes ago.

Blinking a few times and feeling suddenly much more awake, Emmrich keyed in his passcode and opened the message. 

It was a picture of Rook - a selfie, he supposed - and she appeared to be home - or in someone’s home - judging by the fact that she was obviously in a bed, her long black hair cascading over a red pillowcase as she cheesed up at the camera. Her crimson lips were contorted in a picture perfect snarl that showed off her straight white teeth and she was holding up her fingers in a peace sign. She was clearly drunk: her gray eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her heavy black eyeliner was somewhat smudged. 

‘thx again for looking after my headphones♥️’

Why was she texting him at this hour? 

And why did she send him a picture of herself?

And why did she feel the need to thank him again?

He stared at the heart punctuating the message, turning question after question over in his mind as his own heart decided to behave like he was halfway through running a marathon. 

His eyes were drawn to the lower half of the photo, and he couldn’t help but notice that the thin black tank top she was wearing was certainly more revealing than her uniform, confirming that her tattoos most definitely did not end at her shoulders.

He swallowed, his tongue feeling three sizes too big for his mouth. 

She’d only just sent him this. There was a good chance she was still awake…

Dare he? 

‘You’re welcome. E.’

He hit send.

The three dots heralding an incoming message popped up almost immediately, followed by Rook’s reply. 

‘holy shit y r u even awake rn?’

He let out a short huff of laughter at this, gently pushing Manfred away, as he had finally been drawn by the light of Emmrich’s phone. 

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘because i just got home and need to eat something lol’

‘I see. I’d better leave you to it then.’

‘u didn’t answer my question: y r u awake?’

Emmrich glanced down at the purring ball of fur next to him that was trying desperately to nudge the phone out of his hands. 

‘My cat woke me up.’

‘lmao u have a cat?! u don’t really seem like a pet person tbh’

‘He more or less adopted me, as it turns out.’

‘crazy’

The dots popped up again, then vanished. 

‘anyway - i need to go to bed. c u in a few hours i guess lol’

‘Goodnight, Rook.’

He stared at his phone for a few more minutes, but no more messages appeared. 

He scrolled back up to the picture she’d sent him. Despite the fact that she was clearly potted, she looked so… unbothered. There was an easy joy about her that she didn’t have during the day while she was working. Perhaps the date had gone well. 

But… she mentioned that she was at home, so perhaps it hadn’t.

He didn’t know why, but he found himself hoping for the latter outcome.

His eyes drifted back to the shape of her plump, pert breasts, pressed together slightly due to the angle and position of her arms. 

“That’s enough of that,” he chided himself, darkening the screen and forcing himself to set the phone down. 

Deciding that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, he got out of bed instead and started his morning early: he had breakfast, fed Manfred, and did his morning workout, trying to find stability in the comfort of his predictable routine. 

As he stood under the nearly scalding water cascading from the showerhead above him, he took himself in hand and stroked - slowly, languidly at first, but before long he was jerking off in earnest, leaning into the dark granite tile of the wall as he breathed heavily, soft moans nearly drowned out by the rush of the water falling around him. 

He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t get the image of those perfect breasts from his mind. The shape of them. The way they looked pressed together in that picture. The crisp black lines of the mirrored serpents and roses that spread from the front of her shoulders down towards the neckline of that skimpy top. He was filled with the treacherous desire to trace the lines of those tattoos with his fingers… his tongue…

A strangled cry pulled from his lips, and he came hard, his seed spilling forth, one steady pulse after another. It fell to the floor, and dripped down his hand into the drain below. 

Guilt slammed into him before he even finished cumming, ashamed of himself as he watched the last of his release vanish with the water.

It had been quite some time since he’d had a romantic partner, but he worked with this young woman… taught one of the courses she was enrolled in at the university. They were colleagues - professionals - and here he was, fantasizing about her body while he jacked off like the pervert she so frequently accused him of being… proving that she was right all along.

And worst of all, he was going to have to look her in the eyes later that morning and pretend that he hadn’t brought himself to orgasm hours earlier while thinking about her. 

“You’ve really done it now, Volkarin…” he sighed, raking his fingers through his wet hair and shutting off the water. 

It was very rare for Emmrich to have a cigarette before he went to work. 

He had one that morning. 

[ourfinalisation]

⟶ the 4 times teen!satoru tried to break down the walls to your heart, and the 1 time he did.

cw:: fem!reader, not proofread due to lazy xP, reader dgaf, fluff/crack, 2.1k words, i can't write long works, mild blood/injury (nosebleed, broken ankle)

Satoru Gojo has no shortage of confidence. Quips that have men clapping him on the shoulder, flirts that have girls weak in the knees. He is a boy who exudes cockiness, but for some reason that he just can't understand, it all melts away in your presence, giving way to trembling hands and a red face.

You are several grades below him. Grade Three, specifically. And it's not like you're model pretty. Sure, his eyes are always fixed on your legs or your neck or your eyes or your lips or your hair, but he's definitely prettier, he's certain.

You're not even nice to him. A biting remark here, a blatant dismissal there, and he finds himself wailing into his pillow, a half-sympathetic Suguru watching on in mild pity.

“Just start small. Say you like her hair. Or her shoes,” he says, looking down at Satoru, who's sprawled out on his dorm room floor.

Satoru sniffles, lifting his head. “You really think it'll work?”

“Dunno. But it's worth a try.”

“I like your shoes, Y/N!”

You look up from your flip-phone in surprise. Paired together on a mission, the two of you had, up until now, been sitting in silence on a train. You follow his line of sight to your new converse, laced up tight. Perfectly clean and perfectly you.

“Thanks. My mom just sent them for me,” you mumble, looking the exact opposite way of him. God forbid he sees the way your cheeks tinge very slightly pink. You'd hate for him to know the effect even a passing compliment from him clearly has on you.

He grins in self-satisfaction. He knew it was a good idea to trust Suguru! And now, like clockwork, you'll be falling at his feet in three… two… one…

“There’s seaweed in your teeth.”

Stupid Suguru!

Satoru blushes furiously, turns the other way, and starts furiously sucking at his teeth to remove the offending plant. Suguru had pawned off his seaweed snack to him earlier, and now he has to reap the consequences. Another romantic failure, and this time it wasn’t even his fault.

Still red, eyes pricking with embarrassed tears, he looks back over at you. But, much to his dismay, you've returned your attention to your phone, tapping away.

He'll get ‘em next time.

”Holy shit, Gojo!”

But not this time, apparently.

His eyes widen as he sees you staggering back, and he jogs up to lean over you.

“You okay…?”

Stupid question. Because you look up at him, blood pouring from your nose, a devastating mixture of humiliation and resentment and raw pain glinting in your eyes, as you wipe your bloodied nose on your white shirt and drag your bloodied hand over your skirt.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! You always do this, stupid!” You throw one more scornful look over your shoulder, before marching back towards the school, blood still streaming down your pretty face.

For a split second, he's torn between giving you space and running after you. He picks the latter, naturally, and is quickly stumbling after you with all the grace of a newborn fawn, yelling for you to wait, just a second!

You don't, of course, and it takes him catching up to you and slowing to match the pace of your furious stomps for him to be within your earshot.

“Come on, you know I didn't mean to—”

“You literally always do this. You beg me to come train with you, for reasons beyond my understanding considering you’re, like, three grades above me, and then every time it ends with me having to take myself to the stupid nurse’s office ‘cause you can't control yourself ever, so just leave me alone.”

He frowns, guilt tearing at his heart. “Y/N, please, just let me say sorry—”

At that, you whirl around, facing him dead on. Red mars your lower face, still steadily dripping down and collecting on your well-bitten lips, and it takes a world of strength for Satoru to tear his eyes away from your mouth and up to your own gaze boring into him.

He almost hopes for a second you won't speak. Hopes you'll just turn around and continue walking in silence, not looking at him over your shoulder but at least letting him stay with you.

Alas, he is not such a lucky man.

“I don't need you to say sorry,” you mutter, before turning on your heel and marching back into the building, leaving him standing alone on the smooth stone pathway.

He wipes flour from his eyes, sneezing once, twice, thrice.

You sigh. “I thought you said you were good at baking. You called yourself ‘wifey material’.” You’re not faring much better than him, wiping egg from your cheek with a frown.

“Hey! Even a perfect clock is wrong twice a day.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

He sighs, casting his eyes over what used to be the kitchen. Several bags of flour were tipped over, so much egg where egg should not be, milk steadily dripping onto the tiled floor. The two of you look like toddlers who'd broken into the pantry, covered head to toe in staple ingredients.

“Well if I can't cook… and you can't cook… who's going to make us sweet treats?” he laments.

You imperceptibly sigh, almost feeling bad for him. “We can go to the store, if you want,” you murmur, uprighting the carton of milk. You avoid making eye contact with the incredulous look he’s giving you, but can you blame him? It's been months of knowing you, and this is the first time you've proposed hanging out together without him asking first.

His eyes light up, sparkling with glee. “Sure! The store! I’ll pay!”

“Okay. Sure.” You unloop the apron from around your neck, taking his too, and hang them up. “Let's go.”

The walk to the store is pleasant. You can't help but admire the koi fish swimming through the clear-water streams, and Satoru can't help but admire you.

The warmer weather has pushed your white shirt cuffs up your arms, and unbuttoned your top button, and he can't help but trail his eyes over the few square inches of your exposed skin. So soft, and so pretty.

“Pardon?” You’re looking at him now, pushing your glasses up to your forehead and leaving tiny indents on your nose. He’d kill to kiss them away.

“Do you mean to be saying all this out loud?” And now the sun-driven flush on your cheeks climbs higher, teasing the fat under your eyes, sinking lower and falling beneath your jawline, and oh how he’d love to be the one who makes you blush, and be the only man privy to your flusteredness—

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your rapid clicks before his face grounds him again, and with a squeak he realises how long he's been carelessly speaking his private thoughts aloud. He pouts and swats your hand away, redirecting his gaze to the right, looking away from you.

“What? Wasn’t talking about you. Just… Uh…”

In his embarrassment, he fails to notice the way you're fanning yourself, desperately trying to bring your heated cheeks to a regular temperature.

“Just… reciting poetry…”

“You may enter now.”

The nurse is barely able to finish her sentence before Satoru bursts through the doors of the ward. You’ve sat up in bed, a tiny little scowl marring your perfect features, eyes stubbornly refusing to even glance at the cast around your ankle.

“You scared me!” he whines, dropping into the plastic chair beside your bed and dragging his hands down his face. “I thought I lost you, Y/N!”

“It’s just a broken ankle,” you mutter, swatting half-heartedly at him.

“I mean, honestly, tripping down the stairs? What a lame way to die!” he laments, batting his stupidly long eyelashes at you. It takes everything in you not to snigger.

“What's a good way to die?”

“Oh, you know, getting struck by lightning, killed by a wild rhino, after killing five billion curses… But—” he pouts at you for distracting him, “—that’s not the point! You need to be more careful!”

“Aw.” You smile ever so slightly, your eyes crinkling when you look at him. “Well, you can sign my cast.”

“Really?” He immediately drops his pout, his eyes sparkling as he fumbles for the marker you're offering him. He shoots up and out of his chair, stumbling towards the end of the bed, and giggles like a schoolboy. “The first one?”

“Sure,” you hum, watching the way he delicately cradles your ankle in his hand.

He squeals, and immediately starts doodling his name along your cast. He can't help but draw hearts around his words, but you can't bring yourself to say anything when he looks so pleased with himself.

He pulls away, petting your ankle before he sets it gently back on the bed.

“Tech is sooo boring without you. All techniques, missions that!” He sits down on the bed next to you, as you gently push yourself into a sitting position, careful not to aggravate your foot.

“Yeah? Anything fun happen in the last two days?” You ask, poking his shoulder.

“Nooo…” he sighs. “Everyone loves me too much. No variety.”

“You’re in love with yourself.”

“Well, who isn't?”

You snort. “Right.”

He grins at you. The breeze from the open window gently tousles your hair, your features bare from makeup and freshly washed. You glow under the sun, and he sighs, smiling.

“Hey, when you're back—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Alright, that's enough.” The nurse enters the room, armed with a syringe. “She needs to rest.”

He sighs once more, shoulders deflating, then stands from the bed. “See you.”

You wave. “Later.”

It came as a surprise to few that you made Grade 1 so quickly. A meteoric rise in skill, resultant of over a year of hard work, practice day in, day out. You’ve found yourself scrubbing away calluses every evening, taking less and less time for yourself, but treating less and less wounds.

It was a bone-deep satisfaction when you received the news. A several second long sigh of relief, a weight floating up, up, and away.

“Woooooooo!”

As confetti hits your face, you mentally scold yourself for believing you could ever have just a few minutes of peace.

“Grade 1! Wooooooo!” Satoru sweeps you up into a bone crushing hug, his party popper abandoned on the floor.

Your facial muscles betray you and you smile. Your voice box betrays you too, and you start to laugh as he spins you around.

“I know! It’s crazy!” Who said that? Not you.

“I bought you a caaaake!” He sets you down on the ground, grabbing your hand and dragging you back towards his dorm room.

“For you or for me?”

“For you, but if you don't like it, I’ll have no choice but to eat it.”

“A necessary sacrifice, I’m sure.”

“Exactly!” He pushes you into his room and flicks on the light switch. It illuminates a banner he’d put up, reading “GRADE 1 PARTYYYYY”.

You chuckle again, flopping down on his bed. “What would you have done if I hadn't gotten it?”

He smirks as he retrieves the three-tier Victoria sponge from his mini-fridge. “Wouldn’t’ve taken you to my room.”

You huff out a laugh. “I see.”

He joins you on the bed, sitting cross legged and setting down the cake. “No cutlery.” He grabs a fistful of cake, grinning as he pushes it to your lips. “Open wiiide!”

And as every neuron fires at once, screaming at you to swat his hand away, or pull back, or even just roll your eyes and pretend to be uninterested, you open your mouth and allow him to push a handful of cake into your mouth.

Cream smears along your cheeks, jam along your lips, and you watch him with fond eyes as he finishes off the handful.

And in that moment, you realise how effectively he's worked his way into your heart, taking residence in your arteries and synchronising your best with his own.

He looks back at you, adoration swimming in his crystalline gaze, swallowing down the cake.

“I'm really proud of you,” he says, sincerity in every word, every syllable.

You mirror his smile, reaching out to wipe cream from his chin. “Thank you, Satoru.”

As your skin makes contact with his own, he melts under your touch. He realises how swiftly he's fallen in love with you, barely a year going by before you’ve had him at your feet.

He prays a silent prayer that you will let him share the rest with you.

“The cake?” You say, wiping your hand on a napkin. He realises that, again, he’s expressed his secret thoughts aloud. Oh, well. They're for you, anyway.

“Yeah. The cake.”

[totromanticfool]

All hail this speech and the way it was brought to us. 🙏

“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.

You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?

You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.

You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.

You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.

You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.

You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.

You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!

You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!

You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.

And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie

this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.

[hanzajesthanza]

ranking each member of the hansa’s handwriting from best to worst

geralt: he learned to read and write just twenty-four runes only for nenneke to scold him that his handwriting is terribly sloppy. it’s like… half-decent. he just has the writing of a middle-aged dad who doesn’t care what his writing looks like to others. but he always has had that writing, even when twelve. perhaps it was his destiny. however, he has good spelling and a somewhat-impressive vocabulary

cahir: he had pretty good, well-formed, standard runes. had to write imperal reports of his activities so he has had practice making it easy to read. his northern runes looked a little unique because written nilfgaardian uses different strokes but his nilfgaardian writing looked like the guides people get in school. so all was good. but he was left-handed, and ciri slashed his hand on thanedd, leaving two of his fingers unable to bend and overall with poor motor skills. so he borrowed some paper and a pencil from dandelion in mid-september and taught himself how to write with his right hand. he and milva spent a week and a half together in early october looking at the painstakingly written northern runes and nilfgaardian alphabet when in the druids’ sick bay in caed myrkvid. neither set look that great now tbh but now he has a hobby

dandelion: he is capable of fanciful calligraphy when it’s a love letter for a woman (or five). but he writes complete incomprehensible scratch when writing notes for himself. he has writer notes-scratch. much to his very own chagrin when he reviews his notes later. also frequently tries to write in the dark or by poor candlelight. also when he was a student he would write lazily because he couldn’t be arsed to do it nicely, the fact that he did the assignment at all was a cause of sensation for his professors. and one for celebration, as the thoughts contained in that scribble were usually profound and owing further consideration

angoulême: frequently misspells her words, as she mostly spells phonetically and guesses half the time. uses colloquial shortenings of words which also contributes to the puzzling nature of her writing. sometimes likes to write some of her runes backwards on purpose to mess with people who read it.

regis: he’s a doctor

milva:

[shegetsburned]

tw. age gap

✰ you swear there’s nothing going on between you and your co-star kento nanami to every fan or interviewer that dare ask the question. after many years of working together, there have been speculations of a secret relationship between the two of you and fans are dying to know the truth.

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami who’s ten years older than you and has starred in many films as your love interest. your audience describe your chemistry as unmatched, on and off camera. you are the people’s favorite couple and, unfortunately, your actions never contradict the allegations.

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami, but, every time you two appear in an interview together, there are hundreds of edits of the way kento looks at you. his attentive gaze makes you flutter. he always seems interested in what you’re saying and never cuts you off. even when he’s alone, he finds subjects and ways to mention your name and express how grateful he is to have the privilege of working with you.

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami, but every time you feel overwhelmed and stressed on the carpet or any major events, he reaches for your hand, letting you hold onto his arm as you both walk side by side. only with a look, he understands and goes to your side, helping you calm down without a word. his presence is always enough to make you feel better.

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami, but his first thought is always to find you. whether he’s on set or at premieres, he asks other actors if they’ve seen you. even when he’s being interviewed, he ends the conversation by jokingly telling the audience that he needs to find you or he won’t be able to go through the whole night.

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami, but when it’s time to film your sex scenes, he’s always there to reassure you. the age gap did not help, at first, but his gentle touch and the way he led and handled you in a soft-spoken voice never failed to put your mind at ease and helped you to shoot almost effortlessly the most stunning performance of the movie.

“no one is present but you and me, sweetheart. take your time, i’ll help you get into it.”

you swear there’s nothing between you and co-star!nanami, but when he won his first award, he firstly thanked you and went on and on about how wonderful of an actress you were and how formidable it was to work on this masterpiece with you. the camera zoomed on your flustered face as you exchanged adoring looks with the man on stage.

but, no— you swear there’s nothing between you and kento. you swear your fans are not onto something and it’s only their imaginations running wild. but, between two scenes, when you can’t help but stare at the perfectly sculpted man who’s standing two feet away from you, who’s so well-spoken, compassionate, courteous and kindhearted, god, you really wish something was going on, between you and your co-star kento nanami.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[joelsdagger]

‘tis the season || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

nothing new. nothing exciting. just some pwp. major shout out to my very freaky girl @dinandwhiskey, this fic was born due to our 4am conversations about fucking Our Old Man on viagra. and to my fellow ocean unicorn @joeloverture, for the encouragement, always. and to @pedrospatch, for being my eyes, and my biggest cheerleader, you have my heart. anyway – merry christmas eve eve & happy holidays ya filthy animals. may 2025 be ever so kind to you <33

pairing: dbf!joel x reader summary: you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together.  or,  joel fucks you after taking viagra. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings: [no-outbreak au], implied age gap [no mention of ages but reader is in college], secret established long distance relationship [that’s a mouth full] [that’s what she said], drug use, joel miller on viagra is a beast, pet names [baby, darlin’, sweetheart, kiddo], sexualization of the terms kiddo & old man, [mocking] dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut that occurs off page [i.e: face-sitting, fingering, anal play, ass eating/rimming, a reach around handjob, f! & m! receiving oral], softdom!joel, unprotected piv, missionary, mating press, overstimulation [rip our girl she’s fighting for her life], dacryphilia, finger sucking, biting, smidge of a pain kink, creampie, squirting, joel fucks you while you’re on the phone with your father, mentions of christmas, (2) christmas puns [author apologizes in advance for said puns], probably [most likely] inaccurate and unrealistic descriptions to the effects of viagra [remember, this is fiction!!], omitting a few tags as to avoid spoilers!!, aaaaand lastly, they’re in love BYE! word count: 3.5k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post my writing!

“Just one more time, sweetheart.”

You don’t respond, tongue-tied. The agonizingly slow drag of his cock inside you is too much, your mind is a blur. 

Joel’s been fucking you for hours. He’s made you come six times since you practically pranced through his front door. Twice on his face, once on his fingers, and three times on his cock. And now you’re overstimulated — cunt swollen and almost begging for relief — but Joel, driven by your high-pitched moans and strained whimpers, is unable to stop himself, working to make you come just one more fucking time.

It’s thanks to that stupid little blue pill his buddy slipped him that he’d been able to fuck you for this long. 

In truth, he doesn’t need it. He never needs it. He fucks you perfectly fine without it. But you’re home for the holidays, and you haven’t seen him or come successfully on your own since the beginning of the fall term, and Joel wanted to take advantage of that.

Send you back fucked so full o’me you’ll feel me in here for weeks, he’d groaned. 

Your drippy hole stretched out and clamped tight around the thick girth of him. It had been so long, your face contorted at the sharp sting, and a pained hiss escaped through his gritted teeth when he pushed the delicious fat tip of his cock past your puffy folds, splitting you in two. 

The warm walls of your cunt pulse around his shaft, your clit throbs against the wet thatch of thick hairs stippled gray at his base. You’re too sensitive, too tender, cunt stinging with every long stroke, but not in the way it makes you want to use your safe word. 

It’s just that Joel hasn’t let up. Two hours spent making you come and he hasn’t let up once. The only time he had given you some semblance of a break was when he got up, turned around, and sat on your face at your plea — your desire to show him how good he had made you feel all those times before. 

His cock in your hand, weak fist tugging away at his length while you lathed away at the tight little hole in the crease between his ass cheeks. Even then, Joel couldn't help himself; shoved three thick fingers into your puffy pussy — timing the thrust of them to the desperate pumps of your joint fists — jacking his cock in unison while you writhed beneath him, pulling another climax from you. 

Only when his sweaty thighs quivered around your body, chin tilted towards the ceiling and a stream of profanities poured from his lips, his body curling over yours as hot spurts of his cum painted your soft tummy when he felt your finger slipping past his puckered rim to the knuckle, had he given you a break. 

“Attagirl, just like that. Pretty little pussy’s gonna cum all over me. C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Joel’s voice is thick with arousal as he rambles above you, his hips expertly rolling into yours, head of his cock nudging that place incompetent college boys have failed to reach. 

“Joel—fuck—I don’t think I can—” You gasp frantically, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, arms wound tight around him.

He smirks with another deliberate roll of his hips. “Thought you said you could keep up. Isn’t that what you said? “Naw, I reckon you said, Try keeping up, old man, wasn’t that it?”  He mocks, imitating your words from earlier. Fucking bastard. 

A whimpering mess, your eyes pinch shut in response. 

“I can’t—” you croak, fingernails digging into his shoulders. 

Deft hands brush your hair back from your face. “You can. I know you can, baby.”  His voice softer, barely audible through the wet smack of his balls, smeared in the evidence of your earlier release, firmly slapping against the curve of your ass. The sounds obscenely echoing through the quiet of his bedroom. 

You whimper and try fruitlessly to nod. He knows you can, and he’s right. Your hips wouldn’t be grinding up off the mattress to meet his thrusts. You wouldn’t be feeling something roiling low in your belly.

“One more time, baby. Give me one more n’ I’ll let this sore little pussy rest,” he whispers, lips kissing away your salty tears. 

You nod eagerly. His hand reaches up to the headboard, fingers curling around it and locking into place, his other removes one of yours from his shoulder, pins it to the pillow above your head. And with his hand clasping your damp palm, fingers squeezing then interlocking with yours, he fucks you harder. 

The change in pace has tears spilling from your eyes and pooling into the shells of your ears. The wave swells, swells, swells —

Your phone screen lights up the dark room, buzzing on Joel’s nightstand. 

You freeze, neck craning in the direction of the vibration, eyes squinting and damp lashes fluttering at the bright screen, Dad, it reads. 

Shit. 

You gaze back up at Joel, wide-eyed, panic surging in your chest. Joel growls. “Don’t answer.” 

You don’t listen. You know your father, he’ll keep calling until you answer. Without saying another word, your hand comes up to the wooden surface in search of your phone. You take a few deep breaths, trying to quell the anxious heat swirling inside you, unplug your phone from the charger, slide a shaky thumb across the screen, and press the phone to the shell of your ear.

“Hey—” You clear your throat awkwardly, “Hey, Dad,” your voice breathy, tired.

You unstick your body from Joel’s, your free hand presses to his strong chest, a silent effort to halt his movements.

“Kid! I’m sorry to call you this late, but before you left for Eve’s, I forgot to let you know to be home in time for breakfast.” 

Jesus. That could’ve been a text. 

You sit up, scoot back into the pillows, while Joel sits back on his knees, wincing in unison as his cum-drenched cock slips out of your overflowing slit. Almost instantly, you feel a steady stream of his spend trickle out of your opening. He’d already managed to fill you to the brim three times tonight.

You fiddle with your bottom lip. “Breakfast? I thought we were just doing dinner.”

“Well, I thought since you’re only in town for a few days, we could go the whole nine yards. I missed our breakfasts together. I enjoy them, kid,” he says softly. 

Your bleary eyes flick back to Joel. The smug grin that graces his lips and the gleam of something darker in his eyes don’t put you at ease. He’s up to something, as always. 

You grumble, massaging your forehead. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll be home by nine. Listen, I gotta—” 

“Oh! Speakin’ of dinner, I was thinking of inviting Joel over,” your dad says, plainly.  

Your heart stutters. “Joel? W-Why?”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches, dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Two heavy hands find your waist, and he’s sliding you back down towards him. Slow and suspicious, one of his hands finds your knee, and presses it flush to the mattress. You both watch as his other hand cups the back of your other knee, pushing it back down to match the other, exposing you to the sex-tainted air. With his eyes transfixed on the slow trickle of his spend, his hand then wraps around the base of his cock, tip lining up with your aching hole. 

There it is. 

“Poor guy has been asking about you, kid.” And Joel glides the head of his cock up and down your puffy seam, collecting your mixed juices on his tip then taps the heavy weight of it on your perked clit twice in quick succession; Joel smirks at the wet smack. You jolt, thighs attempting to clamp shut, his firm grip on your knee tightens, keeping you open for him. 

You pinch your eyes closed and curse under your breath. 

“What was that, honey?” 

Your eyes snap open, and you scramble to recover, “N-nothing, I just–” You clear your throat again. “Sorry. What were you saying, Dad?”

Joel chuckles lowly as he leans forward on top of you, pressing his broad frame in on you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, tacky skin against tacky skin, once again as before. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and with his mouth at your other ear, his tongue darts out to lick at the salty droplet there before suckling ever so slightly on your flesh, you bite back a moan. 

Your dad, oblivious to your current state, continues, “Oh— Joel’s been asking after you. Think he’s getting sick of your old man if I’m honest. He keeps telling me he misses having you around, always goin’ on about how you’ve grown up right before his eyes…”

He can hear him. You know he can by the feel of the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, teeth grazing your carotid now. He lifts his head, dark gaze meeting yours while his massive hands cup your tits, caressing, squeezing, kneading, while muttering, Goddamn have you grown up. 

Your cunt flutters around nothing, and you sigh into the phone; your dad doesn’t hear it through his rambling. You don’t register what he’s chatting away about because then, Joel’s nose nuzzles into your neck, traces a line up, up, up until his tongue snakes out and meets the curve of your earlobe. Licks the meat of it into his mouth and takes it between his teeth, your whimper cuts off into a moan when the bite turns sharp.  

His fingers fiddle with your nipples. “Naughty little thing,” Joel taunts, warmth of his breath fanning across the hinge of your jaw, “You liked that?” 

You keen and nod, his hand dips south between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his length, notches the too-wide cockhead at your too-small hole. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to the scruff of his beard, muffling the whine he elicits from you. 

Joel pushes inside, takes a moment, and just to mess with you — he fucks his tip in and out of your drooling hole in small pulses — once, twice, thrice — teasing you, making you moan. He tilts his head, nosing your cheek, breath hot and voice deep, “Listen,” he commands.

Absentmindedly, you tilt your phone away from your ear, away from your dad’s mumblings. You strain your ears to obey him. In and out, in and out. The squelch of your sticky wet reverberates  against the four walls of his bedroom as the blunt head of his cock moves in and out. 

In. And out.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes flitting down to watch his cock impale you. 

Your dad’s voice cuts in through the fog, redrawing your attention.

“Sweetie? You okay? What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes widen. Shit. “I’m–I’m–fine, I– I j-just stubbed my toe. Dad, I really can’t t–” You stammer, and Joel chuckles lowly. 

Your stuttering emboldens him, taking it as an invitation to torture you further, and with his lips against your ear, a breathy moan escapes from his lips as Joel feeds you his cock, slowly working himself back into your spent cunt. So painfully slow that he ensures you feel every ridge and every vein, and in turn, he feels every inch of your warm, velvet walls sucking him in as he eases himself into you. Used cunt clamped tight around him as you welcome him back in — inch by torturous inch. 

He stills once he reaches resistance, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, suppressing the moan climbing up your chest as his tip knocks your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush to your ass — finally bottoming out inside you.

He ruts into you once, tip bumps your cervix again — goading you, and you gasp in return, fingernails indenting his shoulder, half–moon crescents marking his skin. Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and onto your face, mixing with the warm tears now cascading down your face, and your tongue darts out to taste it. The flavor of him — his sweat, his musk — only feeds the dizzying blur that is your mind. But through the foggy haze and the lewd, wet slap of flesh against flesh, you think you can hear your dad saying, You really need to quit the habit of walking around in the dark, kiddo.

And you think you’re nodding, an endless litany of, yes, yeah–yeah slipping past your lips, as you rush your way through the phone call with your father, uncaring. Only interested in the shifts of Joel’s hips, slowly fucking into you in measured thrusts.

Joel tuts. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off while speakin’ to her daddy.” And your grip in his hair tightens, walls tensing in response. “Attagirl, keep squeezin’ me like that. You gonna show me just how naughty you are for me, hm? Gonna let me have it with him on the phone? Gonna cream all over my cock, naughty girl?”

You nod your head numbly, mouth dry and unable to speak with the tip of his cock prodding at the soft spot inside you on every languid stroke, hips swaying back and forth.

The wave begins to crest, and despite your eager nodding at Joel only a second prior, there’s no way in hell you’re really going to come on your boyfriend’s cock — your dad’s best friend — while on the phone with your father. 

Your voice claws its way up your throat, “D-dad, I’m — mmm — sorry I really have to g–”​ You think your thumb presses the red button, but your phone slips from your hand, dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump, and it’s too late to check if you’ve fully hung up on him, and frankly, you’re too consumed by your lover to care. 

Grinning with pride, Joel pulls back, cock halfway out of your pussy and your hands grasp at his shoulders. 

“Joel— f-fuck–please,” you beg, your resolve melting. 

He clicks his tongue. “Na-uh, try again.” 

“D-d-daddy–please,” you whine. 

“D-d-daddy,” he mocks above you. “Say it, pretty girl.” He knows, but he wants to hear you say it. 

“Harder. Please, daddy–I–I wanna come, please, I wanna come,” you mewl, voice all whiny and petulant.

He says nothing. Without pulling out of you, his long fingers wrap around to grip the backs of your knees, pinning your thighs to your chest, knees to your shoulders, feet dangling in the air beside his beautiful head, folding you in half. Then, he moves to plant his feet flat on the mattress, propping himself up, hands on your thighs to steady himself. 

You’re already a mewling, writhing mess underneath him as he fucks in and out of your wasted cunt — it doesn’t take much longer for you to get there. The air fills with sounds of the headboard hammering against the wall and filthy, sloppy sounds of where you two are connected as he bashes into you with arrant primal vigor.

The new angle has him hitting a point inside you, deeper than you ever thought to exist. And still — the wave doesn’t break. With his eyes locked on yours, you know he can tell. He can always tell. He’s made you scream his name enough times since the beginning of your many clandestine meetings last summer to know when you’re teetering on the edge. In need of more. 

And for a moment, you think you can see it in him. Hazel eyes practically glint against the pale moonlight that spills into his bedroom. Joel bares his teeth in a cocky grin, his hand releases one of your thighs to cup your face, thumb parting your plush lips when he says, give it to me, kiddo, soak your old man’s cock. 

Oh fuck. 

Your eyelids flutter shut, your head falling back onto the pillows, hands clutching and pulling at tufts of his grizzled curls. Lips closing around his thumb wedged in your mouth; licking, sucking, biting into his flesh, as the crest finally breaks and washes over you, taking you under the rogue waves.  

But Joel still doesn’t let up. One more time, my ass. 

He’s insatiable. And he shows you just how insatiable he is when his thumb slips from your spit-smeared lips and reaches between your bodies, the pads of his fingers expertly thrum at your sensitive clit.

Your face twinges up at the intense, almost painful pressure as he pinches your clit between his index and middle fingers, hard. The swing of his hips speeds up, cock relentlessly beating your sore cunt. The sight of his girth, disappearing and reappearing as he pounds your pussy at a punishing pace, and his fingers twisting your swollen clit has your belly pulling taut and snapping within the same beat. With a broken shout of his name, you gush around the root of his cock, dripping down his balls. It’s warm and sticky when it seeps down, past your tight ring of muscle, soaking his blue sheets and turning them the shade of charcoal gray. 

Joel coaxes you through your seventh–eighth toe-curling orgasm of the night. An endless stream of sweet nothings spills from him — good girl, that’s it, kiddo. I know, I know, it’s so much, I know – fuck– such a good fuckin’ girl, as he fucks you through it. 

Your sloppy cunt clenches around him, and with his cock choked tight, deep within your bruised walls, he follows soon after. Growls raggedly as he unravels, and his own orgasm rolls through him, decking the hall of your weeping cunt with warm, milky ropes of cum for the fourth time tonight. 

Joel collapses onto your sticky chest, placing open-mouthed kisses to your dampened face — your cheek, your nose, your forehead, while he pumps you full of his seed, abiding by his promise. And when he’s done, his sweaty forehead drops to yours for a moment. The waves now a steady ripple through your body as you come down.

After a moment, he lifts his head, and in retaliation for giving you what was possibly the best fuck of your life while on the phone with your father and nearly exposing your tryst, you bring one of his hands to your face, hollow your cheeks, and suck his thumb while looking up at him with wide and falsely innocent eyes. 

He licks his lips but manages to pry his post-coital eyes away. Instead, his cum-soaked cock slips out of your tired, leaking cunt. When he leans back, you swallow a moan, catching sight of the aftermath of your many arousals in his pubic hair. Graying curls swimming in a pool of your combined releases that drips down his thighs. A thin strand of your shared pearlescent spend shines in the soft moonlight, stretching from his balls to your folds, still connecting the two of you as he pulls away. 

Joel misses it, something else pulls his attention. His gaze shifts to the clock beside your head. A hint of a smirk passes over his lips. 

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas, darlin’,” voice low, dangerous. 

Your head snaps in the same direction. It’s past midnight. You smirk in turn and pull the comforter up to hide it.

You feel him shift over you, elbow popping loudly as he reaches for what he’s looking for before he moves to sit up beside you, back against the headboard. His hand pulls the comforter back down from your face, and you roll over and sit up on your knees to face him. 

His other palm opens, wordlessly presenting you with a single twig of some plant. One with moss green, teardrop–shaped leaves and plump, round berries, waxy and opaque in color.  

Mistletoe.

You take the meat of your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a laugh that threatens to bubble through you. Because of fucking course he would. 

Though, the soft laugh is short-lived. His broad hand waves the mistletoe over him, but not where it should be. Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, and your mouth falls agape. Your eyes snap back up to Joel’s, and his wicked smirk broadens.

Joel Miller — naked as the day he was born and splayed on top of his messy sheets — dangles the mistletoe over his length, still hard as a rock and stirring in his other hand.

But it doesn’t stop there. 

Beneath the mistletoe rests a lump of bright red and velvety felt; a fluffy white cuff rounds the brim, and a matching fuzzy white bobble hangs at the end of it. 

A Santa hat perched jauntily on his cock.

You shut your mouth and swallow thickly, already feeling that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs, and you clench around emptiness, a stream of his seed dribbling out of your overstuffed cunt and further soiling his bedding. 

“But it ain’t a Merry one till you give Santa's big sack a few kisses.”

[oneluckydragon]

user @s1nn0hh unlocking their third eye and breaking down the very fabric of Echo like they've got a personal window into the privacy of my own mind. They somehow have total access to the inner intricacies of my OC ideas it seems.

But anyway you GET her my friend, oh my gosh you GET HER.

Sketching my girl and messing w/ bold colors while I brainstorm fic ideas.

[charmedimsure]

THE THREE OF US: AFTER THE GAMES || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Dae-ho makes good on his promise

word count: 2.8k

warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, babies

A/N: for the sake of the story, they got out after the vote after the Mingle game. i had so much fun writing this, dae-ho is so girl-dad coded. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

part 1: The Three of Us

"Do we have everything we need? Am I forgetting something?"

You laugh as you watch the man run around the living room of your apartment. "Dae-ho, I'm not even in labor yet."

"I want to be prepared!"

After you had gotten out of the games, you and Dae-ho were delighted to find out that you lived not far away from each other. You were able to use the money you had gotten from the games to pay off your debts, and Gi-hun had offered to help you pay for everything until the baby is born and you're both able to work again (he didn't know it yet, but he had earned himself the title of godfather for that).

Dae-ho came over to your apartment every day for the past month and a half, making sure everything is ready for when the baby comes and keeping you from exerting yourself too much. You're sure he's spent more time at your apartment than at his.

Dae-ho had helped more than you could possibly thank him for. He and Jung-bae had built the crib for your baby, then broke it by "testing it out", then built a new one (why they thought it was a good idea for a full-grown man to get into a baby's crib, you have no idea).

You use the arm of the couch to help you stand up, waddling over to Dae-ho and taking his hands in yours. "Dae-ho, I don't think it's possible that you're forgetting anything," you chuckle. He opens his mouth to argue but you shush him, pulling him into a hug. "The only thing that matters is that you're with me when this baby comes."

He sighs, hugging you back. "I'm just so worried, I want to make sure everything goes right."

"I know," you rub his back. "But you need to calm down a bit. I think you're more worried about this than I am." You pull back to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You know I have to push this thing out of me, right?"

He chuckles at the look on your face and pulls you to him, placing a gentle kiss on your lips and cradling you to his chest.

"I just need to make sure I didn't forget-"

"Dae-ho!"

<>

You're sitting on your couch watching TV with Dae-ho when you feel yourself sitting in something wet.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you curse. This isn't the first time you've pissed yourself while pregnant, and although Dae-ho keeps assuring you that it's perfectly normal (he's seen it happen with his sisters), it doesn't make you feel any less disgusting.

Dae-ho helps you stand up, ready to take you to the bathroom when you stop. He looks to see you staring at the large wet patch on the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asks you.

You slowly look up at him with wide eyes. "I think my water broke."

Dae-ho's eyes grow comically wide. "Holy shit, it's happening."

You nod. "It's happening."

He helps you sit back down on the couch before sprinting into your bedroom. He comes out with your hospital bag slung over his shoulder, fully packed and ready to go. "I'm gonna bring the car around, I'll be right back."

You nod, breathing through another bought of pain that you now realize is a contraction. You had been feeling it for a while now, but just thought it was normal pregnancy pain.

Dae-ho comes bursting back into your apartment, nearly tripping over your rug as he comes over to help you stand.

"Okay, the car is out front, I'm probably parked illegally, so we should hurry," he says, rushing his words.

You try to hide your amused smile. Dae-ho is the perfect distraction from your contractions.

"Dae-ho, lock the door, please," you say when you're in the hallway.

He nods, getting the keys out of his pocket and dropping them on the floor. You chuckle as he yelps, scrambling to pick them up and fit the key in the lock. Once he's done he turns to you. "Stop laughing at me!"

You laugh harder at his expression. "I'm sorry, I can't help it."

His face softens as he hears your laugh, a smile forming on his lips. He pulls you close, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go have this baby."

He leads you to the elevator, holding your hand as you descend to the first floor. Once you step outside you burst out laughing.

"Dae-ho, you're parked on the sidewalk!"

"I was panicking, okay!"

<>

"Dae-ho," you cry, "I don't think I can do this."

He squeezes your hand, not complaining despite the fact that you're nearly breaking his hand from how hard you're holding on to it. "Are you kidding? You flipped that ddakji on your first try with guns pointed at you. You were one of the first to finish red light, green light. You ran in Mingle despite being nearly seven months pregnant. This is nothing compared to all of that."

He brings his other hand up to brush some hair out of your face. "You are the strongest person I know. Just one more big push and it's done. You can do this."

"Dae-ho," you half scream, looking at him. "I love you."

He kisses your hand. "I love you too. So much. Now push."

You do as he says, screaming as you feel pain like you've never felt before. Until it's over, and the only sounds in the room are your panting and the crying of a baby.

"You did it," Dae-ho says in awe as he watches the doctors clean your baby.

"Congratulations," one of the doctors says to you with a smile as she holds your baby. "It's a girl."

She hands you your daughter and you feel yourself start to cry as you look down at the little baby in your arms.

Dae-ho sits on the bed, looking at the baby. "She's so beautiful."

You scootch over a bit in bed to make room for him to lay down next to you. After a long time of laying together in peaceful silence, you look at him with a tired smile. "Thank you for being here."

He smiles at you. "I wouldn't have missed the birth of your child for anything."

You take his hand, guiding it to cradle your daughter's head. "The birth of our child."

Tears form in his eyes as he smiles down at you, kissing your head. "I love you more than anything." He kisses your daughter's head as well. "Both of you."

A knock on the door gets your attention. "Let me in! I want to see the baby!" Jung-bae's voice yells into the room.

You look up at Dae-ho, confused. "She's been alive for like an hour, how is he here already?"

Dae-ho looks down at you a bit sheepishly. "I might have texted him earlier."

Another loud knock on the door is heard. "Let me in, I have balloons!"

<>

You groan as you wake up, a loud, shrill cry ringing throughout your apartment. This is the second time tonight that your daughter has woken up.

With a sigh, you dramatically throw the covers off of you, too tired to care how much of a mess you're making.

A hand holds your shoulder, and you turn your head to see Dae-ho, a yawn coming from him as he stretches his muscles. "I got it, go back to sleep."

You shake your head, a yawn of your own escaping your mouth. "No, you got the last one, it's my turn." You move to stand up, but Dae-ho tightens his grip on your shoulder, effectively keeping you in place.

"You carried her around for nine months and birthed her," Dae-ho says. "I got this."

You give the man next to you a sleepy smile. Normally you'd argue with him that it was only fair that you checked on her, but right now your bed is so comfortable and you haven't had a full night's sleep in months.

You mumble a thank you, falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers over you. Dae-ho laughs to himself when he sees that you've immediately fallen back asleep.

He walks to your daughter's room, picking her up from her crib and bouncing her. "Come one, Munchkin, we gotta let your mommy sleep."

As if she understands him, she quiets down, falling asleep with her head on his shoulder.

<>

"Hello! We're home!" Dae-ho announces as you walk through the door of your new home.

You smile as your daughter rounds the corner, crawling towards you as fast as her little arms and legs will let her go.

"Thank you so much for watching her, Geum-ja," you say to the woman walking behind your daughter, who has taken on the role of unofficial grandmother.

"Thank you for letting me watch her!" the woman smiles. "Yong-sik isn't having children any time soon, so this may be my only chance."

"Mom, stop," the mentioned man steps into view. You laugh as they bicker, Geum-ja lightly hitting her son.

You watch as Dae-ho crouches on the floor, opening his arms wide as your daughter crawls toward him. She takes her hands off the ground and you gasp, getting the attention of Geum-ja and Yong-sik. You watch in amazement as your daughter takes three steps before falling right into your boyfriend's arms.

Dae-ho lifts her up, a giant smile on his face. "That was amazing, Munchkin!"

You rub her back, praising her as Dae-ho kisses her cheek. Geum-ja and Yong-sik have stopped their bickering, both of them clapping for your daughter's accomplishment.

A thought comes into your head and you groan, resting your forehead on Dae-ho's shoulder.

"What?" he asks.

"She's gonna be a little menace now, isn't she?"

Dae-ho laughs, bringing one of his arms around your shoulders and kissing your forehead.

<>

"What is happening here?"

You stand in the doorway with your hands on your hips, a smile on your face.

"We're having a princess tea party," Dae-ho says. He points to the princess dress on your daughter, as well as the princess dress on himself, which is close to tearing in half. "Obviously." He picks up the toy tea kettle, pouring some imaginary tea into your daughter's cup before facing you. "Would you like some?"

This is not what you were expecting to see after work, but you can't think of a better scene to come home to.

"I would love some." You sit on the floor, picking up a teacup and holding it out for Dae-ho to pour "tea" into.

Your daughter holds her cup in front of her as well, looking at the man between you. "Dada!"

Both you and Dae-ho freeze. You watch with a smile as he looks down at your daughter, his entire face lighting up and tears welling in his eyes.

You put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it happily. You've gotten a few "mama"s from your daughter before, but Dae-ho has never gotten a "dada" until now.

Dae-ho pours more imaginary tea into her cup, leaning down afterwards to give her a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Munchkin."

<>

"Mama!"

You turn to see your daughter tottling towards you, a big smile on her face.

"Hi sweetie," you smile, crouching down to her height.

She grabs onto your finger, tugging on it to try and get you to follow her. You chuckle, allowing her to lead you out of the room, hunched over so she can still hold your finger.

You follow her to the backyard, furrowing your brows when you see that the back door is open. Stepping outside and closing it behind you, you look forward and freeze.

Your daughter runs over to Dae-ho, who's in the middle of your yard on one knee, a ring in his hand.

You bring your hand up to your mouth in shock, tears welling in your eyes.

"Two and a half years ago, I was in the worst place of my life. But it was when I was there that I met you," Dae-ho smiles. "You've changed my life in so many ways, brought me more happiness than I ever thought I could have. I love you and our Munchkin more than anything in the world. You've given me the family I've always wanted, but I think it's time we become an official family. Will you marry me?"

You nod your head, tears spilling over onto your cheeks.

Dae-ho stands and pulls you into a kiss, slipping the ring on your finger. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you so much. My beautiful fiancée."

You feel a tug on your leg and look down to see your daughter smiling up at you. Dae-ho crouches down, scooping her up into his arms and standing, bringing you into a hug. "How would you like to be the flower girl, Munchkin?"

<>

"You see, I told you she'd be happy to see you! You need to have more faith in yourself, Gi-hun," you say into the phone as you unlock your front door. The man had arrived in America the previous day, finally visiting his daughter after so many years.

You step inside your house, locking the door behind you and putting your keys on one of the hooks on the wall. As you enter the living room, you stop when you see what is happening on your couch.

"Gi-hun, I have to go, I'll call you later," you smile, hanging up the phone. You open your camera app, taking a picture of the perfect scene in front of you. The TV is turned on to one of your daughter's favorite movies. Your daughter, however, is passed out on the chest your husband, who is also fast asleep.

After you've taken a sufficient amount of photos, you gently shake Dae-ho awake. He blinks his eyes open, smiling tiredly when he sees you.

"Hi, beautiful," he says.

You chuckle at the sleep in his voice. "Hi. I see you had quite a tiring day today."

Dae-ho nods, rubbing his eyes awake. "We played pirates in the backyard, then we had a movie marathon. It was a very eventful day."

You smile, putting your hand on your daughter's back to lightly shake her awake.

She looks at you with a smile. "Hi mommy."

"Hi, sweetie. It's time to go to bed."

She frowns. "Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?"

You roll your eyes playfully. "But sweetie, you just got your new big girl bed. Don't you want to sleep there?"

She shakes her head. "I want to stay with you and daddy."

You look at Dae-ho, chuckling when you see that he's also silently begging you to let her stay with you.

"Fine, but just for tonight," you give in, making both your daughter and your husband smile. You pick her up, sitting her on your hip. "It's not fair when you team up against me, you're both too cute."

Dae-ho stands from the couch, kissing the side of your head. "Now you know what it's like trying to argue with you."

<>

You hand your daughter the stick in your hand with a smile. "Go bring this to daddy."

With a nod, she runs off to find Dae-ho. You follow behind her, peeking your head around the corner when she goes into the kitchen where your husband is making dinner.

"Daddy!" she yells and you can hear the smile in her voice.

Dae-ho turns to face the young girl, a big smile on his face. "Hey, Munchkin." He scoops her into his arms, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Your daughter holds the stick out for Dae-ho. "For you, daddy."

You watch as he thanks her and looks at the stick. You feel your smile grow as he realizes what his daughter just handed him. He looks up, noticing you by the door.

"Is this real?"

"As real as it can possibly be," you say.

He sits your daughter down onto the counter, rushing over to pick you up in his arms, making you laugh. He twirls you around before putting you down and kissing you with all the love he feels in this moment.

"I love you so much," he says, his forehead against yours. He looks over to your daughter on the counter. "I love both of you." He then looks back down at you, gently putting his hand over your stomach. "All of you."

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5 @dragons-h0ard @silas-222 @putrescentpoet

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist (specify all squid game or just dae-ho pls)

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!