#this is not saying he ignores the other two

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[monzabee]

the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy. 

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader 

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It only happened once every few lifetimes. 

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.  

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.” 

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.” 

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”  

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”  

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”  

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”  

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”  

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.  

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth. 

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?” 

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.  

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?” 

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.” 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.  

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.  

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!” 

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.” 

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm. 

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?” 

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?” 

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!” 

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle. 

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender. 

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.” 

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.” 

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!” 

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.” 

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.  

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.” 

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief. 

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment. 

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful. 

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.  

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done. 

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow. 

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.  

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply. 

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner. 

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.” 

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.” 

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son. 

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.” 

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.” 

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope. 

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears. 

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.” 

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before. 

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side. 

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost. 

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life. 

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life. 

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”  

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.  

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.  

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”  

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”  

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!” 

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?” 

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?” 

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment. 

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. 

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.” 

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.” 

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”  

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down. 

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—” 

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?” 

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.” 

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.” 

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?” 

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”  

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.” 

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.” 

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface. 

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.” 

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?” 

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”  

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?” 

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.” 

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.  

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.  

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say. 

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind. 

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.” 

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.” 

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.” 

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.” 

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.  

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.” 

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real. 

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always." 

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then." 

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other. 

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell. 

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.” 

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence. 

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.” 

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.” 

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.” 

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?” 

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief. 

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.” 

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity. 

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things." 

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest. 

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have. 

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod. 

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration. 

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. 

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss. 

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment. 

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!” 

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.” 

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most. 

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.” 

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.” 

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes. 

[darnell-la]

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜��𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

[joeyb1989]

running home to your sweet nothings* - joe burrow

summary: after a frustrating and hard loss to the chiefs, joe only wants you.

word count: 3.7k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, smuttttt, sad/anxious/frustrated joe, pet names

a/n: another fic from me? what is this? LMAOO no but i’ve had an idea to write a fic based on sweet nothing for a while and a request came in and i knew it was the right time. if this fic sounds like total brain rot im sorry. i wrote this while i have covid and i haven’t really left my room in three days😭😭 anyways, hope you all enjoy.

*i didn’t really read over this, so if there’s mistakes (or if it’s just bad😭) please ignore them*

You were snapped out of your focused state by Joe placing a small object on the coffee table. “Look what I found in my pocket,” Joe added context to his action.

Your gaze left your notebook and found his outfit, seeing him clad in a gray t-shirt, which showed off his muscles nicely, and black cargos, which he loved wearing this past offseason. You look down at the small object to see the pebble you and Joe found in the off-season. “Do you think it ever misses Columbus sometimes?” Joe asked, joining you on the couch.

Flashback to this past off-season

“The sunset looks so pretty,” you smiled, taking a picture with your digital camera.

“You look so pretty,” Joe wrapped his arms around your waist from behind pressing a kiss to your cheek, earning a blush from you. “What’re you taking pictures of, sweetheart?”

You and Joe traveled to Columbus this weekend for his friend’s wedding a few days ago. You two decided to rent an Airbnb for the rest of the week to get in one last vacation before the season started.

“Those pebbles down there,” you said, pointing to two pebbles on the ground. One was an orangish-red color while the other was an almost-purple color – both Joe's and your favorite colors. “It’s like they represent us. They’re the only colorful ones.”

“How ‘bout we keep them?” Joe smiled as he picked the two up, putting the orange one in his cargo pants pocket, while handing you the other.

End of flashback

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “I thought we lost yours.”

“Yeah, me too. Yours is still in your memory box, right?” Joe asked.

“Mhm, we need to figure out what to do with them,” you sighed, “I don’t even remember why we took them home.”

“I don’t think there was a reason, baby,” Joe chuckled as you set your notebook on the coffee table, giving your full attention to him, “It just felt right.”

“I’ll put mine in your memory box before I leave,” Joe said, laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I wanna get my cuddles in right now.”

Even though Joe had this big male bravado out on the field, he was a total softie with you; which you loved. You loved how much comfort he found in cuddling with you, just like the comfort you found in cuddling with him.

“Nothing is bothering you, is there?” you asked. Joe would never say no to cuddling, but you knew that when he initiated it, something was going on in his head.

“Can I not just want to cuddle with my fiance?” Joe asked playfully.

“No, you can. But I just know that there’s probably something going on up there,” you said, running your thumb over his forehead.

“Just nerves, babe,” Joe sighed, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

Joe hated talking about his worries with anyone. The only exception was you, even if it did take a while for you to get it out of him. There were many times during his knee and wrist rehab when he would shut you out and keep all his fears trapped inside, but the two of you finally moved past that.

“Let me in,” you soothed, lightly scratching his scalp.

Joe sighed again before craning his neck to lock eyes with you. “The game tomorrow. I mean you were there last week, you saw how we all played like dog shit. I just… we can’t afford to play like that again. I can’t afford to play like that again. I know that we’ve improved this week at practice, but all of this outside noise doesn't help.”

“Joe,” you whispered while rubbing his back. It killed you to see him so worried about football. Football has been his life since he was a kid.

“I know I shouldn't worry about what people think… but I can’t take it sometimes. I know who I am. I know what the team is. I don’t get why we can’t put it together on the field. And those guys… it’s always hard to play them. I just… I’m tired of everyone’s opinions about me,” Joe expressed, undefeated.

The vulnerability and uncertainty in Joe’s words shock you to your core. Usually, Joe wouldn't care who was talking about him or what they were saying, but since the loss to the Patriots, he’s been very doubtful of himself.

“Baby,” you began, caressing his head, “I hate seeing you like this. You know why?”

“Why?” Joe whispered against your chest

“Because I know who you are and you know who you are. I hate when these middle-aged, couch potatoes of men get you down on yourself. You are Joe Burrow. You are a national champion, first draft pick, and one of the top quarterbacks in the league. But most importantly, you are Joe Burrow, the same guy that always gets back up when he’s down, the same guy that can do anything puts his mind to, and the same guy that always goes above and beyond everyone’s expectations.”

Joe sat up before bringing you into a hug, “Thank you, baby. It’s good to know that you’ll always be here even when the league gets tired of me.”

Ever since the two of you started dating Joe’s rookie year, you have always been there for him. You guys were just dating for a month when he injured his knee, but you made sure that you came over every day, even though you spent the night most of the time, to be there for him. You quickly fell in love with him after seeing how dedicated he is to everything in his life. He fell in love with you after seeing how caring and passionate you are about everything. You’re always there to hold him, comfort him, whisper sweet nothings to him, or give him endless pep talks after a hard loss or just a frustrating day of practice. He always found himself running home to you and your sweet nothings.

“What have you been working on today?” Joe asked, looking at your notebook on the coffee table.

“Just a little something,” you smiled, “you can read it if you want. I mean, it is about you.” One of your favorite hobbies was writing poems. It all started in college when you took a poem-writing class, and you just never stopped. Joe loved it about you. He’s read every poem that you have ever written. He always compliments you, it happens all the time. He loves them even more when he is your muse, though.

You watched as a smile curled on his face as he read your written words. “What a mind,” he said, kissing your forehead repeatedly, causing giggles to spill from your mouth. You eventually pulled his face down so that your lips would meet. The kiss quickly heated up as he moved you into his lap, his crotch under yours.

“Mmm, Joe,” you whimpered as his lips found the sweet spot behind your ear, lightly nipping at the skin. “Don’t mark me up too bad, baby.”

“No promises, sweetheart. Gotta let everyone in Kansas City know that you’re mine,” Joe growled.

Joe groaned as you started grinding your hips against his, feeling hardness below you. His hands went under your flimsy t-shirt as your lips found his again, Joe pulled away as he lifted it over your head. His eyes darted to your perky breasts – supported by an orange, lacy push-up bra. “Holy shit,” Joe said breathlessly, “I swear to God, you get more and more beautiful every day.” He unclasped your bra, watching it fall off your chest before attaching his mouth to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your hard nipple.

“Baby,” you moaned as his hand gave your other breast a hard squeeze before moving his mouth to it and his hand to the other. “Joe, I need you inside me. Right now.”

“You’re awfully needy, aren't you,” Joe smirked, but quickly whipped his shirt off before unbuttoning your jean shorts, pulling them and your panties down at the same time. You reached down and hooked your fingers in his waistband, prompting him to lift his hips to give you easier access to pull down his boxers and shorts. Joe caught a glance at the clock, knowing he had to leave soon to catch his flight to Kansas City. “Baby, we gotta be quick, ‘kay?”

You nodded, giving his cock a few slow pumps before lining it up with your slick entrance, both of you moaning at the fullness. You set a fast pace snapping your hips into Joe’s, making him groan in pleasure. Joe was never loud in bed, except for when you rode him. He loved watching you move on him, your boobs bouncing with every move while chasing your pleasure with his dick.

“Mm, Y/n,” Joe whimpered into your ear, making you feel hot all over, “Just like that baby. Making me feel so fucking good with that tight pussy.”

“Joe,” you whimpered a few minutes later, slowing your pace as your legs got tired. Joe immediately understood you by your body language and began helping you move on him.

“Shit, baby,” you moaned as he continued to move you, but started to buck his hips up into yours and take one of your nipples into his mouth.

Joe knew you were getting close to release as your walls squeezed around him. “Come on baby, make yourself feel good,” Joe panted.

That was all the motivation you needed to grab onto the back of the couch for leverage and start bouncing on his cock, chasing your own pleasure while making Joe feel good too.

“Shit, that’s it. That’s my fucking girl,” Joe moaned as his cock twitched inside you.

“Joe- I’m-” you began before he bucked his hips into yours, hitting your g-spot. “Oh my god-”

“You like that?” Joe teased as he did it again, this time harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Joe!” you screamed as your orgasm washed over you. 

A few more thrusts later, you felt Joe empty his load into you, your still-spasming walls milking every last drop of him. He pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead. “You did so good, baby,” Joe panted, “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you smiled, burying your head into the crook of his neck, “That was intense, though”

“I think I passed out for a minute,” Joe chuckled.

As you two caught your breaths while whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears, you almost didn’t notice Joe’s phone ringing.

“Shit,” Joe murmured as you handed it to him.

“Hey man, are you… going to the game?” a man teased on the other side of the line

“Yeah sorry, I… wanted to get one last workout in and lost track of time. I’ll be there soon, Tee.”

“Workout?” you teased as you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Well… many calories were burned,” Joe smirked, lifting you off his cock, both of you hissing at the sensation. Joe walked into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with paper towels to clean you up.

After cleaning you up, getting you dressed, cleaning himself up, and getting himself dressed, Joe grabbed his bags and loaded the car up with them.

“Be careful on your flight, okay?” Joe said, wrapping his arms around your waist as your arms went around his neck.

“I will, don’t worry about me,” you smiled, ruffling his hair before fixing it.

“I always worry about you, you know that,” Joe whispered against your lips.

“I know,” you stated, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? If you need anything, call me. I’m just a phone call away, baby.”

“I know,” Joe said, kissing your neck.

“Baby,” you giggled, “you gotta go.”

“Okay, okay. Didn’t realize I marked you up that much. My bad, babe,” Joe said, lightly tracing the purple marks from him on your neck.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now,” you smiled, secretly liking it that Joe always marked you up. It felt protective like he needed other people to know that you're already spoken for. “I love you so much, Joe. No matter what happens tomorrow, I’m proud of you.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Joe said, wrapping you into a warm hug, “Call me when you land, okay?”

“I will,” you said as you pulled him in for one last kiss before he drove off to the stadium.

The next day - Arrowhead Stadium

As you sat in the stands with Joe’s parents, you started to grow more and more anxious as you waited for the game to start; especially after what Joe was going through last night.

Flashback to last night - Kansas City, Missouri

Joe: Baby, are you busy?

You: No, of course not. Are you okay?

Joe: I need you right now.

You: Okay, I'm here, Joey. Do you want to call or meet me somewhere?

You frowned as you saw that Joe left you on delivered for five minutes. He was usually a fast-responder, so you thought about calling him to check on him. Just when your finger was going to hit his contact name, there was a knock at your hotel door. You opened the door, revealing your fiance with red and puffy eyes. “Hey baby,” Joe sniffed but tried to smile.

“Aww, come here,” you whispered as you pulled him in for a hug after he closed the door. He immediately melted into your touch, his face burying into your neck as his sobs filled the room. “Shhh, I’m here. I’m always here, let it out,” you whispered into his ear, while you rubbed his back.

“I’m so scared, baby,” Joe sniffled, his arms holding you so tight like you were gonna disappear if he didn't.

“I’m here, you’re safe with me,” you soothed.

A few minutes later, Joe’s crying slowed down. “You wanna sit down?” you asked before he nodded. You led him over to your bed, and he pulled you into his lap once you two sat down.

“Just being here… it’s got me freaking out. I just need you.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked with soft eyes.

“Same stuff we talked about at home, there’s nothing else you could say to make me feel better than you already have. Can you just hold me?” Joe sniffled

“Of course,” you sadly smiled, laying down and pulling him onto your chest. As his crying picked up again, you had to fight your own tears, hating that he felt like this and there was nothing you could do to help.

End of flashback

Little did you know, just being there for him made all the difference. Joe woke up in his hotel room ready for the game, feeling confident in himself and his team. When you saw him before the game, it was like total whiplash but you were happy to see him ready for the game.

Your entire mood flipped once the game started. The entire team’s demeanor had flipped from what it was a week ago. A team that once played unsure and scared was now a major threat to the Super Bowl champs; even if it was a close game.

The 4th quarter had you fiddling with your engagement ring and chewing your nails out of nerves. Even though the Bengals were still winning, the Chiefs only needed one field goal to win. Tensions rose even more when Joe had to pull Ja’marr away from the ref.

You grabbed Robin’s hand as you saw the Chiefs kicker walk onto the field. You covered your eyes as he kicked. You heard Chiefs fans around you go wild, knowing what had just happened. When you opened your eyes, you saw Joe slamming his helmet on the ground knowing how frustrated he had to be.

——

The three of you met him down at the locker room. Your heart dropped when you saw the look on his face. He looked so upset. Usually after hard losses, Joe wouldn't hug anyone for long, including you; and that was no different today. He hugged his parents both at once before locking eyes with you. “Be safe on your way home. I love you,” Joe kissed your forehead before bringing you in for a brief hug.

“Yeah, this one definitely hurt him…” you thought to yourself.

Later that night - Cincinnati, Ohio

Your plane landed a lot earlier than Joe’s did, allowing you time to clean the messy house. You were also trying to mentally prepare yourself for him to shut you out like he usually did after a hard loss. You understood that he needed time to process his emotions by himself, but it always hurt you that he dealt with it by himself first.

You were putting some dishes in the cabinet from the dishwasher when you heard Joe come into the house from the garage. You turned your neck to give him a soft smile, fully expecting him to go up into his office for a couple of hours. Instead, he dropped his bags on the floor and rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry I was an ass earlier,” Joe whispered, “Have you eaten anything?”

“You weren't an ass, you were frustrated… and that’s okay. And yeah, I ate at the stadium earlier,” you replied, “Have you?”

“No, but I’m not that hungry. Can we just go to bed?” Joe asked, his large hands rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you softly smiled, leading him up to your shared bedroom, watching him strip out of his clothes once you two got up there. You picked out a matching set of satin pajamas and crawled into bed, Joe immediately cuddling up to you.

A few minutes of silence went by before Joe spoke up. “I’m sorry you went so far for a total shit show,” he mumbled.

“It wasn't a shit show,” you soothed, running your hands through his frosted tips, “Some terrible calls, but all of you played your heart out on that field. I know that you're frustrated, though and I’m sorry.”

“I just… cannot take it anymore, Y/n,” Joe sighed, “All of these reporters I think are trying to deconstruct my soul. All they want to do is make money off of my awful playing. I’m trying so hard, and all anyone is saying is that I should be doing more. You’re the only one that I can tell this to… but I think I’m just too soft for all of it. I’m just a guy wanting to play football. I understand it’s their job to talk about me as much as it’s my job to win a game, but I’m just so tired of it.”

“You’re the only one who doesn't want more from me. All you’ve ever wanted from me was just… sweet nothings,” Joe smiled. Even if the world was ending, or if everyone was busy with something else, all he needed was you. You were his home, you were his peace, you were his heart. Even in the awful football world where everyone was pushing and shoving, he had you to keep him grounded; and that was perfect for him.

You felt Joe’s body slightly relax after he told you how he felt. “You already go above and beyond for me,” you smiled, “Those reporters will see exactly who you are now, though. I think that game awoke something in you.”

“I’m sick of us being the underdogs. That all changes next week, that's a promise, sweetheart,” Joe smirked.

“You need to get something else off your chest?” you asked, “You still feel pretty tense.”

“No, I’ve got it all out. I do know one way I can get the rest of it out,” Joe smirked.

“How’s that?” you teased, playing innocent.

“Let me show you,” Joe whispered into your ear before he unbuttoned your pajama shirt, and kissed your body.

“Joe, don’t you think I should show you?” you asked

“Mm mm. You already do enough for me,” Joe smirked, taking one of your boobs into his mouth while he teased the other with his agile fingers.

——

Several moments later, after you and Joe both got each other off with your mouths, you found yourself below Joe, anticipating his thick cock to fill you up. “Please, baby,” you whined as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please what?” Joe smirked

“Please fuck me,” you breathlessly said

“Okay,” Joe smirked nonchalantly, pushing into you, making you gasp.

Joe set a relentless pace, you were moving up the bed more and more with each rough thrust. “God, baby, you feel so good,” Joe moaned before he leaned down and kissed you.

“Joe,” you moaned, “harder. Fuck me harder.”

“You. are. so. fucking. hot.” Joe said, punctuating each word with a thrust that was rougher than the last.

“Joey, right there,” you moaned as one particular thrust grazed your g-spot.

“So tight baby,” Joe whimpered, burying his head into your neck, as he, somehow, picked up the pace.

“Babe- I’m not gonna last long,” you whimpered, your nails scratching his back.

“That’s okay, just let yourself feel good,” Joe hissed.

A few thrusts later, you felt the rubber band in your belly begging to snap, “I’m- gonna cum Joe” you moaned.

“Cum on my cock, I wanna feel you,” Joe grunted.

“Joe!” you screamed as your high washed over you.

“Baby- I’m-” Joe said as his high washed over him, leaving him grunting and moaning into your ear.

After a few minutes of catching your breaths, Joe pulled out and pulled you into his chest. “I love you, Y/n”

“I love you more,” you smiled.

“That’s not fucking possible, but okay,” Joe chuckled, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I can't believe I’m marrying the love of my life in seven months,” you chuckled out of disbelief.

“I’ve been waiting for that moment since the first time I laid eyes on you,” Joe smiled. “Thank you for loving the parts of me that aren't easy to love,” he said with every drop of love in his eyes, “Like my smartass attitude and my nerves.”

“It’s a pleasure to love them,” you whispered before planting a kiss on his lips, “It’s a pleasure to get to love you.”

——

request:

[swagpeytato]

Yandere!Neglectful Batfam x Batmom!Reader. PART 1

My marriage was one of convenience, and I had no choice in the matter. It had been engraved into me since I was just four years old that I would be marrying Bruce Wayne, heir to Wayne fortune. I had never liked him much, but I lived knowing my parents would be happy with me, and I would be financially stable for the rest of my natural life.

Since I was married to such a big public figure, I became one as well. My whole life was publicized for the world to see. The media was under the impression that this was a marriage of love. First mistake. They thought we were the perfect couple, with no marital problems at all. Second mistake. They thought we were happy. The biggest mistake of all.

I was miserable.

We had no relationship outside of the media. We were two strangers living in the same house. When we first married, I noticed that he would disappear every single night, without fail. When he brought home Dick I was suspicious. It wasn’t until a year after he brought Jason home, that I found out what was going on.

“Hey y/n, can you ask Bruce if I can go out as Robin. If you ask, he might say yes.”

We had a huge fight that night. There was screaming, crying, and things thrown. I should have left then, but I couldn’t leave the two boys I had come to love, without a mother figure in the house. Even if they didn’t love me back. After that fight, I never saw much of the three crime-fighting vigilantes in the house, and when I did, they would brush past me hastily, sometimes muttering a greeting, other times, ignoring me completely. The only person I spoke to was Alfred, and even he wasn’t much help to cure my loneliness, considering how busy he was.

When Jason died, I was the last to know. I had to find out from social media. They all neglected to tell me, under the impression that someone else would. I’m not surprised that I wasn’t informed, but it hurt nonetheless. I cried, and screamed, and begged any god listening to bring my baby back. A piece of my heart broke that day. We hadn’t been close, as he followed Bruce’s lead of pretending I didn’t exist, but that hadn’t changed the fact that I had watched this young boy grow into a confident young man, and it broke my heart to know that he was gone.

Soon after, Tim came, and he was not interested in getting to know me at all. He wasn’t rude, but he wouldn’t give me the time of day, which was very infuriating, when I was trying to help him. I gave up after a while, tired of giving my all for people who gave me less than nothing in return.

After Tim, it was Damian. I had never even thought that Bruce would stoop as low as cheating on me. I knew he didn’t care about me much, but to embarrass and humiliate me the way that he did was enough. I was completely emotionally checked out of the relationship by then. I didn’t hold it against Damian though, as he was just an innocent child, who had no say in his parentage. This was until he threatened me with a sword. I knew briefly how he was raised, but I was at a loss for words. He made a huge slice down my torso. Not deep enough to kill me thankfully but deep enough to leave a scar for life. Alfred took care of me. I was in pain for 2 months after the incident, and I never recovered emotionally. Not only had my husband cheated on me, but his affair child had attempted to end my life. His words still rang through my ears months later.

“You are just a gold-digging harlot. You have no place in the noble Wayne family. You are nothing.”

These words stuck with me everyday. I became depressed, my mood deteriorating with every passing day in the manor.

I decided to get a divorce. I knew Bruce would never sign off on it willingly, so I had to sneak it into Bruce’s office. While walking out, I was met with Alfred looking back at me, a small smile adorning his face.

“I’m glad you will be getting away from here. It is within your best interests to get as far as you can from here once he signs off. I will miss you y/n.”

The next day, a knock on my bedroom door startled me. Alfred stepped in with a paper gripped in between his fingers. My smile widened for the first time in months. I was overjoyed.

The next week was spent slowly moving my stuff out. I had to be as inconspicuous as possible, as I live in a house with the best detective in the world. That Wednesday, I was finally able to leave. I had a set apartment to go to, all the way in Jump City. I knew Dick had moved there, but I don’t believe we had even spoken enough in recent years for him to even recognize me on the street.

While leaving, I left the finalized divorce papers, and my perfectly polished wedding ring on the bed. Walking from my room to the front door was a long, but freeing walk. I had lived in an uninhabited side of the manor, pushed away from the rest of the family. I hung the manor keys on the rack for what should be the last time, as I stepped quickly, and quietly out the front door, unaware of the eyes watching me. Unaware of the eyes that would be the reason for my undoing.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[metranart]

Obsessed with Nanami being all flustered and horny while in a mission with you, his ex-girlfriend's younger sister.

Ft. Nanami Kento x reader. He is thirsty for your unshared attention. He wants to be a good but you won't let him...

Driving towards the next mission, Nanami’s gaze drifts from time to time to the person sitting in the passenger seat. It is a subtly almost stoic and imperceptible move yet highly effective. 

The experienced sorcerer has found unavoidable to keep his gaze away from you for too long.

Fate was cruel, the blonde already knew that. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer is full of ups and downs, likewise… but this time, life is being excruciatingly unfair to him, making it almost like a personal affront. 

Because-…why?!... why?!!!...why did fate dare to conceive an exact replica of the only woman he has ever loved. 

Since his days of youth in Tokyo Jujutsu High, where he teamed up with two persons who would become his most important friends and unintentionally, got madly in love with one of them. Life tasted sour and sweet, all in the same plate.

One of his teammates was like a breath of clear and beautifully scented air filling his grateful lungs with so much joy, it was ridiculous. 

The blonde sorcerer remembers how much attention his lovely teammate drew by just parading around in the school uniform or merely smiling at one of his unexpected moments of sarcasm. 

The way her smile lit the rooms was something cathartical. Kidnapping the eyes of those who Nanami called classmates, to be more precise…upper classmates… annoying little bastards always lurking around the lovely third of his team. Their intentions clear, as the clear eyes of one of them.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Getou were like a plague that more than not, invaded the younger trio space. The jujutsu sorcerers were older than them yet that did not stop them to somehow always find a way to crash their meeting points and places to hang out, a coincidence, he doubted it. 

Those two were like leeches who wanted to feed from the sweet and addictive nectar of his precious classmate, so eager to probe themselves better than each other and as consequence better than him…by sporting feats of strength and power so huge that it was impossible for others to even catch up with them. 

Gojo and his ever present, knowing smile adorning those soft lips as innocently leaned towards her and pretended was going to teach her a new combat stance, only to let his body stick closer than necessary while his treacherous hands lightly traced the supple skin it could grasp… sneaky, hormonally driven, young Satoru was someone to be careful of…and that fact made certain blonde crinkle his nose in disgust and narrow his eyes in anger, at his off-limits tactics.

The older sorcerer was to say the least infuriating.  

Even the approaches, from his not so flashy companion became threatening to the blonde. Getou and his tight-lipped smile which to certain person made him resemble a cunning fox.

He seemed to gracefully float around like a dandelion in the wind, careless attitude backed up by his hands tucked inside his pockets. 

The dark-haired sorcerer had an imperceptible and gentle way of showing up, making sure to leave a pleasant impression after every interaction. If his intentions were to incline the balance in his favor, those well-thought acts of attentive kindness were definitely smart.

The older students saw it all as a fair contest between companions, but Nanami more than sometimes felt the fantastic duo, cheats by teaming up against him… reason why he mostly ignored them.  

However, so caught up in their little mischief as the older duo was, eventually they stopped paying attention to certain unresponsive blonde who never gave them and their quarrel the time of day. What was their surprise when the supposedly inoffensive blonde ended up winning the lady, without breaking a sweat. 

As Getou sarcastically put it while patiently waiting for Gojo’s impending tantrum… looks like lady’s luck is on Nanami’s side on this one, Satoru. 

And soon the attention everyone coveted so much turned to him when his teammate and all her affections favored his stoic self.

Getou could almost swear could clearly hear how certain white-haired, blue-eyed prodigy’s heart broke like glass been smashed against the cold, unforgiving floor when she chose Nanami above everyone. 

Nevertheless, subtly glancing at his friend, could not glimpse a trace of hurt or jealousy. Only noted with resign…he was not smiling, anymore. And for the first time, Nanami was. 

After all, that cute, unexpectedly lovable girl choose him above the magnificent Gojo Satoru…Nanami, a nobody, just another regular sorcerer could call himself the rightful owner of her heart. Having the girl of his dreams fawning over his touch and craving for his sole attention, was indeed good. 

Ugh! Nanami secretly loved it. 

It was unexpected satisfactory fact that stroke his ego, almost hand in hand with how have her to his own, stroked his libido.

Soon their relationship bloomed, and she became one of those persons only appeared one in a million…apparently, this time there was a glitch and somehow, now Nanami is trapped in a dejavu. 

All thanks to the fateful day, he lost her. One day they were holding hands, the next she was gone… disappeared.  

The blonde looked for her like a lost dog looks for his home and many others joined as well… Gojo and Getou being just a few who devotedly shared this particular mission… but they were too late. His darling had left this world and shattered, Nanami abandoned the sorcerer world to become an ordinary salary man. 

One objective, money… enough money to make him forget that he failed to protect her, tired and boring days in an office were better than trashing in his bed unable to rest. 

It was a decent job, with decent intervals of action when he deigns to help a stranger or a girl in a coffee shop to remove a weak but maiming, curse. 

And what was his surprise when after several years of self-punishment, finally took the decision to come back to the sorcerer’s world and be useful again…he was struck with the vision of the beauty he once devoted himself to, but not a vision at all, but her in bone and flesh. 

Shock, stupefaction, resent, hurt… yes! those are some accurate words to describe how betrayed the blonde feels seeing her again sporting the same uniform of their youth while happily smiling at a new set of teammates and blatantly ignoring his presence as if didn’t know him, as if he hadn’t been her first kiss, her first dance, her shoulder to cry or the one thoughtfully fucking her against the nearest surface in countless occasions. 

Reaching his breaking point, Nanami’s fists clenches and his jaw acquires a sharper angle as he firmly strides to confront her and demand an explanation, when is hastily stopped by an old friend who corrects his deceiving trail of thoughts by announcing his mistake.

“It's her little sister, my friend.” Gojo explained, bluntly. “She’s a carbon paper copy, don’t you agree?” he draws his lower lip between his teeth and Nanami feels his blindfolded stare on him.

“You ought to know better than some of us.” The comment floats in the air, and the plausible tad of jealousy tinted in resentment it may have held is left forgotten due to how unbelievable much you looked like her.

Younger sister…? Wait, what!?...Why she never spoke to him about you?...she must have a good reason… yet why not share it with him… 

His face must have mirrored his doubts for the snow-haired teacher by his side was prone to inform.

“This little one appeared in front of the school at the tender age of eleven…” he nodded his head to emphasize his statement. “Days after you left, actually—” Gojo rested his hand against his chin, remembering. “Carrying a handwritten letter from her recently deceased sister, your darling…seems like she had a well-hidden secret whose name is (y/n).”

Nanami was at a loose for words. How did he not realize before? Of course, it couldn't be her! Yet, you looked exactly like when they were teenagers and even when those golden years had vanished, the memory still fueled his heart with a furious torrent of emotion that hammered through his veins. 

Momentarily stunned by the astonishing similarity, stood silent and Gojo continues explaining how you are the only trace she left behind…the youngest of a devastated, well-hidden clan of sorcerers and now, quite the lovely teen. 

Your cute face is exactly like the one he dreams of when has a strike of luck instead of the usual nightmares, the way the uniform hugs your curves is sending familiar shivers through every muscle of his body, the flow of your hair cascading down your back has him nibbling at his lip with a hunger doesn’t recognize and that incredibly, gentle spark lingering in your gaze has his heart hammering an old and painful ballad of love… you are re-branding his brain with a new, yet, known tune.

You are most certainly, her little sister and he is infuriatingly hooked, could have fallen on his knees and burst into pathetic tears of the most sublime pain and relief, but instead stands expressionless and almost indifferent to your presence, knowing certain cerulean eyes drink his every reaction, and if he knows Gojo as he thinks he does… the prodigy is pondering a second chance, so bluntly, can almost savor you.

Nanami must admit trusts Gojo with his life… even if doesn’t respect him that much, the prodigy holds a special place to him… that said, makes him a little uncomfortable the knowledge you may be occupying this powerful sorcerer every thought while triggering in him, a long qualm, thirst. 

Even when glancing at him looks cool and compose, the blonde senses how consumed by you he already is… how eager, patiently waits for a chance to steal the last print of an old flame that never was able to fully blow away.

A print that now lies in the next seat of Nanami’s car, scrolling through her cellphone utterly unaware of how her presence not only spikes her sensei’s interest, but has an equally, if not higher effect on Nanami’s blood pressure, fogging his rational thoughts and making him more dangerous than any curse they were to face that day.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” He hears you teasingly say, without taking your eyes from the screen of your cell phone.

Well, maybe he is not as subtle as he thought. A playful smile lingers in your lips and his rigid shoulders lose a little at your obvious teasing. 

Nanami merely hums, secretly amused. His face doesn’t show what really thinks but if it did, you wouldn’t be so calm.

“I have a picture of you.” You share out of the sudden, ignoring his lack of acknowledgement to your previous comment and from the corner of your eye almost dare to claim, he is smirking. “It's an old snapshot and has a date written below...” the blonde slightly tilts his head towards you, and you know you have his full attention. 

“My sister is giving you a kiss on the cheek, and you look outstandingly cold and indifferent, yet—” you make a long pause while rapidly typing something in your phone and starting to lose focus, you hear him stoically repeat.

“Yet…”

Glancing at him your gazes bump, his eyes are set on you instead of the road and the intensity shining behind his amber glasses spark goosebumps all over your forearms. 

You make a pitiful and unintelligible questioning sound, and your previous idea returns. “Uh-hh..yes!-…you were adorably blushing, Nanami.” You claim, confident of your keen eye. 

“It took me some study and analyzing, but I can confidently say that I may be the only person who can tell when you are blushing like a cornered nun.”

A cute giggle supports your claim, and the aloof blonde slowly returns his gaze to the road, in utter silence. A shit eating grin blooms in your face and pointing a finger at his face, you declare, shamelessly.

“Like right now! You are blushing!” 

The sorcerer barely tilts his head your way and carefully bats your pointing finger away. An imperceptible grin sparking his solemn stupor.

“No, I’m not.”

-

The two of you finish the mission fairly slow and leave almost intact the premises, the curse was extra troublesome and annoying more than powerful and you feel like if your body weighted twice as much due to fatigue. 

Your body has replenished with cursed energy and is back to normal, but this was supposed to be a simple enough mission, which actually wasn’t.

Entering the co-pilot seat, you sprawl all over the seat, heavily groaning.

“I’m too old for this.” You nag, stretching your arms over your head until your back cracks, loudly.

“If you are too old, I must be catastrophically ancient…” Nanami replies in a calm voice, absentmindedly, adjusting his seatbelt. “More like catastrophically-y, aged…like a good wineeee.” You interrupt him in slurred words and half-lidded eyes. 

Not giving a second thought to your misplaced praise, he finishes and glances at you to check your seatbelt, to find it irresponsibly absent. “Put your seatbelt on, please.”

Unwittingly ignoring him due to your quick shift between awake and sleep. He repeats the request and waits. 

“(Y/N), please, put your seatbelt on.” 

A pained sigh leaves his lips before his mouth sets in a firm line, and he leans over your already sleeping form.

This girl is going to be the end of me… 

His hand grabs for the seatbelt and pulls it over your torso, adjusting it correctly until can hear the click and checking his work, finds the belt tangled awkwardly right in the middle of your heaving chest. 

“Damn it.”

The blonde sorcerer whispers under his breath and smoothly hovering over you again, lightly grabs the wronged strap in between his fingers and pulls very weakly as to not disturb you, but the stretchy material doesn’t give and has to use both hands to untangle the seatbelt.

“Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up…” he repeats, lowly as a mantra, while his palms smooth against your breast, groping and lightly touching his way as he finally untangles the material and sets it straight. 

His eyes widen at the way the strap presses between your breast making it look rounder and plumper and his mouth waters, skin over his hands tingling at the delicious grazes he was able to steal while innocently arranging you.

Straightening back, Nanami places his seatbelt back on and starts the engine. There’s a long way back to the college and his mind is about to make it even longer.

You are firmly rooted in his brain. 

Throughout all the mission, you were constantly asking him about your sister and that set him on the edge. How was onee-san when she was young? Was she strong? Was she awesome? Where you a couple?

Nanami adored your lovely sister but talk about her still made him sore and sometimes a little guilty…a lot guilty, especially when you where the one asking. Due to a nagging voice in the back of his head always reminding him how blatantly lusted after the love of his life's, little sister.

He must admit felt thankful for the curse to be a higher rank that he had planned, due to that distracted you enough for him to change the subject.

But now, there is no curse to distract him, and his more dangerous thoughts are up to make him feel awfully driven.

He shouldn't have touched you, but he didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

How naive of me. The ex-salary man thinks, annoyed. 

The darkness surrounds the road while the car passes through the deserted lane and Nanami can feel how his pants are getting tighter while his mind plays thousands of scenarios where you are the protagonist. 

A long sigh abandons his tight lips and slowing the car, finds a curve to stop. 

He feels odd. 

Nanami is not only exhausted but also embarrassingly aroused. 

Leaning back against his seat, shuts his eyelids and takes a couple of deep gulps of air until his heart stops drumming so hard. Able to hear his thoughts again, relaxes and places a warm palm on top of his stranding erection and forces his mind into a calm state of relaxation.

In and out, in and out, he heaves.

Opening his eyes, finds the light of the city in front of him…when did I park here?...and realizes is parked in an abandoned parking lot which lies lighten up only by the bright lights of the throbbing city near a steep cliff.

The ex-salary man remembers that place from fond memories but doesn’t remember making the turn to get there. 

Odd. 

Cocking his head to the side, glances back at you and finding you deep asleep. He dares to palm his throbbing erect member though the suit pants. Light nibbles at his lower lip aids him to repress a moan and he ponders.

Maybe just some strokes to calm me down…she’s deep sleep…Its irresponsible for me to drive this… distracted.

He’s not even going to take himself out, stroking himself under the fabric would serve him right. Unzipping his pants, his hand merely slips under the fabric to wrap around his engorged length. 

Slowly strokes up and down, from the base to the tip in fluid and regular motions.

Looking at you the entire time through his amber lenses, he lets his mind wander about the thousands of possibilities that laid between your warm thighs, and it takes just a minute for him to close his eyes to enjoy his little fantasy and for a loud moan to freely depart his sealed lips.

Nanami keeps stroking, a little faster, a little firmer… when suddenly feels faint air fan his face.

Instantly, opens his eyes to find your beautiful (e/c) orbs, gazing down at his erect cock. Fully at display, at some point, had pull himself out and now he was fucked.

Embarrassingly mortified is about to cover himself and mutter a fast apology when your words stop him cold.

“Your balls are so full…” You express, matter-of-factly, stare firmly set on his exposed flesh. “May I help you relieve the stress, Nanami? After all it is my fault–”

Your cotton-candy, mellow mewl informs and he realizes your words don’t make sense, why would it be your fault?Perhaps, you knew of his sick infatuation with you? Maybe you were aware of how frequently his mind fluttered around you… or, maybe he has been painfully obvious, and you just like to see him, troubled and strained. Having his permanent stare on your every move. 

But before your words sink completely to find a proper meaning, your body is in motion. Undoing your seatbelt, you climb out of your seat and straddle him for a moment too short for his delight, to then carefully slip in between his open thighs and comfortably, occupy the space under the steering wheel.

“Are you comfortable?” 

You ask and the experienced sorcerer is too stunned to answer. Mouth agape, he witnesses as your tiny hand shyly grazes his sack to then cup it and begin to do a generous massage.

Nanami can’t stop the pleasurable tremble that kidnaps his entire frame, and he blasts. 

“Stop-” his firm request dies in his parted lips when your wet lips join sucking the smooth skin covering his heavy balls and a long, raspy groan fills the car.

You dedicate all your mind in the task and closing your eyes in concentration, ignore how his throbbing member rests over your face, delivering soft, faint slaps each time you suck too eagerly. 

Nanami is getting there way too quickly, your inexpert massage combined with the fervent licks and sucks are unfairly disarming him, his thick thighs are sprawled on either side of you and remembering how to breath, sets on a personal quest to prevent from cumming. 

Not that he doesn’t want to see your cute little face dripping in his murky essence, is more that he doesn’t want to face you after.

Finally getting his shit together, comes back from ecstasy and is able to think straight again. 

What he plans to be a firm demand is highly questionable.

“Stop right now-… (y/n) …you don’t know-” gasps, “what you a-are doing…to me-” squinting his eyes, his mouth opens slightly to gulp more air. 

“Am I doing it wrong, Nanami?” Your pouty lips abandon his scrotum, and you glance up at him looking like a scolded puppy.

Nanami’s heart clenches watching you pout like that. You look so eager to please him and he feels so eager to let you.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong… 

Loudly sighing, cools his mind and letting all his good senses be melt by you, asks the only question that is able to formulate. “…Are you sure?”

There’s a pregnant silence and he, anxiously, waits.

He wants you so bad, shamefully remembers how tempted felt to touch you more in your sleep. To slide his hand between your open legs under the fabric of your skirt, to grope under your uniform shirt and feel the softness of your skin. But he isn’t that kind of man. He only takes when given.

Finally, you nod, and he gently denies his head. 

“I need verbal–” 

“I’m sure, Nanami.” You reply, rapidly but shyly. “Please-e let me help you.” You stammer, weakly and a cute blush spread over your cheeks.

It’s enough for Nanami.

Opening his pants, a little wider, he strokes his shaft, invitingly and you lean up on your bended knees to let your tongue run from the roundness of his scrotum and up his thick length, leaving a wet line of delirious tingles along your way up. Your pink tongue flattens a visible vein at the side and your lips wrap, slowly, around the tip.

Nanami wasn’t expecting this level of compromise at suck him off and his mind goes uncontrollably, wild and foggy.

Your pink lips are devoutly hugging the tip, delivering slow and wet cat licks until you feel your head be pushed from the back and you are forced to engulf almost six inches of raw meat, slipping down your delicate throat, roughly. 

The bulbous head of his cock faintly hits the back of your throat, and he gasps, loudly.

“Please…” the sorcerer mewls, “open wider-” bucks into your mouth, eyes tightly closed. “WIDER...” the blonde commands, in a tight voice and his palm presses harder against the back of your nape. His hips start to move, humping your narrow mouth, taking your head in his hands to dip his cock as his thrusts ignite a rhythm. 

You whine and his eyes open to look at your glossy eyes looking up at him, lips stretched around his shaft, mouth full of him, nose hitting his pubic bone with each lunge as his plump balls coat in spit falling from your drooling lips. 

You are too much to take in. You are too fucking much. Nanami is losing it. Your fingers are digging at his thighs and your cheeks resolutely hollow to try to suck him deeper. 

Desperately, trying to achieve his needy command.

It's so wrong, so despicable of him to be filling you so utterly good. It's like your mouth was carved around his erect cock.  

Tears run down your cheeks and Nanami doesn’t even try to slow his pace or alternate from hitting the back of your throat to let you breathe. 

He’s far gone to gift you with those courtesies, he gave several warnings and even more chances to leave him be. 

But your stubborn self-refused to listen, now the only thing can do is take his glasses off to place them over your eyes and slip them up the bridge of your nose, to lower the pang of enthusiasm that your wet eyelashes mixed with how much you are struggling, arouses him.

Needs to keep a little control over himself, you are so inexpert he might break you, if let's go completely. 

You look so good; it is taking all in him to not thrust faster. You are as breathtaking as your sister once was.

And it hits him, his eyes narrowing at the realization, you are way better. 

“Never thought I would say this…but i think you look even prettier than your sister used to look when she sucked me off after classes-” he praises, drawing a large hand down your cheek to tilt your drooling chin up and guide your mouth to swallow more of his length until feels your agitated breath fan against his pubic skin and he holds, lightly. 

“Breathe through your nose.” Indicates, in a calm voice. “You wanted to know more about her…” You blush at the mention of your beloved onee-san and your current state, but Nanami’s seems fairly relaxed, “…haven’t you been pestering me about that all day?”

Gagging tears run down behind amber glasses at the same time you nod, weakly and whipping them gently with his thumbs, he continues.

“The first time I fucked her dumb was after we defeat a special class curse…she had your exact age, we both were so young-” his voice was thick with something you couldn’t decipher but the way he looks down at you, tells miles about how serious he’s been. “I pressed her against the hard concrete and ram her from behind without letting her adjust to the girth of my cock…” you sharply inhale trying to pull your head back and he pulls you back in and holds you still between his strong hands. “I said, breathe through your nose.”

The stoic blonde waits for you to stop gagging, softly petting your hair and once your pulse is steady again, he continues sharing. “It was not gentle or romantic, in the least, pure and raw passion-…” his orbs roll to the side as if remembering and faintly grinning, he admits. “She even let me strip her bare in that filthy place, to mount her against everything we could put her on…” his right palm slides down your throat in a measured motion, palming with the pad of his fingers at your delicate neck to figure how deep inside you, he is.

Lightly nudging finds the head of his cock at the top of your delicate neck and he hums, approvingly at how deep your swallowed him being your first time. You were certainly struggling to keep him nestled inside, yet he isn’t ready to leave your warmth.

“At first, she couldn’t swallow me whole but after hard training I loosen her throat enough to hug my cock at its fullest… just like you are struggling to do right now…” his fingers tap playfully against your swollen neck, and you groan.

Whirling your tongue around his tip, as your last attempt to unbalance him enough to pull back, finally succeed and he moans huskily, to then pull you off from the hair, lips making a loud pop sound when your mouth leaves. 

You pant, heavily. Tears run wild down your strained cheeks as you swallow some spit to moisten your sullen throat. 

Trying to catch your breath, you feel the rim of his coat sleeve gently cleaning the drool from your mouth, soft and precise wipes as if polishing fragile china and his large hand cups your jaw delivering a mindful massage while his other hand threads his long fingers inside the strands of your hair and both palms dutifully lower the pain cause by his previous roughness.

“I apologize, just wanted to make a point.” He simply states as if that explained everything. You look at him, confusion swimming in your round puffy eyes and he sighs, innocently cocking his head at you. “Your sister and I had a very special relationship, based in raw trust and the most pure and unprejudiced understanding.” 

You weren’t dumb and his secret innuendo didn’t pass unnoticed. It was more than obvious that they knew each other fairly well to share their kinks and deepest secrets and trusted each other enough to not feel judged when they did. 

You want that, you want Nanami to claim you as he once claimed your sister. You want Nanami to trust you as he trusted her.

“I want to be like her!” you proclaim, heatedly. “I can take it.”    

You say, staring directly into his eyes, determination shinning in your orbs. Nanami shakes his head, pleasantly surprise and in a lazy motion takes back his glasses, bumping the tip of your nose with his index finger before putting the amber glass back on the bridge of his nose.

The experienced sorcerer leans, surrounding the steering wheel with both his arms and whispers in a husky, joyful voice. 

“Want me to train you like I train your onee-san?” A mischievous smirk stretches his mouth, and you marvel at how handsome he looks when he’s relaxed.

You nod, eagerly. 

“Fine.” He speaks. “I’ll train you.”

Your eyes round with excitement and he grins at your sparkling attitude. 

“Lesson one.” You lean closer, attentive for his next words. “Breathe through your nose.” 

A wide smile stretches your face, beautiful and full of joy and he feels butterflies flying inside his stomach when you say his name.

“Nanami.” 

“Nanami…”

“Nanami Kento!”

The blonde opens his eyes, startled and confusion raids his usually stoic features. 

“Nanami-” You call once again, this time softer. “You fell sleep.” You swiftly explain and glancing around finds the car where he left it, at the side of the lane and not in the parking lot near the cliff. 

Damn it! Dammit! I dreamed all…? What a magnificent asshole I am…that was the lividest dream I’ve ever had…Damn it…Damn it…

“I know.” His voice is thick and clearing his throat, his face goes back to plain and indifferent. “Just resting my eyes…to continue safely.”

You accept his answer, easily.

“Classic Nanami,” you beam. “So trustworthy.” Smiling adds. “I feel so safe around you.”

His mouth sets in a straight line and he starts the car again, feeling a whole lot more guilty.

The trip is fast and silent, and you attribute it to him being tired. But you couldn’t be more wrong. 

The experienced sorcerer is deep in thought, more like deep in regret. Analyzing every aspect of his wet dream, can only come to the conclusion that he is in desperate need of placing you in your sister’s shoes. 

Probably is being unfair to that prerogative, what he really wants is for you to want to be in your sister’s shoes. 

For you to want and need him as much as he does with you. Is that too much to ask? He thinks not. 

Reaching the school, he stops at the entrance, and you hop down the car, bouncing skirt claims his entire attention and snapping out of it, Nanami quickly says his goodbyes with a fast motion of his hand.

The motor roars and before he leaves, you turn around and point at his face through the open window. 

“Hey Nanami!” he turns to look at you, holding a stare that’ll worry you, if it weren’t being hidden behind his glasses, and ignoring his throbbing need, you cleverly proclaim. 

“You are blushing!” 

Damn it. 

➡️ JJK NSFW ART

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 5: What?!

Finally getting home from your patrol you sneak through the window of your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. After the call you decided that your patrol was done.

Frankly you're still coming to terms with the fact that Batman and his protogese are the same people who are essentially praying on your civilian self's downfall yet adoring your vigilante persona like it's the greatest thing in the world.

Though, now that you really think about it, it makes sense. Bruce Wayne is the richest man alive, he'd be able to afford to do this, they have the same amount of members as the heroes, same builds and heights, actually... Basically everything matches up.

Not to mention the fact that your senses goes off around both group members!

From outside your small room door you hear your parents arguing again - more like your mother yelling and your dad breaking things and stomping his foot. It was probably your dad's fault again. Don't get you wrong, you love your family! It's just that they're dysfunctional.

Your dad has a massive drinking problem that landed him working as a goon for Black Mask, he's struggled with his temper for years after he got hit a bit too hard in the head by Batman. Pair that with the fact that he's mute and he's a force to be reckoned with.

Your mom is always busy and rarely ever home, when she is she couldn't be bothered to interact with you unless you got into trouble. She grew up rich, often talking about how she went to the same school as Bruce Wayne and how she was a popular cheerleader before her life fell apart. She doesn't talk much on the topic but it's clear she holds distain for your father and, by extension, you.

You sigh to yourself, you need to shower. That means you need to get past them without them bringing you into it. Or you just don't shower for the night and have one tomorrow...

Your mom screams something out about not throwing knives and you decide to just shower tomorrow morning.

You change out of your costume and hide it safely under a loose floorboard, you change into your pajamas and get into bed. Today was a massive mental drain and physical drain.

...

You awake to a knock at the front door. Your parents usually ignore it and make you answer when someone knocks because "you're dispensable" as they say. Looking at the clock on the wall of the kitchen you see it's around 7am.

Groggily making your way to the door you look through the peep hole and see Tim standing awkwardly on the other side with a guy next to him, the guy next to him being so big and tall that you could only see a small part of his chest and arm.

You curse to yourself quietly, this is by far the worst luck you've ever had.

You open the door and look at the two. Now seeing the other guy the thing that stands out is a stripe of white hair on his head. Instantly you know it's Jason Todd.

You aren't an idiot. He's the only one in the family built like how he is - not including Bruce.

"What do you want?" You ask, annoyed. Tim chuckles weakly, as if nervous. "Wayne Enterprises wishes to give your mother her letter of departure." You blink once, then twice. "Huh? Letter of departure? The fuck does that mean?" You mutter, genuinely confused.

Jason scoffs, "it means your dear mother is losing her job, kid." He states uncaring of how blunt he's being. Tim elbows him and hisses something about being more considerate.

You don't listen, all noise becoming white noise. Why is she being fired? She works hard, she dedicates her time, she does her best! Is this because you have beef with Tim? That's not fair!

She's the only stable source of income, without that job you all would be living on the streets. You've heard AND seen so many horror stories about teens living on the streets, it's something you'd pray never happened to you. But now it's entirely probable.

So, in a moment of desperation you grip Tim by his shoulders "Please! You can't fire her! We'll end up homeless! She works all the time, she tries! My mother will improve if you ask, she needs this job. The whole family does!"

Tim seems shocked by this, his posture stiffening. Jason looks on guard, as if assessing whether he should step in, though he doesn't seem fond of the idea. You wouldn't doubt that he was made to accompany Tim as a body guard.

Tim opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to beg for your mother to keep her job.

"Uh... Look, I don't mean any harm by it, it's just that we need to make way for brighter minds..." He stumbles slightly over his words as if making the excuse up on the spot.

You won't back down however. "Tim, please, I desperately need you to realize this. I. Will. Die. On. The. Streets." Probably not true because of your mutation but the fear remains. "Please, I'll do anything for you to not do this! I already promised Bruce to stop talking bad about Aranea!" You please desperately.

Tim glances to Jason who quirks a brow and shrugs. The sound of movement from behind you makes your eyes widen and behind you you see your dad approaching, you were probably too loud.

He glares at you before yanking your hair so you move away from Tim and remove your clutches on him. You hiss in pain at the feeling but bow your head down.

Your dad eyes the two boys before looking to the paper in Tim's hands. He instantly knows what's going on and storms down the hallways of the complex to do who-knows what. That scares you. Your dad is unpredictable.

After some silence Tim speaks up. "Are you okay? Your dad pulled your hair pretty tightly..." You look down, ashamed. You couldn't even bother putting your walls up and defending your pride. Your life is basically falling apart at the seams.

"... I'll do anything for you to not fire my mother..." You mutter meekly, a far cry from how you usually act, something Tim notices immediately. He sighs to himself, he debates the odds. Maybe if he doesn't fire (Reader)'s mother then they can be even. The feud can end, it was pointless on your part to begin with for hating someone so sweet and kind, then hating him who defends the innocent.

"Fine. Your mother can stay, but, it may not be permanent. I suggest she find elsewhere in the mean time." Tim states before walking off. Jason takes a second to stare at your relived form, the slight smile of disbelief and look of relief in your eyes. He then leaves with Tim.

You close the door to the apartment and sink to the floor. That was terrifying. You'll have find a way of telling your mother the news before she goes into work in two hours.

You're officially having the day off from school and patrol today.

[synthetickitsune]

Woozi (SVT) | Afterglow fluff | 0.6k | gn!reader warnings: mentions of previous sexual activities but nothing explicit

His eyes are so bright. It's not exactly a fresh observation but everything feels new, somehow. Maybe you're only still coming back to your senses. All of him is bright. And he's bright, inside and out. And it doesn't register in your brain that he can't read your thoughts and so your wide smile and fond eyes make no sense to him. 

"What is it?" Jihoon asks, one of his hands coming up to stroke your cheek. If he's bright, then you’re soft. He marvels at the long-known and yet somehow new revelation. He runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your cheek and the side of your face. You’d give into him so easily if he pressed, but he won’t. He feels each little dip and tiny scar and he's so glad you're you, and not some perfect doll playing at being human. He could touch you forever. And, like you, he too doesn't think to tell you. Maybe you'll be able to read it from the lift of the corners of his lips. 

"What is it?" you mirror and he laughs softly before pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are so soft. His kiss makes you feel like you're glowing from the inside.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your lips, unashamed to tell you how he feels in the precious minutes when you’re covered by the blanket of serenity and satisfaction. 

“You too,” …but he remains bashful when it’s his turn to accept praise.

Reality threatens to burst your little bubble soon - you'll need to clean up. You're both sweaty, and the sheets are messy, and your bodies are messy too, but you want to stay like this forever - to simply float on a cloud with Jihoon by your side. His smile could chase storm clouds away. 

"Come closer," is what he says, but it's different words you hear and that you return by pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of his jaw as you cuddle up to him. You will yourself to ignore the drying bodily fluids on your skins. 

His arms are strong but gentle around you, and you let yourself feel small and vulnerable for a second. A rare treat that you both only allow yourself with each other. And even so you don’t usually get the courage to unless it’s in the moments like this. You breathe in deeply his scent, a hint of his cologne still present, just like he can faintly smell your shampoo in your hair.

There's no need to say anything more. Soon the endorphins will give way to the rest of what you can feel but until then, you want to bask in his warmth and the feeling of his nails scratching lightly along your spine. He, too, seems reluctant to even think about pulling away from your lips singing sweet praises into his ear, genuine reassurances that he'd usually shy away from. 

Right now, though, he's already naked and so are you, and you're so soft and pliant under his touch that he can show as much trust in you as you show him. What would be the point in hiding if you’ve already bared yourselves to each other completely?

Jihoon closes his eyes again and nuzzles further into your hair. You fit so well against his body, like with each embrace you’re molding yourself into him. It’s a nice thought, that you’d become the one who’s meant to be for each other. Without the intervention of fate, destiny, without supernatural ties and bonds. Just two humans loving each other, choosing each other for no other reason than love and trust.

It’s a foreign feeling. A scary one too. Do you feel scared like he does? Does it make your heart race just like his? He hugs you closer. Doubts are for later. For now he only needs to hold you.

[thinkinonsense]

SEVEN DAYS

x2!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: desperate!logan, eating reader out, fingering, squirting?

masterlist

the mission was only supposed to last for two days. forty-eight hours and he would return home to you. instead it was dragged out much longer than it needed to be.

logan wanted nothing more than to be home in your arms instead of a motel room alone, painfully hard, trying to tune out scott snore on the other side of the wall.

so, on thursday afternoon when him, scott, and storm returned to the mansion, logan wasted no time hunting you down. he could smell you the second he walked through the front door; you were in charles office. charles, hank, jean, and you were meeting to discuss a new experiment when logan bursts through the door.

"logan! pleasure for you to join us." hank announces.

your head snaps up from your scribbling to see that your lover has returned safely. he looked like a lion ready to pounce on a naivë little lamb.

"just came by to pick something up." logan answers, ignoring everyone else in the room as he made a b-line for you.

"hey, baby–"

within seconds, logan lifts you up over his shoulder and out of the leather seat. you squeal, dropping your notepad and pen. your kitten heels kick his abs as your squirm in his arms.

"logan!" you hiss, swatting his toned back as he turns around to walk out of the room, unphased. "what the hell! put me down!"

he ignores you, pulling down your dress to cover your behind from your co-workers. no one was shocked by logan's actions. the man wasn't a patient person by any means. they all watched as you left over logan's shoulder, face blushing with embarrassment.

when logan finally shut your guys bedroom door, he placed you down on the edge of your bed; yet to say a word to you. instead, he falls straight to his knees in front of you. his big callous hands, rubs the soft skin of your inner thighs, opening your legs.

logan couldn't help but moan when he saw the pretty lacy light blue panties you were wearing. you could see the neediness in his eyes as he licked his lips. before he can remove your underwear, you cradle his face in your much smaller palms.

"you alright, baby?" you ask, looking down at him.

similarly to a cat, logan rubs the scruff of his beard against your thigh, pressing his nose against the thin panties; inhaling the scent of your arousal. you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp softly before your fingers tugging on the kitten tuffs, making him whimper against your pussy.

"mhm..." he manages to say. "i missed you."

"aw, i missed you–"

"missed your scent, your lips, your mouth..." his words are muffled as he kisses you messily over the lace. "missed this fuckin' pussy so much."

you gasp when he pulls down the soaked material and moves back for a second to look at you. he spreads you apart with his thumbs, watching you twitch and clench at the cool air hitting your pussy. she was warm, wet, and welcoming to him. logan couldn't imagine a better way to spend the rest of his day.

"there's my favorite girl." logan smiles before spitting right on your button and latching his mouth onto you. you moan loudly as he talks to your pussy, acting as if you weren't even in the room.

"you've missed me too, huh, pretty girl?" he moans incoherently as his tongue runs over core.

it's a struggle to keep your eyes open but it was worth the sight of logan's head in between your legs. the noises he made with your slick were unbelievably lewd.

"must've missed me a lot." you giggle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps your legs around his head.

"you've got not fuckin' idea." he mumbles into your folds. spit and slick pooled onto the sheets that laid under you as logan feasted.

logan looks up at you and fears he might cum just from the image of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth slightly parted as you sing his praise of 'right there, logan!', 'such a good boy for me'.

the 'good boy' comment threw logan's mind into a frenzy. he needed to hear you. he needed to be surrounded by your presence. two of his fingers dip into you, fast and rough. your thighs squeeze his head, threatening to pop it right off his body.

there was no time to warn him before your high hit. logan slurped up every bit of honey you had to offer him. you reach down for the hand that wasn't busy locating your sweet spot and place it on your tit. logan could feel your heartbeat and it only sent him further on his spiral, adding a third finger and repeatedly hitting that spot that made you see fireworks.

"i c-can't, logan" you mewl, wiggling back from logan's tongue. he catches you, latching back onto your button. "it's too m-much!"

"she's takin' me just fine." his voice is muffled against you in the dirtiest way possible.

the pressure builds in your tummy. there were no words in your brain at this point, moaning and babbling about nothing.

"that's the spot, huh?" he groan, smirking up at you. logan's fingers twist up, slamming against that gummy spot deep in your walls.

the motion caused you to let out more slick than you ever had before, gushing on logan's face. you can hear him curse as he licks you clean.

“it’s only been seven days, you know?” you giggle, trying to catch your breath.

he climbs up your body to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself. you moan into his mouth, as logan grinds down on you, needing more.

“seven days too long, sweetheart.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

a/n: just something short n sweet before i post part 2 of dad!logan x teacher!reader <3

[ssailormoonn]

❛ THEY ARE WHAT ?! ❜

Husband! Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Wife!Reader

WC;1.4 k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem reader, you and giyuu are married, fluff, slight crack warning + more?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Giyuu and the reader have been married for three years, but their marriage isn’t widely known. The reader, a bubbly and outgoing Hashira, is often seen around Giyuu, leading others to assume she pities him, unaware of their relationship. During a Hashira meeting, she casually asks for leave to celebrate her anniversary, surprising everyone. Ubuyashiki then reveals the truth by wishing the couple a happy anniversary, leaving the rest of the Hashira in shock - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You and Giyuu had always kept things... quiet. Not out of necessity, but because that's how Giyuu preferred it. He wasn't the type to flaunt his feelings or make a show of your relationship, and you didn't mind...most of the time. Sure, you'd tease him now and then, but your marriage wasn't something you shouted from the rooftops. You didn't hide it either, though.

People just never asked.

You were nothing like Giyuu in any aspect. Where he was brooding and silent, you were bubbly, always smiling, always drawing attention with your lively personality. Once you came into Hashira position, you'd gain the reputation of one of the friendliest and most outgoing but also one of the strongest.

People admired your skill, but they couldn't help but not ignore how you looked. You had that beauty to draw eyes, combined with your personality, it wasn't rare to hear other people say how you were one of the prettiest demon slayers.

No one knew your last name, though.

That might've been a clue-if any of them had stopped to think about it.

It was no secret that you spent a great deal of time around Giyuu, but most of the Hashira had come to the conclusion that you must pity him-some sort of friendly charity case. And Giyuu, in his usual way, didn't correct them. He never explained why you two were always together.

He let them assume and you let him.

But it was about to come out—whether you planned it or not.

The meeting started off like any other. You sat near Giyuu as per usual, not that anyone paid much attention to seating arrangements anymore. It had become routine. Sanemi barely spared a glance in your direction, too busy looking irritated by something else entirely, while Mitsuri flashed you her usual bright smile.

Rengoku was already there, greeting you with his boisterous energy. "Ah, good morning! You are looking radiant today as always!"

You smiled back at him. "Thanks, Rengoku."

Giyuu nodded in greeting but didn't say a word, silent as always and as still as air. You were used to it, though. His silence didn't faze you. Giyuu loved being near you in private, he was like a cat that didn't want to leave. But today, you did have something to ask, something that was going to definitely stir the pot.

When Ubuyashiki asked if anyone had announcements, you took a deep breath, preparing for the storm that would most definitely arise.

"Master Ubuyashiki, Giyuu and I would like to request a leave of absence for a week."

The other Hashira's eyes fell instantly upon you, curiosity written on their faces. Ubuyashiki smiled. "Of course. And for what reason?"

You grinned, your eyes flicking to Giyuu, who looked faintly concerned-he hadn't expected you to announce it, but you couldn't help yourself. "It's our anniversary."

There was a wave of shock around the room, though nobody said a word in that instant. Mitsuri gasped, eyes wide with wonder, while Sanemi shot you a look of utter incredulity. Rengoku's eyebrows shot up, for once, his grin faltered while he processed what you had said.

But Ubuyashiki didn't seem remotely surprised. As serenely as he always spoke, he merely inclined his head and said, "Ah, of course. Happy anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Tomioka

Mitsuri's face had sagged. "W-what...?! Mrs. Tomioka?!"

Rengoku's eyes blinked, his confusion curled into laughter. "Wait—Giyuu's wife?! And all this time we thought you were just keeping him company out of pity!"

Giyuu's eyebrow twitched at the comment.

Sanemi huffed loudly, wrapping his arms around himself as if to shield the bruised ego within. "You've got to be kidding me. You're married? To him?"

Uzui leaned back as if he finally found the most amusing part of his day. "Tomioka's been keeping a pretty little secret from us this whole time, huh?" he said, raising an eyebrow in a smirk. "I gotta say, you are full of surprises. Bet you ain't as dull as we thought, Giyuu.

You tried to keep the laughter welling up inside of you contained, but Giyuu's expression was making you not to do so, he was getting embarrassed from the teasing. His face was stoic as ever, but you could sense him tense up. A hand laid stiff upon his lap gave a small jerk-a faint sign that all this attention set him ill at ease. You leaned forward and casually laid your hand over his, giving it a slight squeeze.

"Well, we didn't exactly hide it," you teased with a smile. "We just didn't tell anyone."

Sanemi grunted low. "You mean he didn't say anything."

Giyuu had nothing to say, his eyes on the floor. Moments like this, you knew he wanted to disappear. But instead of letting the others keep their teasing going, you turned the tables.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," you teased, moving in a little closer to Giyuu with a sparkle in your eye. "It's been years now. Giyuu's always been such a romantic."

Sanemi snorted, and Tengen let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, right. I really can't picture Tomioka being romantic."

You smiled, leaning your head against Giyuu's shoulder in exaggerated love. "He planned a whole week off for our anniversary. Isn't that sweet?

Mitsuri, the eternal romantic, squealed in delight. "Oh, my goodness! That's so adorable! How long have you two been together? Why didn't we know this all this time?!"

"Well," you said, "Giyuu's good at keeping secrets."

By this time Giyuu's face was a deep crimson color. his ears almost burned with embarrassment. You knew he'd most likely scold you later for being so casual about letting it all spill out, but for the time being you enjoyed your fellow Hashira's reactions.

Rengoku, still smirking, crossed his arms. "Three years of marriage, eh? That's awesome! I'm shocked we never put two and two together. How long have you two been a couple?

"Since we were in our teens," you said matter-of-factly. "We went through quite a bit together. He was always there to support me, even when I wasn't yet a Hashira."

The smirk on Tengen's face spread further. "So, how does it feel being Mrs. Tomioka? Got to say, I'm kind of curious. He's got that stoic brooding vibe going on, but I'll bet he's different when it's just the two of you, huh?"

Your beamed, and you shot Giyuu a sly look. "I don't kiss and tell."

That made the rest burst into a fit of laughter, though Mitsuri turned to you dreamily. "That's so romantic. I just can't believe that you were married all along..."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Romantic? It's impossible."

You laughed, leaning into Giyuu just a bit more, earning a barely audible sigh from him. You could tell he was trying to hold it together despite the attention, and you knew he'd probably scold you later for making such a big deal out of it. But for now, you were having too much fun with the moment.

Ubuyashiki merely smiled at the both of you, his calm and collected demeanor accompanied by an understanding sheen in his eyes. "I hope the two of you enjoy your week off together. It's well deserved."

You nodded gratefully to him. "Thank you, Master Ubuyashiki.

The other Hashira were still talking when the meeting wrapped up, still apparently in a daze from your marriage bombshell. Mitsuri darted over to you the instant the meeting was finished, her face shining with excitement.

"I have so many questions! How did you two meet? Who confessed first? Oh, I bet Giyuu's so sweet when no one's looking, isn't he?"

You laughed, dodging her interrogative attack. "It's a long story, Mitsuri. Some other time, I'll tell you."

With that said, before you could utter another word, Giyuu silently got up, tugging lightly on your sleeve. "Let's go."

You followed him out of the meeting room, the eyes of the other Hashira seemingly still on you well after you left. When they were outside and far enough away from their prying gazes, Giyuu let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low but his tone gentle instead of angry.

You smiled up at him, slipping your hand into his. "Maybe just a little. But come on, they were bound to find out eventually. It was kind of fun seeing their reactions."

Giyuu sighed again but didn't argue. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently, and his expression softened just a little. "I suppose it wasn't unbearable."

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "See? I told you it'd be fine."

Giyuu said nothing, but the slight flush of his cheeks did the talking.

Do not copy, steal, modify use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[genderless-naper]

tattooed fingers

trafalgar law x alt!strawhat!reader

tw: slight choking, jealous law hehe

wc: 1.5k, lowercase intended !

a remark about his fingers might leave you feeling speechless

the crew was lively as usual traveling the seas on the sunny. everything was where it was meant to be except for one unknown variable: trafalgar law. the current alliance your captain accepted without much thought was questioned by all your crew mates. still they held hope in their captains decisions, and welcomed the unknown pirate on the ship. it was obvious he wasn’t much of an engager; especially when he gave blunt responses to any of the crew mates attempts of conversation.

instead he was an observer. specifically an observer of you. you stood out in the group of pirates. it was hard for him to avoid looking at you. your confident demeanor, your bold personality, and your style of clothes were all setting his attraction levels on an all time high.

he fought hard to push away the thought of your fishnets clinging to your thighs, and how he would rip them open to do unspeakable things to you. he tried to deny any sense of captivation, but when he sees your choker hugging your neck he becomes angered that it isn’t his hand choking you instead. his attempts to ignore you seemed impossible with the way your boots clanked against the deck boards. the strain it put on him to imagine how you two would sound with one of your legs held in the air and him in between.

at the end of the day it didn’t matter. you were a strawhat, so he did the best thing to make sure you stayed away from him.

he never responded to you. he never looked at you when you talked to him. he never addressed you when he talked to the group. he needed to make sure you didn’t get close to him so he wouldn’t fall for you more than he has. he buried his feelings inside him in hopes they would go away on their own.

during the day you decide to show off the new garter belt you were gifted to your crew. you were excited to finally open it up and try it on. the belt wrapped around your waist perfectly and connected with a section that hugged one of your thighs. you tightened it as you expressed your excitement to your crew. nico robin had gotten it for you knowing it would fit your wardrobe perfectly. your sense of style made her your biggest admirer (second to law). you thanked her with a big smile.

after cooping himself within the sunny the tattooed man surfaces to the deck solely for a refill of his coffee cup. during his coffee breaks he did his best to avoid you. he made the grave mistake of overhearing your conversation with nico robin about the garner belt. his eyes gazed over to your figure, and the leather belt wrapped around it. he couldn’t stop looking you up and down while fighting his feelings from resurfacing. he watched as you two laughed together effortlessly, and how she tighten the belt for you. she was dangerously close to you for his comfort.

after your laughing fit with the woman you finally saw law glaring down nico robin. after constant horrible interactions you’ve found yourself to heavily dislike the man standing near you. you crossed your arms as you spoke to him in annoyance, “can we help you? the kitchen is that way you caffeinated freak.” you pointed to the kitchen on the other side.

law snaps out of his thoughts. in an attempt to hide his emotions he responds without much thought, “so why exactly are you dressed so edgy?”

you rolled your eyes at the pure hypocrisy coming from him, “says the guy who has ‘death’ tattooed on his fingers on both hands. youre the most edgiest man i’ve ever met.”

law glances down at his fingers as a realization hits him. the reason he was so drawn to you was you two shared so many similarities. having nothing left to exchange with this man you turn back to nico robin and continue your conversation.

he spent the rest of the day trying to steal glances of you, but them just being ruined by you being so close to nico robin. he didn’t understand why you were so attached to her. if he couldnt have you then why should she?

he hated the way your conversations flowed so perfectly. how you could talk to her for hours and she would just admire you. he especially hated when you touched her arm while laughing at her joke. if he couldn’t experience those things when why could she?

it went on for the rest of the day. the two of you becoming closer and closer. the sharing of intimate platonic energy went well into the night as well.

the last thing that broke his patience completely was went she asked you if you’d like the stargaze with her. he looked at you in disbelief when you agreed excitedly. he expected you to reject the offer. a ting of jealousy crawled up his throat as you laid close to her to share a blanket. she pointed to the different constellations to show you.

“look there y/n” she points to the sky at a group of stars. you tried to follow her finger to the stars and she talks, “thats called the andromeda constellation.”

“robin i dont know what youre pointing at!” you pout slightly. nico robin takes a hold your face to help you look at the constellation properly as she connects the stars together, “do you see it now y/n?”

you nod fast, “its so pretty robin!”

the women smiled softly while starring at you, “its pretty just like you y/n.”

you blush slightly. before you had the chance to respond you hear footsteps approaching you both.

law had enough of seeing robin all over you. he could deal with you two talking and laughing together, but laying under the stars together while she called you pretty? thats where he drew the line.

he towered over you. your annoyance all starting to come back again from earlier in the day. you sat up ready to shoot him a sassy remark before you feel him grab your arm and pull you up. you try to tug your arm away, “let go of me trafalgar! what the hell do y-“

before you could process whats happening you find a blue bubble engulf you both. law activated his power to get you both away and somewhere more private.

he mumbled in annoyance not expecting you to hear, “i couldn’t stand watching her all over you like that.”

you raised a brow, “all over me? what are you talking about?? thats just how we are. not that its any if your business anyways!” you yank your arm back and cross it.

a fire lights in his eyes as he narrows them at you slowly, “so you’re both all over each other all the time..? are you serious y/n-ya?”

you were confused at his sudden acts. he was making you feel like you did something wrong. the memories of law ignoring you or being rude still fresh in your mind. you scoffed, “i don’t know what the hell you’re trying to say right now.”

law shot back without thinking, “i’m saying you need to stop that shit right now. i don’t want you cuddled up with someone watching the stars. i’m sick and tired of being in the background having to accept you be gifted stuff like this.” he loops a finger in the belt around your waist to pull you closer to him, “i like you too much for you to be tainted by these other people.”

you were shocked at the words coming out his mouth. he was probably just as shocked as you were, but the jealousy was overriding his chances of thinking logically. the thought of nico robin’s arm around your waist or the way she grabbed your face burned fresh in his mind. you pushed him away with annoyance setting back in, “all this caffeine is driving you insane.”

he shook his head, “you’re the one driving me insane y/n-ya” at this point he realized he couldn’t lock his thoughts away anymore. there was no going back, but did he really wanna go back when you stood in front of him looking so perfect?

he slowly raised his hand to your neck. he felt you tense as he brushes his fingertips against the skin above your choker. he stared at it with envy before he speaks in a commanding tone, “take this off.”

you hesitated to follow his instructions. you slowly open the clasp and take it off. the difference of having it off didn’t last long once it was replaced with law’s hand gripping your neck gently.

he smirked as he rubbed his thumb along a vein pressing on it slightly, “so what exactly were you saying about my tattooed fingers?”

[syoddeye]

consequence / snowball

price x f!reader | 2k words series directory | ao3 tags: exes, angst, cheating, references to depression. a/n: good things come to those who wait. ☕

it’s strange to think there’s a man in the living room.

by invitation. you’d extend it further and lure him down the hall to your room, but he might not appreciate it, considering you shit the bed by crying like an infant in front of him.

it’s the beer and ben. you should’ve arranged for delivery or left his things on the street. would’ve been less personal that way, safer, but you had to know—if you’d feel anything, if he’d ooze regret. you came out two for two, slapped with clarity. not only was ben unrepentant, he was happy. happier without you.

you gaze at the hyacinths above your bed. they remind you of john’s eyes. soothing.

~~~~

there’s a weight on john’s chest when he wakes.

cece purrs contentedly. she butts into his chin as he stretches, one hand stalling her advance to his face and the other scrubbing over his eyes. he tucks her to his chest as he stands and scratches under her chin while staring at the door at the end of the hall, pushed open to the width of a cat. not a sound.

he starts the kettle. it’s only polite.

in her cupboards, he finds the coffee and a collection of novelty mugs. he settles for ‘not paint water’ and ‘black coffee’ in the style of black flag. 

she can’t meet simon. he’d steal her.

john refills cece’s water, then tiptoes around the living room. with the added context, he examines the decor and art in a new light. he wonders if she looks at them with pain or contempt. if any inspire positive thoughts, or if they’ve been stripped of them. if she, like him, keeps tokens regardless of sentiment. monuments to his own failings, shortcomings, and triumphs. and, if she does, how he’ll drown out the bad with good.

she startles him.

“morning.” she stands at the mouth of the hall, in sweats and a t-shirt, voice thick with sleep. “did you…?” 

“hope you don’t mind.” he watches her shuffle languidly. “i don’t know if you prefer coffee or tea, but figured the kettle’s necessary either way.”

she hums and retrieves a glass pour-over from a cupboard. “i’m just impressed you’re here at all.”

you of little faith.

“not the type to flee a woman’s flat without a proper goodbye.”

“no? you often stay over at women’s flats?” her back is turned, but he hears the smile in her voice. “what constitutes a proper goodbye?”

his gaze lingers before he joins, ignoring the questions for his own sanity. “sleep well?”

after pouring water over the coffee grounds, she turns and leans, the picture of nonchalance, save for the puffy and still somewhat bloodshot eyes.

it’s not right to burn paintings, but he’d set fire to her ex’s studio, gallery—wherever the rat held his collection—if he believed it’d make her feel better.

“yes, actually. last night was, um, cathartic.”

he tilts closer, laying a palm flat on the counter beside her hip. “i assume there’s more to the story, but it’s your choice. i won’t pry any further. just say the word.” 

“no, no. i want to tell you.” she sighs, focusing on the drip. “you’re right. i didn’t get to the best part.”

to that, he has no immediate answer. no inclination to rush her into conversation when she’s barely awake. in the brief silence, her dejection and shame seep into the space like the water filtering through the grounds. 

john pulls out his phone, tapping through screens. “gonna need somethin’ to eat, sounds like. you been to…hm. ‘for goodness bakes’ bakery?”

she frowns over her shoulder. “john, i’m not suitable for public consumption.”

he lifts a brow. “debatable, but i mean to pop out and pick up breakfast. do you have a preference?”

slipping from his place beside her, he weaves around cece and heads for his shoes and jacket.

“you don’t have to–”

“i know. preference?”

across her flat, she fights back a smile and he fights his impulses.

“raspberry-filled doughnut.”

sweet. suits her. “rog. lock the door after me, shower, and i’ll be back before you know it.”

~~~~

the water feels hot, no matter how low you turn the temperature. 

such a complicated influx of thought. flirting with john is effortless. talking is easy. he cuts through your guilt and grief like an icebreaking ship with none of the force or command. and he listens. really listens. you could stare at the divot between his eyebrows all day, the way his face grows serious, and his eyes somehow warmer. 

for the first time in months, you genuinely fuss over clothes and skincare beyond moisturizer. are you pathetic? is this pathetic? you ask cece, she slow blinks and slaps the tie to your robe. inconclusive.

a knock at the door. you yank a shirt over your head, assess, and force yourself to walk calmly from your room.

don’t rush this.

~~~~

she smells faintly of citrus. coffee, too. though that may be the steaming mugs set between them.

“good?”

“the best,” her cheek bulges with a bite. her eyes don’t stray from the pastry, its fruity entrails spilled onto a plate. “thanks.”

they eat in relative silence, but he catches her staring at his bicep twice. 

“rethinking your compliments?” he flexes the mermaid’s tail, dusting croissant flakes off his fingers.

her turn to ignore a question. she asks her own. “y’know, i never asked. do you live far?”

“across town.”

“and yet you come to the shop, what, three times a week when you’re in town?”

four, if he’s lucky. “good coffee. decent service.”

“right.”

she finishes and licks sugar off her thumb. john tears away to clear the table, ignoring another protest. last thing he wants to do is turn a lovely morning into an awkward one. he joins her on her couch, taking what feels like is quickly becoming his spot and prompting cece to sit on his lap.

“where did i leave off?” she asks rhetorically, staring into her mug. “ben’s big break. right. he was only originally supposed to be away for two weeks painting a mural for an architect’s office. well, midway through the job, the architect introduced him to a friend who happened to own a gallery.”

“the snowball.”

“yes. of course, ben’s gifted, but like i said, he’s got personality. the, uh, hustle. i can’t blame him for seeing an opportunity and taking it. at least that opportunity.”

john hesitates to address the continued self-deprecation with how her voice wraps around the very telling ‘that’. he bites his tongue and picks his battle. another day, he’ll help tear that veil of doubt from her eyes.

“anyway, his two week long trip spun out into six.” she winces. “he didn’t end up coming back once. not to grab more clothes or anything. he just had me send some along with selected pieces. he said there was no time.”

“and hannah?”

“neck-deep with the final school exhibition.” she goes quiet, lost in her barely-touched coffee. swallowing, her gaze lifts. “she was…busy.”

john sets his mug aside out of concern for the ceramic’s integrity.

“things became difficult. ben said he wanted to try long-distance before, so i thought six weeks was a decent trial run. i wasn’t well, but texting and calling him kept me afloat. then he started getting busier, and couldn’t text or call every day. one weekend, he didn’t answer at all. he did apologize, though, and sent me flowers—not as nice as yours, though. yellow somethings. kind of garish.”

he mirrors her small, sad smile, dropping it when she looks away. it’s deeply selfish and painfully juvenile to revel in that detail, but he does.

“eventually, his trip ended. things improved, rapidly, like he was eager to make up for lost time. dates, gifts, love notes. it was nice. he booked more work, but he bought a car, so he’d stay home during the week and travel on weekends. i couldn’t tag along often, since weekends are the busiest days at the shop, but he promised he’d be home for our anniversary.”

cece migrates. the ball of warmth leaves him for her mum, tucking her purring self into his girl’s lap. she sets her coffee down and idly strokes the creature, leaning hard into the cushions, holding her cheek with a palm. her focus drifts elsewhere for a minute.

he knew the story would inevitably reach this point. the crash. it’s difficult to believe he was so angry over a stupid dent.

“you don’t have to continue.”

“no, i want you to understand, john.”

his name’s enough to shut his mouth.

“at dinner, ben gave me his phone to show the photographs that a local paper was going to publish alongside an article about his work. i didn’t think anything of it, other than i thought he looked handsome. so i kept swiping.”

a gear turns in his head.

“and in the background of the last picture, ben and hannah were attached at the mouths.”

his blood boils. it is good his hands are empty.

“you know, i think he wanted me to find out like that. in public, where he didn’t think i’d make a scene.”

~~~~

ben called you crazy. crazy. 

he’d taken his phone back with this look on his face and immediately demanded you lower your voice. you asked him point blank—how long?

he muttered something. months.

you’re not proud that you tossed a glass of wine into his face. knowing him, he was going to turn the breakup into a fucking piece. when he shot back from the table, he had the gall to act surprised and embarrassed. you contemplated throwing your glass, too, as he stormed out.

but he wasn’t worth it. 

you’d lose your job. which you’d need, since you were definitely on your own now.

the bottle of wine you drank that night couldn’t cover the bitter taste in your mouth, nor could it erase the fact that ben won.

and you lost.

~~~~

outside, john loiters at the top of the stairs. the cooler air helps mellow his temper.

“sure i can’t sort him out for you? i know a man or two who’d help. there’d be no connection to you.” he smiles. if only she knew the sincerity of the offer.

“i’m sure, john. i’ll let you know if that changes. walk you to the corner?”

he shelves his anger for later. when her arm slips through his without asking, it’s swiftly shoved to the back. he squeezes her hand against his ribs. 

“i’m curious about something.” john admits. “earlier. you insisted on tellin’ me everything so i’d ‘understand’.”

she hums.

“it’s not as though i didn’t follow. i did. i do, but i’m not entirely sure what you meant by that.”

at the corner, she withdraws and shoves her hands into her pockets. “i needed you to hear all the, uh, gruesome details. so you know what you’re getting into.”

“getting into?” his chest tightens.

a look of resolve falls over her face. her voice is the firmest he’s heard outside the shop, calling customers to pick up their orders.

“i made the mistake of rushing things before. i’m not keen to do it again. if you like being around me, john, which i think you do,”

more than you know.

“you should know i want to take whatever this is slow and steady. i don’t want to screw up again.”

he grasps for the right thing to say. slow and steady. he can do both. he’s laid on his belly for days waiting for a shot and knows the consequences of missing. to seize opportunity when it’s in front of him.

and this one’s finally wandered into his crosshairs.

[ivoirerose]

designated driver | charles leclerc

a reworking of an old fic of mine. no warnings except drunk idiots and mentions of sex. you have to pick up your drunk boyfriend from a night out.

Come pick your idiot up, he just started rapping Baby Got Back.

The text had come through from Carlos attached to a video of Charles singing along, trail of shot glasses surrounding him, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the passionate way he belted every word.

You rolled off the couch, shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your keys off the counter, answering Carlos with a firm order to not let Charles have any more to drink.

You try stopping him, he’s a menace.

Well you couldn’t argue with that. You tapped in the address Carlos had sent you, pulling up outside of a bar, music blasting from the door as it opened, letting out a group of girls stumbling over their heels.

You texted to say you were outside, watching the door, and when they hadn’t emerged after ten minutes, you decided to go in and get your pack of drunks.

You spotted them almost as soon as you walked through the door, sitting in the corner. Charles had his arms around Pierre's shoulders, the pair now both singing along to Vanilla Ice while Carlos recorded them.

You shook your head as you made your way over to them.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Charles’ gaze shot to you immediately, smile lighting up his face.

“Baby!! Guys, look, it’s my baby. You’re here!” he stood up and stumbled over to you, hands on either side of your face, and you caught a strong whiff of tequila as he leaned close. “You. Are so. Pretty.”

“Thanks Charlie, you too,” you answered as you peeled him off you, raising your eyebrows at Carlos over his shoulder, the other boy just shrugging and gesturing to the glass-littered table.

“Aww, you think so?” Charles blushed, and you fluffed up his hair.

“The prettiest. And you know what pretty boys need? Their beauty sleep. What do you say we get you back, huh?” You asked as he turned to Pierre.

“She thinks I���m pretty,” Charles smugly told Pierre.

“You know who I think is pretty? Kika,” he mumbled. “Hey, I’m gonna call her.”

He went to take out his phone and you rushed over to grab it from him.

“No you’re not because Kika has a big job in the morning and if you wake her up just to tell her how shiny her hair is, she will kill you.”

“Boo! No fun,” he grumbled. “It is shiny though, isn’t it?”

“Super ahiny,” you gave in, pulling him from his seat to stand next to Charles. “Okay, Carlos, you get Pierre, I’ll get Charles.”

“Got it,” he answered, and as he stood up, he stumbled against the chair, crashing to the floor. You watched as he pulled himself up by the table edge. “Woah, Y/N, did you see the way the floor just rose up then?”

You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face.

“Okay, never mind, I’ll get all three of you.” You reached over to grab him, linking your arm through his, Pierre on your other side. “Charles, link with Pierre. No letting go, children, come on.”

You led them through the bar, saving them from a stumble every few steps. You got to the exit when Charles stopped you.

“Wait, wait, baby, this bouncer? Here? He didn’t believe I had the prettiest girlfriend in the world. Can you believe that?” He gestured to the guy manning the door. “And now, she’s here, see, isn’t she the prettiest?”

You blushed, apologising to the guy as you pushed your way through.

“Wait, but he said…”

“Charlie, you’re gonna be the death of me!” you opened the door for him, shoving him into the passenger seat before wrangling the other two boys into the back.

You climbed into your own seat, clicking the child lock before setting off.

“Hey, can we put the radio on?” Pierre called from the back, and Charles reached out before you could answer, cheering as the sound of Bob Marley came from your speakers.

You smiled as they all sang along, and before you knew it, you were pulling up outside their hotel.

“Can you guys get in okay?” You asked, ignoring Pierre’s offended scoff at your question as he pulled at the door handle before turning to you with a sad look. “It won’t open, Y/N.”

You smiled as you clicked the button to unlock the door, and they climbed out of the back of your car. You and Charles watched them wobble their way to the door and stumble in, giving big waves as they stepped inside.

“Idiots,” you mumbled.

“I agree,” Charles answered sleepily.

“I was including you in that.”

“Hey! I’m your idiot.” He defended, and you couldn’t help but nod at that. “Can we stop for fries?”

“Are you gonna order four portions and then eat two bites before falling asleep again?”

“No?”

“Charles.”

“Okay, no fries.”

You rolled your eyes, signalling to pull in the nearest drive-thru, ignoring your boyfriend’s elated cheer.

“One portion, Charles, One.”

“Deal. Give 'em.”

He stuffed four into his mouth at once, groaning at the taste.

“God I love you.”

“You talking to me or the fries?”

“Honestly, right now, I’m not even sure.”

You giggled and he turned to look at you, eyes drunk and hazy.

“I do love you. A lot. You’re so pretty. And nice. And smart. And funny. And great in bed.”

“Charlie!”

“It’s true!”

“God Carlos was right, you’re a menace.”

“Yeah but you love me.”

“Yeah. I do.”

…

“Speaking of great in bed?”

“Charles, no!”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Before The Darkness

☪WORD COUNT: 3.7K

☪GENRE: established relationships, old friends to friends mafia au, purge au, first kiss, i love you, betrayal, fluff ending,

☪PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

☪Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

☪MASTERLIST

The sun filtered through the curtains of your living room giving it a warm but uneasy glow of everything. You knelt on the floor trying to pack everything you were going to need for the next day or so into one suitcase and Yoongi looked at you with a saddened expression. This year he'd gotten to you earlier than he ever usually did, it was almost 5 in the morning when he decided to come and get you ready to come to his place.

The purge didn't even start until tomorrow at 7pm but you figured Yoongi was just deciding to be a little more cautious with time this year since people got a little wacky in the lead-up to the event.

"Is Cassandra going to be there this time?" You knew his live-in cook probably wanted to be with her family during the purge this year but you'd grown close with her over the years of this happening. The two of you had formed a strong friendship since it would usually be the two of you locked up inside of the house with nothing much to do except talk. Yoongi would always make sure he looked you up in his place since it was like a fortress.

Not to mention no one really wanted to mess with Min Yoongi. The man who practically ran the underworld and everyone knew the name of, he was a household name at this point. His house was one of the safest places on the planet whenever the purge was going down, people begged to be taken there when the purge was happening and he tried to keep his men or his men's family there but there were only so many rooms he could use for them.

"You're not going to mine this year," He mumbled a little just low enough for you to hear him, peeking through your curtains to make sure there was no one outside. All morning he'd been a little more jittery than usual and it was strange to see him so on edge. Someone who you knew was never like that, someone who made things in the dark is scared of him.

Yoongi wasn't scared of anything. That you knew of and you knew everything about him. The two of you had grown up living right next door to each other. Hell, you were in love with him, not that you'd ever admit that to him.

"What are you talking about?" You laughed weakly hoping he was joking but there wasn't even a hint of a smile on Yoongi's face as he turned to look at you.

"It's not safe enough, you're going out of town." You stared at him as he explained it and he made his way over to you.

"But-" You tried to say it was the best place for you to be but he cut you off rather quickly,

"Are you packed?" It was now that you noticed that there were beads of sweat starting to form on his head and you nodded zipping up your case which was quickly taken by Yoongi and then grabbed your hand. You did your best to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through your body as he did this and followed him outside.

Today he was in his armoured car and four men with guns surrounded it, looking in all directions which didn't make you relax as you realised he must have been hiding how bad it was going to be this year.

There had been rumours that this year was going to be bloodier than usual, that people were going over the top with everything. But that was just rumours. No one would ever dare go against Yoongi, right?

"Yoongi, what's going on?" Your voice shook a little as you reached the car, your eyes lingering on the men who were all holding guns and still looking around as if they were waiting for a threat to come out of hiding.

"We have to go, I can't explain it here...Please," He opened the passenger door and you climbed in as he raced to do up your seatbelt for you. Your eyes landed on his hands and you noticed the slight tremor in them as he tried to help you.

"I can do it." You promised him but he continued to do it until you were strapped in, his eyes lingering on yours before the door slammed and he threw your bag into the back of the car. Silently getting into the driver's side and driving off without a word to you.

After about twenty minutes of driving in silence, you decided to break the ice and figure out what was going on inside of that head of his. It wasn't good for him to be in there alone too long and you knew that.

"Yoongi, you're scaring me. What's going on?" You looked out of the window to see four armoured cars following you, all of them his and your eyes went back to him.

His hands were clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white and he looked as though he was ready to kill someone. Something you'd seen many times since knowing Yoongi.

"It's not safe at mine, I'm taking you somewhere better, somewhere you'll be protected." His hand moved to the gearshift and you placed your hand on top of his trying to soothe him, even just a little.

"I'm always safe with you...you keep me safe." You whispered and he swallowed the lump in his throat. While that might have been true at one point or another it wasn't true now. Now he had no choice but to send you away, somewhere safe that no one would ever find you or know who you were.

"Yn, not this time." He shook his head, his eyes flicking to your hands and he linked your fingers together as he changed gears, keeping your hand with his the whole time.

"You're taking me across state lines, right? No one will know you, or me?" You looked at him as you realised what he was doing. If no one knew you, then you weren't going to be a bigger target.

"I already have a place set up, you trust me...right?" His eyes flicked to yours as he drove and you turned to look at him.

"Always, Yoongi." You nodded at him. Maybe it was wrong to follow him so blindly, to trust someone with his power but you did and you didn't care who knew it. The car fell into silence and you looked out of the window.

You were used to extended silences with him, it wasn't anything uncomfortable and you knew never to push him when he was in this kind of state.

The car's engine finally cut off, and the silence that followed was deafening, you stared around at the forest you were currently in. It was getting dark and you'd been on the road almost all day, your back hurt from sitting in the seat. You'd only made four stops on the whole drive and you dreaded to think how much pain Yoongi was in from driving for so long.

Yoongi stepped out of the car first he walked toward your side of the car and helped you out, taking your hand in his before you walked to the entrance of the underground safe house. His heart felt heavy, the weight of everything finally getting a bit too much for him but he knew he needed to do this for your own sake. He had built this place for moments like these—when the world was too dangerous for you when life was too uncertain. But nothing could prepare him for the storm brewing inside him now.

You looked around, trying to grasp the fact that this remote, hidden place was where you would stay for who knew how long since Yoongi hadn't even told you. You stared at Yoongi and you could feel it—his reluctance, the tension in his words during the drive over here.

"You're safe here," Yoongi said, his voice low and steady, as you both stepped inside the secure space. The door clicked shut behind them, locking out the world and you saw as electric deadbolts locked you both inside. It was almost like the ones in a bank vault, no one was getting through that door unless they owned a military-grade drill or laser - or they were Yoongi.

"No one knows about this place. No one can find you. You're safe." He repeated the words as if saying them were making them feel comforted by them instead of you. You stood there, staring at him, your heart pounding with questions that had no easy answers.

"But why here? Why so far away?" Your voice trembled, barely holding it together. He'd already told you it wasn't safe back home because there was a target but this felt too extreme for that.

"Yoongi, why are you hiding me out here? Please, just tell me." You looked at him and he looked over at you. He'd made a promise years ago to you that he would never hide anything from you.

He hesitated, looking down, trying to figure out how to explain it without crushing you completely.

"The Purge this year..." he began slowly, you nodded you'd heard the rumours of course you had.

"It's worse than before. Bloodier. It's not safe anywhere in the city. I had to take you away from it. Away from the threats, you're a walking target because of me. That house isn't safe but this is." You stared at him and nodded, shit you already knew but it still didn't feel like the whole truth. Not from him.

"But that’s not the full truth." You stepped closer to him, your eyes burning into his as you tried to figure it all out, to understand what he wasn’t saying to you.

"What aren’t you telling me, Yoongi?" His shoulders tensed, and he sighed heavily at you before pushing his hands through his hair.

You were always too smart, too perceptive and he knew he couldn’t hide from you, not now, not ever.

"There’s a war," he finally admitted, his voice flat and distant.

"A war with a rival gang that’s been brewing for a long time. It’s about to explode. And this time... I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive." The silence that followed was suffocating, you felt your heart drop out of your chest and into your stomach as you stared at him. It honestly felt as though someone had shot you. You stepped closer, your hands shaking as you reached for him, taking his hands in yours as you shook your head at him.

"No," You whispered, your voice cracking at the thought of never seeing him again. The two of you had always been together. The two of you were practically joined at the hip.

"No, you can’t leave me like this. You can’t go back there. Yoongi, please... stay here with me. Stay where it's safe," The desperation in your voice cut through him, your trembling hands gripping his jacket as if you could hold him in place, but you both knew you weren't strong enough for that.

"Don’t go," You pleaded, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. There was no way he was just going to walk out on you, you wouldn't be able to live without him around.

"I have to go, my men need me, Yn." He reached out as he ran his hand over your cheek, wiping the tears out from under your thumb his heart shattering at the sight of you crying for him.

"Stay with me. I can’t lose you. I—" Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes leaning into his touch as you began forcing the words out. The words you'd been holding in for years but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I love you, Yoongi. Please. Don’t go." Yoongi’s eyes softened at your confession. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, and yet, his smile was weak, a touch of sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth.

he'd been waiting to hear those words from you for years and now he was getting them right before he was going to die?

"You always wait until the last minute," he murmured with a bittersweet smile, forcing out a laugh as he shook his head at you.

"Always late with the things I want to hear most."

"Promise me you'll stay!" You yell at him, shoving your hands on his chest as he huffed a little the air in his lungs being knocked a little.

"Yn-"

"Don't! If you love me you'll stay here!" You threatened him and he sighed at you. He had obligations to his men but he nodded at you. He pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

"I’ll stay. I love you too, Yn." He whispers as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, your tears falling freely now.

"Promise me," You said softly, letting out a shakey breath as you watched him closely.

"Promise you won’t leave me. Not tonight." Yoongi nodded, his hand holding your waist in his grasp.

"I promise," he whispered into your ear, pressing a small kiss to your cheek as he nodded at you.

"I’ll stay with you." Relief washed over you, the tension in your body easing as you buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around him.

"It's been a long day, sunshine. We should sleep," He told you as he took your hand in his, leading you through the base in the direction of one of the bedrooms. You took note of everything.

There was a huge living area with a TV and selection of movies, a kitchen big enough to host dinners for an army and then a number of bedrooms but Yoongi continued to walk you until he reached the main one.

It was huge, a king-sized bed in the centre of the room and your eyes flicked to the door that had ten different locks on it to keep people out.

You clung to him as if afraid he would disappear if you let go of him but you crawled onto the bed.

"Don't fight it," he laughed as he ran his hand over your cheek softly.

"You promise not to go, right?" you mumbled tiredly as you snuggled into him. Yoongi smiled weakly,

"I promise." He whispers back to you. Slowly, as the exhaustion of the day and the weight of your emotions caught up with you. Yoongi watched you as your breathing evened out, and you fell asleep in his arms.

Yoongi lay there in the dim light, watching your peaceful face, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back before his eyes flicked to the time, he could spend five more minutes with you.

When you woke up you whimpered a little, there was a cold chill thanks to the underground safe house. You turned over in the bed searching for Yoongi but your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach the moment you realized the space beside you was empty.

"Yoongi?" You called out, your voice trembling, but there was no answer only further pushing the theory that he'd left you after promising not to. You scrambled out of bed, stumbling toward the door, your feet carrying you through the silent hallways. Each step felt like you were sinking deeper into the darkness of uncertainty, and with every empty room you passed your dread grew.

"Yoongi!" You yelled again, desperation seeping into your voice as you reached the common area. There, seated casually at a table, was one of his men—stoic, calm, flipping through a newspaper as if nothing was amiss.

"Where is he?" You demanded, your voice edged with fear and frustration, you didn't give a fuck what his rank was with yoongi you wanted to know where he was after promising you he wasn't going to leave your side.

"Where is Yoongi?" The man looked up, his face unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing, not that any of his men did. He sighed and stood up slowly as if bracing himself for your reaction. Yoongi had given him strict instructions to let you know he was gone and that you weren't to leave.

"He’s gone," he said quietly. You blinked at his nonchalant attitude already pissing you off. Your mind began reeling as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

"What do you mean, gone?" You whispered, the words barely making it past your throat as you shook your head at him. Yoongi promised he wouldn't go. He never broke his promises. Not to you.

"He promised me… he promised me he wouldn’t leave. He—" The man’s expression softened slightly, but he remained firm as he looked at you.

"He didn’t want you to worry," the man said suddenly making you scoff at him.

"He wanted to protect you." You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your tears angrily.

"Worry? All I'm going to do is worry!" Your voice splintered, the pain and frustration bubbling up uncontrollably. You felt betrayed, and abandoned—how could he leave you like that after everything?

Time passed in a haze, and as the week wore on, your fear twisted into anger at the thought of him leaving you and not saying a fucking word to you. You were terrified that he might be dead, that the war had taken him from you forever and you'd only just confessed to one another. And yet at the same time, you were furious at him for leaving you, for breaking his promise.

It had been a week and you had almost given up hope when you heard it—heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway. The commotion and stomping of more than one set of feet and you knew it wasn't just your own lonely guard.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest, disbelief flooding you as you turned toward the door, shifting out of the covers and watching the door. The handle turned slowly, and the door creaked open.

There he was.

Yoongi stood in the doorway, covered in blood, his clothes torn and dirty. His hair was dishevelled, and bruises lined his pale skin, his lip was busted. He looked like he had been through hell, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a gleam of mischief.

"I told you," he said, his voice gravelly and low.

"I'll never leave." For a moment, relief flooded through you so powerfully that you could hardly breathe. He was alive. He was here. But then the pain, the fear, and the anger came rushing back, overtaking the relief. Gripping the pillow beside you, you launched it in his direction but he swatted it away from his face.

"What the Yn?!" Your eyes narrowed, your fists clenched at your sides as you got out from the bed and stormed to stand in front of him.

"I hate you," You spat, her voice sharp and trembling.

"I hate you for breaking your promise. You swore you wouldn’t leave, Yoongi. You promised." Yoongi’s smirk faltered slightly as your words hit him. This whole time he thought you would have been happy to see him, he was happy to be back here, he hadn't thought about how much it would have hurt that he wasn't here for the last week.

He stepped closer to you, his expression softening, the exhaustion creeping into his eyes.

"Y/N," he started quietly, his voice gentle as he moved to cup your face in his hands but you moved away from him.

"I didn’t want to break that promise. But I had to end this. I had to make sure you were safe." You shook your head, your tears spilling over as you backed away from him, your anger masking the hurt that was tearing you apart on the inside.

"You don’t get it," You whispered, your voice cracking.

"You left me here for a week—alone, terrified that you were dead. I thought I’d lost you forever. I just fucking confessed my love and you were gone!"

"I know," he whispered, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to gently pull you into his arms. You resisted for a moment, your body tense, but when you felt his warmth, the fight slowly drained from you, and you crumbled against him, your tears soaking into his bloodstained jacket.

"I’m sorry," Yoongi murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, his arms around you tightening as he brought you close. Both of you kneeling down on the floor.

"I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought this was the only way… I thought it would be over faster. But I was wrong." You sobbed against him, your fists weakly pounding against his chest before you let your arms wrap around him tightly.

"You can’t do that to me," You whispered through your tears.

"You can’t leave me like that. I need you, Yoongi." He nodded his head, his eyes closed, holding you tighter, his heart aching at the sound of your broken voice.

"I know," he whispered. "And I’m sorry. I won’t leave you again. I swear it." You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face gazing up at him.

"You better mean it, because I can’t go through that again." He cupped your face in his hands, brushing away the last of your tears with his thumbs and kissing your nose softly.

"I mean it," he whispered. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere." He kissed your lips softly and nodded his head at you.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "And I’ll never leave again." You looked up at him, your heart finally calming, your lips curving into a small, tired smile.

"I love you too," you whispered. "Just… don’t make me say it after thinking you’re dead for a week, okay?" He chuckled softly, nodding as he kissed you again.

"Deal." He whispered before kissing you once again, bringing you into his arms and letting you ask him everything about what had happened in the week he'd been away from you.

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