#the crack in his voice at “what did you say”...

[littlelamy]

title: he tries to come back

warnings: 18+, language, angst, part 1 part 2 part 3 (mon)

your phone won’t stop buzzing. text after text, call after call, rafe’s name flooding your screen like a goddamn sickness. your stomach churns at the sight of it, thumb hovering over the block button, but you don’t press it—not yet. not because you’re entertaining the idea of listening to his bullshit, but because blocking him feels like an admission that he got to you. and fuck that. he already took enough.

you let the phone ring, his name flashing, vibrating against your nightstand like an incessant mosquito. eventually, it stops, only to be followed by a long string of texts, desperate and fractured:

rafey: baby, please

rafey: i swear it was nothing

rafey: just pick up, just let me explain

rafey: i can’t fucking lose you

rafey: fuck

you squeeze your eyes shut, inhale deep through your nose. the audacity of this motherfucker. after everything—after sofia, after his bullshit excuses, after the way he snapped at you like you were the one out of line—he still thinks he has the right to your time, to your attention. to you.

you sit up, grabbing your phone, thumbs moving before you can second guess it.

you: your shit is at my house. pick it up and leave me alone.

his response is immediate, like he was just waiting, holding his breath.

contact name changed ✓

kook bitch: baby, please, don’t do this

kook bitch: just talk to me

kook bitch: where are you? i’ll come now

you toss your phone onto your bed with a scoff, standing too fast. your head spins slightly, but you ignore it, already moving. you don’t want to see him. you don’t want to hear whatever manipulative garbage he’s rehearsed. you just want him out of your life, out of your space.

so you gather his things. the hoodie you used to sleep in, the cologne bottle he left in your bathroom, the stupid baseball cap he always made you wear backward when you rode him in his truck. it all smells like him, like cedarwood and something inherently rafe, and it makes your stomach twist.

you shove it all into a bag and dump it on the porch.

a knock rattles the door not even twenty minutes later.

you hesitate, breath catching in your throat. then you force yourself to move, to unlock it and yank it open. and there he is—disheveled, breathless, storm-blue eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for a crack in your armor. his hands are shaking.

“baby—”

“don’t call me that.”

a muscle in his jaw twitches. “just—just let me talk, okay? just five minutes.”

“no.” your voice is cold, steely. “your shit is there. take it and leave.”

he doesn’t move. doesn’t even glance at the bag.

“i fucked up,” he says, voice thick, eyes glistening under the porch light. “i know that, i swear to god, but i love you, and i can’t—i can’t fucking breathe without you.”

his desperation is palpable, clawing at your skin, but you don’t let it seep in. not this time. because it’s not love. it’s possession. it’s selfishness. it’s rafe being rafe, taking and taking and never thinking about the wreckage he leaves behind.

you exhale sharply, shaking your head. “you don’t get to say that to me. not after what you did.”

“it didn’t mean anything,” he pleads, stepping closer, hands twitching like he wants to touch you. “i was drunk, i was stupid, i—fuck, baby, please.”

before he can reach you, before he can spill more poison into the air, your hand flies out.

smack.

the sound rings sharp between you, echoing off the house, slicing through the thick, humid night. his head snaps to the side, a stunned silence stretching between you. his cheek blooms red where your palm met his skin, and for the first time, he looks like he understands.

he doesn’t deserve you. not even a little bit.

his chest rises and falls, his lip quivering, but he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, his world shattering in real time. and you watch, unblinking, unfeeling.

“don’t ever come back here,” you whisper, voice steady, unshaken. “we’re done.”

he swallows hard, something breaking behind his eyes. but he nods. because he knows.

he knows.

tags: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Heyyy! I had this rlly funny idea but the TF 141 separately (and maybe König, you can decide if you add him w/ the 141 fellas or not) with a reader that's like 4'11-5'4 (maybe shorter) who's really sassy and a big smart mouth, but is just so sweet to them, but will absolutely bite someone's head off if they tried something (they do say dynamite comes in small packages lol) I hope ur having a good day and if you don't wanna do this u can ignore meeee luv ur work <3

Small but Mighty

Pairing: Task Force 141 + König x Short Sassy Protective Reader

Warnings: Strong language, threats of violence (but mostly comedic), reader is a menace but soft for the boys, fluff, crack, mild innuendos, reader is short but acts like a guard dog.

Author’s Note: I relate to this, I’m short and sassy so this request was so fun. I loved it so much-

Summary: You may be small, but your attitude is huge. You’re fiercely loyal to the team, the first to bite someone’s head off if they so much as look at them wrong. But with the boys? You’re their sweet, doting little powerhouse—when you’re not threatening to fight them for teasing you, of course.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon first met you during a mission briefing, and it was like watching a rabid chihuahua getting ready to tear into someone. You were barely scraping 5’2” in combat boots, standing next to a man twice your size who had just questioned your skills.

"Listen here, you oversized fuckin’ tree stump," you snapped, arms crossed as you glared up at the guy. "I may be small, but I can still take you down in two moves, so shut your damn mouth before I put you on your ass."

Ghost, standing behind you, simply tilted his head in mild amusement. He expected the guy to laugh in your face. Instead, the man hesitated, clearing his throat before muttering something about just joking.

That was when Ghost knew you were dangerous.

But what surprised him even more? How goddamn sweet you were to him.

"Si, did you eat today?" you asked one evening after a mission, voice softer than usual. You were sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath you, hands busy cleaning your weapons.

Ghost barely had time to answer before you shoved a protein bar into his hand.

"Eat. Now."

He looked down at the snack, then back at you, unimpressed.

"You’re bossy for someone I could put in my pocket."

You scowled, jabbing a finger at him. "And you are grumpy for someone who clearly needs food."

Despite himself, he found himself smirking beneath his mask. He peeled open the wrapper, taking a bite while you nodded in satisfaction, muttering, "Damn right."

Yeah. You were something else.

——

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap loved that you were a walking contradiction. One second you were cussing someone out for looking at him wrong, the next you were fixing his hair with the gentleness of a mother hen.

He thrived off riling you up.

"Oi, short stack," he called one day, smirking as you turned around, already glaring.

"What did you just call me?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"Short stack," he repeated, grinning. "Like a pancake. Wee but fiery."

You stomped right up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. "Listen here, Johnny, I may be short, but I can still take you—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You let out an indignant screech, kicking your legs wildly. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU MUSCLE-BRAINED MANWHORE."

Soap was cackling, patting your thigh. "You’re cute when you’re angry."

"I’M GONNA KILL YOU."

He eventually set you down after getting a few light punches to his back. But later that evening, when you checked in on him, making sure he was hydrating, making sure his injuries were tended to, he couldn’t help but grin.

You were his little menace, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

——

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz thought you were the funniest person alive. He wasn’t sure how so much attitude could be packed into someone your size, but it worked.

Especially when you went feral on his behalf.

It happened at a bar, where a stranger had started getting way too handsy with Gaz. You, standing nearby, immediately clocked the situation and marched over, eyes blazing.

Gaz barely had time to react before you inserted yourself between him and the stranger, glaring up at the taller man like a pissed-off gremlin.

"Take your hands off him before I break all ten of your fingers," you snapped.

The man blinked. "And who the hell are you—"

You grabbed the dude’s wrist. Twisted just enough to make a point.

"I said," you growled, voice low, "take. Your hands. Off."

The guy yanked his hand back and bolted.

Gaz just stared at you, shook. "Damn," he muttered. "Didn’t know I had my own personal attack dog."

You turned to him, smile sickly sweet. "Only for you, babe."

The whiplash was insane. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

——

Captain John Price

Price thought you were adorable.

He’d never say that to your face—he valued his life too much—but he thought it.

You had this habit of defending him when you thought someone was being disrespectful.

One day, some new recruit made the mistake of talking back to him. Before Price could even react, you stepped up, arms crossed, expression like a storm cloud.

"That’s Captain Price to you," you said coolly. "Show some respect before I have to teach it to you."

The recruit, visibly confused about being threatened by someone a foot shorter than him, just mumbled an apology and scurried off.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re a menace."

You shrugged. "Just looking out for my old man."

His eyebrow twitched. "Old?"

You grinned up at him, innocent as a damn angel.

He sighed. You were gonna be the death of him.

——

König

König was, at first, terrified of accidentally crushing you. You barely reached his chest, and he swore you had to be some kind of mythical creature because how could something so small be so loud?

But then he saw you threaten someone for him.

It was during a mission when someone made a snide remark about his size, thinking he couldn’t hear. You did, though.

"Hey, dipshit," you snapped, whirling around. "Say that again, I fucking dare you."

The guy stammered, confused. "What—"

"You heard me. You got something to say about König? Say it to my face."

The man immediately backed down.

König stared at you, stunned. "You… defended me?"

You turned to him, expression soft. "Course I did, big guy. Nobody talks shit about my team."

His brain short-circuited.

Later, you noticed him being extra gentle with you, like you were something precious.

"König," you asked, squinting up at him.

"Yes, kleine maus?"

"…Are you petting my head?"

"Ja."

You sighed. "Fine. But only because you’re my favorite giant."

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[lovetommyactually]

so... nsfw? i wrote it at work tho lol - a little mess

“We should stop doing this”

Tommy mutters, but his voice shakes—because even as he says it, he sinks down onto Buck, breath hitching, his body betraying him, clutching at Buck’s shoulders like he needs something solid to hold onto.

Buck’s head tips back, his breath stuttering, hands gripping Tommy’s thighs. "You keep saying that" he bites out. "But you’re still here. Just like last time. And the time before that."

Tommy exhales sharply, trying to pace himself, to not let this get messy—but it already is. “You should stop calling me, Eva—mmhhm—” his voice cracks as pleasure spikes through him, but his frustration is still there, thick and hot.

Buck lets out a bitter laugh, rolling his hips up just to hear Tommy gasp. "And you should stop fucking showing up."

Tommy’s breath stutters, frustration mixing with pleasure. "I show up thinking maybe this time—unghh—t-this time we could—uh—talk!" His nails dig into Buck’s skin, his voice cracking with something more than just arousal.

Buck’s lips curl into something sharp, his grip tightening as he thrusts up hard. "Mm 'like this better."

Tommy shudders, but his glare is heated. "Evan—fuck—" he groans, breathless.

"What?" Buck grits out, hands locking onto Tommy’s waist, driving up into him, his own breath ragged. "You wanted to talk? Fine—let’s talk. Why the fuck did you leave?"

Tommy’s head falls forward, chest heaving, struggling to keep up. "You know—shit—you know why."

"Do I?" Buck throws back, his fingers pressing into Tommy’s hips, holding him in place so he has to feel every inch of him. "Because all I remember is you saying no—like everything we had wasn’t fucking real to you."

Tommy whimpers, but shakes his head, rolling his hips against Buck’s. "That’s not—" He swallows, biting back a moan. "That’s not what happened."

"Then fucking—hhaa—tell me what did, Tommy." Buck’s voice cracks mid-sentence as Tommy clenches around him, but his frustration keeps him going. "Because all I saw was you walking away like I didn’t—nghh—like I didn’t fucking matter."

Tommy gasps, moving faster, chasing friction, even as his breath stutters. "You—fuck—you wanted something I couldn’t give you."

Buck groans, head pressing back against the pillow for half a second before snapping forward again, voice tight. "Jesus, Tommy—fuck—do you hear yourself?"

"I’m serious!" Tommy argues, voice cracking as Buck thrusts up sharply, pulling another moan out of him. "You wanted me to be—nnnh—something I’m not!"

Buck lets out a frustrated breath, gripping Tommy’s hips and pressing him down fast, forcing a broken moan from Tommy’s lips. "What does that even fucking mean?"

Tommy exhales hard, hands scrambling against Buck’s neck. "You wanted—fuck, Evan—" he gasps as Buck presses deeper, "you were so sure!" His head tips back, mouth falling open on another moan. "Like it didn’t even—hahh—cross your mind that maybe—"

"Maybe what?" Buck pants, rolling his hips, pressing his forehead against Tommy’s neck for a second before pulling back.

Tommy swallows, blinking fast, body trembling. "That maybe you’d wake up one day—nnnh—and realize you didn’t actually want me. Just the idea of me."

Buck groans, his body shaking now, his fingers twitching where they hold Tommy. "That’s fucking bullshit."

Tommy lets out a sharp breath, his hands sliding over Buck’s back, desperate for something to hold onto. "I was—fuck—I was your first, Evan." His voice is thinner now, breathless between moans. "You didn’t even take a second to—mmhh—to stop and think—"

"I knew, Tommy—" Buck grits out, voice wrecked, his body moving faster, harder, "—you think I didn’t know what I felt?"

"I didn’t want to be some fucking lesson for you," Tommy breathes out, his legs trembling now, his whole body drawn tight, so fucking close.

Buck growls, frustration surging through him, his grip tightening—and then, suddenly, he flips them, pressing Tommy down into the mattress, stealing the breath from his lungs.

Tommy gasps, his body arching up instinctively, hands grabbing at Buck’s arms. "Evan—"

Buck’s breath is ragged, his eyes dark and blazing, his weight pressing Tommy down. "You weren’t a fucking lesson, Tommy." His voice is low, wrecked, burning with something real.

Tommy blinks up at him, breathless.

"That’s why you left?" His voice is sharp, incredulous. "Because I wanted a fucking future with you?"

Tommy exhales roughly, his hands shaking as they grip Buck’s shoulders. "Because it wasn’t fucking real to you!"

“What are you talking about?” Buck grits out, thrusts slowing for just a second.

“You wanted me to move into your loft, Evan.” Tommy’s voice is nothing but breath and desperation now. It was not the loft, Tommy thinks. Never about the loft. But that's what his mind threw out.

Buck lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, thrusts turning messy but relentless. “Oh? That was the problem? Silly me—okay, okay, I have a house now, is that good for you?”

Tommy groans, his nails digging in, his body caught between pleasure and anger. “That’s not—” His breath hitches as Buck drives deeper, forcing a gasp from his lips.

“Oh, come on, Tommy,” Buck pants, voice dripping with bitterness, his forehead nearly brushing Tommy’s. “You don’t want the loft, fine, let’s check that off the list. What else? Want me to prove I know what I want? Want me to—nghh—get down on my fucking knees? Say I’ve never wanted anything more?”

Tommy whimpers, his whole body shaking now, his fingers tightening against Buck’s skin. “Evan—fuck—stop—”

"No, Tommy," Buck groans, breath hot, lips barely an inch away. "Tell me—tell me why you couldn’t just let me fucking love you.”

Tommy gasps, his body arching up, pleasure and frustration colliding, and then—he’s coming, wrecked and breathless, his whole body tensing under Buck.

Buck follows seconds later, burying himself deep as he shudders, groaning into Tommy’s skin, his grip bruising, like letting go isn’t even an option.

For a second, they just breathe, tangled up in the mess they made.

Then—Tommy shoves at Buck’s chest, slipping out from under him, and immediately starts grabbing his clothes.

Buck lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, running a hand down his face. "Of course." His voice is hoarse, exhausted. "Fucking course you’re leaving."

Tommy doesn’t respond. Just snatches a tissue off the nightstand, wipes himself down with quick movements, then tosses it aside without looking. Yanks his jeans up, his hands a little too fast, a little too shaky.

Buck watches him from where he’s still sprawled, sweaty and flushed, eyes lidded. his heart hammering like it always does when Tommy starts to go. "You know you’re just gonna come back."

Tommy huffs out a sharp breath, grabbing his jacket before throwing back, "Yeah, maybe next time we could actually talk." There’s an edge to his voice, just a little mean.

Buck exhales through his nose, rolling his eyes as he drops back against the pillows.

"Yeah," he mutters, voice rough. "Sure."

*

And when Tommy doesn’t answer his texts, when Tommy doesn’t show up at his door, when Athena walks into the station, her expression unreadable, and says, “Buck, we need to talk,”—

That’s when he knows. It might be a little too late.

[adieutristana]

of course! thank you for requesting <3

so i lost this request but did get a screenshot. anyways never tone it down! being sassy is not a bad thing!

summary; headcanons of arcane women with a sassy girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest.

tags/warnings; fluff, maybe some crack?, possibly suggestive in some parts, s2 spoilers, reader is feminine/femme, can’t think of anything else

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is right there with you- hello season two.

✧.* she never sees your attitude as a problem, frankly. she's usually the one to be told that she has an attitude problem despite never seeing anything wrong with it. why would she see it as a problem?

✧.* but if anyone else were to insinuate that you had an attitude problem, you need to tone it down, any of that, believe that jinx is jumping in and defending you. both with her words and physically.

✧.* "hey, i'd watch what you're saying," she'd bite, right before whipping out her pistol and pressing the cold barrel to some poor guy's neck. jinx isn't bothered by how his eyes widen, he immediately starts trembling or even his blubbered apologies. "she'll talk to you how she wants to talk to you. got that?"

✧.* seriously, though, i think jinx would consider it pretty fun to have a girlfriend just as, if not more sassy than she is. she’s been told to tone it down, to watch her mouth, but you’ve always understood because you’re the exact same way. and that makes it so much more fun.

✧.* sometimes you guys feed off each other, and jinx finds it one of her pastimes. she's always had a smart mouth, especially when it comes to her sister, randoms in zaun, and topsiders. could you imagine sassing them together? incredible.

✧.* "fancy topsider here- that top's outta season, you know?" you'd giggle, playfully elbowing jinx in the process. it'd earn a laugh from her, though a grimace from said topsider. "i know. you guys are all high and mighty but can't even follow your own rules? please. i could do better tying together yarn."

✧.* and then there's times where someone's getting under your skin, you say something witty back, and she finds herself falling for you all over again. something about a girl who isn't afraid to speak her mind and is confident.. it's so attractive to jinx.

✧.* the fact that you're so confident, you don't give a shit how others perceive you, it's just amazing to her! she loves that you're so sure of yourself and you're not afraid to ruffle some feathers if need be. you're just expressing yourself in the way that works best for you!

✧.* "jeez, toots, do you have any idea how hot that was?" she'd grin, slinging an arm around you and pulling you in close to her side, her lips landing on your cheek in a wet kiss. "all i did was stand up to some dickhead." "still, that was hot! agh, you should've seen yourself!"

✧.* jinx also really loves that you're not afraid of how she perceives you, even though you're in a relationship. jinx is used to people being afraid of her, willing to do anything they can to avoid crossing paths with her. they'll lower their voices around her and try to say things they know will keep them on their good side- but not you.

✧.* and if anything? she finds that intriguing. because she knows you'd never be rude to her or sass her necessarily, but the way you're so confident around her knowing her reputation has her falling deeper and deeper.

✧.* like.. you could just be talking to jinx about something so mundane, and the way you hold your chin up and the tone you use would make her want to jump you and kiss you senseless.

vi;

✧.* are you kidding?? vi would find it so, so attractive! don't know who here has heard of the stereotype of 'femmes with attitude problems' but that's basically what i got from this request, and my god does vi love it. you're not afraid to mouth someone off in a pretty skirt, and that does something to her!

✧.* you could be talking off someone who's annoying you, your tone one that people would usually reprimand all while holding your chin up high, and it would leave vi feeling weak.

✧.* would she want you to be like that to her? depends on the context, usually not- behind closed doors after hours, sure. but gods, just seeing you with your brows furrowed, tossing your hair and crossing your arms while mouthing someone off is just incredible to vi.

✧.* she doesn’t see it as a problem the way she knows others might. while vi sees how it could be a problem, with the way you get yourself into situations with respected figures, she still thinks it’s a good thing.

✧.* vi loves that you’re confident. loves that you’re sure of yourself, and you don’t care what others think of you. she’s confident in her own ways as well- the brawl, the strength. the way she’s built herself out of seemingly nothing. but it’s different when it comes to you.

✧.* vi isn't exactly shy, but she's the more quiet and calm of you. and she likes to have that balance- the one who stays out of the way for the most part, and the one who isn't afraid to cause a stir. the confident one. you bring out each other's strengths and compliment each other.

✧.* “and then, i told him his mother was probably so disappointed when she’d seen how he turned out! and all he had to tell me was to watch my tone. can you believe it?” you’d ask, scoffing with your arms crossed over your chest. “no,” vi would shrug, though she’s honestly too awestruck to form meaningful sentences. “but you handled him well, if that’s all he had to say.”

✧.* vi makes sure to reign you in sometimes though- not because she thinks your attitude is a problem, but because she knows others might and she doesn't want to see things escalate to a dangerous point. it's all out of concern for your safety :(

✧.* "hey, you probably shouldn't be using that tone with her-" "why not?" you'd protest, furrowing your brows. "because she could send people to whoop your ass in minutes. you're right, but she'll just be offended. please."

✧.* she'll never voice her admiration for your demeanor and attitude necessarily, but she has a sneaking suspicion that you already know. it's in the way that she can only stare at you while you're being sassy, the way she's flushed when you're next to her walking like you own the damn city. you may not actually own the city, but you've got that exact hold over vi's heart.

mel;

✧.* i feel like she'd be a bit taken aback at first, usually people are very careful with how they speak to mel. she's one of piltover's most influential figures if not the most influential, a councilor. so seeing your confidence and the fact that you don't really care about making a good impression on her, it surprises mel.

✧.* but that surprise turns into intrigue rather quickly. she's never seen anyone quite like you, and it's interesting. that air about you is something she grows to admire over time, because it's something she's never had.

✧.* mel has to be very careful with what she says, both as a medarda and as a councilor. she has a reputation to keep, and public relations to preserve. so in a way, she admires you for being unafraid to speak your mind. for being unabashedly yourself. she sees something in you that she wishes she had.

✧.* but she isn't jealous! not at all. if anything, she just respects you a lot more for being able to do some of the things she could only dream of.

✧.* and trust me, there are times where she wishes she could tell someone off. wishes she could throw some smartass remark in their face, but she can't because of who she is- and you're more than happy to step in for her. she comes from a prestigious family, but you don't.

✧.* "darling, it's fine, really-" "no. they were messing with you, why would i just let that slide?"

✧.* "hey! you think just because you're a councilor, you can talk to her like that?" you'd scoff, placing your hands on your hips. pressing your glossed lips together in a scowl, while tugging your girlfriend close to you. daring him to challenge you. "and who are you?" "her girlfriend. who are you?"

✧.* while mel won't say anything after the fact beyond shaking her head with crossed arms, she really does appreciate you sticking up for her. she just warns you to not go too far, because it could reflect badly on the both of you in terms of press.

✧.* and seeing you be so confident, so sure of yourself, does inspire mel a good amount. she's always had problems with her perception of herself, having grown up with a mother like hers. finding out that she was a mage didn't help any either, and she's felt lost. but seeing you so secure in yourself, not giving a damn what others think, it makes her think that maybe she could be like that, too.

✧.* not exactly like you, no. you both are your own people, but that's the beauty of your partnership. two people from different walks of life, with different attitudes, who compliment each other. who love each other.

✧.* "and then, i walked off! because who the hell am i to let someone waste my precious time?" you'd scoff, tossing your hair over your shoulder in that dramatic way you often do. all the while, mel is just staring- her hand rested in her chin. "you're awfully cute, do you know that?" and you'd chuckle, placing a light kiss to her cheek. "i do, but it's always nice to hear it from you."

sevika;

✧.* yeah she's smitten. i think at first, sevika might try to act as if she's annoyed by your behavior, but truly, it's attractive to her. your confidence and demeanor is like a magnetic pull.

✧.* sevika is also confident and unafraid, but she's gruff. she keeps to herself, she's more rough around the edges, and she's not nearly as expressive as you are. so it's familiar to her, but your approach is new.

✧.* she doesn't know exactly what to make of you. one of the first times she'd spoken to you out of turn was to let you know- "you're... different. somethin' about you, i've never seen it before. huh."

✧.* though after more time spent with you (though reluctant at first) she grows to accept and even admire your attitude. sevika's never been the most friendly or warm person, but part of her rough demeanor and harsh words are a survival tactic. but for you it comes naturally- your sass and rough words are just a part of who you are.

✧.* and after even more time, i think she'd come to appreciate it. maybe even find it funny. seeing the look on people's faces when some dressed-up girl with her hands on her hips starts mouthing off is pure gold to sevika. they'd underestimated you, and you had no problem putting them in their place.

✧.* there's times you just get fed up, you're not being listened to by someone and it's frustrating. they underestimate you, maybe because you're not as traditionally aggressive as the rest of zaun's folks, maybe because of your appearance. either way, it gets under your skin. "hey! i'm talkin' here, in case you forgot," you'd scoff, snapping in front of the person's face. sevika watches from the sidelines, and she'll step in if she needs to. but she also knows you can handle yourself just fine.

✧.* or there's times where sevika's brought you along to the casino with her. you're sat next to her along with a group of guys from the industry- some old acquaintances, colleagues who had left the world of crime, the like. you're not exactly participating, but you know what's going on. sevika's got these guys in a trap, she always does. she's a damn good player.

✧.* until someone decides he's done with her skills and moves, slamming his deck of cards down on the table. "fuck this, 'vika. you've gotta be cheating, there's no way-" "that she's winning? maybe you just suck at this! ever thought of that, huh?"

✧.* sevika's trying so damn hard to bite back a laugh, but a little chortle does escape her. "the fuck are you laughing at?!" he'd ask, his jaw open in an expression of shock. offense that you'd dare talk to him like that. "you heard the girl."

✧.* the two of you balance each other out that way. the roughened woman on the front lines, who takes no bullshit and fights like no tomorrow- with the headstrong, sassy woman. the one with a pretty face, yet a sharp tongue.

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn might be a bit jealous at first. she's got a lot of thoughts, and she's a very opinionated person. she comes from a long line of influential figures, and her role is an important one to the people of piltover. but it's precisely those things that make it so she has to watch what she says. caitlyn can't say exactly what she wants to or means, because she has a reputation to keep and she can't afford to burn any bridges.

✧.* but it's nothing personal, of course, and with getting to know you better that jealousy turns to admiration. she's happy that you're able to advocate for yourself in that way, and that you have some of the freedom she doesn't.

✧.* and her seeing a pretty girl mouth someone off and put her foot down? seeing you know exactly what you're saying, what you're worth, and how to express yourself? yeah caitlyn doesn't have a chance.

✧.* with the amount of opinions caitlyn has and things she wants to say, the thinks that it's good you're outspoken, good that you're 'sassy.' she understands that others may see it as a problem, but she's never gotten that perspective herself. the way she sees it- more power to you.

✧.* "don't hold back," she'd tell you. "if you've got something to say, say it, damn it. it's only too much for people who can't take it."

✧.* the two of you become rather attuned to one another, and it's like you can tell what cait is thinking and vice versa. if caitlyn won't say it, you sure as hell will.

✧.* you'd be observing while at a gathering with your girlfriend, an event with some of the most influential figures in piltover in attendance. she's dressed to the nines, poised and proper in everything she does- though other guests are testing her patience.

✧.* "hey, leave her alone," you'd say, idly twirling your empty glass in one hand. "dunno what you've got going on, but she's clearly not interested in your ideas. i bet she thought of the same thing when she was twelve."

✧.* though the person on the receiving end is flustered and trying to brush off what you've just said, caitlyn is enamored. it's mere seconds before the woman is pulling you into the next room, slamming her lips onto yours. "gods, that was great," she'd mutter between rushed kisses, her arms snaking around your waist. "the look on his face."

✧.* your confidence just makes you all the more attractive to cait. you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you know that. you're damn beautiful, and you know that. there's no beating around the bush, only your shameless expression. it's amazing.

✧.* as far as caitlyn is concerned? she's got nothing to worry about as long as she has you by her side. she knows how to command a room, and you know how to demand one. you're better together!

lest;

✧.* she might be a bit taken aback at first, though it isn't a matter of intimidation. you're just different to lest, and she's not sure exactly what to do with that. she's always been the more peaceful, more observant one. she sits back and does her job while stroking clients' egos and telling them what she knows will make them happy.

✧.* she's expressive, yes, but she doesn't have nearly as much bite as you do. her confidence is something more innate, she just is and doesn't have the same air as you do. but lest does come to appreciate your demeanor and fire for what it is. comes to love it, in fact.

✧.* she's just in awe. you're so beautiful, so confident, but you've got a mouth on you. she's heard what others have said: that you need to know your place, that your attitude is a problem, that you need to watch yourself before you get into some real trouble.

✧.* but to lest, these traits are only something that makes you all the more alluring. the way she puts it, it's as if you've put a spell on her with your words and body language alone. a spell she hopes never wears off.

✧.* she's so in love with the way you carry yourself, and how secure you are within yourself. you don't take shit, that's for sure- whether it's a "hey, i wasn't done talking," or "i know the idea's good, i've only been pushing it this whole time!" the way you know exactly who you are and what you're worth enraptures lest.

✧.* you could be out in public with her, someone casting sideways glances at you for some reason you can't quite figure out- though it doesn't exactly matter. her tail swishing side to side, wide eyes keeping watch of everything around her. though she notices you looking at someone for a bit longer than usual. "everything alright, dear?" she'd ask.

✧.* "yeah," you'd affirm, though you'd be clenching your fists at your side. "just looks like someone has a staring problem. a real bad one." she'd look over to the figure, someone who seemingly doesn't belong here anyways. "i'll take care of him. don't worry about it."

✧.* it's mere seconds before you're marching over to the guy, tapping your foot and telling him off- "do i have something on my face, huh?" "no, i-" "then stop staring!"

✧.* she also comes to learn that you'll step in for her if needed. you never cause any harm- you're sassy, not violent. but if a client is getting a little too demanding with her and you're by her side, lest can count on you to tell them they need to remember she can very easily drop them.

✧.* afterward, you're always quick to tug her close to you, pressing light kisses to her spotted cheeks. "you okay, love?" you'd ask, your voice uncharacteristically tender. "i'm okay, darling, really," she'd affirm. pressing closer to your touch. "but thank you. i probably wouldn't have done that myself."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Ugh, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you say as you plant the umbrella in the sand. 

“Isn’t that what you said about the old man?” Angelique scoffs and pinches your ass. 

You swat her away, “were you not just asking me to hook you up with one of his friends?” 

“Whatever. A girl’s gotta eat,” she giggles as she sits on the beach blanket and flips the lid of the cooler. “And drink.” 

She cracks open the ready-to-drink long island iced tea. You opt for a fruitier option as you settle onto the blanket across from her. You flip down your sun glasses and sigh. 

“What about the others? I know it’s an exclusive trip but I doubt it’s just us.” 

“They’re coming,” she catches a trickle along her chin with her tongue. “Now you’ve been baptized, maybe you might find a hottie around here. Let me tell you, young dick is something else.” 

“Oh and you would know,” you roll your eyes. “I mean, don’t all dicks feel the same once have so many.” 

“Shut up,” she throws sand at you. 

“Matching energy,” you hum and push in the tab of the can. 

“Did he fuck air into your head?” She chirps. “Jeez, you’re a fucking bitch now, aren’t you?” 

You just laugh at her. She’s salty over everything. She never liked not being the better of you two. You don’t think it’s really all that different than before, she just has less to tease you about. 

“Angel,” Colin’s voice ripples over the beach. Angelique sits up and squeals. You didn’t know she invited him. “Hey, baby, you look good.” 

She jumps up, leaving her can planted in the sand, and skips over to him. She sends more sand your way. You shield yourself as his entourage traipses up behind him. 

“So do you,” she pets his hairy chest as she stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Took you long enough.” 

“Had to get the party favours,” he gestures behind to the keg carried between two of his bros and the bluetooth speaker better suited to a night club. “Huh, is that who I think it is?” He glances over at you. 

“Colin,” you greet sardonically as you lean back on one arm. His eyes drift down your body. You cross your legs subtly. He’s never done that before. 

“That a new suit? Looks good on you.” 

You narrow your eyes behind the tinted lenses, “sure is.” 

“Yeah, her tits never stop. She snapped the last top like it was tooth floss,” Angelique snickers and shimmies her pert chest at him. 

“Hey, Ang,” Harley calls as she unfolds her beach towel, “who’d you fuck to get this beach house?” 

“Oh, shut up, slut,” Angelique snakes around Colin and punches Harley’s arm. The two of them could be twins; tall, slender, high tits, even the same pedicure. 

You bend your legs and sit up straight as company files in. You know them all. The typical crowd. Colin, Ryan, Trent, and Sterling, who prefers Steez. Either way, he sounds like a douche. Then Harley, her sister, Hazel, Tracy, and Kissie. 

You put aside your drink and distract yourself with the bottle sunscreen. You should put it on before the sun’s too high and you’re too tipsy. The voices garble around you as you rub the lotion into your legs. 

As you reach for the bottle, it’s scooped out of your grasp. You look up at Colin. 

“Can I get your back, kitten?” He winks. You furrow your brow and glance at Angelique. She’s groping Hazel’s tits. They look bigger, not that you took measurements. 

“Fine,” you turn and let him smear the lotion on your back. You can’t reach and trying will only have you pushing out your already oversized chest.  

His hands run up and down your back. Tendrils spread over you and you hold back a shudder. Calm down, girl. You’re not that thirsty. 

His hands slip around and suddenly scoop up your tits. You smack him and yelp as you spin away. 

“The fuck, guy?” You sneer at him. 

“I was checking if they’re real. Hazel’s aren’t.” He chuckles. 

You grimace, “Colin, you’re such a perv.” 

“Never said I wasn’t.” He stands and snaps the elastic on his trunks. “Finish that drink and I’ll be back.” 

You curl your lip and grab the can. You flip him the finger and search for your bag. You pull out your phone. Low bars. You shove it away and stare out at the water. 

“...some old guy. Grey hair and everything...” Angelique’s voice wafts over. 

“Oh,” Tracy struts up, “I heard you’re a slut now.” 

You look at her and take a drink. You shrug. “I have a lot to catch up with around you guys.” 

She giggles and sits on the end of the beach blanket, “tell us everything.” 

You look at Angelique and she smirks. She’s such a bitch. 

“It was just... you know. Whatever,” you shrug. 

Hazel and Harley sit beside Tracy and Kissie hovers behind them. 

“How old?” Harley asks. 

“I don’t know--” 

“Like fifty,” Angelique says. 

“He doesn’t look that old,” you counter. “Or fuck like it. It was like hours. I’m still tired.” 

“Hours? Sure.” Trent scoffs. “Old guy blew and rolled over to get his five o’clock nap.” 

“Fuck off,” you wave him off. Colin peers over as he turns his hat backwards. You sigh. “Here.” 

You take out your phone and search for the picture that was your background until that morning. The one of you and Bucky. You show the girls. 

“Shit, he’s fucking hot!” 

“And jacked, look, you can see his chest--” 

“Guess he worked out in prison,” you joke. 

The girls go quiet. Kissie speaks first, “prison?” 

You frown, “I don’t know. He’s got tattoos. He mentioned something. I mean who hasn’t done a night in jail?” 

“You,” Angelique accuses. 

“Drunk tank isn’t prison,” Ryan snorts. 

You shake your head, “well, he’s not in there now. And it was one night. Who the fuck cares?” 

“I didn’t know men his age came in that flavour,” Harley wiggles on her knees. 

“What are we? Chopped liver?” Colin snipes. 

“One pump chump,” Harley retorts. 

“Like you would fucking know,” he turns away. 

The girls laugh. It’s a bit ridiculous now it’s done and over with. It’s not that big of a deal. Fun, sure. Just the thought makes you want to moan but it’s not life-altering. Nope, you’re over it now. Now you can focus on more important things. 

Like getting fucking hammered and going swimming. You don’t want to think about work or your neighbour or your rent. You just want to have fun. 

👙

The sun adds to the effect of the vodka. There’s that haze around the edges of the vision, that looseness in your body. You feel good. Lighter. 

You run alongside Hazel into the tides and she squeals as the waves crash over you. You plunge under as you feel the top of your tankini slipping. You pop up over the surface and catch your chest as the straps hang down your arms. 

You giggle as you search for Hazel. She’s adjusting her bikini as she wades around. She grins at you. The other girls come crashing through. 

A shadow lands next to you. You look over as the frisbee floats on the water. You pull up the straps of your suit and fix the cups. Colin chuckles as he swipes up the disc and flings it. Trent hollers as it flies errantly through the air. 

“Hey, need some help with that,” he tugs on the straps and your chest bounces. 

You smack his stomach, “god, you’re the fucking worst.” 

“How long we’ve been dancing around each other, huh?” He plays with one strap and you nudge him away. 

“Colin, don’t start with me, alright? I’m not interested and until two hours ago, neither were you.” 

“What? I'm not ancient enough for you? How would you know if you try something... fresher?” 

“I know, okay?” You back up. “I didn’t come here for that. I’m on vacation.” 

“What else are you supposed to do on vacation?” He asks as he catches your arm. He pulls you closer. “We could find somewhere in the trees...” 

“Ew, okay, stop,” you push on his chest. 

He bends suddenly and picks you up. He plunges under with you and the water floods your throat. He brings you back up as you hack and cough, wriggling in his arms. 

“Ugh, you two, no one wants to see it so go somewhere else,” Kissie chides. 

“Yeah,” Angelique agrees and you glance over to find her glowering. 

“It’s not going to happen,” you shove on Colin until he lets you go. 

You splash down and his hand brushes your ass. You swipe him away again. You stomp through the water, fighting through the depths, and come up onto the beach. 

You need water. Three drinks was way too much. So much that you’re half-considering Colin. He’s a creep but you’re getting a bit antsy. You should’ve known vodka was a bad mix with half-naked hotties. 

You sit down on the blanket and untwist the cap of your water bottle. You chug about a quarter then wipe your mouth. Someone drops down beside you. You peer out at the water in confusion before you look over. 

Bucky sits on the other side of the blanket. The sun shines over the silver streaks in his hair as he wears all black; tee and jeans. He’s unbothered by the sweltering rays. 

“So why didn’t you mention you were going away?” He asks as he rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. 

“How-- what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t take too kindly to being ditched,” he looks at you, his jaw clicking. 

“Ditched? No, Bucky,” you look away. “I... I had this planned for a while, I just... forgot to say. I mean...” you pick at your lip. “Look, it was a lot of fun. You and I,” you smile at him. “But like, that’s it, right? I mean, we’re neighbours, we don’t want it to get weird. And I’m a bit young for you--” 

“I said that. I told you that,” he hisses as a lock of hair falls forward. His eyes swirl like the lake. “I begged you to back off and you said you wanted me.” 

“Bucky...” 

“No, you told me I was perfect for you.” 

“Perfect in the moment, but--” 

“This isn’t a fucking game. I’m too old for that. I spent enough time locked up that I’m well-past this bullshit,” he snarls and you wince. You’ve never seen him like this. And the mystery of how he even found you has you reeling. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear--” 

“You fucking started this. You,” his lips trembles. “I warned you. I told you to stop over and over. Don’t make me the bad guy.” He shakes his head as his eyes search the horizon. He brings his hands to his cheeks and drags them through his stubble. “Then I fucking see you out in there in the water with some fuckhead--” 

“Bucky--” 

“Let’s get one thing straight. It’s not over. Not fucking close,” he growls. He leans forward and pushes himself up. He stands over you, a blight against the bright blue sky. “I’ll be fucking watching. Understand. You have your fun but not too much.” He balls his tattooed fist. “And that boy touches you again, I’ll break every single fucking finger on his hands. Then I’ll slice his dick off.” 

You stare at him, stunned. You’re confused. Is this some hallucination? Is the sun playing tricks on you? 

“You’re fucking mine and I don’t mess around with my territory.” He grits down at you. “I’m your first, your last, your only.” He points at you. “Doll.” 

He marches away, unhindered by the sand in his thick-treaded boots. You turn to watch him and shudder. You look at the water. The rest are perfectly ignorant, splashing each other, tossing the frisbees, diving under. None of them have any idea that he’s there. You suspect if they find out, it won’t be good. 

[urmum-lovesme]

Can you right more of toxic!rafe x toxic!reader please. The first one was so good

more Toxic!Rafe Cameron and Toxic!Reader. . . say less

Rafe's Rover was parked somewhere off the far side of the Cut, deep between the trees far enough from prying eyes but still close enough that the sound of nearby waves carries through the cracked windows. The scent of weed lingers thick in the air, mixing with the familiar scent of the cars air-freshener. Smoke floats around them, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. Y/N leans her head back against the seat, letting out a slow, drawn-out exhale, a white cloud curling above her. 

“You’re a bad influence.”

“You’re acting like you didn’t ask for this.”

Rafe, reclined in the driver’s seat, lazily flicks ash down into the Diet Coke can she'd brought in with her, now long empty.  Y/N tilts her head toward him, her eyes half-lidded. 

“I didn’t ask to get this high. . . can't feel m'legs”

“That’s the point.”

Rafe chuckles, passing the joint back to her. She takes it between her fingers, bringing it to her lips and inhaling slowly. The burn is familiar, comforting even, but everything feels heavier, slower. The song playing through the car speakers- some crappy frat boy music Rafe switched on- feels like it’s vibrating in her bones. He watches her, his gaze lingering too long. She exhales the smoke in his direction, eyes meeting his through the haze. 

“What?”

“You look good like that.”

Rafe shrugs, amusement flickering in his darkened gaze. Y/N scoffs, but the lazy grin tugging at her lips betrays her. 

“You’re so fucking predictable.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that mean?”

Rafe shifts in his seat, tilting his head slightly. Y/N hums, tapping her fingers against her bare thigh, her sock-clad feet resting on the dash of the car. He'd always scold her when she did that, calling her spoilt, sometimes his hand coming out to drag her feet to the floor; but she never listened to him because who was he to tell her what to do?

“Means I know exactly how this is gonna go. You’re gonna get cocky, say some stupid shit n' piss me off”

“Nah. You’re wrong.”

Rafe takes the joint from her resting it between his fingers before speaking, his voice lower now. She raises an eyebrow at his disagreement. 

“Oh? Enlighten me then.”

Rafe exhales, smoke trailing between them like a ghost as he places the joint down onto the can in the cup holder and leans over slightly, his forearm resting on the armrest between them. 

“We’re gonna sit here, finish this, and then…” He glances over at her lips briefly before looking back up to her eyes. 

“You’re gonna get all clingy n'whiny and start touching me.”

“Fuck you Cameron.”

Y/N lets out a laugh, shoving his arm and Rafe grins, but he catches her wrist, holding it between his fingers as he turns to face her fully. Y/N doesn’t pull away, just tilts her head, challenging.

“I’m right though.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I do.”

He responded as his grip tightened just slightly. The air shifts, tension thick between them. The weed only amplifies it- the way time seems to stretch, the way the world outside the car feels insignificant compared to whatever this is between them. His other hand lifts the joint to his lips, taking a slow drag. It’s burning close to the end now, the paper crackling slightly as the embers glow red. Y/N watches him, eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parting slightly. 

“You gonna finish that by yourself?”

Rafe exhales slowly through his nose, shaking his head to himself with a quiet chuckle. Of course she’d say that. She always does this-pushes just enough to get under his skin.

Spoilt princess

Without a word, he takes another hit, deeper this time, letting the smoke sit in his lungs. Then, before she can say anything else, his free hand finds her jaw, fingers pressing into her skin as he pulls her closer. His lips brush against hers- barely, just enough for her to feel how warm he is, how intoxicatingly close. Y/N doesn’t move away, doesn’t even think to. Instead, she parts her lips just slightly, and that’s all Rafe needs. He exhales slow, deliberate, pushing the smoke into her mouth, their breaths tangling, heavy and heady. Her lashes flutter, her fingers wrapping around his wrist as she inhales, taking it in, her body buzzing with the mix of weed and him. Rafe doesn’t pull back right away. His lips hover near hers, close enough that she can feel the smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Happy now, brat?” 

His voice is low, teasing, dripping with something heavier. Y/N exhales softly, the last remnants of the smoke slipping past her lips. Her head feels light, her body warm, and his words send a shiver down her spine. But she doesn’t let it show. Not yet. Instead, she tilts her head, looking at him

“Almost.”

Rafe raises a brow, his thumb still resting against her jaw, pressing just slightly. His thumb glides across her skin before it tugs against her lower lip, tugging it down teasing her like he always does.

Like he knows he can.

Y/N’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second, but she covers it well, her gaze flicking up to meet his through her lashes. Slow, deliberate. She leans in, close enough for her lips to ghost over his, for their breaths to mix in the muggy air of the car. But she doesn’t kiss him. She just breathes in like she’s savouring him, stretching the tension between them just enough to make it unbearable.

Her hand drags down his arm slow and lazy, her nails skimming his skin before trailing lower- over his ribs, the plane of his abs, until her fingers graze his belt buckle.

And that’s where they stop.

Resting there.

Waiting.

Rafe watches her, his smirk growing sharper, his grip on her jaw never faltering. He exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back an amused grin.

"Told you I was right."

[little-miss-apple]

jealous hard hot steamy rough sex??? 😫😫😫😫

((oh hell yeah! obvious CW// for jealous and rough sex. probably lots of mistakes bc it's almost 4am and I did not reread to check so bear with me.. also did not do the fancy coloured words for now bc its a pain in the butt... also this takes place at a time where they are aware of their own and eachothers feelings but arent "exclusive" yet, just to clarify))

It is no secret that you love getting a rise out of Caleb. It's not often that you get to see his carefully curated persona crack. Even when he's upset, he's not one to raise his voice against you.

But today you did it. You made him loose his temper. And now he's dragging you back home by your wrist, refusing to let you go.

It had started a few days ago when ran into an old college friend in Skyhaven. Jeremy and you couldn't hang out that often back then due to conflicting schedules, but now he had a few days of work and you were taking a holiday in Skyhaven anyway.

Jeremy had always been a bit wilder than most, enjoying parties every week, getting drunk on school nights and violating campus rules from time to time. Nothing changed, Jeremy was still the same guy he was back then, just with a big boy job now.

Caleb felt a bit off when he first met him, maybe it was his possible bad influence or maybe how comfortable he was touching you right in front of him. But you seemed to allow it and he didn't want to start a fight with a stranger in front of you.

His annoyance kept growing everytime you got a message and would giggle, engrossed in the conversation on your phone.

"who's that, pipsqueak?"

"oh.. just Jeremy!"

"what did he say?"

"nothing.. nothing..." you'd dismiss him, still giggling.

His emotions boiled over when he came home late at night one day, finding nothing but a note on the kitchen table.

'out with Jeremy, will be back by 12am :)'

It was already well past 2 A.M. and you weren't picking up your phone. Frustrated he opens his tracking app as a last resort. He had told himself not to use it unless it was absolutely necessary, but right now felt more than necessary.

He is still in uniform when he stalks into the club. Some people give him weird looks, but he can't be bothered to care. All he cares about is finding you and getting you out of here.

Thankful for his convenient height, he looks over people's heads until he finds you on the dance floor, Jeremy's body practically glued to yours as you dance under the flickering neon lights.

Suddenly you're snatched away by your arm. Dragged outside the club by a familiar figure. The bouncers, who Caleb had threatened earlier when they didn't want to let him in initially, shamefully look away, tails between their legs.

"Get in." are the first words he speaks the second you get to the car. There is no room for discussion as he basically forces you into the car with the use of his evol before making his way over to the drivers side.

He doesn't say a word as he starts the car and speeds off. Luckily the roads are empty because even you feel a bit nervous at his current speed, but deep down you know he would never put you in danger.

The ride home is quiet, a thick and obvious tension in the air and even if you're a little tipsy, you know now isn't the time to start a fight.

When you arrive at his apartment, he doesn't waste time. And now he's dragging you back home by your wrist, refusing to let you go.

"you're being too rough..." you mutter once inside. He looks at you with angered, darkened eyes, brows furrowed. Yet he let's out a sigh and loosens his grip. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't.

"Don't go out with him again. Matter of fact, give me you phone. I will block him for you."

"what? no... i don't wanna."

"He is clearly a bad influence, you can't hang out with him again!"

"You don't get to choose that for me, Caleb!" you argue back.

He let's out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as he tries to suppress his emotions by himself, not wanting that damned chip to take over.

He steadies himself, his tone calmer and more composed.

"He was all over you, he was touching you in ways he shouldn't, I don't want you to see him again."

"...or what?"

That's it. You've done it now.

Before you even realise what has happened, you are slung over his shoulder as he stalks into his room and throws you on his bed, hoping you don't notice the way he softens your landing with his evol.

"Your safe word is apple. I don't plan on being soft or gentle, so use it when you need it." he says as he practically rips of his uniform until he's wearing nothing but his pants.

He reaches down, untying the ribbons of your lace up heels as he mutters some some words in frustration.

"You're always defying me lately. I'm trying to take care of you, I'm trying to make you as comfortable as possible and hold myself back... yet you're out there grinding on some guy I don't even know... it's pissing me off!"

You scoff. He's pouring his heart out and you fucking scoff.

He pushes you back down to the bed and yanks down the top of your strapless party dress. He hovers over your exposed breasts, hunger evident in his eyes before he surges down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips, sucking and licking the bud while his hand kneads your other breast.

You feel the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair but your hands are held above your head by his gravity evol.

He switches nipples, making sure both get equal attention. He loves the sound of your moans, the way you wither under him and desperately try to rub your thighs together.

He detaches his mouth from you breast, instead leaving marks all around the area. Light bites and purple marks are forming as he ravishes your skin, fondly looking at the art he's leaving behind.

"will he still touch you if my marks are all over your skin?"

He gets up, standing between your legs as he allows you to sit up. You're eye to eye with the tent in his pants. He pulls down the zipper, eyes never leaving your nervous ones.

"Suck." he commands when he fully pulls out his thick and hard member, his veins throbbing at the sight of you, his tip a muted pink and leaking precum. "If it's too much, tap my thigh."

Though as caring as ever, he leaves no room for objection as he slides his cock into your mouth. But you're struggling, mouth dry from the alcoholic drink you had earlier.

His thumb and pointer finger hold your soft cheeks as he leans down and tells you; "open up." You obey but are taken aback when he spits in you mouth, helping you lubricate before shoving his throbbing cock back into your mouth.

He gently fucks into you, hand on the back of your head as you can't help but gag a bit. But you don't tap out. Instead you feel yourself growing wetter at the lewd sounds leaving his lips and the way his face contours in pleasure as swirl your tongue over and around his member.

He looks down into your pleading eyes. It's clear you want to make him feel good and for a moment he debates on cumming in your mouth, making you swallow his seed, but he decides against it.

"Can't waste a drop when your pretty pussy hasn't even been touched yet..." he mumbles to himself more than to you.

You're pushed back down on the bed as Caleb now fully tug down you dress, leaving you in nothing but your black, lace panties with a little pink bow in the front. He lifts your legs over a shoulder as he slowly slides the off, revealing your wet hole ready for him.

He spreads your legs, after not so subtly slipping your panties into his back pocket for later, and enjoys the view of you practically leaking onto his sheets. Embarrassed by how exposed you are and how hungrily he's staring at your entrance, you try to cover yourself with your hands, but they are quickly restrained by his evol again.

"Nuh-uh... I can look at what's mine all I want..." he growls.

He puts your legs on either sides of his head, resting them on his strong shoulders as he takes his cock and slides it along your wet folds in a teasing manner. A shaky moan leaves your lips and it makes him feral.

No longer having the patience to tease you, he stretches you out with his thick cock, not stopping until he bottoms out fully. You're already clenching around him, trying to adjust to his big size.

"fuck... you feel so good, sweetheart..." he says as he slides out and slams back in. You squeal when his balls hit you, over and over again.

"He could never make you feel like this... only I can! this pussy was made for me, you know that right, pretty girl?" he grunts as his pace increases. you mumble an unintelligible agreement as he pushes you legs to you chest, hitting angles you didn't even know were possible.

You feel a strange warmth bubbling in the pit of you stomach. Your whole buddy begins to tingle from the tips of your toes up to the top of your head. You clench around his length as you come hard, spitting out mumbles that resemble his name.

He rides out your orgasm, not pulling out until your stuttering clenches have stopped.

You're about to close your eyes when you are suddenly turned around, on your hands and knees before he pulls your upper body against him.

"You thought I was done with you? after what you've been putting me through these past few days?" He scoffs as he aligns himself with your entrance again, one of his muscular arms snaking around you neck, keeping your face nestled between his muscles.

"I'm far from done... Gonna make sure your pussy is shaped like my cock, so no one else will ever feel as good and filling as I do. Gonna make you cum so hard, all you'll remember is my name and how good I make you feel. Gonna fuck you so good, you're legs will be like jelly so you can't run away from me..." His free arm sneaks around your waist as his fingers find their way to your clit.

He pushes in again. Your thighs are already weak, but the way he has trapped you makes it impossible to to escape your position and all you can do is hold on to his muscular arm. He smoothly falls into a quick and ruthless pace.

If your brains weren't getting fucked out right this moment, you'd probably think about how grateful you are Caleb doesn't have any neighbours, because the ungodly sounds you're making are loud. Moans, groans, curses, mumbles and eachothers names echoe through the room.

He's rough but it feels so good and the way his calloused fingers rub your clit is making you see stars.

"C-caleb! Gonna.. gonna cum!" you say as you feel that familiar feeling spread through your limbs again.

"Go ahead, baby... Cum on my cock, yeah? want your juices dripping all over it... want you to say my name, tell me you're mine alone..." his strained voice reveals he's not far from cumming himself.

The heat and tingles spread all throughout your body, even harder than the first time.

"I'm yours, Caleb! Only yours... oh my gosh... All yours, Caleb-!" the words leave your lips like a chant before turning into a mumbled mess as you cum again. You're clenching onto him so hard, sucking him in in a way that milks his own orgasm out of him.

You feel your juices mixing inside of you as he fucks both of you through it. The room is spinning and specs of light blur your vision. Your body goes limp in his embrace, but he doesn't let you down until he completely emptied himself inside you.

When he has nothing left to give, he pulls out with a plop. He gently lays you down on his pillow. Your brain is mush and you struggle to conjure up any real words. Caleb laughs softly as he shushes you; "it's okay pipsqueak, I gotcha'.. just lay down for now, okay? I'll get you some water and clean you up, yeah?"

He takes care of you as diligently as ever, wiping you down with a warm, wet towel, bringing you a glass of water and making sure you're okay before sliding into the bed next to you. He pulls you into his chest, gently stroking your hair as you listen to his calming heart beat.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"no... just a bit weak and sleepy..."

He let's out a soft, relieved laugh.

"'m sorry if I was rough.. just wanted to remind you you're mine..."

"did you ever doubt that?"

He is quiet for a moment.

"no... but I didn't like seeing that guy so close to you, touching you like that... he enjoyed it way too much..."

You snort.

"I doubt you'll have to worry about that... I'm not exactly his type."

"How could you not be? have you seen you-"

"He's not into girls, Caleb..."

There's a moment of silence.

"...oh."

You laugh as the realisation hits.

"besides.. even if he was, it wouldn't matter... because I'm yours, only yours..." you whisper as your eyes close and you drift into a soft slumber in your lovers arms.

"yeah, you are..." He says as he kisses your forehead. "...and I am yours."

03:11 A.M.

Jeremy: are u okay? he seemed really mad...

Jeremy: I just wanted to scare away that creep but seems I caught two flies with one stone lmao

Jeremy: u better tell me everything over coffee tomorrow ;)

[blairenqs]

୨୧ LATE-NIGHT CRAVINGS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 !

𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗂𝖽 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟢𝖪 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

THE MOTEL ROOM is silent other than the annoying buzz of the air conditioner and the occasional loud creaks of the bedframe whenever you shift your body.

you’re really trying your best to not move too much, trying not to disturb the man lying next to you—spencer’s snores fill the room, his face relaxed in a way you don’t get to see often enough.

today had been a brutal one—a long day of sorting through evidence, and the stress of knowing someone’s life might depend on you solving this case quickly.

you watched spencer through the day, his mind overworking itself more than usual and connecting dots no one else could.

but now, with the relaxed face of finally getting sleep softening his features, he looks so peaceful. and you would give anything not to ruin that. but unfortunately you’re also pregnant—and the craving is unbearable. —READ MORE!

it started off as a mindless thought—how good a cheeseburger would taste at the moment, but that thought spiralled into imagining every detail—the cheese in between a warm toasted bun, a side of sweet potato fries on the side.

it’s quite literally ridiculous. it’s just food. yet, here you are—lying wide awake, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying because somehow it feels like the most urgent thing in the world.

a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, and you sniffle softly. you turn your face into the pillow, hoping spencer won’t hear. but, of course—he does.

he stirs beside you, groggy and confused, his voice is warm and still heavy with sleep, yet you could hear the undeniable concern. “hey… are you okay?”

you curse yourself for waking him up, wiping away your tears quickly. “i’m fine,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “i didn’t mean to wake you, spence. go back to sleep, okay?”

he doesn’t listen. he never does when it comes to you. he sits up urgently, rubbing at his eyes as he glances over at you. even in the dim light of the crappy motel room lamp, you can see the worry on his face.

“you’re crying love,” he says softly, scooting closer to you. his hand intertwine with yours underneath the thick blanket. “what’s wrong? did the baby kick too hard? are you in pain?”

“no,” you cry, shaking your head. you hate this. you hate the fact that he’s awake and worried because of something so insignificant and small. “talk to me,” he presses gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “please.”

you take a hesitant breath, feeling ridiculous but knowing that he won’t let it go. “i’m…i’m craving a cheeseburger,” you whisper, shaking your head in embarrassment.

his head tilts, his brows pulling together in that familiar way, like he’s working out a word puzzle. “a cheeseburger?”

you groan and hide your face in your hands. “i know it’s stupid, spence. i just couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then i felt bad for wanting it, and now i feel even worse for waking you up, and—”

“hey, stop,” he says, his voice cutting through your panicked rambling. he leans over, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

his fingers are warm against your skin, his touch comforting you. “you didn’t wake me up, okay? and even if you did, i don’t care. i want to be here for you, okay? whatever you need.”

your chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from frustration. “it’s just the fact that you were so exhausted. i didn’t want to bother you over something so dumb—”

his eyes softened at your confession , and he shifts closer, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulls your body into his. “it’s not dumb,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your hairline.

“you’re growing a human inside of you. if your body wants a cheeseburger, then it’s not dumb, love. it’s important.”

you laugh quietly, a sound that turns into a sniffle. “you’re making it sound a lot more dramatic than it is.”

“i don’t think it’s dramatic at all,” he replies, pressing another kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally to your lips.

it’s a soft, reassuring kiss, full of all the tenderness he’s never been great at putting into words. “you’re not a bother. you could never be a bother. i love you.”

it’s hard to believe anyone could mean those words as much as he does, but spencer has this way of saying things that makes you believe in them—believe in him.

“i love you too, spence,” you whisper.

he smiles, a smile so sweet that it makes your heart ache. “good,” he says, brushing his nose against yours playfully. “now, let’s go get you that cheeseburger.”

you blink at him, surprised. “spence, you don’t have to do that. it’s the middle of the night—”

“i know,” he interrupts, already reaching for his jacket draped over the chair. “but i want to—and while we’re at it, we can get those milkshakes from the diner down the road you like.”

you sit up, watching him put on his shoes, his bedhead sticking out in every direction. the sight is almost enough to make you cry all over again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

as he grabs the keys and turns to you with a soft, unguarded grin, you realize there’s no use in arguing. spencer reid would move heaven and earth for you without a second thought—and he would do it with that same sleepy, loving smile on his face.

he reaches out his hand to help you up, and you take it, your fingers locking in with his.

together, you step out into the cool night air, yet you feel warm—the warmth of his love wrapped tightly around you.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. hi guys..😓 it’s been a while… anyways let’s forget i disappeared for a month and talk about how everybody is meeting mgg in toronto while i’m stuck in ugly miserable vancouver !!!! i’m so so jealous i could cry. also this is based off my pregnant cousin waking up one day and crying bc we didn’t have any food at home LOL

𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !

[justagirlswrld]

AITA FOR GOING THROUGH MY BOYFRIENDS PHONE?

a/n- i’m a mark grayson groupie 😥☝🏽. first attempt at smut, hope yall enjoy.

warnings: sorry for errors it’s 1 am. unprotected p in v. things that happen in sex happen in this. feed back welcome :).

You felt insane as you laid under your thick comforter and pretended to be asleep. It was going on 1 am and you initially had been tired from beating up criminals all day, now your mind raced too much to even think about sleep.

You focused on keeping your breathing shallow and your body relaxed when the bathroom door swung open and you assumed Rex walked in. Your suspicions were confirmed when he began singing a low tune, trying not to wake you, you guessed.

When the bed finally dips from Rex’s weight you focus on keeping your voice from hitching. He slings an arm around your waist above the covers then falls asleep on his stomach. You stay in your original position with your arms folded beneath your head for what feels like forever.

You gingerly begin to sit up when you hear Rex’s light snores. You turn towards him as gently as possible. Your eyes search his bedside, only guided by the moonlight as you look for what’s keeping you up at night: Rex’s phone.

You and Rex had been dating since meeting one faithful day a year ago. The Guardians of the globe were getting their ass handed to them before you stepped in. You hadn’t thought much of him the first time you saw him in his orange suit but things changed majorly when he got undressed.

You became fast friends with Eve even though she dated Rex before. “Our experiences may be different but the Rex I knew was a cheating asshole. Rex doesn’t know how to have just one.”, Eve says to you one calm day over lunch. You waited for her to start smiling or laughing or for a last minute just kidding but neither came. Her words were keeping you up at night so you had to know.

You felt a little twinge of guilt because you weren’t usually this invasive. You knew you’d hate it if someone did this to you but…you couldn’t shake the little devil on your shoulder telling you to look through it.

You finally spot Rex’s cracked phone in the darkness, poking out from under your white pillow. You slyly reach over his still frame and very slowly pull the phone from under the pillow.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you hold the phone in your hand, It feels like that one time you had to fly a ticking bomb into space.

You type in the password you discovered by looking over his shoulder and watching him pin in earlier in the day. Rex will be so distracted by his phone you could stab him in the back and he wouldn’t notice, so it wasn’t surprising you were able to peak over his shoulder and get the information you needed.

When the phone unlocks you swear the devil on your shoulder is jumping around in happiness. It’s like you can whispers of gooo throoouuggghhh hisss textsss.

So, you do. Making sure to keep an eye on Rex’s slumbering body.

You let out a shaky sigh as you finish going through his messages , nothing incriminating there.

You begin switching to his photos, thinking that maybe you were overreacting. Until your eyes are looking at a picture of a girls fat ass. Your eyes bulge, you swear they almost pop out the socket as you swipe through the photo library.

It seems like the photos of the girls are endless. Ass, boobs, even girls spreading open their- you throw the phone on the bed as tears well in your eyes. You throw the covers back and stomp over to your closet not caring how much noise you make. “Babe, can you keep it down.”, Rex’s raspy voice says as you pull on your sweats, “you’re sniffling sorta loud.”

The covers rustle as you slip on your uggs and you hear Rex let out a tiny “oh,shit”. He’s scrambling to get out of the bed as your walking to your bed room door, “Babe, it’s not even like that-it doesn’t even count as cheating because it’s just pictures and…a little bit of texting.”

You turn to look at Rex down your nose as he keeps digging his hole, “Y/N, if you wouldn’t have looked in my phone it wouldn’t of mattered- it’s like initiation to be my girlfri-“. You groan cutting him off, “Be gone when I get back.”

You give Rex a look that could kill before walking out the door and slamming it behind you. As soon as you’re out the lobby of the apartment complex you take to the skies, going the only place you can think of in your time of crisis.

You knock on Mark’s bay window hoping he’s not sleeping. You float in the night air for a moment until Mark’s head is poking through the window with that goofy smile on his handsome face. “You know you can use the front door?”, He pushes the window open and you easily glide through it, dropping on his couch.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting.” You’re only saying it to be polite, you notice the knocked over cups of Ramen and the half drunk gallons of Mountain Dew on the coffee table. Mark seems to notice too as a blush begins to bloom on his fair cheeks. He zooms over and grabs the trash from the table and throws it in the bin, he’s back over to you in a second.

“No-I was just-“, Mark’s words are cut off by the gunfire coming from the video game on the TV. You watch as it replays Mark’s solitary character being shot then tea bagged over and over until he exits out the game with the controller.

“Did I get you killed? i’m sorry.”, Mark sits beside you on the upscale couch, you wonder if his mom picked out his furniture for his apartment. “It’s cool. I sucked anyway…”, he trails off, slender fingers tracing patterns on the couch before looking up at you with big, brown eyes. “What are you doing here at two in the morning, anyway?”

You slap your hand against your head, “I completely forgot about the time-,” You contemplate telling Mark about happened with Rex but you decide against it. “I couldn’t sleep and figured you’d be up.” You look at him through thick lashes, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Ye-yeah, it’s fine. You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ ?”

The movie ends up being nothing but background noise as Mark lays between your thighs, feet almost hanging off the couch. He’s wearing nothing but loose, green basketball shorts so you can feel his hard dick through your thin sweats.

You mewl when his warm, mouth begins sucking on your neck. He switches from licking to sucking around your throat as you rub your fingers through his thick, black hair. His large hands begin to sneak up your shirt before twisting in the material instead, your hands doing the same to the hem of his shorts. Mark stops his ministrations and lays his face in the crook of your neck as he breathes heavily.

“Everything okay?”, You ask breathlessly, fingers scratching along his scalp. “What about Rex?”, his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. “We broke up.”, Mark looks up at you, his smile returning. “That’s why you came to see me.”

You bite your lip coyly, wrapping your arms around Marks waist so his hips are flush against yours. You begin to grind slowly against his still hard cock. It doesn’t do much but the feeling is enough to bring a warmth to your skin. “Is that a problem?”

He’s hovering over you now, using both hands as support. You watch the muscles in his biceps ripple as he begins to grind back into your clothed center. “I don’t have a condom…but Viltrumite’s can’t contact human diseases.” He moves down to his forearms, his breath warm on your face.

“I’m good too and me and Rex haven’t had sex for months.” Mark takes this as permission to stop his hips and you almost whine at the loss. He kisses you hard instead, this lasts for a moment as his hands roam your stomach, your waist and over your breasts.

Mark sneaks his nimble fingers into your bra. He rolls one hardened bud between his pointer finger and thumb, eliciting light moans from your pretty lips. He cups your other breast in his large hand, massaging the fat in a relaxing way.

In record time you’re sitting upright with Mark kneeling in between your legs. He pulls you to the edge of the couch and pulls your underwear and sweats down in one motion. He groans when he gets a glimpse of the moisture between your thighs, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he parts your legs.

“This okay?”, You stutter out a yes and without taking his eyes off you Mark licks a tentative stripe up your folds. You whine as he soaks his fingers with the wetness collecting between your lips. Once his fingers are to his liking he pushes both long digits into your flaming center. Mark is looking for, then slowly swirling your clit once he finds it. He twists his fingers in and out of you, the sound of your wetness joins the voices on the TV.

You grip the arm of the sofa as his rhythm turns fast and rough, eyes snapping closed in bliss. Your hips buck when he replaces the finger on your clit with his tongue, you toss your head back and pull his hair with your weak hands. You bite your lip as he watches you watch him from between your thighs.

Mark removes his mouth from your throbbing cunt for a moment, “Let me hear you baby…you’re making me so hard.” You can’t help but to moan at his words. Mark’s mouth returns and continues, fingers brutal.

His fingers are knuckles deep in your spasming cunt and that band in your stomach is ready to snap when Mark pulls his fingers from you and stuffs them in his mouth. Moaning around his own fingers like they were dipped in honey.

“Maark”, You whine and he shushes you while rising to his knees. Mark pulls you farther down the couch so you’re slumping. He pulls his shorts down his hips and his dick springs free. The sight makes your toes curl.

He’s a perfect specimen.

You lick your lips to stop your mouth from watering at his long, thick cock.

Mark runs his pink tip back and forth at your weeping entrance, “Fuuuck, you’re so wet.” He slowly pushes into you. Mark’s hands are against the back of your thighs for support, your legs folded. There’s a heavenly stretch as he bottoms out.

You two stay that way for a moment, Mark getting used to the feel of your gummy walls squeezing around him. You’re biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning and Mark kisses you rough and wet, “I told you I want to hear you.” He pulls out partly before sliding back deep inside you. He creates a pace that has your eyes rolling back and your mouth hanging open.

Mark curses and moans as he watches himself disappear between your leaking folds. The movie ended long ago, the sound of you and Mark’s heavy breathing and the squelching of where your sexes met echoed in his apartment.

He closes your legs now, angling his hips where he can push up into your cunt. His index finding your clit again.

After a few deep strokes the band in your stomach snaps and your toes curl. You whimper Marks name as he fucks you through your orgasm. He babbles on about you being ‘so pretty’ and how ‘your pussys so tight’. His hands move from your trembling thighs and ghost over your breasts and neck to hold your chin as he kisses you.

You squeeze around Mark and to his surprise that has his him coming deep inside you while he moans into your mouth. You think you might come again from the husky sound alone

His hips stutter and you rub his back with sweaty hands as he pulls out of you.

Mark lays with his head in your neck for a moment as you two try to catch your breath. Mark unexpectedly nips your ear causing you to laugh and push him off you before sitting up, “I should come here more often.”, You say with a smirk.

[dreamdragonkadia]

would you consider writing a jealous xaden riorson? please andd thank youuu 🥹🥹

I thought about writing this into a spicy scene, but I am so out of practice that I didn't want to mess it up. x.riorson x reader

You hadn’t thought to bring it up. Not because you were hiding anything—but because it just... hadn’t mattered. It had been before becoming a rider. Before the Gauntlet. Before Threshing. Before Xaden Riorson had started looking at you like the world might crack in two if you didn’t make it through the next challenge.

You and Septon Izar had ended things cleanly, amicably, and left it at that. He’d been a friend before, and somehow, he still was—one of the few people who hadn’t flinched when you first started sitting with the marked ones. Honestly, his support during that time had meant more than you'd ever said aloud.

And honestly? Since Xaden? You hadn’t thought about Septon once. And maybe, maybe, you had mentioned it to Xaden. In passing. At most.

But judging by the sudden silence that swept through the dining hall—and the way Xaden’s head snapped toward you the second Septon opened his mouth—you definitely hadn’t mentioned that part.

"I think we only had sex twice," Septon said casually, sipping from his cup like he hadn’t just tossed a live drake into the center of the table. “And both times we were pretty drunk.”

You blinked.

What?

Your fork hovered above your plate as the table fell into a mixture of choked laughter and stunned silence. Garrick muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like oh shit. Nyra was already dragging her hands down her face. Bodhi looked delighted. Of course he did—this had his meddling written all over it.

You squinted up at Septon. “Man, that was so long ago, I barely remember.”

Xaden didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Not when you could feel the way his gaze landed on you—deadly calm, unreadable, and very, very still.

Someone coughed. Garrick kicked Bodhi under the table. Septon, gods bless his complete lack of self-preservation, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it meant anything,” he added, glancing between you and Xaden with a shrug. “We were just—”

"Don’t," Xaden said, voice low and even, but it carried like a cold front.

The entire table froze.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you turned your attention down the table, “Nyra, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about your physical escapades. Please, if we’re airing things out, do share.”

There was a pause.

Then Nyra leaned back with a knowing small grin. “Which year?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Nyra launched into a truly unhinged story involving a third-year from Rider’s Quadrant, two years ago and a storage closet full of training gear.

Everyone moved on.

Except you.

Because while the rest of the table erupted into laughter, Bodhi caught your eye and gave you a subtle salute—good luck with that—and Xaden’s shadows curled around your calves in a slow, possessive climb.

You had really thought that would be it. Completely and utterly it. There was nothing there.

You and Septon were barely a footnote, a hiccup in your timeline. But clearly, someone at the table had missed that memo—and that someone was now walking three paces behind you, silent, shadows brushing the edge of your steps like a warning.

You turned the corner just past the gym hall, fully intending to head toward the dorms, but a hand caught your arm—not rough, but firm—and suddenly, you were being pulled into a recessed archway you hadn’t even noticed.

Xaden didn’t speak at first.

Just looked at you.

That onyx stare that made it feel like he was peeling back your skin to see what was underneath. His jaw was tight, shadows curling restlessly around his boots.

“You’re mad,” you said flatly.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m…” He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to force the word back in. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you shot back, arms folding. “It was nothing, Xaden. It was before.”

His brow twitched. “I watched him look at you like he still wanted something.”

“He was talking to Bodhi!”

“He was talking to you.”

You stared at him, pulse thrumming harder than it should’ve been. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

His shadows surged, crawling up your spine like a storm about to break.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

Your back hit the wall.

His hand came to rest beside your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His voice dropped lower, into that gravel-smooth edge that made your knees a little unstable.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth, “and I don’t like being surprised.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

And because your pride had a death wish, you arched a brow and said, “Well, maybe I do.”

That was apparently the final straw.

He kissed you like it was a declaration, like he had to remind you—remind himself—that he knew every part of you better than anyone ever had. His hands found your hips, grip just shy of rough, and your fingers curled in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto before the ground gave way.

“Tell me again,” he said against your lips, voice thick with something that wasn't just anger, “how it meant nothing.”

Your breath caught—because you couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. The only thing that mattered.

“It didn’t,” you whispered, barely audible. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He lingered there, just for a second, his forehead brushing yours as if he was searching for the truth in your skin. And then, with no more warning than a flick of his shadows, he pulled back just enough to say, “Come with me.”

You followed him without thinking.

Past cadets loitering in the halls, past flickering sconces and low murmurs, up flights of stairs that you barely registered because your heart was thundering in your chest. Xaden didn’t look back once—but his shadows stayed close, curling possessively around your wrist like a tether, a silent mine whispered over and over again in the dark.

By the time you reached his room, your pulse was high in your throat.

He opened the door, stepped inside—and then, just as you were about to follow, his hand shot out.

And pulled you in.

Hard.

You stumbled, but only for a heartbeat—because he was already there, catching you, pinning you back against the closed door with a thud that echoed in the silence.

“You think I care that it happened before me?” he murmured, his mouth brushing along your jaw, your neck. “I don’t.”

You shivered.

“I care that you didn’t tell me,” he continued, his hand sliding to your waist, hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. “I care that he thought he could say your name like that. Look at you like that.”

“Xaden—”

“I’m not going to be polite about it,” he interrupted, voice a low rasp. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay hearing another man talk about what’s mine like it’s some casual memory.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth again, softer this time. A contrast to the words that came next.

“You’re not his story to tell.”

Your breath hitched.

“You want to tell me it meant nothing?” he asked, gaze catching yours with such intensity it felt like a command. “Then let me show the world who you belong with.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him down.

And he did.

[veilstqr]

𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 •᷄ɞ• ♡. ₊˚⊹ ✩

๋⋆｡˚ downbad!ni-ki ♡ fluff and crack x ni-ki being whipped and the members not letting him breathe & w.c 1.1k

─── ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

author's note: saw this pic of ni-ki and i just had to write on it, he's just so cute

Ni-ki has been smiling at the fluffy duck plushie for over twenty minutes now. His members, watching from a safe distance, were seriously contemplating whether an intervention was necessary (Jake already has the number of a psych ward dialed onto his phone).

“What is he doing?” Jungwon whispered to Sunoo, both of them huddled on one side of the couch, unsure of what to make of their younger friend.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “I have no idea, but he looks ridiculous.”

A quiet giggle escaped Ni-ki, his arms tightening around the plushie as he nuzzled his chin into its soft, yellow head. He sighed dreamily, eyes twinkling as if he had just discovered the meaning of life.

Jungwon and Sunoo exchanged glances. This was getting out of hand.

“Should we snap him out of it?” Jungwon asked hesitantly.

Sunoo shrugged. “I mean… do you want to risk getting drop-kicked?”

Before they could decide, Ni-ki turned to them, eyes glowing with an almost unsettling level of affection. “Guys,” he whispered, voice filled with unshakable devotion. “Look at him. He’s perfect.”

Sunoo blinked. “Ni-ki, it’s literally just a stuffed duck.”

Ni-ki gasped like Sunoo had just personally insulted his entire bloodline. Hugging the plushie even tighter, he scoffed, “How dare you.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

“I don’t get it,” Jake said from his spot on the floor, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Is this… some kind of puberty thing?”

Sunoo snorted. “Yeah, Jake. Ni-ki hit phase two of puberty, and now he’s hopelessly in love with a stuffed duck.”

Jake hummed, considering it. “I mean… it’s possible.”

Jungwon shot him a deadpan look. “No. No, it’s not.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki was completely oblivious to the conversation happening about him. He simply cradled the duck plushie closer, gently stroking its tiny wings with the kind of tenderness usually reserved for priceless artifacts.

A dreamy sigh escaped his lips. “Don’t listen to them,” he murmured to the plushie. “They just don’t understand our bond.”

Sunoo stared. “Okay, yeah, we’re calling that psych ward.”

“Where’d you even get that thing from?” Jungwon asked.

“Well, first of all, he has a name,” Ni-ki said, clutching the plushie tighter.

Jungwon blinked. “Right. Of course he does.”

Jake leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay… what is it?”

Ni-ki looked down at the plushie with pure affection before answering, completely serious, “Sir Quacksalot.”

Sunoo choked on air. “You’re joking.”

Ni-ki gasped, horrified. “How dare you disrespect Sir Quacksalot like that?”

Jungwon decided to tread carefully. “Okay… and where did Sir Quacksalot come from?”

At that, Ni-ki’s face turned a shade pinker, his grip on the plushie tightening ever so slightly. “Nowhere.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Ni-ki.”

Jake gasped dramatically. “Wait. Someone gave it to you, didn’t they?”

Ni-ki scoffed, looking everywhere but at his members. “No.”

Jungwon crossed his arms. “Ni-ki.”

“…Maybe.”

Sunoo’s jaw dropped. “Who?”

Ni-ki hesitated, then muttered something under his breath.

Jake leaned in. “What was that?”

Ni-ki groaned, hiding his face behind Sir Quacksalot. “Y/n, okay? She won it for me at that arcade the other day.”

The room fell silent for exactly two seconds before—

“Oh my god.” Sunoo gasped.

Jake shot up to his feet. “YOU’RE SMITTEN.”

“I am not—”

Jungwon pointed at him. “That is exactly what someone who is smitten would say.”

Meanwhile, Sunoo was already dialing Jay’s number on his phone, a smug grin spreading across his face. “You owe me 10 bucks, pay up now.”

Jake let out a low whistle. “I’m honestly impressed. I didn’t think the duck plushie was part of the plan.”

Ni-ki, now fully flushed, groaned and buried his face in the plushie again. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sunoo grinned as Jay’s phone picked up. “Hey, Jay. You’re welcome.” He paused, listening to the muffled voice on the other end. “Yeah, I said pay up—you owe me.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “How much are we betting on the next step in this disaster?”

Sunoo flashed a wicked grin. “We’ll see how long it takes for him to start writing poems for her.”

Just then, Ni-ki’s phone went off, the screen lighting up with a contact name that made him freeze: Pretty Girl <3

Ni-ki’s hand shot out to grab his phone, but Jungwon was quicker, leaping theatrically to snatch it from his grasp. He swiped up to accept the call before Ni-ki could protest.

“Jungwon, no!” Ni-ki hissed, his face going pale. “Give it back!”

But Jungwon was already holding the phone up to his ear with a dramatic flair. “Hello, is this Pretty Girl?” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Ni-ki’s very good friend—he’s, uh, just a little shy right now.”

Sunoo cackled from the sidelines, unable to hold back. “Oh my god, this is gold.”

Jake, unable to contain his amusement, added, “Tell her Ni-ki’s too busy with Sir Quacksalot to talk right now.”

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in horror, but Jungwon ignored him, continuing the act. “So, Pretty Girl, how’s it going? Got any plans for today? I’m sure Ni-ki is totally free right now to spend some quality time .“

“Jungwon!” Ni-ki yelped, diving for the phone, but Jungwon struck his leg out to block the boy. Laughter echoed through the room as Jake and Sunoo rolled around the floor, struggling to catch their breaths. By now Jay, Sunghoon and Heeseung had already emerged in the dorm room after Sunoo broke the news.There was a short pause on the other end before Y/N’s voice came through, light and teasing. “Oh? Is he now? Well, could you let him know I was thinking of him and that I’d love to see him later tonight?”

Jungwon’s grin stretched wider as he glanced at Ni-ki, who was practically melting in embarrassment. “Oh, I’ll definitely pass that along,” he said with an exaggerated wink. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

Ni-ki grabbed the phone out of Jungwon’s hand in a panic. “Y/N, hey! I—uh, I’m sorry about that—”

The rest of the members were in hysterics by now, clearly loving every minute of this.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ni-ki mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper, but the smile in his voice was clear. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you later.”

Sunoo, still wheezing from laughter, muttered, “Yeah, right, Ni-ki. You’re totally not whipped.”

The boy just glared at the others, muttering a stream of curses under his breath as he trudged out of the apartment. But before he fully left, he grabbed the fluffy duck plushie from the couch and clutched it tightly against his chest, as if it could somehow protect him from the relentless teasing. His face was a deep shade of red, but no one could miss the way his hands were fidgeting, already mentally preparing for the meeting with Y/N.

As he passed by the living room, Sunoo couldn’t help but call out, “Good luck, Ni-ki! Don’t forget to wear your lucky strawberry panties!”

Lord have mercy.

200325

© veilstqr 2025. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

tag list: @s1rawb3rry @hollyoongs @w2hoonki @httpenhoon comment or dm me if you want to be tagged in every update <3

[rosierin]

smack me like you'd spike a volleyball │ atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis: title is self explanatory i fear

a/n; guys idk. sometimes an idea pops into my head and i just feel compelled to share it

anyway enjoy this pure brainrot

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :p

(Y/n) hummed, idly scrolling through her phone. “Y’know, I’ve always wondered…”

Atsumu, from across the room, barely looked up from his drink. “That’s dangerous.”

(Y/n) ignored him. “‘Smack my ass like you spike a volleyball’—how hard would that actually be?”

Atsumu choked on his drink. “What!?”

"You heard me," (y/n) said, voice comically serious.

After composing himself a little, Atsumu actually— like actually pondered her words.

"Ya know, I've had a fan tweet that at me before and I don’t think they realise how painful that would be.”

Suna, who had been listening in on the entire conversation, eventually piped up, without so much as a blink. “Isn’t that the point?”

Atsumu pressed on, his tone almost urgent. “No. No, I mean, that shit would really hurt.”

(Y/n) shrugged, then stood up. “Okay, let’s try.”

Atsumu nearly dropped his cup. “You want me to smack yer ass??”

(Y/n) deadpanned. “No, you clown. Slap my hand like you’d spike a volleyball and I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

Atsumu stared at her, then at her outstretched hand, then back at her face. “Are ya sure?”

“Yeah.”

“This is really gonna hurt.”

“Stop stalling and slap me already!”

Atsumu groaned, stretching his wrist like he was warming up for Nationals. “Jesus. Alright, woman. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

That was the moment Osamu walked into the room.

He took one look at the scene—(y/n) standing there, hand out, Atsumu poised to slap her like he was about to serve match point in the Olympics.

Osamu blinked. “What is happening.”

Suna barely contained his smirk. “(Y/n) is asking Atsumu to slap her.”

Osamu’s stare turned exponentially more judgmental. “…What.”

Suna shrugged but didn't question it. “Dunno either.”

Atsumu waved a hand at them, then jerked a thumb at (y/n). “Hey, don’t look at me, she’s the freak here.”

Osamu sighed, rubbing his temples like this wasn’t even in his top ten weirdest experiences with them. Meanwhile, Suna casually pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the record button.

(Y/n) rolled her shoulders, steeling herself. “Alright. Moment of truth. Hit me.”

Osamu groaned. “Tsumu, don’t actually hit her—”

Too late.

A loud, cracking smack sliced through the air as Atsumu swung his hand full force against (y/n)’s palm. The sheer impact made the sound echo off the walls.

(Y/n) immediately yanked her hand back, shaking it out furiously. “OW—”

Atsumu looked horrified. “I TOLD YOU, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT—”

(Y/n) fanned her stinging palm. “MY HAND BURNS.”

Osamu stared at them in pure disappointment before shaking his head and walking straight out of the room like he was clocking out of their nonsense.

Meanwhile, Suna, still filming, zoomed in dramatically on (y/n)’s face. “Well?”

(Y/n) flexed her fingers, pain still written over her features. “That actually hurt way more than I thought it would.”

Atsumu scoffed. “I am a literal professional athlete, what on earth did you expect?”

Suna panned his camera to Atsumu. “Subtle flex.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, still shaking her hand. “Okay, athlete. Anyway, I can now confirm that your fangirls do NOT want to get spanked like a volleyball.”

Suna stopped recording, nodding sagely. “Amen.”

Osamu’s voice drifted from the hallway. “Y'all need therapy.”

A beat of silence.

Atsumu grinned at (y/n), waggling his eyebrows. “‘Kay, now turn around, babe. S'time to try out the real deal."

Suna immediately hit record again.

(Y/n) screeched and protected her precious backside.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

[mywritersmind]

SWINGING AROUND - KA12

kimi antonelli spiderman au

summary : You’ve thought a lot about the local hero. Wondered who was behind the mask… never did you ever think you would find out by him banging on your window, bloody and bruised. Especially when he takes his mask off and you realize he’s been a lot closer than you expected.

listen up : kissing! swearing! kimi antonelli is spiderman ok. bestfriends to lovers. lol i replaced aunt may with uncle toto

word count : 2282

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I jump when something hits my window, the rain is hammering down through the night sky and disturbs the peace of my candle and book.

As I spin around in my chair, expecting a branch or smashed bird… What I do not expect, is fucking spiderman.

My heart is beating a thousand miles per minute just as he reaches up and tugs off his mask. What. The. Fuck.

I’ve wondered a lot about our little neighborhood web shooter… everyone has. Maybe I've gotten a little too interested in the man over the past few months. But in all my thoughts and hopes of him being a certain way, I never once expected my best friend.

Because that’s who is outside my window right now, his gloved hand pushing against the glass as if he’s trying to hold himself up.

I practically shoot out of my chair, throwing my window open as he slumps against the sill. “Kimi.” I let out, the cold air hitting me almost as hard as my current shock.

“I…” He breathes out, his eyes meeting mine, “I didn’t know where else to go.” I now realize the state of him, his face is cut, as well as his suit.

“What the fuck, Antonelli.” I keep my voice down, very aware of my sleeping parents in the next room.

“I’ll explain… just-” he goes to move but winces, “Help.” I shake my head, leaving him in the windowsill now that rain has stopped and hurrying into my bathroom.

I come back quickly with a wet towel. “Kimi you better not be telling me you’ve been risking your life every day after school!”

He smirks a bit as I run the wet towel over the front of his suit where it’s cut and he’s bleeding, “Before school too…”

I push the towel harder against him, “You’re an idiot.”

“Ow!” He groans loudly, my hand slapping over his mouth to quiet him. I can feel his fucking smile against my hand as his eyes bore into me.

“This is why you’ve been ditching me lately!?” I take my hand off him, whispering, “Playing superhero!? I mean- what the fuck.” I repeat for the thousandth time, “How are you even- I mean how did you- You have powers!”

His breath is calmer now as he raises his wrist and, (like it’s absolutely nothing) sprays a clean line of webs from his fucking skin.

I move the towel to his face, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you’d be happy… you’ve always had a thing for spidey.” He says mischievously as I scoff and start on his face, “Alright alright… I'm sorry. I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Danger!? Kimi, how bad could neighborhood crime be?”

He motions down to his hurt body. I shut my mouth, wiping his face gently and pretending like I can’t feel his hot eyes on me. His curls are wet, dripping onto my hand and into my room.

My hand is on his neck as the other tends to his cuts and bruises. I can’t believe this, he’s here, in my room, and while I'm freaking out, he’s cracking jokes.

“Does anyone know?” He shakes his head, finally looking a bit sad for once. “Kimi. Why?”

“I couldn’t put that on anyone.” He mumbles.

“You’re ridiculous in thinking I would care. And you’re ridiculous for thinking it’s not the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you.” He smiles at this.

“I know it is… it’s just- not all great.”

I do not like his tone. “What’d you do, Antonelli?”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I’m just- sorry to drop in on you like this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“You better be.” I shove his shoulder instinctively, cursing myself when he winces, “Shit. Sorry.”

The wind has died down, though it hasn’t stopped the goosebumps on my legs. I’m blaming the cold because there’s no way I'm admitting that Kimi might have something to do with it.

“So. Go on then.” I say as I wipe blood from his jaw. He looks at me confused, “Since you're suddenly superhuman, I'd like to know what I'm dealing with so I don’t freak when you morph into an actual spider.”

He chuckles, “Luckily for both of us, it’s pretty simple. Sticky hands, the webs come from my wrist…” I give a little brow raise, teasing him as he rolls his eyes, “Only my wrists. I have crazy good hearing and this sort of sixth sense…”

“Like an intuition? Or like that thing Ken has when Barbies in trouble?” I say it so casually that it makes him laugh so unexpectedly that he has to hold his stomach from pain.

“Sure. Also my eyes are insanely clear.”

“That’s why you haven’t been wearing your glasses!” I poke his eye, “I’ll miss them.” He looked sickeningly good with them on, like a sort of evil nerd that i’d want to-

“Well Uncle Toto doesn’t know so I have to walk around the house half blind.” I smile at his humor, “That’s all, I think.”

I run my hand down his arm, understanding the sudden shift in his body as I meet his biceps, “And your suit…?”

He bites back a grin at my words, he always does it before he geeks out or talks himself up. “I made it.” He goes on to tell me every little step, compound, and reused material he scrounged up to make this pretty high tech suit.

I’ve heard Kimi talk about his inventions more than a hundred times in my life, but never have I seen him so interested in one subject.

“Seems like it’s gonna need some TLC after tonight.” I move my hand down his chest, pulling at the broken fabric.

He just shrugs, “I’ve remade it a thousand times, it’s easy.” Of course it is. Kimi remembers every detail about everything… ever.

I haven’t even realized until now, but his hand has been on my leg the whole time my hands have been all over him. When he notices that I've noticed, I expect him to pull away like the nerdy embarrassed Kimi I know.

But he doesn’t. He sits up straighter and pushes his hand slowly up my bare leg. “Thank you.”

“A couple rags isn’t much to thank me for.” My breath is quicker now, my voice quieter.

A small smile tugs at his lips, “Well it’s either that or I would be limping into my house all bloody just to give Toto a heart attack.”

I put the towel down beside me, “I’m really scared for you.” He’s looking at me as if I'm the only person in the world, sometimes I feel like that about him.

“Don’t be.” He whispers and suddenly I wonder when we got so close. His nose is an inch from mine, his eyes flickering down to my lips. He tilts his head a bit, “Still got a thing for spiderman?”

I want to laugh but I think I'm frozen in place. It’s the first time he’s audibly said it. “Depends. Does spiderman have a thing for me?”

His eyes are trained on my lips now, “I think he’d be a real idiot not to.”

I lean in, closing the gap as every part of my body catches fire. He’s weak, I know that. But he’s also not the same little Kimi I grew up with.

His hand reaches my waist and tugs me closer, kissing me sweetly. His lips are soft besides the tiny cut which I quickly forget about when he slips his tongue into my mouth.

He smiles against my lips. “I can feel your heartbeat, you know.”

I laugh into him, my tone playful as I move my hand into his curls, “I can’t really control that when I'm around you.”

He mumbles what I think is a curse in italian, kissing me again as I giggle like a fucking schoolgirl.

Then, there’s a knock at the door.

I don’t mean to push him off my windowsill, but I definitely do. He lands on the fire escape with a thud and a groan, “Sh!” I mouth at him before running over to my door, “Yes?” I don’t open it.

It’s my dad. “You okay, hun? I thought I heard something.”

“Yup! A bird hit my window I think.” I look over to Kimi who’s eyeing me annoyingly.

“Want me to check?” His words make my heart rate spike and the next thing I know, my door is open and I'm shoving my hands behind my back. I don’t know if they have blood on them but I really don’t want to find out with my father.

My eyes bolt to the window, my curtains blowing in the wind and (thankfully) no sign of Kimi. “It’s okay dad!” I say quickly, “All good, I think it flew away.”

He nods suspiciously, eyeing my floor and the towels that are definitely bloody but I'm saved by the darkness. “Did you leave your window open when it rained?”

“Oh the rain like- just stopped. I wanted to check on the bird and maybe try to help it and you know you’re supposed to carry them with a towel but then I couldn’t find it and there was already water everywhere so-“

“Yeah alright sweetie.” I think I just yapped my way out of him checking more, “Sweet dreams.”

The second he’s gone, I let out a sigh of relief. Walking over to my open window, I peak out and whisper, “Antonelli?”

I jump again when I find him upside down in front of my face. He’s smirking and holding onto a web that’s strung from above. Shit, even upside down he’s cute as hell.

“He gone?”

I roll my eyes, “Yes. Come inside.” I turn around and shake my head, this night keeps surprising me. I grab the bag of mini kitkats and turn back to him, “Kitkat?”

He walks forward, “I don’t want chocolate right now, Y/n.”

“Too bad.” I throw him the bag and he catches it in an instant. Wow, that's weird. “You’re hurt.”

“You were healing me pretty well before…” He backs me into the desk, placing the bag next to me and bracing himself on either side of me.

“Don’t you need to get home?” I ask, pretending that I'm not thinking about his half naked body that’s severely close to me right now.

“Toto thinks I'm staying at Ned’s.”

“So then go there and stop bothering me.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“It’s that fucking sixth sense isn’t it? Your little spidey tingle.” His smile drops.

“Don’t call it that.”

“You need to change, you're dripping on my floor.” I eye the water around him but he doesn’t move.

“Y/n…” His voice is soft, yet demanding.

“Kimi. You’re hurt. I don’t want to make it worse-” He cuts me off with a kiss, it's light, his hands aren’t on me, and he steps back a second later.

For some reason, I'm more breathless than before. “You left some clothes here, they’re under my sink, I think.” I turn back to my desk, pretending that stupid bag of chocolate is more important than my best friend kissing me.

He comes back showered and in shorts. Only shorts. I blink.

I close my book that I didn’t read a word of, “You’ve seen me without my shirt before.” He points out, sipping the water I got for him.

“Not like… that.” I motion to him, and to his abs. He shakes his head and practically jumps into bed next to me, “Kimi.”

“Y/n!” He matches my tone, putting his arms over my lap and resting his head on them. He looks up at me like a puppy dog, “Would you like me to put a sweatshirt on?”

“If you’re going to be sleeping next to me I'd prefer it.” I say it as if it’s a business deal. He just smiles and rolls over as if he wasn’t beat up, which I still don’t know what he was beat up by.

He riffles through my closet, “Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this!” He turns around with his midtown high sweatshirt.

I cover my face with my book, laughing at the betrayed look on his face as he pulls it on. “It’s so comfortable!” I argue.

He shakes his head and lays next to me again. I sit up and criss cross my legs, “I have like a million questions.”

He nods and yawns, “Hm…”

“Like who fought you, or what fought you?” He shakes his head, already closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around my stomach and pulling me into him so I'm laying practically on him. “You’re gonna have to tell me if you want to kiss me.”

Without missing a beat, he kisses my cheek. “Tomorrow. I promise.” He whispers into my hair and without being asked, slings a web over to my dim lamp and tugs so it turns off.

“Kimi.” I whisper as his hand drifts under my shirt. Not in a provocative way, just like he wants to stay close to me. I like this new us. “I’m serious about you not getting hurt.”

“Part of gig, unfortunately.” He rubs his fingers softly over my stomach, “But I'll try, for you.”

I smile in the darkness, his breathing right in my ear and as calm as ever. I close my eyes, feeling him so close and comfortable. I move my hand to his and without words, we intertwine our hands together.

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Marked by love

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: pure fluff, crack treated seriously, very self indulgent!!!

Word Count: ~1.1k

Summary: Lando discovers a myth that moles show where a past-life lover used to kiss you, and he immediately decides it’s true for you both. Now, he won’t stop kissing every mole on your face, convinced he’s loved you before—and always will.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

It starts with Lando tracing a finger along your jaw.

You’re lying on the couch together, his head resting on your stomach, his hand idly exploring your face with lazy affection. His fingertips graze your cheekbone, then ghost over your temple, before pausing above your lip—right where one of your many moles sits.

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to yours, “I read something the other day.”

You hum, playing with his curls absentmindedly. “That’s a first.”

Lando gasps dramatically, sitting up slightly. “Excuse me, I’m very well-read, thank you.”

You smirk. “Alright, genius. What did you read?”

He shifts so he’s propped up on one elbow, his free hand still lightly tracing over your skin. “There’s this myth,” he starts, “that moles on your face show where your lover from another life used to kiss you the most.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“Yup,” Lando says, tapping the mole above your lip. “And this one? Definitely my favorite.”

Your cheeks warm as you roll your eyes. “You’re just saying that because it’s the most obvious one.”

“Nooo,” he drags out, grinning. “I’m saying that because I love it.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss right over it. “And because past-life me clearly had great taste.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest playfully, but he just shifts closer, eyes scanning your face again.

“So, if the myth is true,” he muses, fingers grazing another small mole near your jaw, “I must’ve really liked kissing you here too.” He presses a kiss to it, slow and deliberate.

“Lando…” you start, but your voice is quieter now, breath hitching slightly as he moves lower, brushing a kiss to another mole near your collarbone.

“Oh, and this one?” He smirks against your skin. “Definitely another favorite.”

You shove him lightly, trying to fight the smile pulling at your lips. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re obsessed with me.”

Lando grins, tilting his head. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes again, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable.

Lando hums, settling back down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Guess I’ve loved you for more than one lifetime.”

You glance at him, heart swelling. “Guess you have.”

And as he presses another soft kiss above your lip, you think—maybe the myth isn’t a myth at all.

Lando doesn’t stop there.

For the next few days, he takes his new discovery very seriously.

Any chance he gets, he’s kissing the moles on your face like he’s mapping out where past-life him must have adored you most.

You’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom mirror when he sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Morning, love.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to the mole on your temple.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “Really? First thing in the morning?”

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs, lips trailing toward the one above your lip again. “Past-life me is making sure I don’t forget my duties.”

You snort, shoving him lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.” He grins before kissing you properly this time, toothpaste and all.

⸻

Later that day, you’re both at the paddock, and Lando still isn’t over it.

You’re chatting with some of the team when he walks by, sending you a not-so-subtle wink. And then, when no one’s paying attention, he pulls you aside, tilting your chin up to plant a quick kiss right on the mole above your lip.

“Lando!” you hiss, glancing around. “Not here!”

“What?” He smirks. “I have responsibilities.”

“You have a race.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but you’re more important.”

You groan, but your cheeks are warm, and Lando definitely notices.

⸻

By the time the weekend is over, the rest of the grid has caught on.

You’re standing with Charles and Carlos in the Ferrari hospitality when Lando comes strolling over. The second he’s within reach, he tilts your chin up and kisses the mole above your lip—because of course he does.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Mate, what are you doing?”

“Fulfilling my past-life duties,” Lando answers matter-of-factly.

Charles looks confused. “What?”

You groan, covering your face. “Don’t ask.”

Lando just grins. “It’s a long story.” Then, he leans down, whispering in your ear, “But I’ll tell you later. In bed. While kissing every single one of your moles.”

Your face burns.

Carlos looks between you two. “I don’t even want to know.”

Lando just smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders like he’s the luckiest guy in every lifetime.

And maybe he is.

The mole-kissing obsession doesn’t stop. In fact, it only gets worse.

At this point, Lando is making it his entire personality.

Every morning? A kiss to your temple, then the one above your lip, then whatever other mole he feels like appreciating that day.

Every night? The same routine, except slower, softer, like he’s savoring it. Like he means it.

And during the day? He’s getting bold.

⸻

You’re at a post-race dinner with the team when Lando, sitting beside you, suddenly turns and presses a kiss to the mole on your jaw. Right in the middle of a conversation.

Mid-sentence. No warning.

Andrea, who was talking about strategy adjustments, just stops.

Zak Brown looks deeply unimpressed.

Oscar, across the table, blinks. “Mate… what?”

Lando shrugs, completely unbothered. “Sorry, had to.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “He thinks my moles are proof we were together in a past life.”

The entire table stares.

Oscar, deadpan: “I regret asking.”

⸻

Later that night, when you’re alone in the hotel room, you give Lando the look.

“You have to stop doing that in front of people.”

Lando grins, already walking toward you. “Why?”

“Because I am embarrassed, and Zak is considering revoking your contract.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “Nah, he’s too scared of losing me.”

You shake your head, trying to stay annoyed, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like that—like you hung the stars in the sky.

Then, his hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. His voice drops, turning soft, genuine.

“I just love you,” he murmurs. “In this life. In the last one. Probably in the next one too.”

Your breath catches.

Lando presses a kiss to the mole above your lip, slower this time. More meaningful. Then another to the one on your jaw. And another on your collarbone.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah,” he smirks, kissing you properly. “But you love me.”

You do. In this life and the next.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[buckevantommy]

8x11 Bucktommy fixit coda of sorts: Tommy and Eddie talk. hopeful ending?

It's been almost a week since he walked out of Evan's life, again, when Tommy gets a call from an unfamiliar number. With an El Paso area code.

"Diaz. How's Texas?"

"Texas? Texas is great, Tommy, thanks for asking."

Thanks for telling me, Tommy thinks but doesn't say, because he doesn't want to be snarky and irritated this early into his shift. He takes a breath to try and calm himself and let the negative thoughts release on the slow exhale as Eddie lists off the positive impact his move has made on both Christopher's life and his own.

Everything aside, Tommy's happy for him. For both of them.

"But from what I heard, things in L.A. are kinda fucked."

Then again: Eddie can be a bigger bitch than Tommy when he wants to be so he might as well meet him on the field, knives drawn. "Did Buck tell you that?" It comes out sharp and he lets it hang, wants it to slice.

"Oh, yeah. I had a very interesting and totally insane converstaion with Buck where he said the reason you dumped him was because you thought he'd dump you for me if you didn't."

It's not the whole truth, but it cuts all the same. Good thing Tommy has armor forged in the slow burning coals of a lifetime of being a disappointment. He can take a jab from an old friend he didn't even know that long. In the six months he dated Evan. his time with Eddie dwindled to nothing. They were fast friends who fizzled out, not unlike his relationship with.. Buck. "I wouldn't say it's insane."

He was never going to mention it, is the thing. It wasn't really until they broke up that Tommy began to wonder if the reason Ev- Buck hadn't reached out was because he'd moved on. Eddie certainly didn't look back, ceasing all communication in the fallout. And it hurt, to lose not just Evan - and he was Evan to him then - but someone he thought was becoming a good friend. As much of a friend as Tommy would let into his life, anyway.

"Oh, it's batshit insane, Kinard. Almost as batshit insane as stealing a chopper and flying it headfirst into a hurricane."

That's a blow that lands with a dull ache, a bruise that'll linger. It was the night they met - him and Eddie, him and Evan - and whatever else came after, Tommy holds fast to that memory as one of the highlights of his treacherous and lonely life, despite - or maybe inclusive of - the life-threatening feats of.. insanity.

He's quiet for too long. Doesn't answer because any words that come to mind are scathing in a way he doesn't want to marr that fond memory with.

Eddie sighs heavy through the speaker, the fight seeming to drain out of his voice. "It's not like that, man, you gotta know."

Tommy straightens his posture where he's walked out of the hangar, staring at the chainlink fence separating the tarmac to the weeds and the grass and the distant treeline.

"Me and Buck are close- we're family- but it's not like that. Not like it is between you two."

Was, Tommy doesn't say. He doesn't dare hope but he can't bring himself to say it out loud, nail in the coffin.

"And I resent the fact you think I don't know myself like that, Tommy. I may be figuring some stuff out but I figured that shit out back in high school and every day since. Just 'cause you kissed Buck and it turned his world view on its head doesn't mean every straight guy you meet is just one good smooch away from wanting to put their mouth on your dick."

"Jesus, Eddie." No nonsense. It's one of the things he always liked about the guy. That, and the way he could deliver off-color comments with a straight face, only breaking if and when Tommy couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Look. I'm sorry about not reaching out after everything. I had Buck's back, y'know? Bros before manhoes."

"You calling me a hoe, Diaz?" His face morphs into a smile as they fall back into this old - barely new before it was over - back and forth.

"No. Just an idiot for managing to mess things up twice now."

"Eddie-"

"Don't worry, I know it was Buck's fault, too, okay? I already chewed him out and kicked his ass into gear- he call you yet? He mentioned talking to Maddie, said he wanted to call you."

No call, just a text that read: can we talk? please?? that Tommy hasn't replied to. Doesn't want to invite himself to a third round of heartbreak. "I'm on shift, so. If that's all? I gotta get back."

"No, that is not all- get your head out of your ass, Tommy. Talk to him. And let him spiral a bit until he finds the right words - he'll get there, eventually. It just takes him some time. 'Cause he's not over you and I don't think he ever will be."

He doesn't know me, Tommy thinks. And that's the real crux of the issue, isn't it? It's not about Eddie. And it's not about Evan not knowing what he wants because of his relatively newly discovered queerness.

It's about Tommy knowing he's not good enough to keep Evan in the long run.

Evan might think he won't get over Tommy, but he will. There'll be someone else, someone better, there always is. Maybe not Eddie, but some man or woman will get to keep him for a while longer, maybe a lifetime if they're lucky.

And Tommy.. he'll do what he's always done: find ways to survive, alone.

But.. if this is his last chance to talk to Eddie, and by extension Evan.. "Look, thankyou for clearing the air, but. I can't, okay? He is- was, the one I wanted forever with. I told him this. But I'm not that for him. I can't be." Not because he doesn't want to be - god, does he want to be - but because he's not enough. He's never been enough for anyone to want to keep.

Eddie sighs in his ear. "Y'know, if I wasn't 800 miles away right now I don't know if I'd hug you or try to knock some sense into you."

A hint of a smile tracks across Tommy's lips, fading fast. He misses their sparring sessions but doesn't want to let himself be sad over losing another would-be friend - he's got enough to be sad about and no time or want to wallow in any of it.

"Well." Thing is: even if this thing with Evan is dead and buried, if Eddie is open to it.. "If you're ever in town, my garage is always open. And," he steels himself, takes another breath and shakes it out, "I'm sorry. Sorry for thinking.. you know." The idea doesn't dig into his heart anymore, no marks left behind, just the shadow of a phantom chased away out the corner of his eye.

"Don't sweat it man. Seriously. but, hey- the not feeling good enough, thing? You're not alone in that, man. And the thing about Buck? He loves people for who they are, faults and demons and all."

Tommy knows. He knows how big Buck's.. Evan's, heart is, which is why he knows he deserves better.

"And if you ever wanna talk, consider this line of communication open."

Tommy's smile comes back stronger, lingers. There's a wet sheen threatening to blur his vision. His throat catches as he swallows. His voice comes out a little raspy when he says, "Thanks, man. Same to you."

Eddie makes a sound of agreement, then: "Call Buck."

Someone calls Tommy from the hangar. "I gotta go. Take care, Eddie." He hangs up before Eddie can add anything else to torture him with.

Making his way over to the main hangar, he thumbs over to his text chain with Evan. He types out four little letters, then backspaces and types a different four: okay when? then exits out of the screen and locks and pockets his phone.

It's a bad idea, no matter what Eddie says or what Tommy's realised in the last few minutes. It's still a bad idea. Tommy has to protect his heart.

..Doesn't he? Doesn't he deserve at least that?

The klaxon sounding cuts off further tormentive thoughts as he shifts into work mode and focuses his concentration and efforts on doing his job. Even if he can't salvage his love life he can save a life or two elsewhere.

[callikari]

JE T'AIMERAI POUR TONJOURS x bien sur, tonjours

沉在润 x fem!reader !! nombre de mots ─── 1.2k #genre || fluff (i think!!) , brothers best friend trope avertissements :: slightly angst, slow burn, i think theres like one kiss, overwhelming emotions

⋆˙⟡ ⊹₊⟡⋆ 维维安 t'aime

ViViANS NOTE — made this on call with my bum booty friend! HES READING IT RN BRUH💔

you meet jake sim on a blistering summer afternoon when you’re eight years old. he’s the new kid on the block, all golden skin and sunlit laughter, and your brother drags him into your house like they’ve known each other forever.

“this is jake,” your brother announces carelessly, dropping his backpack by the door. “he’s gonna be hanging around a lot.”

jake’s eyes land on you, wide and curious. “oh, you’re his little sister?”

you nod cautiously.

his lips curl into a playful grin. “cute.”

your face scrunches up instantly. “i’m not cute!”

he only laughs, ruffling your hair like it’s second nature, like you’ve been friends for years. and from that day forward, jake sim is everywhere.

he’s there when your brother isn’t, walking you home, making sure you don’t trip over the cracks in the sidewalk. he teases you relentlessly, calling you kiddo even though you’re only two years younger than him, but never lets anyone else do the same. when someone makes fun of how quiet you are, jake is the first to step in, throwing an arm around your shoulder with a casual, “hey, don’t talk about her like that. she’s cooler than all of you combined.”

you roll your eyes, shoving him off, but later, when you’re walking home together, you mumble, “thanks, jake.”

he just nudges you playfully. “always.”

years pass, and jake becomes a constant—woven into your life like a familiar song.

he’s there on the first day of high school, waiting outside your classroom with a grin, complaining about how exhausting his classes are. he’s there when you stay up too late cramming for exams, texting you dumb jokes to keep you awake. he’s there on your birthdays, sneaking extra gifts into your pile and pretending like he had nothing to do with it.

but somewhere along the way, something shifts. maybe it’s the way his hand lingers when he passes you something. maybe it’s the way he always texts first, making sure you’ve eaten, that you’re home safe, that you’re okay. maybe it’s the way his voice softens when he talks to you, like you’re someone worth being careful with.

one evening, as you sit side by side on your rooftop, watching the city lights flicker, he turns to you with a small smile.

“you’re my favorite person, you know that?”

your heart stumbles. you try to play it off, rolling your eyes. “you say that to everyone.”

“nope,” he says, leaning in slightly. “just you.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just look at him, cheeks warm, heart racing.

then, one night, it happens.

a thunderstorm rattles your windows, loud and relentless. you hate thunderstorms, and without thinking, you send him a simple text: can’t sleep.

he calls immediately. “hey,” his voice is soft. “you okay?”

“just… don’t like the thunder,” you admit quietly.

there’s rustling on his end, like he’s shifting under his blankets. “wanna stay on the phone?”

“okay.”

he talks about random things—his day, a funny thing his dog did, a song he thinks you’d like. his voice is steady, grounding, and before you know it, you’re falling asleep. the next morning, you wake up to a text.

sleep well?

you smile as you reply. thanks, jake.

his response is instant. always.

but still, you don’t do anything about it. you don’t let yourself think too much about the way your heart aches in his absence, or how much you crave his presence. you convince yourself it’s just a phase—just the familiarity of childhood lingering into something else.

until the night you kiss him.

you don’t mean to.

but he’s standing there, watching you with that soft, unreadable expression, like he’s memorizing you. the air between you is charged, and suddenly, it feels impossible not to close the distance.

so you do.

it’s quick, nervous—barely more than a brush of lips before you pull back, eyes widening.

“oh—”

jake blinks, surprised. then, slowly, he smiles.

“finally,” he murmurs.

before you can process his words, he’s cupping your face, tilting your chin up. his gaze searches yours, silent but full of meaning.

“can i kiss you properly?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you nod.

then his lips are on yours again—soft, warm, and everything you didn’t know you had been waiting for. he kisses you like he’s meant to, like he’s been waiting just as long as you have.

when you finally break apart, breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.

“you were always mine,” he murmurs.

you close your eyes, smiling.

"i know,"

© callikari — all rights reserved

@ash-engen @cheruphic @chrrific