#this got really long...........clearly got carried away

[divinesolas]

happy birthday to me.

no i am not back from my hiatus but its my birthday and the only way i can really celebrate is with my bb (no taglist this is just very self indulgent)

You can feel the dusting of lips ghosting over your face as you slowly gain consciousness. When your eyes flutter open those warm familiar ones youve loved since you first saw greet you back, crescenting as he smiles. “happy birthday my love.” you hum in return mumbling a thank you while your arms reach around his neck as he presses another kiss against your cheek. he snuggles into your neck while you adjust your eyes to the light in the room. “what time is it?” its much later than you thought it would be, he clearly let you sleep as he looks wide awake hes probably been up for a good bit before you woke up or more so he woke you up. “why didn’t you wake me?” “you looked so cute how could i wake you.” a light knock to the back of his head and you can feel his smile pressing into your skin.

He pulls away far too soon for your liking and gets up off the bed attempting to tug you up, “come on we have things to do, its your big day.” you put a pretend pout on your face and hold put your arms, “carry me?” you were joking, more than ready to stand up yourself but he quickly scooped you up into his arms and wouldn’t put you down as he made his way to the bathroom despite your squeals, “put me down!” he only obliges as the two of you enter the bathroom and he places you down on the counter. you find yourself asking him what hes got planned today while he grabs your toothbrush to wet it for you, a proud smile grows on his face as he shakes his head. “i couldn’t ruin the surprise, i have the whole day planned out dont worry you’ll love it.”

“what if i dont wanna do anything today?” he clearly falters, not expecting you to say that but he covers his disappointment with a smile as he hands your your toothbrush, “as long as your happy babe i dont mind.” you slap his shoulder, your body vibrating with laughter, “im kidding baby im looking forward to whatever you have planned.” he scoffs as you happy brush your teeth hopping off the counter to look at him through the mirror. “yeah yeah yeah ill see you downstairs.”

you quickly turn to stop him, and manage to gargle out and i love you and he smiles shaking his head leaning forward to kiss your forehead before he heads downstairs. “love you too baby.”

[trentisahoeee]

Winning Twice — TAA

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x black!reader

Warning: Fluff

After Liverpool's big win, his girlfriend is less than thrilled, playfully giving him the silent treatment. But he has his own game plan to win her back, proving he's not just a winner on the pitch—he's one in love too.

The final whistle had blown, and Liverpool had secured a hard-fought win against Barcelona. Trent was practically glowing when he got home, reeling from the match and the energy of the crowd. But his enthusiasm faded when he spotted you curled up on the couch, arms crossed, lips pursed, clearly unimpressed.

"Oh, come on," he chuckled, recognizing the look on your face. "You're mad about the game?"

"Mad?" you shot back, barely looking up. "I'm not mad. I just think maybe a little more humbleness would suit you."

Trent let out a low laugh, settling next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "So what, I'm supposed to feel bad about doing my job? Just accept it, babe. Your man's a winner."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, crossing your arms a bit tighter. "A little less bragging would be nice."

He leaned closer, a smirk playing at his lips. "Nah, I don't think so." He squeezed you gently. "You know you love me as a winner."

You turned your face away, biting back a smile. "I can love you and still be unimpressed by all this pride."

Trent laughed, unfazed by your attitude. "Alright, we'll see about that." Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, ignoring your surprised squeal as he carried you toward the bathroom, clearly up to something.

"Trent! Put me down!" you protested, but he just grinned.

"Not until you admit it." He set you down in the bathroom, grinning as he turned on the shower. The steam quickly filled the room, and you watched him suspiciously as he was carefully putting all your braids up in a bun to then protect them with a shower cap.

"Come on," he said, guiding you under the warm spray.

"Let me help you get relaxed so you can forget all about being mad."

Despite your front, you couldn't resist him. You let out a resigned sigh, allowing him to pull you into the water, and before long, his hands were gently massaging your shoulders, working the soap in soothing circles down your arms and back.

His touch tender as he washed your skin. When his hands slid down your arms, his lips brushed close to your ear. "Still gonna keep up the act?" he murmured.

Your tough façade was slipping fast, but you tilted your head, keeping your face turned away. "Maybe."

"I know you're not really mad," he whispered, smiling against your cheek as he kissed it. "But if you think you're slick trying to act like you are, keep doing it."

The warmth of his touch and the water had you melting, and you finally looked at him, no longer able to keep up the act. He chuckled softly, looking at your lips attempting not to smile.

You notice it and shook your head, smiling up at him.

"You're lucky you're a little cute."

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "And you're lucky you've got a winner as a boyfriend."

After you both finished in the shower, Trent helped you into a warm towel, draping it around you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the bedroom.

"Taking care of you, like always," he murmured, his gaze softening as he finished with your bonnet and met your eyes.

Just before you drifted off, he leaned over, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. "Night, love," he whispered, his fingers laced with yours.

You nuzzled closer, a content smile on your face.

"Goodnight. But next time, I'm still rooting for Barcelona.'

He chuckled, pulling you closer and resting his chin atop your head. "Can't change who I am. You just gonna have to keep loving a winner."

And with a sott laugh, you fell asleep, completely wrapped up in his warmth.

this is my first time writing 😭😭 hope is not ass, cause the more i read this shit the more i want to hide and disappear

love myself a good socialist club

[torawro]

Hey Sosa! I got a question! So whenever reader is mad at byakuya how do you think he’s make up for it? Does he buy her things and grovel at her feet? What’s your take on it?

me folding like a sheet and looking for a byakuya bot on c.ai to talk to when u sent me this..................KJKDJS BUT HIII NONNIE! i can't begin to express how excited and hype i was to receive this ask and you explicitly want my take on it. i mean, me???? of all people??? i am HONORED.

i truly love this question like eek! excited to talk abt byakuya <3 i'm gonna assume that you saw my recent post answering an ask from a mutual about rich bf / fiancé!byakuya soooo i'm just gonna build off that, but i still think this can apply to him regardless of that.

so, if and when you get at him for something (maybe you got into an argument w him or something) there's just....silence at first. like he is soooo prideful it's almost kind of sick, and you're just very persistent in wanting him to see things from your point of view so this segues into you being petty and not talking to him for the moment. his face remains stoic, as if he doesn't really care and he'll let you "blow off steam" but deep down......he is...he doesn't like it. doesn't like you being upset or mad for any reason, especially not at him. it breaks his wittle heart :(

he starts to question if whatever he did or said was wrong, and when he does realize the mistake, this is when he'll resort to buying you things to make up for it because byakuya kuchiki is a man of (silent) action and not words. he's never really been good at words in instances like this.

so he'll gift you a bracelet, necklace, or some other kind of jewelry here, maybe your favorite foods, some accessories, new clothes (because he IS the partner that knows your exact size in everything), and he may even give you just straight cash to have you buy whatever else you wanted.

but to stand your ground, you don't accept anything he gives you. and this hurts him even more because he was confused on why you were refusing him in this manner too. that's when he realizes you were really serious,...and really upset with him. he almost resembled a disappointed child that has been lied to all their lives.

byakuya is such a....he broods when you're upset with him. like anyone that comes in his vicinity can feel the sadness and melancholic energy emanating off him, and if someone rubbed him the wrong way even a little, he'd be meaner than he usually is.

this is when he finally does his very best and talk to you.

when you enter his vast penthouse, the moment you start to make a beeline away from him, he grabs you gently by the wrist, and your head slowly turns to look at his handsome but somber visage. his head is lowered, eyes preferring to look at your legs rather than your face, and a hand clenched in his pocket, his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before reopening them again.

"my love...let us-- let me stop this. i...i apologize. i didn't mean to upset you, nor did i mean for this silence to persist for this long." he would gently tug your body closer, until you were nearly pressed up against each other. he looked down at you with solemn silvery gray eyes and his lips hovered near your face. "let us talk about this properly. i promise to keep an open mind, and will not act the same as before. i admit it was somewhat childish of me."

"i miss you." his deep voice would lower in tone as his lips brushed against yours. and you missed him too. when you breathed out his name in a barely audible whisper and closed the distance between your lips, you knew you had already forgiven him <3

and when he attempts to spoil you again this time with gifts, you gladly accept with a kiss on his cheek :)

[theyoungprinceling]

@alchemic-elric // not  just  a  scratch,  reverse  ed probably took some hit for him trying to protect him as he do

The good news is that the rogue soldiers, alchemists, or whatever they were, are taken care of. Ling doesn't know what they were and he doesn't really care. What matters is that the Rogue Whatevers won't be posing a problem for the city anymore, courtesy of the hard work he and Ed did to make that happen. Job well done, right?

Ling's learning the opposite when he invades Ed's room, because he never simply asks, always just waltzes in, and he sees him sitting surrounded by medical supplies trying to patch a wound on his abdomen. Ling's mind immediately goes back to a couple hours ago to figure out where it went wrong.

Ling took it upon himself to join Ed on a mission his superiors gave him, despite Ed's insistence for Ling not to join him. He figured Ed didn't want him there not because he was worried about his health, but rather because it was none of Ling's business. And he was right, it wasn't Ling's business. Most things in Amestris weren't but when it came to Ed, Ling made it his business. Besides, he overheard there were four Rogue Whatevers. He wasn't being talked out of joining after hearing that.

The closest thing to a plan they devised was to drive the Rogue Whatevers out of the city to avoid any costly damage and citizens getting hurt. That was achieved successfully, no problems there. With that taken care of, they could fight freely without any worries of innocents getting involved. And the fight to neutralize them had been going well, just some scrapes here and there but nothing alarming.

Then Ling had the reckless idea to use one of his bombs to speed things up a bit. He settled on a smoke bomb because that was the one thing that wouldn't cause injury to himself or Ed, but would still be a hinderance to their enemies. Although it would also make it difficult for the duo to see, Ling could sense the enemies and he felt sure Ed's instinct could help him. It had before, right? Besides, they had already been winning, it wasn't going to take much more.

"It was my bomb, wasn't it?" Ling guesses as he closes the door. "I didn't give much of a warning that I was going to use one."

He can't think of what else it could've been. While he was preparing the bomb, he wouldn't be surprised if one of the Rogue Whatevers tried to come at him, and he would be even less surprised if Ed took a hit for him. His attention had been on the bomb more so than his surroundings, after all. He wanted it to be done right and was hyper focused on it. In that short period of time, Ling suspects that's where Ed's injury came from.

It's odd, though. Ling doesn't remember seeing any serious injuries on Ed after the smoke cleared and all was said and done. Even getting back to the city he didn't notice anything. Looking back on it some more, though, he realizes that Ed had been moving a bit slower compared to before.

He steps closer and sighs. "Do you need help with that? It's the least I could do."

@alchemic-elric

[Secret injury meme]

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[sleepyjuice]

dying in the heat rn, so how do you think jj would react if you moved to sleep somewhere else in the middle of the night because you were too hot with his body heat?

Oh JJ would not stand for that! After hours of tossing and turning throughout the night, you finally gave up on trying to sleep with JJ’s body heat pressed against you.

You didn’t know how he was sleeping so soundly considering he was quite literally a human furnace, but his soft snores got quieter and quieter as you pulled yourself out of the bed and padded out to the pullout couch in the living room of the chateau.

You got yourself comfortable, sighing as you felt yourself begin to cool off, eyes becoming heavy as sleep finally took over.

It didn’t last long, however, because just as you were about to enter a deep sleep, you felt yourself being lifted into the air, immediately making you gasp loudly, your eyes shooting open only to realize JJ was fucking carrying you back to bed.

“JJ! What the fuck?” You smacked his arm lightly, your heart rate slowing down once you realized it was just him. In your sleepy daze, you thought you were being kidnapped or something.

“Shh, ‘s alright, just me,” he laid you down in the bed before plopping down beside you. “What were you doin’ out there?” He asked you, his voice thick with sleep. He had clearly left the bedroom to find you only seconds after he had woken up.

You sighed, feeling annoyed with how you were heating up once again but also a bit guilty.

“It’s so fucking hot in here and — as much as I love sleeping with you, you are a human furnace. I can’t sleep when it’s so hot.” You explained, gentle with your tone. It wasn’t his fault he was so warm. When it was colder out, that was something you really loved about him, just not during this heatwave from hell.

He hummed at your words, not saying anything for a moment as if he were taking a second to process what you had said. Like he was mentally trying to come up with a solution.

“Be right back.” Was all he said in response, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and exiting the bedroom. Lord knew what he was doing, but he didn’t seem offended, so that was good.

You fanned yourself with your hand as you lay there waiting for his return, turning your head towards the door once you heard him approaching.

“Alright, we can go get an extra box fan or somethin’ tomorrow, but maybe this’ll help for tonight.” He shut the bedroom door behind him before stepping over to your side of the bed, an ice pack and a washcloth in his hands.

“What is this—“

“Sit up for me, baby.”

You did as he said, sitting up just a little as he wrapped the cool washcloth around the ice pack and placed it on your pillow, right where the back of your neck would go. He gently lowered you back down and you could have moaned at the cool feeling that tickled your neck and slowly started to cool you off completely.

“Oh that… that feels nice.” You giggled softly, earning a satisfied grin from your boyfriend as he crawled back into bed beside you, lovingly kissing your slightly sweaty forehead.

“Mm, salty.” He licked his lips once he pulled away, which got him a middle finger in response, but you quickly dropped it, reaching out to him to pull him closer to you.

“Thank you for this, ‘m sorry I just left. I didn’t think I would wake you up.” You told him, his head resting against the side of your boobs, one of his favorite places to be.

“Can’t sleep without you, baby. Hopefully this helps.” He said simply, brushing off your apology. To him, it wasn’t necessary.

Your eyes grew heavy, the soft murmur of JJ’s voice mixed with the cool sensation below your neck was relaxing you finally. Plus, JJ was nuzzled against you, still warm but the coolness from the ice pack mellowed it out quite a bit.

Maybe you would wake up sweaty and overheated again, but you would manage. This was your favorite place to be, whether or not you were on the verge of a heat stroke.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!

(last one i promise)

reader & spencer who aren’t exactly enemies but they’re def not friends but reader always double checks if spencer’s fbi vest is secured correctly which in return makes spencer check her over as well and they’re always like ‘stop checking up on me and worry about your own safety’ and it just happens every single time and they swear up and down that they dislike eachother deeply (they need to make out)

BANE OF MY EXISTENCE | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer hates you, and you hate him, until it comes to protecting each other in the field

length: 0.7k

His fingers wound through the back of your vest as you made a move to dart past him, trailing after Hotch as you loaded your glock. 

You felt a yank at your neck, his obnoxiously long arms giving you a firm tug back with little to no effort, all but making you stumble backwards as he forced you to stop, and his fingers were at your hip, adjusting the strap before you could ask him just exactly what he was doing. 

“Wha- Reid, let go, my vest is fine,” You snapped, huffing when he ignored you, in the interest of fixing your belt, his brow turned down into a frown. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you get shot in abdomen and suddenly you’re bleeding out, and you lay there and thinking, dang if only the smart FBI would have told me to adjust my kevlar, and I’ll be right there to point and laugh and say I told you so,” He huffed, his fingers making light work of the fiddly strap, tightening it until he couldn’t see a single inch of your shirt to the point he heard your breathing constrict, but he thought he’d rather you be a little uncomfortable than shot. 

“I mean, if I’m laying bleeding out I won’t really have much to say other than, Reid, get medical, I think they hit something serious, please don’t come to my funeral, you were insufferable enough when I was living,” You said, allowing your body to be tugged back as he started on the other side, because there was no use fighting it when he got in those moods when he always needed to be right. 

He paused, his brain catching up to your words and he drew in a silent breath, wondering if the other side of your jacket needed tightening even more, or better yet, if there was any way Hotch would make you stay in the car as back up. 

Spencer yanked the strap with a vendetta, ignoring the way you whined it was too tight, and his lips pursed together. 

“Would you relax, I was clearly kidding,” You said, thinking his mood had come from your teasing, because you seemed to know exactly what to say to push every one of his buttons, “What I would probably be thinking however is if you’ll be able to flag down a medic with your shoelaces untied,”

His gaze snapped to his converse, and sure enough the double knot he relied on seemed to have failed him, and his strings were hazard material as they dragged along the pavement, already mucky where they’d probably been undone for hours. 

“Make sure you do them before we move in, I’m not carrying your bone head out of there if we start taking hits and you trip over your own feet,” You snipped, and he finally released you, immediately leaning down to fix his own issues, completely missing the way your eyes trailed down to make sure he did the loops tight enough because you were being serious when you said it would loathe you to be the one to carry him away from the danger, though probably not in the way he thought. 

He huffed, standing back to his full height and giving his feet a wiggle in their shoes to make sure they were comfortable, and he looked back at you where you were watching him carefully, catching the split second where something close to worry pooled in your eyes. 

It snapped back into your usual cold demeanour when you realised he was looking straight at you, and you whirled you keep your back to him, inspecting your loaded gun some more as a way to busy yourself. 

“Try not to miss, it doesn’t look good on the reports when I have to save your ass twice,” Spencer snarked, and he practically heard the scoff before you even gave it. 

“That was one time, Reid, and it was only cause I couldn’t see past your stupid fluffy hair. You’re a cop, Reid, not a poodle, you don't need that much volume,” You snapped back, the two of you squabbling the entire walk to the building, until Hotch separated you for the sake of his growing headache. 

He just wished you two would talk things out before he seriously considered Emily’s proposition of locking you in the broom closet together.

[muntitled]

Sweet Hearts

♡ Mark Lee x afab!reader

♡ Summary: Nothing could sway you from finding your producer attractive and you were okay with that fact...Before you knew it, every recording session was filled with stolen kisses that bled into fiery make-out sessions.

♡ Warnings: Language, Producer!Mark, Idol!Reader, Forbidden Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Humor Overworked Losers In Love, Smut (+18) Dom!Mark, Brat Taming, Minors DNI, Massive, Praise Kink, Slight Exhibitionist!Kink, Dirty Talk, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mark,

RAHHH, kinda feral writing this, I'm sorry

From the moment you established yourself in the industry, you had been quite comfortable viewing yourself as an independent career woman, thank you very much. Many men had tried and failed to sway you from the retches of your passion projects respectively. Hyuck being onesuch romantic endevour that had failed to shine in the shadow of your work. You had tried to make it work. You really did.

No amount of dick could keep you away from the studio. It was your hapoy place: nestled in a stuffy booth with your notepad opened on your lap filpped with slightly manic notes and lyrics.

No one, before Mark had ever seemed to share that sentiment.

"I'm a busy girl," your words barely left your mouth before being kissed away by Mark's eager lips. He was panting heavily. You both were, as he pressed you up against the wall of some record exec's boardroom. He swiped your braids out of the way, to better reach the expanse of skin by your neck. Both of you pawing at each other's clothes. Both of you overflowing with yearning.

"I'm a busy dude," he whispered back. "We don't have to turn this into anything serious, Sweetheart..." Mark's thumb was rubbing tentatively at your soft hips, as if waiting for the go ahead before he ravished you.

You had both decided this secrecy was enough. You and Mark perused the halls of your record company, greeting amicably as if you hadn't felt his hands around your throat.

He had kissed and kissed and kissed you, until someone inevitably walked by.

You had never met anyone as sonically obsessed as you are, until you were acquainted with Mark. He, would quickly become not only your incredibly talented and driven producer but also a friend with added benefits.

Before you knew it, every recording session was filled with stolen kisses that bled into passionate make-out sessions. You were developing a frankly perplexing habit of overanalyzing how attractive he looked when he runs his hand through his hair during spells of frustration- or when he got the incomparable burst of genius to freestyle over a beat as if it was a long lost friend. Nothing could sway you from finding your producer attractive and you were okay with that fact...

You couldn't retain satisfactory orgasms from your music alone, could you? You weren't inhumane... you needed a companion.

"I just want you..."

And he had you.

So badly it was beginning to mess with your concentration.

"Alright, let's run it from the top-"

It's not everyday a girl falls helplessly in love with her producer.

"Yo, you good?" Mark's voice sounds from the intercom, dragging your eye from your notebook up towards the two men on the other side of the sound glass.

"From the top?!" Haechan cries incredulously. Without looking at him, Mark nods. Wholly unimpressed by Donghyuck's whining. "I think the song's fine," Hyuck runs a hand through his hair. His large feet stomp on the carpeted floors and you fight off a grin.

Mark scoffs in that way that only Haechan gets him to do and you suck on the straw of your mocha from inside the booth. Your disposition screaming, 'the girls are fighting.'

"Yeah you would think the song's fine," Mark before he rolls his eyes, Hyuck petulantly screams, "What's that supposed to mean!?"

"She clearly wants us to carry on," your teeth clench down on your straw as you're ripped into the middle of their argument.

"Do you want us to carry on?" Mark asks and your throat goes dry. Behind him, Haechan's palms are clutched together as he mouths 'Please, no, please!'

"I-"

You were at a crossroads.

The urge to people please was gnawing at your insides as your eyes drifted from Haechan, a vocal coach you loved and adored and Mark, a producer you'd just started working with...

The urge to give into them both was hanging heavily on you.

"Remember, Sweetheart, it's okay," Mark's voice sounds from the speaker, eliciting a wave of... something you're not quite sure of yet.

A crush... perhaps.

"I would..." You clear your throat, swing Haechan's eyes, "I would feel better if we polished some things up,"

Mark nods along, a small smile tugging at his lips. A look of betrayal on Hyuck's face.

You knew perfectly well that the song was fine, better than fine, actually. The only thing stopping you from leaving the studio was the boring life that awaited you. Your boring apartment with your boring cat (whom you loved dearly). Everything beyond these four walls was as monotonous as the day is long. No one waited for you out there.

In here though...

"Okay, yeah, no. I can't do this," You watch Haechan gather his belongings with incredulous eyes.

"You're abandoning me? We haven't even gotten to the chorus and you're abandoning me."

Haechan's hair is in complete disarray as he types hurriedly on his phone and you're left to watch from inside the booth. "While you re-record and re-record an already perfect record, my stomach has growled 5 times-"

You roll your eyes, "Haechan, food is for the weak. We can do this."

"I can't," He shook his head, evading eye contact as he pulled on his letterman jacket, effectively stowing away hi will to work and be persuaded to work.

"Let him leave." There's something in Mark's tone to suggest you quit trying to persuade Haechan.

"You psychos can overwork yourselves together."

When Haechan left, he took with him, a sense of platonic ease. Here, with Mark staring directly at you, his presence was stifling.

~

There aren't any actual windows in here... if it weren't for a quick glance af your phone, you would've never known night has already fallen.

"What would really be hot is if you added the last word of the verse, ad libitum. So if you said 'takeoff' but with like a lower pitch in between the chorus and the second verse. I think that would be great," You realize you had taken to swaying in one spot and quickly corrected yourself as you placed your hands on your headphones and nodded, vaguely agreeing but never really hearing anything after the words 'great'. Hearing anything falling from Mark's plump lips at this very moment would send your imagination hurtling into the fiery pits of hell. Him, staring at you so intensely through the glass and behind the soundboard left you unable to focus.

"Sweetheart?" He says, with a finger on the intercom. "Do you get me? If you do, I'm gonna need to hear you use your words, okay?" With his eyes fixed solely on you, waiting patiently for your compliance, you are convinced he was literally and figuratively trying to kill you.

"Sorry," You say, trying to dispute how heavily his words weighed down on you, "I'm thinking about all the babies that die in between you purposely using the words ad libitum instead of just saying ad lib." Saving yourself with swift and easy rebuttal had always been a specialty...

"Sorry, sorry!" Said Mark, "I'll stop with the annoying producer talk," he rolls his eyes behind the glass of his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Dont stop," You find yourself saying, "Its hot.

Seconds pass with Mark's index finger tapping away at the soundboard.

"Continue."

But it was incredibly difficult to continue with your mind and all its unsavory thoughts seeping out of your skull and straight into your lyrics. Perhaps working on the more explicit songs with Mark had been an utterly dire decision, one that practically solidified your downfall.

As you rattle through the dirty lyrics, you make sure to keep a firm gaze on him. Mark maintains eye contact from behind the glass, giving nothing away under his black cap, clad in his short sleeve black shirt and his all black attire.

The dimness of the studio suddenly feels too dim.

This 'mood' that Mark had strived to create in the peroration of your session is suddenly working too well.

Soon, the track is being replaced by Mark's slightly gruff voice echoing in your headphones.

"Sorry to cut you off, Sweetheart," The coolness with which he utters the nickname releases a wave of arousal in your core, and you inadvertently take a seat on the stool closest to you, subtly crossing your legs in front of you.

"I just want you to take note of something for me real quick..." for a moment you’re only nodding slowly, waiting for him to continue but he never does. Mark sits silently staring at you with yet another earth shattering, unwavering gaze. You're confused, which Mark would have found incredibly adorable if you weren't actively being such a brat.

"I said take note of something for me, please." He finally lifts his hand, making vague scribbles into the air.

"Mark. You want me to actually write this down?" He only responds with a succinct, I-dare-you-to-argue-with-me "Please."

You make a petulant display of rolling your eyes. His chuckles bleed into your headphones, disrupting your nonverbal tantrum when he says, "You really are trying it today..."

"Maybe if I had someone to correct this attitude, we wouldn't have found ourselves here, would we?" You mutter the sentence as you're staring into you notepad, completely evading his heated gaze. Silence grows pregnant between the two of you before Mark continues, completely choosing to ignore you.

"I'd like you to take note of the brisk allegro that erupts in the pre-chorus," He spins his pen between his fingers as he reads from his own notes. He looks absolutely worn out and so unmistakably beautiful it makes you want to scream.

"I think that part in particular might be vital in solidifying the overall kick of the actual chorus." Not to mention, seeing him in work mode tickled your ovaries in ways you could never have foreseen. In the studio, you had always been the one wading through the laziness of others, picking up the slack where needed and making it your obligation to ignite your producers with the zeal to work with your meticulous ass. But Mark had turned the tables and for the very first time you find yourself unable to think about work.

"Mark," You send him a bored expression, "I literally make slut music, do you really need to be calling it an allegro?"

He is quick in pressing the intercom to clap back, "Slut music deserves a well mastered allegro too, don't you think?" You're only left to slump your shoulders as he continues.

By this point, you know that he knows exactly what you want for him.

Why you're being particularly difficult to work with.

Why you were fighting him on every term but for some unexplainable reason, he's keeping you from it.

"It's good but I feel like we need a pure unprocessed sound... the song sounds too wet, I dunno,"

You inhale sharply, raising a finger into the air, to which, Mark completely ignores you, keeping his eyes on his notes, his brown locks brushing along his eyes.

"And if you're gonna say 'I could tell you something else that's wet' don't bother, because you'll only get muted."

Your shoulders once again sag and you find yourself audibly whimpering into the mic. That quickly catches Mark's attention, and you're left wading in the scrutiniy of his gaze.

"Fuck, I cant work with you like this." He rakes his fingers through his hair, forcing you to rub your exposed thighs under your miniskirt together for the umpteenth time. "Tell me what you need."

"You know what I need..."

He curses under his breath before sending a worried gaze over his shoulder and you realize you have won. It was custom for Mark to send a worried gaze over his shoulder at the door, as if terrified that Hyuck might storm into the studio, face crimson and finding his best friend not only fucking the object of his interest but dominating her.

"I think you need it too." You're quite literally the snake tempting Eve in the garden and he sends another helpless glance at the door before complying.

"A-Alright. Come out here for me real quick," this is what excited you most about Mark. Hearing the trepidation in his voice mixed with Mark's innate nervousness made you dizzy with desire. His anxiety yet still a need to be dominant... it drove you wild.

"Where is this attitude coming from?" He asks, once you appear by his side, inching towards him as if terrified by your own creation. He does not bother to get up, does not bother to tell you stand in front of him, in between his legs. You just do.

It's as if he's saying 'Do what you want. You're your own person.' Knowing full well how effortlessly you tended to submit to him.

"How wet are you?" He asks then, letting his hands graze your hips as you stand before him. His eyes squeezing shut as he rests his head on your abdomen. Your hands come up to pat down at his hair. Overgrown and brown.

"Why don't you find out?"

Mark is slow to closing the notebook on his lap and putting it vaguely near the soundboard without ever taking his eyes off You.

You can see the dark half moons underneath his eyes, stabbing at, not only your arousal, but your innate need to just take care of him. His eyes remain focused on you as he moves to clamp his hand on your exposed thigh, watching your lips part ever so slightly.

"Consider this a brief, very brief recess."

"Yes sir," You had intended for the words to come off more teasingly than it actually did, but it runs straight through to Mark's dick and he's removing his hands from your skin like you have mustered the ability to spontaneously catch on fire.

"Fuck," he replies, sending one more gaze at the door before looking at you once more. With a shaky breath escaping through his lips, he looks utterly wrecked and completely conflicted. You let him wade through the motions without any input.

You just stand there, waiting patiently for his next command.

Mark sits back in his seat, running both hands down his face before saying, "Fuck, alright. Take your underwear off for me..." You speedily oblige as your hands delve underneath your denim skirt. Mark watches with bated breath and clenched teeth as he rubs his fingers along his lips like he's thinking very deep and very hard about something. You hook your fingers into the sides of your pink laced panties, slowly dragging them down as you and Mark both watch each other with steel gazes.

"Keep the skirt on," His resolve melts, his sight set on your ruined underwear. He notices far too quickly that it's his favorite pair, eliciting another wavering breath from him as his other hand clamps around your thigh to pull you impossibly closer.

"You planned this, didn't you?" You can feel the warmth of his shallow breathing as he places his forehead on your abdomen, while he brings his fingers up to your lips.

"Open your mouth for me..." You automatically obey, bringing your mouth around his middle and index fingers. For a short while, his face remains hidden in your dress as you suck, almost petulantly on his fingers. Perhaps he feels a mixture of shame for enjoying this entire scene far too much and soon, he feels he has to peel his face away from your dress to watch you suck so prettily on his fingers.

"F-fuck, baby," His voice is strained between a mixture of a coo and a moan as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, almost immediately delving underneath your skirt, slotting them inside your drenched cunt. He is utterly ruthless as he sits on the edge of his seat, one hand claimed around your thigh as his fingers fuck in and out of you with absolute vigor. The man is utterly overcome with lust, sporting his own hard on in his joggers as he looks up at you, "Come on, baby... tell me you feel good, you know you want to."

His voice is dripping sex and your mind is completely blown with pleasure as you throw your head back. It is a mystery how you're still standing, but Mark's grip on your hip is concrete.

"Oh God- your fingers feels so good inside me, Fuck." He rewards you by letting his fingers drift over your swollen clit, racking another torrid moan from your throat as he begins to circle it with purpose. You clamp your head against Mark's hunched shoulders, his face once again buried in your dress.

"I just need'a take care or my little angel, don't I?" He's an incoherent, mumbling mess, his words as sloppy as the hands sliding against your clit, "But she makes it difficult when she's being a stuck up little brat," Your head is still craned back while his face is buried against your abdomen and it is as if you both cannot stand to truly see yourselves in such a depraved, animalistic state.

"You're squeezing my fingers baby- Fuck, is this how bad you needed me?" Mark finally cranes back to look up at you. His cheeks are ruddy and his hooded eyes are blown into saucers, "It's so fucking distracting having you so close to me." Your hips cant against his hands until soon, your legs begin to quiver. Mark brings his arm around your waist, forcing you to stand and take everything he gives you.

"You know when you're really needy like this, all you have to do is ask, baby. You know I love taking care of my baby, don't you?" You nearly cum then and there.

"Please Markie-"

"F-Fuck I didn't plan on fucking you today, least of all here. But I really need you right now, alright, pretty girl?" Your body shudders at the lost of his fingers inside you, one more flick against your clit and you would have came all over his fingers.

"Bend over for me, yeah? Mind the sound board." Mark finally rises from his chair, immediately cupping your face with his hands as he bows his head down to you, "I just wanna feel my baby girl squirm around me-" that particular string of words has you whimpering incoherently as Mark crowds behind you, pushing you up against the desk. Your hands grip the edge, careful not to temper with any sonic equipment as Mark raises your skirt lightly. His hand grazes your bare ass and you're sent reeling as your own anxieties begin to set in. You're made strikingly aware that you had never actually had sex in the studio. Lightly touching and horny pawing at each other is the most that has ever been achieved within these four walls but going all the way...

"Daddy- I m-mean, Mark, can we-"

"Shh- it's okay." He says, as if reading your thoughts, "It's totally fine, barely anyone's here. They all left-" while he coos in your ear, you feel Mark lightly push you over the desk before lifting your skirt. He tries to brush over the 'daddy' thing for the sake of your own pride but he can't help the way his cock twitched at your slip of the tongue.

"Holy fucking shit." His curses bring your mind to unholy places, being someone that rarely ever swears. Mark is absolutely far gone as he is quick to bring his cock out of his sweat pants and ease into you without a second thought.

"I need you to call me daddy again." He admits as he begins fucking you with absolute fervour. His hand is on your hip, forcing you to take each and every bit of him.

"F-fuck," is all you're able to say as he bottoms out inside of you. Your walls contract around him, stopping him for pulling out too far, and only swallowing him deeper until the head of his cock is pushing up against a bundle of sensitive nerves. You're left to squeeze your own breasts as Mark fucks you from behind, lost in the haze of chasing his own orgasm.

"Baby, if you want me to cum quick enough I need you to call me Daddy in that sexy fucking voice of yours. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"F-Fuck daddy you make me feel s-so"

"F-Fuck, I'm not gonna last long-" He warns.

You'repanting, as Mark begins to rut against you with little to no more constraint.

"No one slese can make you feel this good, baby?" His eyes are half crescents as he says, "Tell me you love me baby,"

"I love you, daddy- I fucking need you-"

Oh-fuck I'm going to c-cum" He exclaims, eyes squeezed shut before forcing them open.

"Oh-god, oh fuck,"

His orgasm, sparks your own. Mark hisses as he drags his cock out of your cunt before spilling his seed all over your ass. He's shaking so bad, some even reaches your skirt but he's too far gone to care.

Soon, your orgasm blazes through you like a million suns burning in your core all at once. Mark is absolutely enamored. "Back to work."

"Mark- my underwear."

"Just..." he sughs, his lips pressing against your cheek in a lingering kiss, "Get back in the booth."

[littlelovely00]

Imagine working as the only female in the company, all other 10 colleagues are men including the boss. Hired in as the admin staff to assist all employees at work, things started out normally. All I had to do was to prepare coffee, make copies required, answer phone calls, anything else that an admin staff would possibly do.

However pretty soon, the other colleagues starts to get touchy, they will be standing behind me closely while I’m at the pantry and rub their pants against me. I can clearly feel their hard throbbing cock is warm, they were all doing this till one day…

There was a company gathering, I drank alcohol offered by my boss and the next thing I knew, I’m on bed getting fucked like a toy by a huge cock. My mouth was stuffed with a tie, my hands were tied up with a belt, I’m naked and powerless. The one fucking me realised that I woke up, it’s my boss and he told me to behave.

The tie stuffed in my mouth was removed and the next moment, a huge cock was stuffed inside my mouth. My colleague is pleasuring himself with my mouth pussy, the other colleagues are asking my boss to fuck me harder so that they can get their turn soon. I’m not fully awake due to the alcohol and possibly drugged*.

It was a long night, all ten of them got their turn to fuck me hard and cummed deep inside of me. I couldn’t even push them away nor runaway by myself. Eventually I accepted the fact that I’m the company slut now, my boss told me he has always wanted me to be the company’s cumdump and he’s glad that I’ve carried my role really well.

[reidsworld]

Baby Fever

Summary: Max gets a case of baby fever after seeing you with his nephew. Based on this request.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!Teammate!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1k

Mars speaks… Thank you so much for the request, I’m a Max girlie through and through so I loved writing this. I hope I was able to meet your expectations!

Masterlist

The race weekend was in full swing, and the paddock was buzzing with energy. You were sitting on a bench near the Red Bull garage, Max’s nephew, Luka, perched on your lap. The little boy was a bundle of excitement, his tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of a toy car as he made vroom-vroom noises, completely engrossed in his make-believe race.

“You’re getting really good at this, Luka,” you said with a warm smile, watching as he zoomed the car around imaginary curves.

Luka beamed up at you, his blue eyes—so much like his uncle’s—shining with pride. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a race car driver, just like you and Uncle Max!”

You chuckled, ruffling his soft brown hair. “I don’t doubt it. You’ve got racing in your blood.”

Max stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall of the garage, his heart swelling as he watched the interaction. He’d always been close to his nephew, but seeing you with Luka stirred something deep inside him. There was a softness in your eyes, a gentle warmth in your voice, and it hit Max with a wave of emotion he hadn’t expected.

He could picture it so clearly—a future where you weren’t just his teammate, or even just his girlfriend, but the mother of his children. The thought filled him with a longing he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

Luka looked up at you with wide eyes, clearly adoring the attention you were giving him. “Will you come to my races when I’m a big racer?” he asked, his small voice full of hope.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ll be your biggest fan. And I bet Uncle Max will be there too, cheering you on.”

Max’s heart clenched at your words, a sudden rush of affection surging through him. He’d always been focused on racing, on winning, on pushing himself to be the best. But now, watching you with Luka, all he could think about was a different kind of victory—a life filled with love, laughter, and family.

You looked up and caught Max’s gaze, noticing the way he was staring at you. There was something different in his expression, something deeper. “What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, tilting your head in curiosity.

Max pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Just thinking about how good you are with him,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “He’s a great kid. It’s easy.”

“Yeah,” Max murmured, his gaze dropping to Luka, who was now focused on driving his toy car across your lap. “But it’s more than that. You’re… you’re amazing with him— not just him, kids have always been drawn to you. And it makes me think about… about the future.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you realised what he was saying. The look in his eyes, the emotion in his voice— it was all so clear now. “Max…”

He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I want that with you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “A family. Kids. I didn’t realise how much I wanted it until now.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your heart. “I want that too,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “More than anything.”

Luka, oblivious to the emotional moment between you and Max, suddenly looked up with a big grin. “Uncle Max, can I race with you one day?”

Max blinked, a laugh escaping him as he was pulled back to the present. “We’ll see, buddy. But for now, how about we get some ice cream?”

Luka’s eyes lit up, and he jumped off your lap, grabbing Max’s hand. “Ice cream!”

Max smiled down at his nephew before turning back to you, his eyes soft. “Come on, let’s all go.”

As the three of you made your way to the paddock’s hospitality area, Max felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This was what he wanted—moments like these, filled with love and happiness, with you by his side.

Later, as you sat together at a table, Luca happily devouring his ice cream, Carlos Sainz and Daniel Ricciardo wandered over, spotting the three of you.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawled, a smirk on his face. “What’s this? Max Verstappen, the babysitter? Or should I say, dad-in-training?”

Max rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his expression was undeniable. “Funny, Ricciardo,” he said, though he couldn’t resist glancing over at you and Luca.

Carlos leaned in, catching the way Max’s eyes softened. “No, but seriously, Max. You’ve got that look in your eyes. You thinking of adding ‘dad’ to your list of titles?”

Max shrugged, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. “She’s always been amazing with kids,” he admitted. “I guess I’m just now realizing it,” he said as he reached over and grabbed your hand.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused look with Daniel. “Wow. Mad Max, finally softening up. Who would’ve thought?”

Daniel shook his head, feigning disbelief. “This is wild. First, he’s all about winning races, and now he’s over here daydreaming about diaper changes. What’s next, Max? Minivans?”

Max shot them both a look, but it lacked any real heat. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure to remind you of this when you’re the ones dealing with baby fever.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back, unable to resist a laugh. “Hey, I’m just saying—who knew you’d be the first of us to get hit with it this hard? You’re practically picking out baby names over there.”

Max’s gaze drifted back to you and Luca, who was now blissfully covered in chocolate ice cream. He couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Daniel let out a low whistle. “Man, I’ve never seen you like this. Totally whipped.”

You reached out to wipe Luca’s face with a napkin, glancing over at Max and the other drivers with a knowing smile. “You guys really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

Carlos grinned. “Not a chance.”

Max shook his head, but there was no denying the contentment in his eyes as he watched you. “Nah, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As the teasing continued, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. With Max by your side, you knew whatever came next would be just as thrilling as any race.

Mars speaks... (again) If you wish to be added to my taglist for max or anyone else that I write for, please feel free to ask! Thank you for reading and have a great day. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you wonder how todoroki shoto is doing.

you remember him being the boy that sat a row away from you in class. he always kept to himself, never raising his hand to answer questions but always able to answer when he was called on. also, he was endeavor's son.

even if most of the parents at your private school where big shot's, apparently endeavor was in a league of his own. and so was his son, apparently.

nobody even dared talking to the todoroki son, and neither did you, but you liked looking at him. he's always so meticulous and calm as opposed to your rowdier louder classmate's. despite his quieter presence he always seemed to stand out to you. his bag is big enough to carry everything he needs without having to shove anything inside or leaving it half opened. he wipes his mouth with a tissue after he's done eating his lunch alone and his handwriting is pretty. his lashes are long and he's pretty.

you remember being partnered up with him for a class project once. he'd immediately cut to the chase and split the work for the both of you, clearly not humoring your attempts of starting conversation.

slowly though, you start getting him to stay behind to talk to you a little longer after the bell rings until he invites you to get your work done in the library, just to get your work done. until you ask him about his favorite colour and he doesn't know, so he asks you yours. and then you ask him about his favorite ice cream flavour, he says he doesn't have sweets a lot and he asks you yours. and you keep talking and he keeps listening and asking. you ask him if it doesn't bother him that you're talking so much but he says he doesn't mind.

you liked spending time at the library talking with shoto and you think he enjoyed listening to you. you liked riding your bike home with him while he walked next you, before he agreed to ride on it with you sometimes, but one time you both fell off and you hurt your knee, and he promised to never get on again if it meant you getting hurt while carrying you on his back. you remember him smelling really nice and you tightening your arms around his neck and nuzzling into him, and his grip on you tightening as well.

you liked holding his left hand when it got cold out even though he didn't like it much, but he'd do it for you. you liked it when you got to switch seats and sit next to him and you think he liked sitting next to you. you didn't see shouto smile often, but he did when he was with you and you liked that. and you think he liked that too.

you think so at least. you hope so, because when break was over he was gone.

you'd heard he got pulled out of school, some other people just said he'd switched, to go to a better cooler private school. you hated it when people said that because the shoto you knew wasn't like that. he knew people talked about him and he hated being associated with his father. he likes the caramel you sneak in for him at school and you like the way his eyes light up when he guesses the flavour of fruit candies you make him taste. the shoto you know that ties your shoes for you and shares his umbrella with you, the one who half heartedly stomps into wet puddles with you, the one with the pretty lashes and pretty smile and pretty handwriting isn't like that.

and you wished you could've asked him where he went, and why he went and took his warmth for snowy winter days with him, but you couldn't because he didn't have a phone and neither did you. you weren't old enough for one yet and you'd told him that as soon as you'd turn thirteen he'd be the first contact in your phone and he'd smiled.

you couldn't do that anymore. and you wonder how he's doing four years later.

you don't very much, but you think about him sometimes when his soft hair and pretty eyes cross your mind. he never cared for his looks much even after being voted the most handsome boy by the girls in class.

"i didn't know people thought i was..handsome." he ponders, scratching at the corner of his paper with his pencil. you kick your legs in the air where you're sitting next to him, you pout.

"why not ?"

"because..my scar.." he trails off, he keeps erasing at a spot he'd already wiped the pencil lead off of. you lean in so you get into his field of vision and he leans back a bit with widened eyes before leaning in towards you again, you're forwardness always took him by surprise.

"nuh-uhn, the others say it makes you look even more handsome !" you reassure and he blinks.

"do you think i'm handsome ?" he asks, tilting his head cutely. you splutter and feel your face heat up.

"e-everyone does.."

"do you ?" he leans closer.

you gulp, gripping your chair you turn your head away from his to the side and nod. you get the courage to peek up at him and you're surprised to see a smile pulling at his lips and a light tint of pink on his face.

"that's good." is all he says, but you feel so much warmth swarming through you, and you think he does, too.

so you wonder where he is and you wonder how he's doing. you wonder if he has any new friends or if his most handsome boy award got him a girlfriend. you wonder if he truly felt the same way you did way back then and if he liked holding your hand just as much is you did his because it was warm but also because it was his. and you wonder if he thinks about you.

except you don't have to wonder anymore. because on your first day at your new school, he walks into class. his eyes widen when he locks eyes with you and you recognize him, and you think he does too.

[seattlesellie]

training wheels.

this is an old draft that i wrote a long time ago, about ellie using the strap on you for the first time. ♡‧₊˚

warnings: strap on sex (r!reciving) , first time , praise kink (for both) , soft and loving dom top!ellie , sub bottom!reader , cock grinding , thumb sucking .

──★ we have to make it clear on the fact that ellie was so unbelievably thrilled, yet so incredibly tentative when she first fucked you with her strap on. she’s been waiting for it, waiting to be the one claiming you from inside. she’s had it sitting snuggly in a box tucked below her bed for a while now, and she’d always eye it, have some sort of stare down with the black box. should she? or should she not? she wondered, but when three of her fingers were scissoring inside of you and you muttered that “please, d- deeper” she knew that fuck it — she should.

──★ so expectably, the first words that came out of her quivering lips when she aligned the silicone shaft with your sopping entrance, were “are you sure? i need to know you want this, please”, and you — being so eager yet so timid, only responded with two fervent nods. clearly, it wasn’t enough for ellie, in fact, it wasn’t enough at all, so her voice got very stern all of a sudden. it was that tone she only uses when she’s commanding someone to do something on patrol, when she’s directing someone on where to go, or showing them how to polish a precious weapon. it carries a deepness to it, raspy, it’s strong and forceful, nothing that falls short of intimidating. it's a different side of ellie, one that you don't know quite as well. “use your words, m’not doing this unless you use them”, and when she notices how you thickly gulp, huffing out a shaky breath from your nose, she soothes you with a delicate kiss on your temple. you whine, that kiss makes you want more. as soft as it may be, it makes you buck your hips inwards and let go of a needy high pitched moan. ellie shushes you with her sweet “i know babe, i know” — and you know that she knows, so why won’t she just put it inside?

──★ perhaps it’s the need to affirm herself that you do want this, or maybe it’s this greed she holds and the yearning to hear you say it. she’s looking deep into your blown out eyes, your dark irises, nods her head twice and waits for your words. meanwhile, whilst she waits, she slides her thumb down to caress just above your clit. she’s circling your skin with a touch to soothe, or perhaps signaling you what she’ll do when it’s inside, she'll never neglect your little button. when you look down, she hums. “words, mhm?” she murmurs. you can tell she’s all tensed up, fighting the urge to just slide it inside because she knows she can, she knows you need it by the way your chest heaves up and down, and by the way there’s a small puddle of slick that formed on the flimsy bedsheet below. moreover, she has prepared you for it, first with her skilled tongue, then with her skilled fingers. “want it, i need…” you whisper, voice airy yet cracking. ellie removes her finger from your pelvis, brings it up to your cheek and caresses softly. “need what, pretty girl, huh? need what?”

──★ truthfully, you don’t really know how to call it, she’s never really referenced it by it’s name, just called it a “thing” you “might need” when she realized how eagerly your hole pulls her fingers inside, and squeezes like she might run away if you don’t. so when you see the deep, dark purple shaft (with two distinct veins on the side) you simply giggle out of inexperience, and a tinge of embarrassment. ellie smirks, looking down at you, then grins with her eyebrows arched up in amusement. “ellie… i dunno, uh, how to call it… i mean —“ and she stops you mid sentence, smacking your lips softly with hers. she chuckles, matches your giggle even, a deep blush appearing on the apples of her cheeks because fuck — what if you laugh, what if you don’t like it, or what if you don’t want to use those dirty words she likes calling her silicone buddy by. “uh… shit babe, it’s, well you can call it…” she stammers, now attempting to stifle her laugh. you look up at her and form a tight line with your lips. your chest’s heaving and stifling giggles because fuck it, she’s cute when she’s embarrassed, and how fucking precious is it that you can laugh with her even in a moment like this. you cunt can ache for her and you can still be silly together and giggle like kids because you trust her and she trusts you.

──★ she buries her face in the crook of your neck, groaning yet giggling and nearly falling on top of you. when her hips slightly buck down, in result of her laughs, the silicone shaft grinds itself up against your slippery slit, and you whine her name so loud her giggles stop like she’s been hit on the face with a rock. now, you can hear her harsh breaths in your ear, loud with anticipation and want, lips resting on the pulse of your neck. she realizes you must fucking love the grinding of it all, so she moves her hips back and forth to grind up against you some more. “uh huh, like that?” she murmurs, and to every whimper she responds with a groan like she can feel it, like she can actually feel your greedy wet lips wrapping around her. she nibbles on your earlobe, making you shiver, and breathes deeply before speaking into your ear. “fuuuuu” she gasps and it’s breathless, like she’s trying to form actual words but they only come out as muffled gibberish. she breathes again, gaining her courage. “my cock… say you want my cock”.

──★ it really is lewd, “her cock” — as if it’s hers, attached to her, as if she can feel it. it makes your tummy tie in knots, makes your throat feel clogged, your breaths come out harsher and bordering on wheezing before you murmur those words. when the mushroom like tip bumps up against your clit, it’s oh so delicious and fuck it — you want, as lewd as may be, you need her cock. “i want your cock, ellie, inside” you cry for her, and she nearly growls in your ear. although it’s bordering on perverted now, she asks you a simple “inside where?”, it makes you hiccup against her skin, and you don’t even realize she’s smiling so bright inside the crook of your neck. she understands that if she eggs you on, you will fucking say it, so she repeats with a raspy; “c'mon, where?”

──★ when it becomes crystal clear to you that unless you voice everything out; she won’t give it to you, and you’re practically clenching in and out over nothing — you whisper “need… ellie, i need it in my pussy, please, please, please” and god, she nearly regrets making you say it because she might burst inside her boxers if you keep begging for it like such a needy girl. she takes a moment to think about it, needy, needy, needy, needy for her, for her cock — needy for her to fuck you, needy for her inside and christ sake you’re begging and she didn’t even ask you to. you’re feeding her ego with every plea, with every quivering breath and you don’t even know it. meanwhile, whilst she’s busy thinking about how to pull back on her goddamn nearing on untouched orgasm, she doesn’t even realize your hand is wrapped around her dick and you’re nearly pushing it inside. when she sees it, she nearly goes cross eyed. she grabs your hand and pushes it up, chasing your eyes with hers. “what are you doing, huh?” she drawls, affirming her dominance with an iron grip on your wrist. you’re actually helpless, caught in the act, wiggling your hips and rolling them upwards. “p-please, ellie!” you beg, and the knots inside ellie’s own stomach feel like they’re tightening more and more they might break like glass. she wraps her own hand around the shaft and nearly pushes the tip in. you wince — and to that ellie shushes. “look at me, jus’ look at me”, and how can you not? she looks so adoring, a squiggly smile on her lips when she realizes the tip damn near slipped from how soaked up you are. the actual noise it makes, moist and sticky, makes ellie whimper out your name. “y’hear that?”, she murmurs and of course you can, in fact it makes you embarrassed but she praises you once more, making the embarrassment nothing but a fleeting little feeling. “sounds so good baby, s’all for me?” — all for her.

──★ she pushes the tip inside, no longer gripping your wrist above your head, intently guiding it to hold her wherever you want. you decide on one hand on her bicep, the other one on the back of her neck. there’s a pinching pain inside of your cunt, but it’s so fucking delicious because it’s her thats creating it — that when you wince it comes out as more of a blissful moan and a gasp. she won’t let you suffer, not for one second more, so she slides her hand down to caress your clit as she pushes more inches in. “mhm, ‘s, ‘so good baby… you’re so good, doin’ so good for me, you got this… yeah? i got you” she’s rambling, searching and scanning your face for any sign of pain or regret, and when she catches that you’re smiling, actually smiling with a tear shedding from your eye, she moans so loud you have to seal her lips with yours or else the whole town of jackson might hear.

──★ the more inches she slides inside, the more ellie lets loose of her gritted teeth. her mouth goes slightly agape, “stay open for me, jus’ like that, fuckyou’resogood” she croons, still circling and toying with your puffy clit from below. your thighs are nothing but trembling and shaking like jelly, body, flesh and brain turning into mushy pink and ellie shaped goo, and the fact that she doesn’t stop with her praising and sweet nothings, repeating how good you are, how brave, and tight — makes your heart flutter inside of your chest. when all of it’s length is finally inside of your gummy walls, she lets it sit there for a few faint moments before she begins thrusting. “just for me, got that? just for me, this is mine, all mine” she murmurs more to herself than to you, but you make sure to affirm her nevertheless. “m’yours, please ‘mo— ‘more”, you’re begging for that sharp friction, for that movement, but ellie needs to treasure this moment so she simply looks down. it’s all inside, it’s her cock that’s inside — claiming you, so she marvels, examines and thoroughly looks at your pussy clenching on her dick like it’s a goddamn work of art. if you squeezed down on her fingers like they might run away, the squeeze you have down on her cock — “god damn” she whispers, might need to take a picture and fucking frame it. finally, she catches your pleading gaze. “gonna move now, babe, c— can i move?”, and you whine, because it’s beginning to feel unfair, so she connects her lips with yours and slides her hot tongue inside. she breaks the kiss, grinning like she won the apocalypse lottery. “mhm, gonna move, gonna give you what you want”

──★ at first, she thrusts agonizingly slow like a snail. moves her hips backwards and doesn’t slam it fully inside, lets the tip hang nearly outside of your entrance and then slowly but deliciously slips it in again. you wail, actually wail for her to go deeper, and it clicks in her head when you scratch her back in a way that makes her hiss. she bottoms out fully, moving backwards and then slides inwards again. she won’t stop looking into your goddamn eyes, then stares into your lips that are now “o” shaped. she’s flushed and she’s biting her bottom lip so hard it might draw blood, but then she asks you “t’feels good?” and doesn’t add that cocky “huh?” that she loves to murmur when her fingers are the ones your cunt is hugging, because she actually needs to know. “mhm, good ellie, you’re so good to me” you praise, which sends ellie into a goddamn frenzy — eyelids fluttering and falling heavy as a deep, throaty chuckle escapes from within. “god fuckin’ damn, how did i even…” then she slams it again, which makes both of you gasp. her right thigh shakes, “fuckin’ get so fuckin’ lucky with you?”, she wont stop cussing, slurring up her words and misplacing her “fucks” and her “fucking”s. the louder your moans get, the braver ellie grows, pumping her cock harder now, milking every thrust and every whimper, “who’s f-f fucking you, hm?” she asks, and her thumb neglects your clit but you don’t even need it anymore since she’s giving it to you so good from within. her digit meets your face, caressing the corner of your lip, which makes you take your tongue out and ellie realizes you want it inside as well. you seem to want everything inside, huh? she thinks. her cock, her fingers, her tongue, her goddamn thumb. she complies out of want, curiosity, how slutty would you look sucking on her finger. admittedly, she’s had dreams about it, about you; bent down on your knees sucking on a popsicle in july, sucking a lollipop as she watches from above. she gazes at your cheeks hollow in as she slides her thumb in and out, but you bite it and she gasps — keep it inside cause you’re about to suck it, then she loses it entirely. “you’re fuckin’ gonna make me fuckin’ cum” she whimpers, she says it like she's scared, like she's surprised or confused because heavens how could it be possible?

──★ knowing that you were about to make her cum untouched makes the coil in your stomach nearly snap. you're prideful now, but your pussy feels like it’s quivering so much you simply don't know and can't grasp on how to be cocky about it like she does. another praise escapes your lips, "love your dick s-s- so so much", and ellie growls, she feels depraved and sick, absolutely pussydrunk and on the verge of a heart attack. her rule, however, is that she cannot under any circumstance come before you do, so she speeds up. grabbing both of your cheeks with her hands, she squeezes them together and coos. "you're gonna cum for me" she commands, so your eyebrows furrow together and your eyes close shut. she's dominating you to the verge of tears, so when ellie tells you to cum, you will do as she says. "g, g- gonna cum, it’s, s'-so much" you warn, absolutely breathless, toes curling inside of your socks.

──★ you could call her delusional or crazy, but when you nearly reach your orgasm, she feels your walls hugging her tightly. fortunately for you, ellie is nothing but talkative. it may be odd, because she’s not much of a blabber mouth, but when she’s inside and you’re being fucked out on her strap, talking you through it is all she seems to wanna do. “can f-feel that little pussy hugging me, fuck, gonna give me a big one? pretty girl? give ellie a big one, c’mon”, she’s relentless with it, fast and chasing her own high, not knowing where to goddamn look — your eyes that scream “i love you” or your pussy that’s begging to be filled up some more, or maybe your lips that are covered with drool. she settles however, on your eyes. you nod profusely, “gonna give it to you… mhm” you hiccup, which ellie deems as nothing but so fuckin’ cute, to the point where she wants to break you in half just to hear that “cuteness” some more. when your eyes roll back to the top of your head, cunt filled to the brim — ellie swears something to herself. she’s gonna fuck you every day. if humanly possible, she would have fucked you all the time. so you give it to her, a real big one, one that leaves you paralyzed, not even moaning — sweet sticky mouth fully agape with a choked up scream of her name. she wants to warn you that she’s about to cum too, but you’re too quick to notice. “cum for me, ellie” you beg in that sweet voice of yours and she cums with a huge , lovey-dovey, cumdrunk smile plastered across on her face.

──★ when you’re done, she cleans you up with a wet towel and kisses you everywhere. then — “i picked up a new book and it has a bunch of pics of cool bugs, y’wanna see?”. you’re fucked and in love.

[morbiderotica]

Hii! Can i pls request a Light x reader nsfw? You know the scenes where L planted a camera in his room right? Well maybe to make L less suspicious of him Light fucks the reader in his room? I thought that it was a hot idea♡ you dont have to do it if you dont want to😊

★ DECEPTION ─ fem!reader

#NOTES ─ i love you for requesting this i cannot tell you how many times i've day dreamed about this (sorry it took so long)

#WARNINGS ─ smut, cnc peeping toms (L), p in v,

#SUMMARY ─ "there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say." innocent until proven guilty

there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say. his moderately chapped lips kissing your cheek lovingly. much unlike how light usually behaved around you.

"light." his name left your lips, trying to warn him he'd made your mind go blank. but he knew.

"i know." he whispered back, displeasure laced in his voice. luckily, light was more than capable of carrying out the plan for the both of you.

"just let me do all the work." he muttered, his voice not loud enough to be picked up on by the mics on the camera but still he was careful with what he said.

he hoped you would be too. you nodded. looking up at light with a lustful look in your eye that he couldn't deny was making him a little aroused. light kissed your jaw, roughly. as if light was capable of doing anything without roughness.

"last chance to back out." it's not a soft tone, but it does let you know that he won't be mad at you if you do decide you don't want some random creep watching you have sex with your friend.

you shake your head, you weren't going to let him down now. and to be totally honest, the thought of someone watching you in such a vulnerable position was intriguing to say the least. light began to undress you once you'd given him your final consent.

meanwhile, L watched his screen with wider eyes than normal. his eyes grazing every pixel of the screen as he watched light take off your shirt. neglecting the other screens that were broadcasting equally, if not more, important information. L racked his brain trying to figure out if this was just a trick of if he was really witnessing this dirty scene play out.

all your clothes were off in what seemed like a blink of an eye. pressed into the mattress with light's knee inches away from your heated core. you dumbly pull at his tie, fucked out expression but light hadn't even gotten started with you yet.

"you got any thoughts in there at all?" he smirks. silently gloating now that he knew he had every single person he knew wrapped around his godly finger. there was not a thought behind your blown out pupils. it prided light to know he had such an effect on you.

"i haven't even done anything yet." he furthers. and L was hearing all of it.

you paw at the waist band of his bland khaki pants. light chuckled feeling your shaky hands trying to get more of him. his rubs his hand over your chest, caressing your nipple with his pointer and thumb.

"patient girls get rewarded." he tsks. he's met with a whine to which he chuckles again. he knows L will over analyze and find something wrong with the scenario if he doesn't hurry up.

"you wanna get rewarded?" he unbuttons his pants with one hand. you're eager, desperate. you need hm in a way you didn't even know it was possible to want one of your friend.

he reaches over you, grabbing a condom from the book shelf. it was wedged between two books. clearly he was trying to keep it hidden from his maid of a mom and his nosy sister.

he opens the condom with his teeth and you might as well just have hearts in your eyes as you watch him. the wrapper falls somewhere unimportant on the bed. he rolls the condom on. you knew it was only a matter of time before you finally felt full with his cock.

© 2023 MORBIDEROTICA

[drunkinyourbenz]

IF YOU'RE GONNA LIE, DO IT IN MY BED

☆ SYNOPSIS: billie kept lying to your face, but when she looked at you like that, you didn't really have it in you to care. you did, however, have it in you to push her further by being a brat. ☆ PART TWO ☆ RELATIONSHIP: dom!billie eilish x fem!bratty!reader ☆ WARNINGS: SMUT, mean billie (oops), reader is a tiny bit pathetic, bratty reader, situationship/fwb, angry sex (kind of?), crying, established safe word (not used), strap-on, oral on a strap-on, deepthroating, gagging, oral, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, praise, petnames (pretty girl, baby, ma, etc.) name calling (slut, whore, brat, etc.), choking, hair pulling, humiliation, dumbification, billie is so condescending in this, toxic dynamic. ☆ NOTE: sorry babes i've been totally off the grid, writing this when i should be studying calculus lmao!! this is long as hell i'm so sorry i got carried away 😭 title from the song ‘guess we lied…’ by fletcher. this is oxytocin billie at her finest btw!! also situationship/fwb billie has me in a chokehold !! also i'm on my period rn lmaooo ☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k words

you’d been in a friends with benefits situation with billie for roughly the past four months, but you’d known each other for far longer. billie was too busy for a proper relationship, so the past four months had been all hotel rendezvous and stolen kisses, but no real commitment.

billie would always fuck you better than anyone else could, and you'd be left alone in a cold and empty bed the next morning. she knew how to treat a girl, that was for sure, she was just emotionally unavailable. she needed someone who didn’t need her to actually be present in their life, just there for a good time when she felt like it. 

of course, that was where you came in—you and the countless other girls she had wrapped around her finger. there had been many girls throughout the years, but rumour had it, most of them were gone after less than a month. that knowledge gave you an addictive feeling of importance, something that kept you coming back for more. you might mean nothing to her, but you meant more than the others did. 

you’d planned to meet up today, but billie was late—of course she was. 

she’d been at a party—of course she had. 

chances were, she’d been out fucking one of the many other girls she had totally entrapped in her siren-like charm—she told you that you were her favourite, but you weren’t sure you believed her. she probably told every single girl she fucked that, she just happened to keep you around for longer than most. 

so she stumbled into the hotel room she’d told you to meet her in, forty five minutes late, a resting frown on her face as she kicked off her shoes upon entering the room. you look up from where you sat on the bed scrolling your phone, raising an eyebrow. 

“late again, where were you?” your voice didn’t sound accusatory, simply curious, but you were accusing her of something, and she knew it. 

she shrugged casually, her face still set in that slight scowl. “a party, it’s not important.” 

she was clearly in a bad mood, but you didn’t really have it in you to care. her bad mood was no excuse to leave you hanging for almost an hour. you laughed dryly. “next time, just cancel. i don’t care if you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. just don’t leave me waiting here for you to show up.” 

billie rolls her eyes slightly, through her eyes, it genuinely didn’t matter, and it was irrational for you to be this annoyed. the two of you weren’t dating, she did this with so many other girls, you weren’t special. “god, you’re so dramatic. it was just a party, it’s not a big deal.”

you let out a soft scoff, “i don’t care that it was a party. just let me know next time so that i don’t sit alone in an empty hotel room for almost an hour looking like an absolute loser.” 

“i meant to get here on time.” 

“don’t lie to me, i know that if you mean to do something, you do it.” which was true. if billie actually wanted to do something, she found a way to do it. 

billie raises an eyebrow, “you’re being a brat.”

you bite back another scoff, but can’t stop yourself from snapping back at her. “and you’re being a bitch.”

something seemed to change in billie’s eyes then, one of her eyebrows raising as she took a few steps towards you. you almost instinctively took a step back, a reminder of the control she had over you even when you were trying to be mad at her.

her eyes were a fraction darker than they had been before, her sharp blue eyes fixated on you as she kept waking forward, backing you towards the hotel bed without even touching you—that was the power she held over you. 

“i’m being a bitch? hm, interesting. you don’t look like you think i’m a bitch, you look like you want me to fuck you.” her voice was smooth and level, but there was a sort of harsh bite to it, a warning, foreshadowing for what was to come.

you couldn’t even deny it, not really. you wanted to deny it, but she was right. you did want her to fuck you, despite how little she clearly cared about your feelings right now. 

she took a step closer again, and you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress—you hadn’t even been aware of stepping that far back. she watched you closely, a calculating look in her eyes.

“so? you gonna say it, or what? i know you waited around for a reason.”

again, she was right. why else you have waited around for almost forty five minutes? no one fucked you like she did, and you could tell she knew it, from the smug smirk that always painted her lips when she was fucking into you with her strap. god, she could be so cocky sometimes, the knowledge that she was so incredibly hot was a little too powerful for her. 

when you thought about it, it was kind of pathetic that you’d actually waited around for forty five minutes. like, who does that? why had you sat alone in the hotel room, waiting for her in the silence? why hadn’t you walked out after twenty minutes and gone to the party where your friends were probably drunk off their faces—the party that you had skipped because you already had plans. plans with billie. 

you’d waited around for forty five minutes, and you knew full well that you weren’t going to get her to have a mature conversation. so, you concluded, you might as well make the wait worth it, and let her fuck you. and if you were going to get fucked, it might as well be good. 

so, when you spoke, you kept the slightly snarky tone. “obviously, why else would i have waited around for so long?”

she saw the bratty look in your eyes, and her eyes darkened further. she clearly wasn’t in a great mood, and needed a way to blow off steam—your brattiness was giving her exactly that, an outlet. she huffed, grabbing your jaw tighter as she stared at you. she pushed you so you fell onto your back on the bed, landing with a slight impact on the soft mattress. she crawled on top of you so she was straddling your hips, one of her hands coming to wrap around your neck, pressing down to give you just the right amount of pressure. it was a warning, but you weren’t at all worried. 

“watch your fuckin’ tone, ma. and don’t look at me like that. you’re a brat today, aren’t you?” 

you caught the slight sparkle in her eye in reaction to your attitude, which just pushed you further. she was enjoying this, seeing you act up. you kept the same tone to your voice, looking up into her eyes as her ring-clad hand pressed down on your neck.

“well, i think i deserve to be a brat, after being left hanging for almost an hour.”

she pressed down slightly harder on your neck, her nails digging into your skin slightly and her eyes narrowing as she held your eye contact. 

“is that really how you want to play this? don’t act like you didn’t wait around here like an obedient little slut for that whole hour.” 

you could’ve sworn you felt your brain falter as her words went straight to your core, because when she talked like that, you always melted a little bit inside. you couldn’t find any quick smartass comeback this time, but you didn’t want to look even more pathetic by fumbling for a response you weren’t going to find, so you simply rolled your eyes.

at your eye roll, she pressed her lips together slightly, “where’s the good girl i normally get to fuck? hmm?” she said those words as if your bratty attitude is somehow displeasing to her, but you knew for a fact that it was the opposite. she loved when you were like this, it gave her an excuse to be rougher, meaner. 

“guess i’ll just have to remind you how to behave, won’t i?” 

the hand on your neck snaked around to the back of your head, where she took a fistful of your hair in her hand and tugged roughly at it, sending a stinging sensation to your scalp. she used the hand she was pulling your hair with to angle your face upwards, so you were looking right up into her eyes. you held the eye contact, an almost challenging look in your eyes as you spoke again.

“maybe you should. might wanna hurry up with it, though. getting bored here.” that was a blatant lie, you were not bored, and you could listen to her degrade you like you were her slut for hours, but you wanted to push her. you wanted her to be unable to resist fucking you hard. no matter how good the other girls she’d fucked at the party were, you would be better, and you were sure of it. you had to stand out somehow.

your words did indeed have the intended effect on billie, and she let out a scoff, giving your hair another harsh tug as a reminder that she was in charge. 

“watch that fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart. it looks better when it’s being put to use.”

that, of course, was the perfect opening for another bratty remark, and you were too deep in to resist winding her up now. “well, i don’t see you putting it to use, do i?” 

and… that was it. you could practically see something in the wiring of her brain change as she snapped. “that’s it,” she breathed out, her grip on your hair tightening as she climbed off you, pulling you off the bed and pushing you to your knees on the floor in front of her in an instant. 

“you really can’t learn to shut your pretty little mouth, can you? you know, you’re a lot prettier when you shut up.”

she was unbuttoning her pants as she spoke, and you could see the bulge of her strap-on underneath the clothes. within moments, her pants were discarded on the floor, revealing her signature long red strap. for how long she’d spent on the back and forth teasing, she sure seemed to be in a rush now. her hand returned to your hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail, harshly tugging your head back to an angle that worked for her. 

“you’re also a lot prettier on your knees, so gorgeous f’me.”

those words were misleading, almost soft. when she spoke again, her voice was raspy as she looked down at you with that harsh look in her eyes. “my fuckin’ slut. gonna take what i give you, and you’re not gonna complain.” 

that you weren’t, even in your bratty state, you knew you weren’t in a place to complain, on your knees in front of her. plus, you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t need to complain, not for this. you were right, when she pushed the strap-on into your mouth. you hollowed out your cheeks to make it easier to take—not that billie was at all concerned with whether this was easy for you. she wanted to make you cry, she wanted you to be an absolute mess, right there in front of her and on your knees.

your tongue swirled along the sides of the strap, putting on a show for her. she smirked, loving that she had finally shut you up. the satisfaction of seeing you no longer talking back didn’t last for long, however, and soon she had tightened her grip on your hair, holding your head firmly in place. then, she started thrusting the strap as deep as she possibly could inside your mouth.

you faltered at first, your gag reflex acting up, as always. you’d always had a bad gag reflex, but billie didn’t seem to care. after a moment, you managed to sort out the gagging reflex, but it wasn’t long before it was acting up again. you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes, as you always did when billie did this. you were convinced the only reason billie ever got you to suck off the strap was so she could see you cry when you gagged. 

after a while, you felt the tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the spit that had gathered around your mouth from the sheer pace at which billie was thrusting the strap into you. you let out a muffled whimper around the faux dick, and if you could look up and move your head from the tight grasp billie had on your hair, you’d see the cocky smirk painted on her face. she loved shutting you up like this, and she loved seeing the tears rolling down your cheeks. it was a reminder that she could make you into a mess like no one else ever could. 

“god, look at you. so pathetic f’me.” 

eventually, once billie was satisfied with how much of a mess you were, she pulled the strap out of your mouth, using the still-harsh grip on your hair to pull you up off your knees. she manhandled you to your feet in front of her, looking you up and down for a moment with a smirk. she took a moment to just take the sight in, your hair messy from how she’d held it, your cheeks tear-stained, and a slightly dumb, empty look in your eyes—oh, how she just adored how much of a mess she could make you. 

it wasn’t long that she spent admiring you—she was still in a bad mood, and she desperately needed to blow off some steam. pretty soon, she had crossed her arms while she looked at you closely, “strip.”

you didn’t hesitate—she was unbelievably good at stripping you of your brattiness, as well as your clothes. you could feel any stubbornness you’d had leaving your body at an alarming speed. once you were stood there in front of her in just your bra and panties, billie’s lips twitched up into a small, satisfied smirk. she placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you backwards to the bed with ease, and you fell backwards onto the sheets and pillows that had been perfectly smoothed out by the hotel staff earlier that day—they wouldn’t be looking that flawless for much longer. 

she took a few more moments just admiring you, in front of her on the bed, almost bare. her index finger slipped under your panties before letting them snap back onto your skin with a teasing grin. her other hand moved to your bra, where she tweaked at one of your nipples through the lace, the sharp pain rushing straight to your core.

it wasn’t long before she’d manhandled you into the position she wanted—from behind, it seemed to be a favourite of hers—and rid you of your bra and panties. she lined the strap up with your entrance, and within moments, she’d thrusted the strap fully into you, not giving you any time to adjust. one of her hands circled your clit teasingly, dipping inside your pussy briefly and gathering your wetness on her finger with a smug smirk.

“so wet…that all from me throwing you around? treating you like some dumb toy? fuckin’ whore.” 

you let out an utterly pathetic whimper, and she chuckled darkly as she thrusted into you roughly from behind, your pussy swallowing her so perfectly, so willingly—a huge contrast from the bratty display you’d been putting on earlier. her hand squeezed at your ass as she gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail again, harshly forcing your head back. 

“mm, look at you taking me so well, so much prettier when you just shut up. moments like this remind me why you’re my favourite.” you were sure you weren’t her favourite, you were sure she said that to all her girls, but you didn’t care. you let out a moan at her words, and she gave your hair another tug in response. “so fuckin’ pretty when you let me do the thinking, baby.” 

she gave your hair another harsh pull to emphasise her next words, “dumb brats don’t need to think, yeah?”

you whined again, and she laughed, the hand that was grasping your hair moved to circle around your neck, squeezing slightly. it wasn’t enough to really hurt you, just a display of dominance—as if the way she was thrusting into you wasn’t enough to tell who was in charge. 

the metal of her rings dug into the skin of your neck as she squeezed, and another moan spilled from your lips at the feeling combined with the pace at which she was fucking you from behind. 

keeping her pace the same and her hand around your neck, she asked, “colour?” she always checked in, no matter how caught up in fucking you she might seem, she was always attentive to your signals. 

“green,” you muttered, surprised you even managed to get a word out with the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

she grinned, although you couldn’t see it, and kept pounding into you at the same harsh speed, the hand that wasn’t around your neck squeezing your ass again. then, she leaned over to speak in your ear, her body pressed against your back. her lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. god, she knew what she was doing. 

“still think i’m a bitch, hm?” 

you debated just not replying, but you knew that being bratty again was just what she wanted you to do—and who were you to deny her? “a bitch who’s fucking me good, yeah.” 

if you could see her, you would’ve seen her smirk widen as her warm breath fanned over your neck near your ear, and she gave your ear a teasing nip, “still a brat, i see. guess i’ll just have to fuck it out of you.”

she moved away from your ear, the hand around your neck moving back to its previous position in your hair, tugging your head back with her harsh grip. her other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place as she thrusted into you. another trail of moans fell from your lips, your hands moving to dig into the sheets of the bed. “i’m- fuck, billie—” 

she laughed condescendingly, giving your thigh a slap, and you whimpered as the pain sunk in. “mm, a bitch who’s fucking you so good you can’t even form a whole sentence, right?” 

you just cried out at her words, your hands gripping the sheets as your walls clenched around her strap, your head going fuzzy from the pleasure she was bringing you. you didn’t care how many other girls she had fucked right before she got here, not when she was fucking you this good. you were so, so close, and she could tell.

“cum on my cock, baby. wanna see you fall apart,” she gave your hip a squeeze and tugged your hair, and that was enough to push you over the edge. you came with a moan, clinging onto the sheets like your life depended on it, pleasure washing over you in the most intense waves. your eyes squeezed shut as you mumbled incoherent nonsense, “bils, fuck—oh my god…”

she grinned again, keeping up the bruising pace, which you assumed was just her helping you ride through your orgasm. but even once you’d come down from the intense pleasure, she was still thrusting deeply inside you, causing whimpers to fall from your lips. 

“bils, too much–fuck, it hurts—”

giving your hair another pull, she spoke with that same raspy voice, “i don’t care if it hurts, you’re gonna take what i fuckin’ give you, mamas. you know what to do if it’s really too much.” 

you let out a strangled cry as she kept pounding into you, the pleasure mixing with pain and creating an intense feeling of ecstasy—but she was right, if you needed her to stop, you knew what to say. but you didn’t, you just kept letting out those same broken moans as your hands tangled in the sheets. your release was gathering around the base of the silicone as she pounded into you. 

she let go of your hair, moving her hand so both of them were firmly holding your hips, keeping you in place as she fucked into you at that bruising pace. you were almost certain you would have bruises from how firm her grip on your hips was—not to mention how unlikely it was that you’d be able to walk the next day—but you didn’t care. it just felt too good, her fucking into you like this, the way she was manhandling you…

it wasn’t long before one of her hands snuck down to your clit, circling it torturously with her index finger and drawing even more desperate moans from your lips. you were embarrassingly close to your second orgasm, it couldn’t have been longer than five minutes since you came down from the last, but you could feel your walls clenching around her strap again. 

billie noticed this, of course, and you could visualise the smug smirk on her lips when she spoke. “gonna cum f’me again, pretty girl? god, you look so much better like this.” 

so, you came around her cock for the second time that night, moans falling from your lips like music. your arms were aching from holding yourself up, and you slumped down slightly, resting your head on the newly messed up sheets of the bed, a soft sigh escaping you. your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn’t pick out a single coherent thought amidst the mess of pleasure, your thoughts just a repeating mantra of billie’s name. 

after a moment, billie pulled the strap out of you, and you whined again at the feeling of emptiness that took over you. she laughed softly, a slight condescending undertone to it, before grabbing your shoulders to turn you over so you were laying on your back. her touch was decidedly more gentle than it had been earlier, but she clearly wasn’t finished with you yet. 

once you were on your back, she pushed your thighs apart and settled down between them, propping herself up with her elbows and looking up at you. her lips twitched upwards when she took in the expression on your face, you were completely wrecked—and she’d made you like that. she watched as you took deep, heavy breaths, your head resting back against the bed as you stared at the ceiling. 

“can you move up f’me? get your head on the pillow, ma.” 

her voice was almost soft, and you nodded quietly, using your weak arms to pull yourself up the bed slightly. once your head was resting on the pillow, you let out a soft sigh of relief—your neck was aching from how hard she’d been gripping it, so the pillow gave you some much needed extra support. 

she looked at you for a moment, before speaking again, that raspy hint to her voice still very much present. she seemed a bit more cautious than she had been, a lot of her frustration from the day clearly fading from how hard she’d fucked you. “i wanna taste you, baby. colour?” 

you nod softly, exhaling slowly. you were exhausted from how hard she’d been fucking you, but you needed her mouth on you. “mhm, green.” 

it didn’t take any more confirmation for her to lean down and bury her face in your pussy, her hands gripping your thighs and holding you firmly in place. her tongue licked a stripe up your slit, drawing a loud moan from you. your thighs instinctively closed around her head, the amount of pleasure she’d given you hard to bear. she tsked, giving your thigh a warning slap and firmly forcing them open again,

“stay still.” 

two fingers slipped inside you with ease, and she started thrusting them inside you at a torturously slow pace while her tongue circled your sensitive bud. the slow pace was a contrast from how fast she had previously been pounding into you, and you knew she was doing it on purpose to drive you insane. everything she did was always so calculated, exactly what you needed at that moment to make you fall apart, to make you an absolute mess for her. 

her free hand moved up to your tits, giving them both a soft, misleading squeeze, before harshly pinching your nipple between her index finger and thumb, laughing mockingly when you let out a soft cry of pain.

“oh, it hurts? hm, you’re fuckin’ pathetic, baby. such a mess.”

the sounds of her fingers inside you echoed around the hotel room, the only sound other than your moans. you were so impossibly wet, and you could feel another orgasm approaching rapidly as her fingers curled inside you, “mm, you’re taking me so well. such a good, dumb slut for me, hm?” 

your walls clenched around her fingers at her words, and she grinned, nipping at your inner thigh teasingly before returning her tongue to your clit. “yeah, my good little slut. like when i call you that, ma?” 

you moaned again, and you were coming on her fingers before you could stop yourself, your body going limp against the bed as you were hit by your third high of the night, moans falling weakly from your lips. 

billie didn’t stop her movements, her tongue moving from your clit to your pussy, gathering your taste on her warm tongue and moaning softly. her fingers replaced your tongue at your clit, and you flinched as they circled your sensitive bud. 

you let out a whine as her tongue kept up her movements, slurring out a soft protest through the pain of being so overstimulated, “bils, i can’t– ‘m too sensitive—”

she hummed against your pussy, the vibrations eliciting another moan from you. she pulled back ever so slightly to respond, but you could still feel her warm breaths hitting your clit in the most achingly pleasurable way.

 “fuckin’ take it like a good girl, know you can.” her fingers kept circling your clit. “you want to be a good girl for me, right? make up for being such a brat?” 

you nodded desperately, because yes, you wanted to be her good girl. you wanted to please her, “yes, fuck– wanna be your good girl, billie-” 

billie grinned, her tongue returning to where it had been, slipping inside you as her fingers teased your clit, “mhm, my good girl. my favourite girl.” 

you whined at the pleasure she brought you, trying not to close your thighs around her head again as they shook from the sheer pleasure of this moment. you didn’t even really comprehend her words, the way she kept throwing around the lie that you were her favourite.

you didn’t even care if you weren’t her favourite girl, being one of the girls was more than enough for you. you didn’t care how many other girls she’d fucked right before this, because you could feel her tongue coaxing yet another powerful orgasm out of you. a sob left your lips, the pleasure overwhelming you and taking over your body in every way possible. god, she was too good at this.

you opened your mouth to warn her, but all that came out was a moan as she flicked your clit with her finger, and the dam broke. your head fell back against the pillow as liquid gushed out of you, soaking her chin and the sheets below you. 

she eagerly lapped at it, and you let out another strangled whine, your hand reaching out to her head. your fingers tangled in her hair, trying to guide her off you. your things were shaking, your skin tingling, your body drenched in sweat, your mind foggy.

it was too much, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming. you’d have told her that if you could form words, but she took your signal and dragged her mouth away from your pussy, pressing a few soft kisses to your inner thigh. 

“mm, look how messy you are, mamas. such a messy slut, all for me?”

you whined softly as she pressed kisses to your trembling thighs, “all for you.”

she grinned up at you smugly from where she lay between your thighs, her eyes raking over your face and body. her smile widened as she took in just how wrecked she’d made you, your hair messy and your body limp and exhausted, paired with the marks that were already appearing on your hips and neck from her harsh grip. she found you unbelievably gorgeous when you were like this, and she gave one of your thighs a teasing squeeze. 

she had fucked the brattiness out of you, just like she’d said she would. 

“see, baby, what did i tell you? so much prettier when you’re not being a brat.”

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery: Part Five - First Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: With the truth revealed, Jessie and you now have a chance to fully build an authentic, honest relationship. And maybe, the physical intimacy that's plagued your relationship - and Jessie's past - can finally be healed.

Warnings: G!P content. First time; oral (J receiving; R receiving); body image issues; lingering internal conflicts and themes of rejection; language.

A/N: This is SO long. I just got carried away - there was so much I felt would be going through Jessie's mind that I couldn't just skip over during their first time together, combined with all of the previous baggage. It felt much more natural to pace it this way.

"So, if I ask you to spend the night, do you think you would?"

Jessie couldn't believe the contrast between this morning and now. She'd come over to your apartment with absolute certainty that this would be the end; she'd maybe get to hold you once more and then it would be the inevitable goodbye.

Instead, here you were, cuddled into her on the couch, fingers of one hand intertwined with hers and her arm wrapped around your shoulder. Rather than a painful and heavy goodbye, you'd sat together for hours; conversation renewed, deeper, sincerer, and you were asking her to stay.

Jessie smiled at you.

"I'd love to," she told you before giving a quiet, bashful laugh. "If you asked, that is."

You chuckled and nudged her with your shoulder. "Well I'm asking."

"Then I'd love to stay," Jessie replied with a resolute nod.

"Now that I know why you were so hesitant to spend the night before," you told her with a smirk, leaving Jessie in awe that you could be so relaxed about this and that things felt so natural between you.

While Jessie's mind had been wrought with questions and worries for months, now the only question that remained was, 'What took her so long to tell you?'

You fidgeted slightly and scratched at your temple, eyes cast downward momentarily before you looked up at her.

"Just as before, even more-so now, actually, you're welcome to sleep in the bed. I-I'd like you to." A beat passed and you rushed on. "But only if you want to."

Jessie's heart felt like it was lodged in her throat, but in a good way. She would've never pictured this.

"Y-yeah," she managed to reply, voice almost wavering. "I'd like that."

You clearly were anticipating a decline, because your reaction was delayed and was one of momentary surprise before smiling broadly at her.

"Oh! Fantastic!" You said before shrinking into yourself slightly, seemingly embarrassed at your enthusiasm. Jessie found it adorable and kissed you. Your cheeks were burning pink when she pulled back. "You can, um, wear some of my clothes to bed. I'm sure I have something that'll fit."

"Sure, that sounds good," Jessie said as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Soon you led her into your room and dug through your drawers for some sleepwear for her. Jessie had been in your room a handful of times, but really only in passing. Given how physical aspects of your relationship had been so taboo prior, the bedroom had become unspoken, forbidden territory. She took this opportunity to look around and really take it in; all of your belongings, the way you had things arranged, all the things big and small that made it yours.

"These should work."

Jessie was pulled from her observations by your voice. She turned to you and gave you a belated smile as she took the items.

"Thank you."

Silence fell over you two, but it felt very different than ones previous. This time, Jessie wasn't scared.

"I know we've talked about a lot today, tonight, but I, um, just want to say again that I'm really grateful you told me everything," you said softly as you looked at her.

"Me too," Jessie returned with a gentle smile. "Again, I'm really sorry it took me so long. I can't tell you how amazing it is to have this openness with you and to be given another chance. I really do love you, and I'm so grateful that I can tell you that and to not have to hide."

You looked at her with the warmest eyes and reached out to gently take the clothes you'd just handed her and set them down on the bed. You took a step towards her, closing the space between you two and wrapped your arms around the back of her neck. Your waist pressed against her’s and Jessie inadvertently swallowed though she held your gaze.

"You shouldn't have had to hide in the first place," you said as you cupped her cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with this." Jessie nodded.

"I'm trusting you with this. My heart. My past. All sorts of things," she finished lightly, hoping for some levity but failing to come up with something witty. She settled for a silly smile that contrasted the weight of her words. You weren't fooled and continued to look at her in earnest. Jessie dropped her smile and allowed herself to sit in this moment with you instead.

Soon your lips were on hers in a slow, deep kiss. Instead of tensing up and coaching herself through it, she finally gave herself permission to relax into your kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open belatedly when you subtly pulled back from the kiss. She looked to you with mild confusion only to see a soft smile crossing your lips. You caressed the back of her neck briefly before kissing her again even deeper. Jessie barely managed to hold back a moan. She tightened her arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

That small act of confirmation seemed to spark something in you. Suddenly, your fingers were running through her hair and you kissed her harder.

It didn't take much for Jessie to feel the telltale signs of her cock starting to stiffen. You were pressed flush up against her - her movements stilled and she shifted her hips back slightly to create space.

"You don't have to," you said slightly breathless as you pulled back just enough to look at her. A moment passed and you shook your head subtly. "I don't want you to."

Jessie inadvertently swallowed. She searched your eyes, a stubborn hesitancy and doubt still lingering in the back of her mind. You caressed her cheek with your thumb and it quieted her thoughts. She pulled you close to her once more and rest her forehead against yours.

"I told you I find you very attractive," she said in a low voice with a smirk. "So much so that it's been a problem."

She saw you bite the inside of your lip.

"I don't see a problem here," you affirmed before giving a smirk of your own. "I like it."

You kissed her again and though Jessie wanted nothing more than to reciprocate, she had to ask once more.

"Are you sure? I mean - you weren't anticipating...this," Jessie finished with a near mumble as she glanced down between you purposefully before looking at you again. "And you said you preferred a strap."

You blushed, dropping eye contact, but caressed the side of her neck still.

"Well, at that time I didn't exactly know that you had anything more than a strap," you said sheepishly before forcing yourself to look up at her. This time, you spoke assuredly.

"And you're right that I wasn't anticipating this. But, I love you. And this," you gave a look mirroring Jessie's a moment ago, "is part of you, which means, I'm all for it." You gave a slight shrug. "And, you know, it's pretty sexy. Knowing...feeling, or seeing, what effect I might have on you." You finished with a shy chuckle. "I'm not upset about it. Let's put it that way."

Some other girls had made fun of her for visibly being aroused, but there was nothing malicious about your reaction. In fact, your reaction was far from it. She smiled gratefully and nodded.

"Okay. Well, I'm glad. And, um, I'm sorry in advance if there are moments - like this - where I get a little too...excited. I don't mean to ruin a moment or anything," Jessie explained as she glanced back down at the slight bulge in her pants - it wasn't anything too overt right now, but if you two carried on it certainly would be.

"You don't need to apologize," you said, mildly chiding her. "I just told you I like it." You slowed, cupping her face once more and speaking softly. "I like it," you repeated.

Any lingering concerns were snuffed out as you began kissing her once more. Slow and patient at first, before deepening. She wrapped her arms around you fully and met your kisses with equal, growing passion. Your hands began to wander down her back and after a moment of hesitation, Jessie allowed her hands to explore as well.

What was an initial arousal was now becoming full-on as your hands played with the hem of her shirt, your fingers grazing ever so lightly against her skin, and when she heard you faintly moan into your kiss, there was zero chance of her hiding the way her cock now strained fully against her boxers and pants.

When you didn't pull away, and instead pulled yourself closer to her, her fingers dug into the small of your back through your shirt, pulling another muffled moan from you.

Jessie opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she gently broke off the kiss, only now realizing she was short of breath.

"Sorry," she breathed. You frowned at her in confusion.

"What for?"

She frowned in return as she tried to conjure up some coherent thoughts.

"I'm, um, getting carried away," she eventually managed to say.

"I'm not remotely bothered," you assured her. "I'm getting carried away as well, then, too," you added with a faint grin. You looked away briefly before resting your hands on the front of her chest and pushing upwards, your hands feeling their way up her neck and into her hair as you spoke. She nearly shivered.

"I know we just said today we'd take it slow," you looked away again, "but, um, we also don't have to."

Jessie swallowed, studying you intently. "I don't want to pressure you at all. I mean, I dropped a lot on you today. I'm very happy to go at whatever pace you set. I have no expectations."

You nodded, seemingly lost in your own thoughts.

"Mhmm. And, well, we've also been together for months. And...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you. And, maybe, based on what I'm feeling right now...you might want me, too," you finished with a tentative, but hopeful look on your face.

Jessie blushed with a lopsided grin. "I think that's safe to say."

You both looked at each other, gauging one another and waiting for the other to make the first move. It was several seconds before you grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her in for another kiss, which she readily met.

Hands wandered even more ravenously this time and you were very subtly grinding yourself against her bulge and Jessie swallowed a moan that threatened to escape. She exhaled heavily and found herself pulling you tight against her, her hand now sneaking under your shirt and you moaned in approval.

Surprise flooded Jessie system as suddenly you were pushing her towards the bed, not breaking the kiss until you pushed her down on the edge. When she looked up at you, your eyes were dark with lust and her cock throbbed at the sight.

"Wh-" Jessie's question was cut off as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of her, not dropping her gaze the entire time. You placed your hands on her thighs and moved your hands upward until your fingers snuck under her shirt to graze her abdomen.

"Is this okay?" You asked. Jessie could only nod, unable to find the words. You toyed with the hem of her shirt again. "Do you prefer clothes on or off for this?"

"I, um," Jessie stammered. "On, for now, I guess." She shook her head. “Wait, I should do stuff for you.” She went to switch places with you but you denied her.

“There’s time for that, too. I want to do this for you,” you said as your thumbs idly caressed her skin. Jessie let your words settle in and a slow smile formed across her lips. She nodded.

You smiled and began to massage her hips, your hands moving inwards until you started to unbutton her pants. She was absolutely aching with anticipation by now. Jessie's eyes were trained on you and she breathed through her lips as her mind tried to keep up with what was evolving.

"You're sure?" You asked one more time, fingers ready to unzip her pants. Jessie let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah. I am. Um, if you are. You know you don't have to do anything, right?" You didn't break eye contact.

"I know. I want to do this. I want you," you stated and Jessie felt a flutter go through her entire body at the declaration. She frowned as you grew bashful. "I, um, haven't done this in a while though. So...bear with me. I apologize in advance," you finished with a sheepish laugh. Jessie frowned deeper.

"Don't apologize. At all. I-," she wracked her mind for the right words to say. "I'm positive it'll be great. You'll be great. I, um, just want to be with you. That's what's most important to me." You looked up at her from your spot on the floor between her legs and gave her a grateful smile. Your earlier comment caused Jessie's mind to start envisioning you in front of other people in a similar position. She didn't like it.

"And...we don't really need to talk about, you know, other times or people...at least right now," she added gently.

"Oh. Right," you said as you flushed pink. You sat back on your heels and cleared your throat before raising yourself up again and kneading her thighs. "Okay, well, what I mean is, feel free to tell me what you like...and tell me if you don't like what I'm doing."

Jessie felt a tightening in her throat and she forced a series of nods. "Okay, I will."

It probably shouldn't have been a big deal, but she was left in awe to some degree. Other girls didn't care what she liked or didn't like. It was about them - satisfying their curiosity or having a story to tell after. But that wasn't you at all.

She cleared her throat and went on. Now was not the time to get emotional.

"But please don't worry. You can see already that you're doing everything right," she said with a slight chuckle as she tucked your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheekbone with her thumb. "And same goes for you, please tell me if I'm doing anything you don't like. And please know you don't have to do anything that you aren't comfortable with."

"I know, baby," you said as your raised yourself up to kiss her on the lips.

Jessie was kissing you back, eyes closed, when your hand returned to her zipper and began to pull it down and over her aching erection. Her efforts to kiss you back stalled as your hands pushed the fabric of her pants aside and you began to caress her through her boxer briefs.

You began to kiss her neck and Jessie did her best to swallow any impending moans as you continued to feel her through the fabric. Her eyes remained closed as your fingers traced over the head of her cock before gently feeling and exploring what you could of her length.

Next, she felt you trace along a seam of the boxer briefs and her whole body stiffened as your warm hand reached in through the slit of the fabric and your delicate fingers first made contact with her cock.

"Is this okay?" You whispered into her neck as your hand stilled. She nodded. That fleeting touch alone felt incredible and she could hardly believe it was happening.

"Yeah," was all she could manage.

Assured, you gently wrapped your fingers around her length and pulled it through the slit. Now, unencumbered, her full length sprang upward in your grasp and, intentional or not, you sat back and Jessie opened her eyes to see you looking at her cock.

She registered this image of you looking down at her length that stood proudly up within your hand, a large bead of precum pooling at the tip. She wasn't 100% sure how to read your expression, it wasn't negative for sure, curiosity maybe? Either way, a rush of apprehension went through her and she pushed herself back a bit and began to stammer.

"We, um, we don't-"

You seemed to belatedly clue into Jessie's mounting anxiety and you sat up again, one hand coming to cup her cheek as you kissed her mid-sentence, effectively shushing her.

"It's okay," you whispered, kissing her sweetly once more. You urged her to look at you and she did, shoulders visibly rising and falling as her heart raced. “Do you want to stop?” You asked gently, free of judgement.

She studied you, seeing nothing but concern and care in your eyes. She began to relax and she shook her head. “No.”

You kissed her again, letting it linger this time and only pulling away once Jessie's breathing had evened. "You're beautiful," you said. You leaned in so your lips nearly brushed against her ear. "Please don't worry. I love you. And please tell me at any point if you’re uncomfortable and want to stop. That’s perfectly okay.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she told you. She swallowed her residual worries and leaned into your ear. “I want you, too.”

Jessie's jaw fell slack as the hand around her length, which had remained still the past few moments, began to slowly, lightly caress her, your thumb now patiently circling her tip.

Her shoulders rolled back as she felt your tongue flick her earlobe and your breath was hot and teasing against her ear.

"I can't wait to taste you."

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for you to say that. She belatedly realized that her fingers were digging into her thighs. She relaxed them along with the rest of her body and you began to kiss your way down until you were resting on the back of your heels once more.

She watched as you looked up at her. You released her momentarily, eyes locked on her still as you licked your hand before wrapping your fingers around her girth again. Jessie didn't drop your gaze, but her shoulders fell at the sensation.

"You can tell me to stop at any point," you reminded her as you began to stroke her up and down. Jessie silenced another moan deep in her throat and swallowed audibly instead as she nodded.

Jessie's mouth fell open further as you dropped her gaze and bent your head towards her waiting arousal. She moved her hands to the edge of the mattress and gripped it tightly as she felt your hot tongue give a slow, teasing flick across the head of her cock. Her breath hitched in her lungs as your tongue languidly circled around the tip.

Her head fell back and her eyes focused on the ceiling as you continued to slowly explore her. Your tongue teased her head, your tongue grazed down her length and back up, your hand gripped her gently, then firmly, you stroked her and circled her.

When your lips wrapped themselves around her tip and you gave a soft, slow lick before sucking and releasing her, she white-knuckled the mattress and set her jaw so harshly it nearly hurt. When your mouth fully sank down on her length, her cock now surrounded by the warmth of your mouth, she couldn't hold back a faint gasp.

Encouraged, you continued, soon bobbing your head up and down on her length and Jessie's breathing became quick and shallow over the incredible sensations that radiated from between her legs and throughout her body.

She curled her fingers inward more, her nails audibly digging into the mattress as you took her further into your mouth, her tip now nudging the back of your throat. Her thighs flexed intermittently as she resisted the urge to move her hips in time with you - she didn't want to be pushy at all.

Her eyes snapped downward as suddenly your free hand found one of hers. She interlaced her fingers with yours and you looked up at her - an absolute sight for Jessie, seeing your mouth wrapped around her swollen cock, your other hand at her base. Again, she was caught off guard as you took her hand and guided it to the back of your head.

The look on her face must've relayed the hesitation or doubt she felt, because you gave a subtle expression of affirmation and pushed her fingers through your hair.

Jessie's breathing was uneven as you refocused on the task at hand, closing your eyes and sucking and licking her once more. Her eyes closed and her head fell back once more as the overwhelming sensations sparked all over again.

She tentatively played with your hair, her hand barely resting on the back of your head as you moved up and down her length. This carried on for a short while until your hand came back up to hers and pushed her hand firmly down on your head, her length going deeper into your throat than ever.

Jessie groaned and clutched your hair instinctually before her eyes flew open in brief panic at allowing herself such a reaction. The feeling ebbed as you continued, undeterred, your thumb actually caressing the back of her hand. She relaxed, sinking into the bed a bit and eyes falling shut once more as she now guided your head up and down.

The sensations that had been building, not just now, but a culmination really of the past several months with you, were about to reach their peak. Jessie's breathing was rapid and she bit the inside of her mouth as a familiar tightening formed between her legs. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she tried to center herself.

"I-I'm, I'm gonna cum soon," she told you.

You continued to suck her off and Jessie had to bite the inside of her cheek hard to not groan or curse in pleasure.

"Y/N, I'm not going to last," she tried to warn you, panting as she spoke. "I'm gonna cum."

She expected you to pull back from her, but you remained steadfast, keeping her warm in your mouth until Jessie gripped your hair tightly and tensed up underneath your ministrations. She snuffed out another moan as she began to spill herself into your mouth and down your throat. Her breath hitched as she spurt several times inside your waiting mouth.

Jessie breathed heavily as the twitching of her cock slowed and so did you. It took a few moments for her to come through the haze of her climax and when she did she looked at you in concern. You, however, simply sat back and covered your mouth briefly before swallowing. Jessie just stared at you, stunned.

You wiped your mouth and sat there on your knees before looking up at her. Jessie was still catching her breath as you both looked at each other.

"You taste good," you eventually said, causing Jessie to flush red immediately.

"You-you didn't have to do that," Jessie responded. "Um, swallow, that is." She frowned and flushed further. "Any of it, really."

You frowned in return before giving her a light shrug. "I know. I wanted to." You looked away briefly. "So, um, was it okay?"

Jessie gave you a bewildered look.

"You're joking. You couldn't tell?" She asked, unable to help but laugh a bit. She just shot a huge load down your throat, relatively quickly too - of course she liked it. Instead, you blushed.

"I guess. You were very quiet though," you said somewhat tentatively. You went on quickly. "Maybe that's just how you are - and that's totally fine. I guess I just- I don't know."

Jessie wanted to curse, and moan, and groan with pleasure as you pleasured her, but again, she'd been made fun of before. She'd been the subject of teasing and mocking in hallways or a classroom and it caused her to hold back. She studied you wordlessly for a couple of seconds before nodding.

"I really loved it. You were," she shook her head as she tried to find the words, "beyond incredible." This seemed to relax you and you rose up onto your knees and she wrapped you in a hug as you kissed her.

"Shit, sorry," she said, another blush creeping up her face as she realized her deflating cock was directly on your shirt, staining it with your spit and whatever little remained of her cum.

"Oh, don't worry," you said. You chuckled coyly, gaze flitting away for a second before returning. "We were going to get changed anyway, right?"

Oh right. She'd forgotten all about that already.

Yet again, for the nth time today, you surprised her by locking eyes with her and slowly lifting your top off in front of her. Her jaw dropped slightly and her eyebrows lifted as she took in this stunning visual of you.

"Is this okay?" You asked, your shirt now discarded next to you and your hand behind your back, poised to unhook your bra.

Jessie nodded with a goofy grin. "Yeah, completely."

You smirked and gave her a small nod. "What about you?"

Jessie didn't falter under your watchful stare. She could feel her confidence continuing to build as the barriers she'd firmly placed between you two were rapidly destroyed to discover that there was love and acceptance on the other side.

She lifted her top over her head and tossed it by yours. She reached for your arms and gently guided you up onto the bed with her, your hand still on the back of your bra. She reached behind you, adoring the smile you gave her as she did, and undid your bra for you.

Not thinking twice, Jessie dipped her head to begin trailing kisses down your chest. She cupped one of your breasts and pulled the nipple of your other in between her lips to tease it with her tongue. She grinned into you as your hands wandered and dug through her hair.

She continued to attentively discover your breasts and soon you started shimmying out of your pants and were tugging at hers. Her cock now fully alert and ready to go once more, making her even more grateful that you'd started with a blowjob; it took the edge off for her.

Jessie chuckled softly as she lifted her hips so you could remove her clothes. Yes, she was still nervous, but more than anything she felt an undercurrent of safety and affection and it was such a change. One she more than welcomed.

"Holy shit, you're gorgeous," you said as you took in her naked form. Jessie snorted and gave you a frown.

"You're gorgeous. My God, look at you," she said. She glanced down pointedly at her stiff member. "In case you needed proof that you are so fucking sexy."

Your eyes darkened once more and you pulled Jessie into a heated kiss. The kisses between you two earlier were slow and passionate, but these were hungry and needy.

Soon, you tugged gently on her arm, coaxing her up the bed and she allowed herself to be pulled down on top of you, but made sure to position herself not so precariously against you. She took this as her opportunity to start kissing down your body towards your core.

Your grasp tightened on her, urging her to not move further down.

"Stay with me up here," you said.

"Let me take care of you," Jessie said as she began kissing her way downward once more. "You got to taste me," she looked up your torso at you as she laid slow, lingering kisses down your stomach, "I should get to taste you."

You bit your lip and released her, a smirk on your face as she continued to kiss down your body. She shifted down the bed so her head was nestled between your legs. She felt a buzz, lightheaded even, as your scent filled her senses. Her cock was pressed flat against her torso as she lay on the mattress and she had to readily ignore the hints of pleasure from the friction any slight movement of hers created.

She saw the way your fingers dug into the sheets in anticipation and at a glance she could see the way your arousal pooled at your entrance. Another boost of confidence went through Jessie at seeing physical proof that the act you just performed for her wasn't a turn off, and evidently, even turned you on.

Your knees were raised, feet on the bed and she began to kiss her way down your legs, slowly, teasingly - down one side and then the next. She felt affirmed by how your hips subtly bucked up towards her mouth as she got closer and your fingers dug further into the sheets in frustration every time she pulled back.

She showed an ounce of mercy as she traced her tongue along the junction between your legs and core; staying purposefully away from your inner lips and keeping her tongue light and fleeting. She glanced up your body with a grin, pleased with how your chest visibly rose and fell already under her drawn out attention.

When she saw a bead of cum drip past your entrance and down towards the sheets, she finally delved in. She dipped her tongue down and slowly dragged it upward, capturing your dripping juices and finishing with a soft lick at your entrance. Your body tensed up and a small gasp escaped you and before you had even relaxed she placed her tongue flat against your entrance, before tracing diligently upward through your folds.

You squirmed and writhed as she took her time circling around your clit, giving it a playful flick now and then and finally latching her lips around it and sucking as she lapped at you.

"Oh fuck," you panted as you rolled your hips up into her mouth. She loved your reactions and she grinned into you, sufficiently pleased with herself.

Soon your moans grew louder and you clutched the sheets tightly in your hands. Again, Jessie smiled as she felt your legs tighten and flex around her head.

"Oh God, Jess," you breathed as your hips bucked into her face. "I'm so close." Your hands now clawed blindly at the bed.

Jessie stayed steady, ignoring how her cock absolutely throbbed with need. Every movement and sound you made, along with the way you tasted on her tongue, was driving her mad. She hated to think what state she'd be in if you hadn't given her some reprieve earlier.

Your moans reached a fever pitch and your hips began to jerk against her until you froze mid-grind, your back arching off of the bed and juices flooded Jessie's mouth. She stayed with you, wordlessly coaching you through your orgasm until you hips fell back to the bed and gave a few lingering, stuttering movements. Finally, a heavy, satisfied moan left your lips as your body relaxed and Jessie pulled back.

"Oh my God," you breathed and she smirked as you brought your hands up to your face, eventually draping one arm across your eyes and stretched one leg out as you began to recover.

Jessie watched you coming down, clearly content with her performance. She was filled with satisfaction and pride, but it also sparked a need in her to make you feel that way again. She wanted you to reach that high once more, to feel as amazing as you could, and she wanted to be the one to do it.

Old habits died hard.

This is what she did. As the years went on, one way to defend herself was to make certain there was nothing to make fun of. To be good - damn good. To know exactly what to do and how. But she learned this also had drawbacks of its own. It didn’t change how those girls felt about her. She just went from the butt of a joke to a late night call and little more.

So in time, she more or less stopped altogether. Going into this, she was worried about how rusty she was, but those concerns were quelled by the orgasm she just gave you. And now, she wanted more and to give you more.

She kissed the inside of your thigh. Soft and feathery at first before kissing her way inward again.

She gave you a tentative lick, cleaning up the juices that remained on your lips and your body twitched, an immediate whimper escaping your mouth.

Yes, she definitely wanted more.

She took her time, easing you back towards ecstasy as she gently licked and sucked at you until you were rocking up into her mouth yet again.

This time, as your hands began to grip the sheets once more she reciprocated your earlier move and grasped one of your hands and placed it on the back of her head to give you free rein. She smiled as your fingers immediately dug into her crown and gripped her hair tightly.

You didn't change her pace, and instead simply gripped her tightly as if to anchor yourself as she brought you to another high.

At one point, she pushed your legs back to give her greater access. The shift in position elicited a wanton moan from you and you palmed helplessly at your face with your free hand as she sent mounting waves of pleasure through you.

By the time your moans heightened again, Jessie starting to identify the signs of your nearing release, she had to consciously stop from grinding herself against the mattress for some hint of release.

You gripped her hair so tightly as you came that she winced, but she ducked her head to ensure you didn't see. Not that she felt you could notice even if you tried with how your cries filled the room and you writhed against the bed. Besides, she considered it a compliment.

Your body shuddered as she slowed her licks in time with the way your breathing began to calm.

"Oh-oh my God," you panted as you lay there dazed, eyes closed, the movement of your breasts catching Jessie's eyes as you worked to catch your breath. "I need a moment."

Jessie bit back a chuckle, very pleased with herself and simply laid a soft kiss on your thigh before wiping her face and moving up to lay next to you.

"Holy shit," you said when you finally managed to open your eyes and peek over at her.

"So...was it okay?" Jessie asked. She very likely knew the answer, but, you'd asked earlier and she wanted to reciprocate. And if there was something else you wanted, she wanted to know that too.

You shot her a withering stare.

"Come on," you said. Her expression must've betrayed her, because you next comment was, "Oh yeah. I see your little smirk. You know damn well how much I enjoyed that." You gave a light huff of a laugh. "And if not, I'm sure the cum on the sheets or whatever was surely dripping down your chin should've been a telltale sign."

Jessie blushed at your language and candor, but she liked it.

"Well, you asked me the same earlier and I thought it was pretty obvious how much I liked it," she countered.

You chuckled, closing your eyes once more for a couple of seconds before responding. "Well, I guess I didn't know how to read your reactions throughout. I'll learn though. My reactions? My neighbours could tell you how good you were. Which will be totally embarrassing if I run into them anytime soon, but, worth it."

Jessie tried to tamp down her smile to avoid appearing smug, but felt her face growing warmer despite whatever satisfaction she felt.

"I see you're ready to go again," you said with a lilt in your voice and a purposeful glance down at Jessie's erection.

"Oh." Jessie's face burned hotter. She shook her head mildly. "That's fine. It'll go away eventually. Or whatever."

Jessie's curiosity piqued as you studied her face for a couple of moments, before suddenly she found herself on her back with you straddling her waist.

"I can help, you know," you said lightly with a gleam in your eye. You pushed your hips back, making brief, teasing contact with her length to prove your point.

"Oh," Jessie voiced as a rush of anxiety went through her while she inadvertently dug her fingers into your hips. You took it as affirmation as rocked against her once more. If the fleeting contact with her cock wasn't enough, having your hot, wet heat rub against her abs was sending her into a daze.

"I, um," she stammered as she tried to think through the pleasure and distraction of you rocking against her body, "I didn't bring any condoms with me," she said as she stared at your waist, mesmerized by how your hips were moving. She forced herself to look you in the eye. "I had no idea this was happening tonight."

You stilled entirely and a puzzled expression slowly crossed your features.

"Condoms?" You asked. Soon you nodded as though reasoning with yourself. "For like, safety. Staying clean - all that, right?" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "Obviously. That makes total sense."

"Well...yeah," Jessie shrugged. As she started to elaborate, she found her gaze flitting away, newfound nervousness rising through her chest. "But, probably the bigger thing is, you know, birth control and all that."

"What?" You asked, clearly surprised. Jessie felt herself growing meek, but she resisted as best she could.

"Yeah," she responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "That aspect is...anatomically accurate as well."

She could practically see your mind reeling. She subconsciously began kneading your hips in some attempt to calm you.

"So, um. Yeah," she said, unable to find the right words.

She watched you carefully, vigilantly looking for any hint of what you were thinking or how you might react. The seconds passed and her heart pounded louder and louder in her ears. She looked at you with a concerned frown.

"Say something, please."

A/N: It was FAR too long to fit into one chapter. I'm working on the next part - if you've read my stuff, you know where I'm leaning with this condom situation lol - let me know your thoughts; I can still go a couple of different directions.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson